Bachelor Father

  Adam found himself at a loss for words

  Even if she did have amnesia, and even if she did look like Christie, it didn’t mean she was Megan’s mother. Mentally, he noted the differences in the two women. The voice. The clothing. The jewelry. The figure.

  “Because you can’t remember who you are does not make you Christie Anderson,” he stated firmly, as much for her sake as for his.

  “But I could be,” she said with a spark of hope in her eyes.

  “No, you’re not Christie. She died, Faith.” He kept his voice deliberate. “Six months ago, while sailing her small boat. The St. Louis County coroner signed her death certificate.”

  “You said they never found her body,” she reminded him.

  He didn’t want to believe any of what she suggested could be true, nor did he want to remember that only a few hours ago he’d wondered about the very same possibility.

  Dear Reader,

  Intrigued by a news story about an amnesia victim, I found myself thinking about the consequences of memory loss. I know how frustrating it can be to forget the smallest of details. I could only imagine what it would be like to wake up and discover that I’d forgotten my entire past. As I thought about how different my life would be if I couldn’t remember the people I love, a story began to take shape in my mind and a heroine was born—Faith Miller.

  As you begin this story, you know as much about Faith as I did when I first met her. She is a woman with amnesia, remembering nothing prior to the night she was found on the side of a road with a head injury. The only clue she has to her identity is a bracelet with the letters F-A-I-T-H imprinted on it.

  In order to write this book I had to uncover the mystery of her past. Did she have a family? Where was her home? What was her occupation? Did she have a happy childhood? How did she end up on the side of a road?

  I’m happy to say I found the answers to all of those questions and many others. And with the help of a bachelor father and his six-year-old daughter, Faith finds them, too. She also discovers the answer to another question that’s very important to her. It’s one even those of us who don’t have amnesia ask. “Where do I belong?”

  Because that’s what every romance story is really about—finding that special someone who makes you feel as if you’ve come home.

  If you would like to write to me, I love hearing from readers. Send your letters to Pamela Bauer, c/o MFW, P.O. Box 24107, Minneapolis, MN 55424, or you can visit me via the Internet at www.pamelabauer.com.

  All the best,

  Pamela Bauer

  Bachelor Father

  Pamela Bauer

  For someone who shares my love of books,

  my aunt, Opal Ronning, and her real life hero, my uncle Jim.

  Books by Pamela Bauer

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  236—HALFWAY TO HEAVEN

  288—HIS AND HERS

  330—WALKING ON SUNSHINE

  378—THE HONEY TRAP

  406—MEMORIES

  481—SEVENTH HEAVEN

  484—ON CLOUD NINE

  487—SWINGING ON A STAR

  548—THE MODEL BRIDE

  605—I DO, I DO

  670—MERRY’S CHRISTMAS

  792—BABE IN THE WOODS

  863—DADDY’S HOME

  930—THAT SUMMER THING

  1007—TWO MUCH ALIKE

  1035—14 VALENTINE PLACE

  1106—THE MAN UPSTAIRS

  1163—A BABY IN THE HOUSE

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  “ISN’T IT ABOUT TIME for a changing of the guard?”

  Faith glanced up to see Dr. Avery Carson walking toward her, his dark wool parka peppered with melting snowflakes. Wearing a plaid woolen cap with earflaps and a pair of clunky rubber boots, he looked more like the guy who plowed the snow from the driveway than a retired doctor.

  Faith smiled. “This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I might as well stop in and offer you a ride home. It’s not much fun waiting for a bus in this weather and I find having a pretty girl next to me makes the traffic tolerable,” he said with an endearing grin.

  “Is the driving difficult?”

  “Only if you’re not used to a Minnesota winter. I’ve been here sixty-eight years. I can navigate through a bit of snow.” He glanced at the baby in her arms. “Who’s that little bundle of joy?”

  “Her name is Emma,” Faith said, loving the scent of baby powder that emanated from the infant. “Isn’t she precious? She fell asleep the minute I started rocking her.”

  “She certainly looks content in your arms. Will she wake if you put her down?” he asked with a nod toward the row of cribs along one wall.

  “I don’t think so, but I’d rather hold her until her parents return.”

  “That might not be for a while,” he warned.

  “I know. I don’t mind staying. Actually, I was thinking I should stay since one of the other volunteers called in sick.”

  “No one will ever accuse you of not putting in a full day,” he remarked.

  “Hard work is healthy for the body and soul. Besides, rocking babies isn’t exactly what I would call work.” She glanced again at the angelic face peeking out of the pink blanket.

  “I think the hospital is fortunate to have someone so devoted to other people’s children. Anyone who comes through that door can see you’re good with kids.”

  His compliment warmed her insides. For two weeks she’d been volunteering in the hospital’s child-care center where there had been a steady stream of infants and toddlers who had sat on her lap in the wooden rocking chair. Most of the hospital staff knew that Faith had a talent for quieting even the unhappiest of visitors. What they didn’t know was that she found comfort in tending to them. It made her feel useful and wanted, but more importantly it gave her an identity—something she needed desperately. As long as she was at the hospital she knew who she was. She was the baby rocker.

  “I like kids,” she stated simply.

  “And it’s obvious they like you, but you’re still entitled to have some time for yourself at the end of the day,” Dr. Carson said.

  Faith could have told him that the one thing she didn’t need was free time. Just the opposite was true. The busier she was, the better she liked it. When her hands were occupied, her mind didn’t have time to dwell on what was missing in her life. It was much easier to rock a fussy baby to sleep or calm a toddler having a temper tantrum than it was to be alone with her thoughts.

  “I want to stay,” she insisted. “And Mrs. Carmichael will appreciate having the help. She’s always saying we don’t have enough hands even when we are fully staffed.”

  To Faith’s surprise, however, when her supervisor heard her offer she said, “That’s very sweet of you to want to stay, Faith, but I think Dr. Carson’s right. You’ve put in enough hours already today.”

  “But you’re short one worker,” she reminded her. “What if it gets busy?”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen—not with the way it’s snowing. You go home and relax,” Mrs. Carmichael ordered her.

  Most people would have been happy to hear such words, but not Faith. She didn’t have a place to call home, just a room at the Carsons’. And work was relaxing for her. No matter how welcom
e the Carsons made her feel, at the end of the day she was still alone in a strange house with only her troubled mind and its unanswered questions.

  Carefully Faith got up from the rocker, holding Emma steady so as not to wake her. As she placed the baby in one of the cribs, she felt a shiver of loneliness. She brought her fingertips to her lips, then blew a kiss in the infant’s direction.

  Watching her, Dr. Carson said gently, “There will be more babies for you to rock tomorrow.”

  Faith nodded, knowing that what he said was true. The child-care center would be open to parents who wanted a place to leave their children while they visited patients in the hospital. Chances are she would be the one taking care of them—if tomorrow began the same way every day of the past three weeks had begun, with her waking up and not knowing who she was.

  Although doctors had been successful in treating her physical injuries from her accident, she still hadn’t recovered from the amnesia that was as puzzling to doctors as it was to her. Memory loss due to trauma was not uncommon, but rarely did it include a loss of identity. She’d been told it was a temporary condition and that her memory would either return suddenly or gradually, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. So far, neither had happened. Her past was a blank canvas and the only life she knew was the one that had started the day Avery and Marie Carson had stopped to help her as she lay unconscious at a roadside rest stop.

  From the moment she’d met the doctor and his wife, they had showed her nothing but kindness, taking her into their home, providing her with clothes from a local charity and treating her like the daughter they’d never had. They were good, honest people who hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid when she was desperately in need of help. Faith hoped that if she did have a family somewhere, they would be as generous and as compassionate as the Carsons.

  She had to belong somewhere, yet where that someplace was and with whom she shared it remained trapped in a past she couldn’t remember. Even though she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring when she’d been rescued, she knew she couldn’t rule out the possibility that she had a husband. Or children. That thought always brought an ache to her heart. She didn’t want to think that she could ever forget her own child. Yet until her memory returned, just how much family she did have would remain a mystery.

  As she tugged on her winter coat, Mrs. Carmichael mentioned that she had a cart full of children’s books to be taken to the second floor. Faith looked at Dr. Carson and asked, “Would you mind if we dropped them off on our way out?”

  “Not at all,” he said with a smile, and held the door for her as she pushed the book cart into the hallway.

  Although pediatrics was her favorite unit in the hospital, every time she visited the young patients her throat filled with emotion. This time was no different. As Faith and Dr. Carson made their way through the unit, she noticed a little girl who was being pushed down the long corridor in a hospital bed. When the orderly stopped for a moment to confer with a nurse, Faith found herself staring into an ashen face framed by blond hair. At first she thought she was asleep, but then she saw her eyelids flutter.

  Faith automatically smiled, wondering if the girl was even aware of her presence. Slowly the girl’s sleepy eyes opened and stared directly at Faith. They were the color of the blue jays that fed outside the Carsons’ kitchen window every morning, and were trying to focus on Faith’s face. As they did, a hint of a smile parted the parched lips.

  “Hello,” Faith said softly.

  Small fingers slipped out from beneath the white blanket and reached for Faith who didn’t hesitate to take the delicate hand in hers and gently squeeze it.

  “Am I in heaven?” The girl’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Faith exchanged glances with Dr. Carson before looking back at her. “No, you’re in the hospital.”

  “And you’re here, too?” The voice remained weak.

  “Yes, I work here.”

  “Does that mean you can stay with me?” she asked, a ray of hope flickering in her eyes.

  “No, I’m sorry I can’t. I’m not a nurse. I work downstairs in the child-care center,” Faith explained. “I rock babies.”

  Confusion clouded the blue eyes. “But I want you to stay with me.”

  The plea in the tiny voice tugged on Faith’s emotions.

  Before she could say another word, the orderly had returned. “Sorry, but we need to get this young lady into her room.” He gave Faith an apologetic look as he returned to the foot of the bed.

  “The people here are nice. They’ll take good care of you,” Faith said, but the girl’s lower lip quivered in dismay as Faith released her small hand.

  “But I want you to take care of me,” she said in such a pathetic little voice that Faith felt a lump in her throat.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. You’ll be fine,” she said with a smile of encouragement. Then she put her fingers to her lips and blew her a kiss and was touched when the girl returned the gesture.

  As the bed rolled away Dr. Carson said, “You were tempted to go with her, weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Faith admitted. “She looked so frightened.”

  “You were able to chase away that fear—at least for a moment or two. You truly have a gift to make children feel better,” Dr. Carson said with a pat on her arm.

  His words were of little comfort. She felt as if she’d let this one particular child down. “She wanted me to stay with her.”

  This time Dr. Carson put an arm around her and gave her a gentle hug. “Of course she did. She took one look into your eyes and saw compassion and kindness. It’s true what they say, Faith, that the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. The day I met you yours told me there’s not a mean bone in your body. And watching you interact with children, I’m convinced that I read yours correctly.”

  She wanted to believe that what he said was true, that when she did finally remember who she was and what was in her past that she would discover that his trust was not misplaced. Yet there were so many unanswered questions running through her mind.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met you and Marie.” She told him the one thing of which she was certain. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “You make it easy, Faith.”

  She forced a weak smile. “I think you’re the kind of person who looks for the good in people. I just hope that someday you don’t discover that…” She trailed off, not wanting to express her fears.

  “What? That you’re someone I shouldn’t have trusted?”

  “It’s a possibility,” she admitted.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think it is.”

  “But what if…”

  Dr. Carson stopped her with a lift of his hand. “We’re not going to talk about the what-ifs. Now let’s get these books to where they’re supposed to be so we can get home. Marie’s got dinner in the oven and we don’t want to be late.”

  “I’M LOOKING FOR Megan Novak. She was admitted early this morning,” Adam told the woman at the hospital reception desk. “I’m her father.”

  He wondered why it should still feel awkward to identify himself as a parent. Maybe because his relationship with Megan still felt uncomfortable. He hadn’t expected her to rush into his arms and call him Daddy the first time they’d met. After all, she’d been told she didn’t have a father, a fact that still caused the hair on his neck to rise. He’d missed out on six years of Megan’s life because of Christie’s decision not to tell him she’d had his child.

  And he knew that if it hadn’t been for a tragedy, chances were he still wouldn’t know he had a daughter. Adam didn’t understand why, after going through so much trouble to keep Megan’s existence a secret, Christie had named him as her legal guardian in the will. He probably would never know, but the reason was of no consequence at this point. What mattered was that Christie had ensured that, in the event of her death, Megan would have someone who was able to take care of her. He was that someone. />
  While the lawyers had worked out the legal details of guardianship, Megan had stayed in the small town of Silver Bay in the house she’d shared with her mother and her uncle. She’d said very little to Adam when they finally met for the first time, regarding him suspiciously as she clung to Tom Anderson’s side. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that she would want to live with the uncle she’d known all of her life rather than with a father who was a stranger to her.

  There was a lot to like about Tom Anderson. He had that same “live for today” attitude that Adam remembered of Christie, enjoying every minute of life and believing that tomorrow would take care of itself. It was obvious to Adam that he adored Megan and provided a much-needed male authority in her life. What he lacked in reliability he made up for in generosity. He wasn’t, however, her father. No matter how much she wanted to stay in Silver Bay, Megan belonged with him in St. Paul.

  “She’s in room 217, Mr. Novak,” the receptionist told him, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “If you go down the hall and take a left, you’ll see the elevators.”

  Adam didn’t wait for an elevator but took the stairs. When he reached the second floor he followed the arrows that directed him to the pediatric unit. Standing outside room 217, leaning against the wall was his sister-in-law, Lori. As soon as she noticed him, she straightened and started toward him, her arms outstretched.

  “You made it!” she said, hugging him as close as her pregnant belly would allow. “I was worried the snow would close the airport before your plane could land.”

  “I got lucky.”

  She glanced past his shoulder. “Naomi’s not with you?”

  “No. She stayed in Miami.” Which was how he’d wanted it. Not that Naomi Windell would have cut short her vacation for someone else’s sick child. He glanced at the closed door. “Why are you out here?”