“I agree.”
“Then we need to keep her focused on staying in school. Got it?”
“Got what?” Becca asked from the doorway.
Her mother paused, then launched into a classic too-much-information dump. “I think it’s great that you want to get a job, honey, I really do. But the city is expensive, and will be even more so when you’re only getting the EI payments for maternity leave. It’s hard to live on that, and—”
Owen stepped in between them and held up his hands, cutting her off. “One thing at a time. Bec, we see how you’re trying to manage this, okay? But we love you and we want to support you, too.”
“It doesn’t feel very supportive right now,” his daughter said softly, her eyes big and wet as she glared at her mom. “I’m not asking for anything. Do you hear me asking for anything?”
“You don’t have any money,” Rachel exclaimed. “How are you going to move to the city?”
“I’ll sort that out.”
Owen didn’t want her going anywhere. He changed the subject. “One thing at a time. First, you need to go see the doctor.”
Becca made a face. “I don’t want to go see Dr. Malcolm. I looked up the midwifery practice Jenna Foster works in. I like the sound of their whole deal. Do you know the difference between informed consent and informed choice?”
Owen blinked at his daughter. “Yes. Hi, I’m your dad. I’m a trained paramedic with two decades of experience. I’ve even attended births, you know that? We get called out to home births with those midwives you’ve just discovered on the internet.”
Not to mention he knew Jenna, both from working with her, and working with her brother-in-law, and the fact their town only had six hundred people in it.
Calm blue ocean.
Becca made a face at him. “No need to be snippy.”
This time it was Rachel that got between them. “Okay, so we have an action plan?”
Owen dragged in a breath. “Sounds like it.”
* * *
Becca’sfirst appointment fell on a day off for Owen, so he volunteered to drive her the hour south to Walkerton, where the clinic was, and be moral support. Her ex-boyfriend Hayden still hadn’t responded to her messages. Owen wanted to kick his ass, but that wasn’t productive.
Right now, no matter how he felt on the inside, he needed to keep his yap shut and let Becca deal with the whole situation as she wanted.
It was easier said than done.
At least the appointment was well outside of Pine Harbour, off the peninsula. And Jenna Foster had promised Becca’s privacy would be protected at every turn.
At the clinic, the receptionist gave Becca an intake form, then told them to take a seat. “The midwife will be out shortly.” She pointed at a short hallway. “She’ll come and get you when it’s time.”
Owen didn’t miss that Becca’s hands shook as she filled out the paperwork. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. The seconds ticked by, loud as if there was actually a grandfather clock right next to him, instead of just his own nerves.
When the door at the end of the hallway swung open, instead of Jenna Foster, a dark-haired woman with olive skin stepped out. She was wearing bright, glossy red lipstick, and was short enough that she had to go up on her toes to reach the charts filed away on top of the filing cabinet behind the receptionist. As she looked at the first one she grabbed, then shook her head, put it back, and grabbed another, her short, brown waves bounced.
Owen was transfixed.
Her body flexed, taut like a dancer’s, as she slowly lowered her heels to the floor. The midwife’s office was not the place to notice tight, round curves or the flex of her calf beneath the cut-off hem of a pair of jeans.
Not the place at all, Owen. Eyes anywhere else, man.
But it was hard to look elsewhere, because this tiny woman sucked all the air out of the room. And she hadn’t even looked up. She was still reading the chart in her hand, like she was pouring all of her attention into the pages.
When she turned around, she immediately looked at his daughter, her face brightening up. “Becca Kincaid?”
He should have seen that coming. Of course she was Becca’s midwife. That was exactly the right next punch for the universe to deliver in theTake That, Owen Kincaidmarch of events. He locked down any awareness of this person as a woman. She was his daughter’s caregiver, apparently. Or one of them. He squeezed Becca’s hand. “That’s you, honey.”
