NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet (4 page)

He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “And all this time I’ve been playing up how much fun she’d have at the lake, jumping off the dock in the backyard,” he said. “Boating. Tubing. Riding wave runners. I’ve no doubt traumatized her. Why didn’t she tell me?” He looked at Scarlet for the answer.

“It’s been seventeen years since I’ve spent any time in a thirteen-year-old’s mixed up mind, but maybe she’s embarrassed. Or she doesn’t want you to blame her mom. Or she somehow thinks you’ll belittle her fear or force her to deal with it. I honestly don’t know.”

Lewis sat there, staring at the table.

“What are you going to do now that you’ve taken the time to really put some thought into why Jessie doesn’t want to go to Lake George and you’ve come up with the possibility she may be scared of the water,” Scarlet asked. “And might I say good job of coming up with it totally on your own and without the help of anyone else.”

Determined eyes met hers. “When we get home tonight I’m going to sit Jessie down and we’re going to discuss her exact reasons for not wanting to go to Lake George. And if she doesn’t bring up a fear of water or an inability to swim, I will find a way to work it into the conversation.”

Finally. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

The words weren’t fully out of her mouth when someone came to stand beside their table. Scarlet looked up to see Linda from the NICU, looking down at where Lewis still held her hand in his.

“Well what have we here?” Linda asked with a gleam in her gossip-mongering, match-making eyes.

Not good.

“Must I spend my Saturday afternoon in this touristy hell that is Times Square?” Scarlet complained as they maneuvered along the crowded sidewalk. Lewis kept an eye on Jessie who stopped to look at scarves laid out on a street vendor’s table.

“Stop being a cynical New Yorker,” he chided delighted to be away from the hospital and his condo, to be outside on a beautiful sun-shiny spring day on his first fun New York City excursion with his daughter. And having Scarlet along upped the enjoyment factor significantly.

“Technically I’m a Jersey girl.”

Maybe so, but she looked the part of a chic New York City woman in her wedge-heeled open toed sandals, which displayed some perfectly manicured bright red toe nails, a pair of trendy knee-length cargo shorts that sat low on her hips, and a clingy red tank that accentuated her flat abdomen and small—although not too small—breasts. An over-sized red leather bag slung over her shoulder, a sleek ponytail fastened with a fancy silver clip, and silver hoop earrings finished off her very fashionable, very appealing look.

“Remind me again why I’m here?” she asked.

Jessie didn’t buy a scarf, but she did purchase a pretzel. He watched her count her change like he’d told her
and put the money into her front pocket. “Because you told Jessie she could call you anytime for any reason.”

Scarlet snapped her fingers. “Right. And she wanted
me
to take her shopping for a bathing suit and some new vacation clothes.”

After his conversation with Scarlet, Lewis had carefully, patiently and tactfully worked to pry the truth out of Jessie. And once she’d opened up to him, months of accumulated fears, concerns and tears had come pouring out. They’d talked for hours, and before bed Jessie had actually said, “Thanks, dad.” His first amiable ‘dad’ followed by his very first hug and kiss good night from his daughter. A moment he would never forget. And though he’d never admit it to anyone, he’d teared up after she’d left the room, overwhelmed with relief. And hope.

“Yet somehow
we
wound up in Times Square. If
I’m
the one taking her to lunch and shopping,” Scarlet peered up at him from the corners of her eyes, “Why are
you
here again?”

“Because I’m financing this little clothes shopping expedition, so I get the right of final approval.”

Scarlet’s smile did something tingly to his insides. “Oh you think so?” she asked.

He was the father. He knew so.

In an attempt to avoid a very persistent man trying to hand her a leaflet of some sort, Scarlet bumped into him and tripped. Lewis caught her around her narrow waste. “We’re not interested,” he said firmly and the man retreated.

“Why’s that guy out in public in his underwear?” Jessie went up on her tiptoes and strained her neck to see around a group that’d gathered on the sidewalk. “And
a cowboy hat and boots? And why are people taking their picture with him?”

“Let’s keep walking,” Lewis said, steering Jessie and Scarlet away.

“He does it to attract attention to himself so he can make some money by charging people who want to take a picture with him,” Scarlet explained. “Tourists spend money on the craziest things.”

Lewis watched the huge jumbotron on the side of a building to find the spot where the cameras were aimed. “Hold on.” He turned Jessie. “Look up.”

She did. “Hey.” She waved both arms over her head and jumped up and down. “That’s me.”

“And me,” Scarlet said with a big smile as she jumped and waved, too.

Lewis bent to talk into Scarlet’s ear, noticing she smelled as good as she looked. “How touristy of you.”

She stuck out her tongue at him then looped her arm through Jessie’s. “Come on. This store has some great clothes.”

As much as Lewis hated Jessie’s baggie black garb—that’d turned to be hand-me-downs from a neighbor since her mom had been too sick to work and couldn’t afford new clothes—Lewis was not at all a fan of Jessie’s revealing, burgeoning-figure-hugging choices. “No,” he said again and Jessie stormed back to the dressing room. Unfortunately it seemed last night’s parental epiphany did not mean smooth sailing from then on.

“You know you’re going to have to give a little,” Scarlet said, remaining by his side instead of following Jessie.

“That shirt was too tight.” He swallowed. “Do you think she needs a…” God he hated this. Daughters
should not have breasts for boys who will soon be men to look at. Suddenly baggie black attire didn’t seem all that bad.

Scarlet smiled, enjoying his angst a little too much. “Bra?” she asked. “Do I think your daughter needs a bra?” she teased.

“Ssshhh,” he said. “Keep your voice down.”

She didn’t. “Tell you what I’m gonna do,” she said like some cheesy salesman trying to sweeten the deal. “If you let Jessie get three outfits and two bathing suits of her choice, I will accompany her to Macy’s.” She cupped her hands at the sides of her mouth and whispered, “For some bras.”

“No V-neck shirts and no bikinis,” Lewis clarified.

“If you get stipulations then so do I. I’m thinking I’ll suggest she get padded bras to double her bust size.”

Witch. “Okay. She can pick from the last batch of stuff she tried on.” Which thankfully didn’t contain any of the hideously trampy items of clothing Jessie had tried to convince him to consider at the onset of this shopping nightmare.

“Deal.” She held out her hand.

He shook it.

“You’ll get through this,” she said. “Tight shirts and bras are nothing.” She waved a flippant hand. “Just wait until she gets her period.”

Lewis thought he might throw up right there by the girls denim shorts rack. As a pediatrician he didn’t hesitate to discuss breast development, menstruation, and birth control with his patients and/or their nervous parents. But the role of father caring for a developing teenage daughter had taken him into new territory. Had Jessie already gotten her period? Doubtful since he didn’t have any feminine supplies in the house and
she hadn’t asked him to buy any. Had anyone had ‘the talk’ with her? Did she know what to expect? And what about safe sex? And sexually transmitted diseases?

He now had a vividly clear understanding of parental apprehension and avoidance when discussing reproductive matters with their children.

Pain typical of an ulcer started to burn through the lining in his stomach.

His doctor self knew what had to be done.

His father self would rather preach the pros of maintaining virginity until marriage.

“He looks pale,” Jessie said, standing in front of him with her arms full of clothes.

“Men often do when shopping for clothes with women.” Scarlet looked up at him with deceptively innocent eyes and smiled. “You feeling okay, papa bear?”

“You are a mean woman,” he said so only she’d hear.

“Nah,” she said. “If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll handle ‘the talk’” she made air quotations around ‘the talk’, “for you.”

A total father copout, but thank you! “Lunch is on me,” Lewis said, his vigor returning. “Then we’ll go to Macy’s to buy Scarlet a nice little gift for accompanying us today,” he said to Jessie.

They found a little Italian bistro on 46th Street whose posted menu appealed to them all and squeezed into the last available corner booth, Jessie and all her bags on one side, Scarlet and Lewis on the other. When the waiter came to take their drink order Lewis asked Scarlet, “Would you like to share a bottle of wine?” Maybe bra shopping wouldn’t be so bad with a nice relaxing buzz.

“No thank you,” she said to him. Then she turned to the waiter. “Just water for me, please.”

After ordering a soda Jessie said, “Scarlet doesn’t drink alcohol, Dad.”

“But don’t let me stop you from having,” Scarlet added quickly.

Lewis decided on an iced tea.

“You don’t have to tell him why,” Jessie said very serious. “What we say between us stays between us.”

“It’s not something I share with everyone I meet,” Scarlet said. “But it’s not a secret, either.”

Jessie jumped at the chance to share the reason. “When Scarlet was sixteen she went to a party where the kids were drinking alcohol,” Jessie said in horror. “She drank too and got so drunk she passed out.”

“I hope you have a good reason for discussing your drunken teenage exploits with my daughter,” Lewis said.

Scarlet turned to face him, her eyes met his. “Obviously alcohol impaired my ability to make good decisions because a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant.”

She watched him, so Lewis was careful to maintain a neutral expression. He knew he should say something, but what? I’m sorry? How horrible? What happened to the baby?

“That’s why kids shouldn’t drink alcohol,” Jessie said, taking the pressure off of him by filling the silence. “Because it makes them do stupid things they don’t remember doing. I’m never drinking alcohol even after I turn twenty-one.” She took her soda from the waiter and pulled the paper tip off of the straw.

“Good girl,” he said, knowing a thirteen-year-old’s declaration of long-term sobriety could be recanted without his knowledge at any time as she moved toward adulthood.

Jessie took a sip of soda then said, “Scarlet’s baby is the reason the two of us met.”

Very interesting.

Scarlet stared at her water glass, sliding her fingers through the droplets of condensation on the outside. If he wasn’t mistaken, a hint of a blush stained her cheeks.

“Jessie, I don’t think Scarlet is comfortable with you telling me all this.” Even though he wanted to hear more.

“No,” Scarlet looked at Jessie. “It’s okay. Go on.” She glanced at him. “Might as well get it all out.” She turned back to Jessie. “It’s not good to keep things from your dad.”

Later, he’d thank her for that.

“The nurses told Scarlet her baby had died.”

Scarlet jumped in to add, “Which is why I decided when I grew up I’d become a nurse who specializes in caring for premature infants.”

And from what Lewis had heard and witnessed first-hand, she did a phenomenal job of it.

“But since her father was totally evil and wouldn’t let her see her baby and refused to tell her where he’d had the baby buried, she started to wonder what if the baby had really survived?”

If the topic of conversation had been fiction rather than fact, Lewis would have smiled at Jessie’s story-telling, wide-eyed and full of intrigue.

“I know it sounds ridiculous.” Scarlet picked up the story. “But what if my dad had my baby transferred to another hospital and arranged for her to be adopted? Which, if you knew my dad, you’d know was something he was fully capable of pulling off, considering he also managed to make all documentation from my hospital stay, including any record of the birth, death,
or transfer of my daughter, mysteriously disappear. And he did it without any remorse at all to save himself the embarrassment of having an unwed teenage mother for a daughter.” Anger seeped into her voice and Lewis felt her stiffen beside him.

How horrible to have endured so much trauma at such a young age. He moved his knee to touch hers in a show of support that seemed to relax her.

“Anyway,” Scarlet went on. “If my daughter is in fact alive, she’d be about Jessie’s age. And when we met I told Jessie I’d hope if someone saw
my
daughter looking as sad and lonely as she did, they’d take the time to talk to her, and try to cheer her up, and see if there was anything they could do to help her.”

“Which is what Scarlet did for me,” Jessie said.

“And I am so glad she did,” Lewis said, turning to Scarlet. “I’m sorry about your daughter, but words cannot express how thankful I am for the kindness you’ve shown to mine.” Scarlet Miller had a true compassionate soul beneath her tough, joking exterior.

“No biggie.” She shrugged off his heartfelt thanks, seeming uncomfortable with the attention. “What do you think happened to our waiter?” She looked down at her menu. “I’m starving.”

He allowed the change of topic, but someday soon, when Jessie wasn’t around, they’d talk more about his appreciation for all she’d done for Jessie and for him. And he kind of looked forward to getting her alone. Scarlet Miller was fast becoming a woman he wanted to get to know much better.

In Macy’s Scarlet said, “If you’ll excuse me and Jessie, I have some shopping to do up in the lingerie department.” She shooed him away. “Go shop for
man things. We’ll meet you by women’s shoes in half an hour.”

If there were any way he could have done it without Jessie seeing, and without getting slapped, he would have kissed Scarlet right then and there.

Forty-five minutes later they appeared, Scarlet carrying a Macy’s bag, Jessie empty-handed.