Small-Town Midwife. Jean Gordon C.

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СКАЧАТЬ shook his head and put his helmet back on. No one had been home at either of the Hazard family houses. He’d even swallowed his pride and tried Autumn’s. How could he have locked his house key in the duplex? He didn’t do things like that. But the movers had been trying right from the start, getting there early. And his grandmother’s call and Autumn’s questions about his family had unsettled him. He understood that she was only making conversation. But he didn’t talk about his family. Didn’t think about them if he could avoid it, except for Nana.

      He settled himself on his Sportster and revved it up to drive down to the lake. Hopefully, he could search out Autumn’s grandfather or stepmother for a key and not have to share his stupidity with her. Although why should it matter? It wasn’t like he was out to impress her or anything. Jon gunned the engine and gravel flew out from the rear tire, causing the bike to fishtail. He slowed down and reached the camp at a more sedate pace.

      As he drove under the sign welcoming him to Camp Sonrise, a group of high-school and college-age kids crossing the parking lot with mops, buckets and other cleaning items stopped and stared. He rolled to a stop and kicked down the stand. By the time he’d pulled off his helmet, a couple of the boys were beside him.

      “Nice ride,” the dark-haired one said.

      “Yeah,” his companion echoed.

      “I’m Myles Glasser, one of the camp counselors. You need directions or something?”

      “I’m looking for Anne Hazard or her father-in-law.”

      “Mr. Hazard just left for the store. He probably passed you on the road.”

      Jon nodded. A pickup had gone by him.

      “I’m not sure where Anne is, but I’ll get Autumn, her stepdaughter. She can probably help you.”

      “That’s okay.” He lifted his helmet to put it back on. He didn’t have Mr. Hazard’s phone number, but he could leave Anne a message at the number he’d called this morning. Then he could kill some time at his office in the birthing center preparing for the staff meeting next week. “I’ll catch up with Mr. or Mrs. Hazard later.”

      “It’s no problem. Autumn’s right over there on the lodge porch.”

      He followed Myles’s outstretched arm to the large log building next to the parking lot, where Autumn was walking down the stairs. Jon weighed which was more asinine, his insisting on not talking to Autumn or his reluctance to tell her he’d locked himself out.

      Myles relieved him of the decision. “Hey, Autumn, this guy needs to talk to you.”

      Autumn turned quickly, causing her almost-waist-length ponytail to swing over her shoulder. She waved an acknowledgment.

      A feeling of protectiveness waved over him as she walked over. He turned to the boys. “I know you’re trying to help, but you don’t know who I am.”

      They looked at him blankly. “Should we?” Myles’s friend asked.

      Was he that clueless when he was a teen? Probably. “I could be anyone. You don’t know that Autumn knows me.”

      “Hi, Jon.”

      The teen looked from him to Autumn. “But she does.”

      “Never mind, and thanks for the help.”

      “What was that about?” Autumn asked.

      “I was looking for your grandfather or stepmother, and the dark-haired one, Myles, immediately volunteered to get you, without asking who I was or what I wanted.”

      “They’re fifteen. They were probably too interested in your bike to remember their elementary school stranger-danger training.”

      Jon didn’t know why her blithely dismissing his concern irritated him. What did it matter?

      “You were looking for Grandpa or Anne. Is there a problem at the house?”

      “Kind of.” He dropped his gaze and tapped his helmet against his thigh. “I seem to have locked myself out.”

      Autumn made a soft choking sound and he looked up to see her lips twitch as she tried to contain her smile.

      “I don’t suppose you have a key to my side of the house.”

      Her smile broke through. “No, I don’t. Anne probably does at the house. Come on, I’ll take you to her. You can leave your helmet. It’ll be fine. I’ll tell Myles to keep an eye on it and your bike. They’re done cleaning the campers’ cabins.”

      He surveyed the forest surrounding the parking lot and the kids milling around the camp and held on to the helmet.

      A towheaded boy of about three charged at them when they entered the lodge. “Aunt Autumn. You came back.”

      She scooped him up before he collided with Jon. “Silly Sam.” She rubbed noses with the toddler. “Of course I came back. I said I would.”

      “Your nephew?” He didn’t know Autumn had any brothers or sisters. Then, why should he?

      “No, Sam is my cousin. He belongs to my aunt Jinx and uncle Drew. Drew is the camp director. But Sam decided that, if Anne is Aunt Anne, I should be Aunt Autumn.”

      The little boy nodded and pointed to a group of women talking on the other side of the room. “Aunt Anne.”

      One of them looked like a slightly older, taller version of Autumn, right down to the long blond ponytail, or in her case, braid. Another was an attractive woman with light brown hair who looked about his age, thirtyish. The third woman was older, probably Anne, Autumn’s stepmother. Numerous children, all too young to be campers, surrounded the women.

      “Who are you?” Sam asked.

      Jon shoved his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Aside from the babies he delivered, children were alien creatures to him. “I’m Doc...Jon.”

      “Uncle DocJon?” Sam faced Autumn, waiting for her answer.

      A blush spread across her face and Jon noticed a light spattering of freckles on her patrician nose that he hadn’t noticed before.

      “No,” she said, “just Jon or Dr. Jon.” She looked at him for confirmation.

      He nodded. He’d been taught to address adults by Mr. or Mrs. or Dr. So-and-So, in the case of his parents’ associates. But it wasn’t like he was going to be seeing the kid on a regular basis.

      “Sam has also decided that adults should come in pairs—mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles.”

      “Oh.” That sounded brilliant, but he didn’t know what else to say. He looked pointedly at the group of women across the room, who were now moving toward them with a stream of kids behind. He should have just gone to his office at the birthing center.

      Autumn waved them on. “Everyone, this is Dr. Jonathan Hanlon, the new director at the birthing center.” She went around the circle introducing the women as her aunt, grandmother—not stepmother—and Anne, СКАЧАТЬ