The Neurosurgeon's Unexpected Family Read online

  “Oh, there you are!” Ms. Adams, Avery’s former nanny, called out as she rushed to Hannah’s side and took Avery into her arms. “I’ve missed this one so much, but it’s so nice to see that she’s doing so well. And of course she belongs in Houston with her big brother, though I’m sure she’s made a change or two in your life by now.”

  “This is Hannah. She’s helping me and Avery with the transition,” William said as he let go of Hannah’s hand and immediately missed its warmth. “She would like to go through Avery’s and her mother’s things to see if there is anything we need to keep while I go through some of my father’s paperwork.

  “Would you also show her through the house, Mrs. Adams? I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished,” he added before leaving the women.

  His father’s lawyers had felt it necessary that he personally review some of the documents left in his father’s private study. William had no idea what he was going to find, but would rather be buried in his father’s paperwork than dealing with all the memories that he wasn’t ready to face.

  * * *

  Hannah watched as William headed to a side door and disappeared.

  If William’s father had really wanted to impress, this was definitely the house for it. How in the world would Avery’s mother have kept up with a toddler in a house this size? And, as far as she could see, there was nothing at all that looked child friendly,

  She moved farther into the house, looking for anything that would tell her about the people who had lived there. She was hoping there would be something to explain William’s outlook toward the house. Somehow, she knew that his whole attitude about family was tied to the childhood he had spent here.

  After taking in the sitting room at the front of the house—Lindsey asking Mrs. Adams where they hid the television—they moved to a formal living room and dining room. Marble, wood, and crystal filled every room. Definitely impressive, but cold and impersonal, too. While Hannah was sure the rooms had been designed to impress, she struggled to grasp a sense of the people, the family, that had lived here not that long ago.

  It wasn’t until the former nanny finally took them upstairs to Avery’s room that Hannah could see the small touches that made a place feel lived in. Before Ms. Adams could put her down, Avery was squealing for a ride on the toy train mounted on a set of rails that circled the room.

  Lindsey helped her onto the seat and began to push her around the track while Avery laughed at the train sounds she was making. The way those two had bonded was amazing. Lindsey had never asked for a sibling—somehow the child had known that their family would always be just the two of them.

  A door stood open to a room done in pastel pinks and greens, the carpet as white as snow. “Was this Avery’s parents’ room?” Hannah asked as she stepped inside. A silver hairbrush lay on a dressing table that held bottles and jars with names of expensive products she had only seen advertised in elite fashion magazines.

  “This was Mrs. Cooper’s room. Mr. Cooper’s room is down the hall,” Mrs. Adams said. “Mrs. Cooper said her husband was a light sleeper and she was concerned that a baby would disturb him so she had this room decorated before Miss Avery was born.”

  Hannah could tell that the woman had more to say about her employee-employer relationship, but for now Hannah wanted to make her own observations. If there was something in this house that would explain why William was so withdrawn from other people, she didn’t think she would find it in this room.

  But there was something Ms. Adams could help her with.

  “I was wondering if you knew where Avery’s mother would have kept any photographs of Avery. You know, hospital photos, or her first time crawling? I know when she’s older, she will want those. Also, anything special that you think we should keep for her. A favorite toy or book?” Hannah asked as she turned to the woman. “And anything of her mother’s that she might appreciate later.” She fingered the silver hairbrush. Had Avery’s mother once used it to brush the child’s dark curls?

  “I helped the staff from the lawyers’ office collect Mrs. Cooper’s jewelry. They assured me it would be kept safe until Avery was old enough to keep it herself.”

  Mrs. Adams turned back to where Lindsey and Avery were playing in the room next door. “They only asked for the things they could put a dollar value to since they were cataloging those items.” She took a hesitant breath. “No one seemed to really care about the little girl who had been left behind without her parents. I was so glad when the lawyers asked me to take her to her brother. She needed someone who wasn’t looking at the dollar signs, it seemed to me.”

  The older woman smiled at Hannah before continuing. “I guess it took some time for the lawyers to find her parents’ most recent will. But I had heard about Mr. Cooper’s son being a doctor and all, and it made sense that the Coopers would want the child with her brother. The staff that had been here awhile spoke well of him, so it seemed to me that was where the child belonged. I wish you could have seen his eyes when I handed him little Avery.”

  Hannah stared at the woman with admiration. She was a lot feistier than her gray hair pulled back in a sedate knot at the back of her head and her feet clad in a pair of comfortable-looking sneakers made her appear. The woman was opinionated and certainly not afraid to tell you exactly what she thought.

  “But I can tell he’s doing better now,” Mrs. Adams stated. “I knew from what I had heard of him that he wouldn’t turn his back on his responsibilities. I’m so glad he found someone to help him with Avery.”

  “I’m just a friend, a coworker. We work together at the hospital,” Hannah found herself telling the woman. It wasn’t as if she needed to explain the arrangement to her.

  A squeal came from the other room and they both rushed in to see Lindsey blowing raspberries against Avery’s tummy, the child bubbling over with laughter.

  “I’m so glad you are there for them.” Mrs. Adams grinned at the children rolling on the floor. “Avery needed a real home and it looks like she’s found one.”

  Hannah couldn’t bring herself to tell Mrs. Adams that the family arrangement she was imagining for the little girl was just temporary.

  It was becoming harder for her to believe that what she was feeling for both Avery and William wasn’t real. Even Lindsey was forming a close connection with both Avery and William. The four of them fit too well together and she needed to remember that she was only there for a short time.

  Soon, very soon, William wouldn’t need her anymore and it would be time for her and Lindsey to move on. They’d moved on before. They could do it again.

  * * *

  Why hadn’t she listened to William earlier when he’d told her it would be best for them to drive back to Houston than to spend the night in his father’s house? She’d heard something in his voice at the time, but had chosen to ignore it.

  Instead, she’d truly believed that having the night in her old home would be good for Avery. She’d also thought it would give her time to observe what items seemed most significant to the little girl. And that was why she now found herself trying to fall asleep in a dead woman’s bed—where Hannah knew she didn’t belong.

  She’d been glad that William hadn’t reminded her of his desire not to stay overnight. She’d even been surprised when he’d suggested ordering pizza and eating it in the small game room on the second floor where he had unearthed an old gaming system for him and Lindsey to play.

  For a couple of hours, they had relaxed. Hannah playing on the floor with Avery while the other two screamed taunts of revenge at one another. It wasn’t until after she had said good-night to William and seen Lindsey to the guest room, that the eerie feeling that she didn’t belong in the room next to Avery’s nursery had begun to haunt her.

  It wasn’t only the thought of Avery’s mother spending her last night alive here, though it seemed sad that the woman had this big, beautiful room and
still slept alone. It was the whole house. What had the late Mrs. Cooper seen when William’s father had brought her here for the first time? Had she been impressed with all that wood and marble? Or had she found it cold and lifeless, like Hannah had? She couldn’t imagine how William must have felt growing up in such a place. Or could she? Was the very nature of the mansion part of the explanation for William’s aloofness?

  Hannah punched the pillow and turned onto her side. She had no right judging the people who had lived here, but she couldn’t help but compare this place to the home William had made. In some ways his house had seemed cold when she’d first entered it, but as she’d added small items and changed the grouping of some of the furniture, she had soon seen the possibilities in the house and it was quickly becoming a home for the four of them.

  It’s only temporary, she reminded herself.

  She heard the screech of metal against metal and froze. Surely it was her imagination? There were only the four of them in this wing of the house, so who would be up moving around at this time? The sound of a board squeaking had her up and at Avery’s bedside in less than a minute. The child was safe in her crib and sound asleep. She took a moment to brush soft wisps of hair from Avery’s face then headed to the door that opened into the hallway.

  Had Lindsey woken and been disoriented as to where she was? Or, more likely, had her daughter decided to do some exploring on her own while the adults slept?

  Stepping up to the guest room door, Hannah cracked it open. Her daughter was stretched out in sleep as if she didn’t have a care in the world, something that always made Hannah smile. Like every transplant recipient family, they knew that their lives could change at any moment, but Hannah didn’t allow either one of them to spend time worrying about what the future could hold. They’d face that together when the time came.

  Having assured herself that both Avery and Lindsey were where they should be, she headed along the hall to the room William had chosen for the night and stopped. What was she thinking? She couldn’t just barge into the man’s room! But even knowing the girls were safe wasn’t enough. She needed to make sure that William was okay, too.

  Rounding the corner, she saw that his bedroom door was open. Seeing his empty bed—a sight that had her body humming with dangerous excitement—she considered what to do next. It only made sense that the sounds she had heard were William’s. The man had the right to prowl the halls of his father’s home at night if he wanted to. But still, there would be no going to sleep for her until she could assure herself that he was okay. Had he been feeling the same out-of-sorts sensations she had? Just being in this house had to be hard so soon after the loss of his father. Of course, it could be that William wanted to be alone with his thoughts, but it seemed to her that he had been alone too much already in his life.

  Her mind made up, Hannah headed for the stairs. She would check on William then leave him alone if he wished. She just needed to see him and, no matter what other parts of her body seemed to think, she was just checking to make sure he didn’t need anything.

  Like a friendly hug? she asked herself.

  The kitchen was empty, but the light over the back stairway was on. She wasn’t sure where it led, but she was certain she’d find William there.

  Opening the fridge, she pulled out some milk and then checked the cabinets for the makings of hot cocoa. The warm, sweet beverage had always worked to calm her nerves, which was something she could use now as she contemplated following William up those stairs.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WILLIAM STOOD AMONG the boxes and furniture relegated to the attic when their usefulness ended. Somewhere in here, there was a box of his mother’s belongings. Things his father had ordered removed from their bedroom when it had been determined that his wife would never be returning. But that wasn’t what William was after.

  He’d been through that box many times as a child missing his mother. Anything he’d thought needed to be preserved, he had removed and snuck back to the box he’d kept under his bed. The box that he had later hidden in the attic when he’d left for college. The box he had all but forgotten about until he’d planned this trip to gather some of Avery’s mother’s belongings.

  He should have thought of that himself. The few things he’d had of his mother’s had been priceless as he’d grown up and time had started to erase his memories. He didn’t want that for Avery. He’d make sure that she always had access to her mother’s belongings. William wouldn’t be like his father and hide everything away. He’d even taken the picture he’d found in the office of their father holding Avery as an infant. He planned to place it on the fireplace mantel in his home.

  Going over his father’s accounts today, he had made the decision to sell the house and put all the proceeds into a trust fund for Avery that his father had already set up.

  He only wanted one thing from this house and he needed to find it before they left in the morning. This would be his final trip to his father’s ostentatious estate. He would leave everything else for the lawyers to handle.

  “Here you are,” Hannah said, her head peaking over the railing of the attic stairs.

  He turned and watched as she stepped onto the landing, holding two cups. He enjoyed the sight of her tousled blond waves and the thin nightshirt that hugged her curves.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he took one of the cups and a big step back from her.

  “I heard something in the hall and saw that your bed was empty. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Hannah said.

  “You checked my bed?” he asked, amused when a light pink blush stained her cheeks.

  “I checked on Avery and Lindsey first,” she said, looking around the large space. “I know it’s your house, but everything I’ve learned from watching horror movies with Lindsey tells me that coming up into the attic at night is not a good move.”

  “But you came anyhow?” he asked, setting down his cup.

  “My parents always said my curiosity would get me in trouble someday.” She gave him a smile then turned to lift a sheet off the old desk that had been in storage since he’d been a little boy.

  Did she not realize that he was the trouble her parents had warned her about?

  “Are you looking for something particular?” she asked.

  He’d come to the attic to be alone with his memories, but now he wanted to share those memories with Hannah. He wanted to let her see the lonely boy that had grown up to be the man he was today. The man whose coworkers referred to him as Dr. Frosty. Was it weak to want Hannah to understand him? Did he care if it was? He found himself wanting to share more and more with her every day. He’d waited for the fear of rejection to come, but it hadn’t. He trusted Hannah, something he’d once thought impossible.

  “That desk was my mother’s,” he said, shuffling boxes in the far corner of the room where he’d hidden his most prized possessions.

  “It’s lovely. You must miss her,” she said, her voice coming from directly behind him.

  He’d known she’d ask questions; her curiosity was something he enjoyed. He’d seen it in her interest in everything about their work, about Avery, about everyone and everything. Someone else might call her snoopy, but he had come to understand that it was just her desire to learn. To know those around her.

  Moving a large box marked “Christmas,” he paused then said, “I do. It’s not something I speak of very often, though.”

  He indicated a low bench under the eaves of the attic where a window looked out against the dark sky. “Let’s sit over there,” he said, picking up a small black box with the words “Private Letters” painted along the side in dark red paint.

  William waited for Hannah to begin with her questions, but they didn’t come. Taking a seat beside her on the bench, he looked out across a yard that held a lifetime of memories for him. Only, for his mother. it had been a very short lifetime.r />
  “I was nine when Bennie, a man who worked for my father’s business, came to get me from school. I had been expecting my mother as she was usually the one who picked me up. I didn’t think much of it until I realized Bennie wasn’t driving me home. He tried to explain to me that there had been an accident. My mother had fallen and hit her head and was very sick, but the only thing I understood was that my mother was in the hospital.”

  William would never forget the first time he had seen his mother in the hospital bed, tubes and monitors surrounding her. He’d not understood why she wouldn’t wake up when he’d called her name. Day after day, he had gone to see the woman lying in that bed, her head wrapped in dressings. And day after day, he’d become angrier and angrier with her for not waking. For not coming back to him.

  “It wasn’t until later, after my father explained that my mother would be going to a place that could take better care of her than the hospital, that I realized she was never coming home.” He took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry. That must have been terrible,” Hannah sympathized.

  “Yes. She suffered a traumatic brain injury when she fell and, despite all the specialists my father sent to see her, there was never any hope of recovery.” He paused. “She passed away five years ago.”

  “That’s why you went into neurosurgery,” she said.

  “I used to tell her every time I saw her that someday I’d be a doctor and I’d make her well. If I had known then what I know now, I would have made my father let her go when they first put her on a ventilator,” he said.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it can’t be easy for you to come here with the memories of your mother and now your father.”

  “We weren’t that close, my father and I. I think that maybe we were just too much alike in some ways. We were always bumping heads over something—most of the time it wasn’t even anything important. Something happened when we lost my mother and we just never could work things out between us. I won’t let things be like that for me and Avery. I won’t let that history be repeated,” he said as he opened the top of the black box and pulled out a handmade card.