by Risk, Mona
“Yes, he’s a beautiful boy.” Holly smiled to reassure her.
Terry’s panic-stricken gaze fixed on Holly. “Is he hea...healthy?” she stammered.
“He’s very healthy.”
Terry lowered her head. Convinced that the woman cared for her son, Holly told the nurses to let her go. They released the patient’s arms but remained next to the gurney.
“I ain’t gonna stay here. I wanna take my baby and go. I don’t want no doctors touching me or my baby.” Suddenly, the woman lashed out and slapped Holly across her face. “You bitch, where you got my son?”
As Holly jerked back, gasping, she stumbled right into a sturdy body.
“Holly, are you okay?” Marc’s arms closed around her.
Her back against his solid chest, Holly suffocated. Raw emotions squeezed all air from her lungs. “I’m fine.” She squirmed out of his arms and tried to regain her composure.
“Call security.” Marc ordered a nurse. He grabbed Terry’s shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed while she struggled against him. Two security guards walked in and tied her hands to the bed rails with leather restraints.
“The psychiatrist is on his way. Don’t sedate her now,” Holly said as she fingered the sore spot on her cheek. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t have time to deal with it.
“What psychiatrist? I ain’t crazy, you fool,” Terry spat, rattling the bed rails.
“You’d better calm down and listen to Dr. Collier.” Marc scowled at the patient. “She’s trying to help you when she could sue you for assault and battery.”
Terry closed her eyes and stopped fighting.
A stocky man wearing a beige suit approached them. “Dr. Collier? I’m Dr. Caruso from the Emergency Crisis Center.” They shook hands. Holly introduced Marc and the two nurses. “Can we move the patient to a private room? I’ll call you after I’m done talking to her.”
Holly nodded. “Please do.” The security guards rolled the gurney out.
Marc led Holly out of Recovery, his hand at her back. As soon as the exit door swung shut, she turned around, fuming. “Why did you tell her I could sue her? You know I’d never do that.”
“Well, someone had to scare her into behaving.”
“Would you mind letting me handle my own case?” She glared at him, her anger at his interference exacerbated by a lingering image of Jenna hanging onto his neck.
“At the moment, Terry is unstable. She’s my patient as much as her son is yours. Besides, I’m concerned about you.”
“Why?”
Holly turned and then strode across the hallway to the elevator, Marc on her heels.
“What do you mean, why? You should see your face. You’re my friend. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
Holly entered the elevator. Marc followed and pushed the button for the first floor. She banged the fourth floor button with her knuckles. “If you have to fight to protect your multitude of female friends, you’ll spend your life doing nothing else.”
In the confined space, Marc’s clean, masculine scent enveloped her like a warm cloak, robbing her mental faculties of their usual alertness. She took a small breath and pressed her back against the wall of the elevator, wishing to disappear through it. Right now, she badly needed the privacy of her own room to sort out her feelings.
“Dios mio, what are you talking about?” His forehead creased, his face a mix of surprise and hurt. “What multitude of female friends?”
Even when the shadows in his eyes reminded her of his grief, the man oozed sex appeal.
As they stepped out of the elevator, she crossed her arms to prevent him from noticing her shaking fingers. “You don’t owe me any explanations. We’re colleagues. Period.”
“Colleagues, hmm.” Huffing, he flapped his arms in frustration.
Turning her back on him, she strode toward her on-call room.
He accelerated his pace and caught up to her. “Understood. Colleagues. But colleagues can be friends, can be concerned about each other. Right?”
“Forget it.” She glanced at him and shrugged, not ready to get entangled in a definition of specific words. “Earlier today, I tried to soothe your pain. Others are entitled to do the same for you. So don’t feel obligated to reciprocate by trying to protect me.”
“Wait a minute.” Marc paused as they reached her room. “Others? You mean Jenna, right? She tried to force herself through my door. Didn’t you see me preventing her from entering my office?”
Holly bit her lip and nodded. Why was she so upset?
Good grief, she was jealous of Jenna and worried stiff about her own new bout of attraction to Marc. “Still, I’d rather not have you interfere with my case,” she said, using work as a protective shield against her annoying feelings.
“Holly, you’re overreacting. I’d certainly never try to interfere in your cases.” He fixed a speculative gaze on her. “Right now, I’ll get you some ice to put on your cheek before it turns into a rainbow.” A slow smile brightened his face. “Be right back.”
His first smile since the accident. How she’d missed that smile. It warmed her heart, melted it, and turned it into syrup. Get a grip, girl. Where’s your cool, tough brain?
She unlocked her on-call room and went straight to the bathroom mirror to look at her face and the reddish imprint of Terry’s fingers.
Marc returned holding a pack of ice wrapped in a cotton napkin. “Let me see that.” Cradling her chin in his palm, he tilted her head, gently pressed the icy towel on the mark, and removed it after a minute. “We don’t want to burn your skin.”
He repeated the process several times while she struggled to ignore her racing heartbeat and remain still under his caring ministrations. Slowly, the itching sensation disappeared.
“Give it a day and it will be gone.”
A day? So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Holly was dizzy just thinking about the previous day.
Marc seemed to have buried his pain under his single-minded involvement in his medical duties.
He brushed her cheek with a feather-like caress.
Oh, no.
Here in her bathroom alone with him, she wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. And he was temptation with a capital T. She lowered her head away from his hand and scurried back into her room.
He followed and handed her the ice pack. Standing with his legs apart, his arms crossed over his chest, he stared at her. “Holly, I hope you trust me by now.” His sharp gaze bore straight into her soul. “Do you?”
Did she? She fidgeted with the icepack, pressed it against her face, and let out a weak, “Yeah.”
Off and on, would be the honest answer. She had offered her support and acted as a good friend. But he hadn’t confided his plans for his nephew. “What about you? Trust is a two-way street.”
Marc raised a hand toward her and then dropped it to his side. “Touché.” Working with Holly today had helped soothe his heartache. When she’d hugged him with tender compassion, he’d almost forgotten his sorrow and indulged his attraction to her. Guilt roiled in his gut. He sucked in a deep breath, ashamed of his body’s response at a time when he should be mourning his relatives and thinking about the baby’s future.
“About the baby...” He cleared his throat. Confiding in someone, even Holly, didn’t come to him easily. “I plan to adopt Paulito.”
“That’s wonderful.” She reached over and squeezed his hand in approval. “I was hoping you would.”
“I’ll raise him the way Carlos and Lydia would have wanted.” The theory sounded great, even to his ears. In practice, it was a different ballgame. He tapped his hand on his thigh, hoping that somehow, some way, he’d be able to fulfill this promise.
“Here in D.C.?” He thought he heard hope in her voice.
“Definitely.”
“With your busy schedule, you’ll need a reliable babysitter.”
He arched a brow. If Abuelita heard the word babysitter, her heart attack wouldn
’t be faked this time. No strangers had ever cared for the Suarez babies. He could picture the formidable old lady brandishing her cane like a heavenly scepter and clamoring, My great-grandson needs a real mother, not a paid nanny.
Marc didn’t want to voice his concern in front of Holly and explain his grandmother’s point of view. Time to change the subject. He glanced at his watch. “In a couple of hours, I’ll have to leave for the funeral home.”
She gave him an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to attend the wake.”
“I understand. You’re needed here.”
Holly’s pager buzzed. “It’s Dr. Caruso.” She called the number on her pager. After she’d talked to the psychiatrist, she turned toward Marc.
“Terry has done heavy drugs in the past. She went through a rehabilitation program and has been clean for the past five years. But she took crack to lessen the pain as she entered the river. She promised that she won’t touch it again.”
Marc shook his head. “So we can’t trust her when an infant’s safety is in the balance.”
“Caruso will send a social worker tomorrow to discharge the baby. The County CP Services will find him a foster home while Terry is monitored. Caruso will see her again in a month.” Holly lowered her head, her lips pursed in a sad line.
“Holly, maybe we can help. We’ll show Terry the baby for a short supervised visit. It may encourage her to start her rehab.”
“That’d be great.” Holly fingered her cheek. “I hope she’ll listen to us.”
Marc took a step closer. “Still reddish.” Cupping her face, he traced the mark with the tip of his finger. “The price you pay for being too kind.”
“Ouch. Easy.”
“Come with me. Terry is my patient, but I know you’re very concerned about the baby. We’ll do it together,” Marc said, as they walked down the hallway to Terry’s room.
“What now?” Terry demanded from her bed as she glared at Holly.
Marc stepped forward. “Terry, we’re here to help you.”
“How? They wanna take my baby away.” She softly sobbed. “They’re not gonna let me even see him.”
“Dr. Collier and I can do something about that if you promise to be calm.”
“Bring my baby.” Terry’s lips quivered. “Please, Doctor,” she added with effort.
Marc glanced at Holly, then turned back to the patient. “First, I need your promise not to make any more scenes and to cooperate with the social worker.”
“I promise.” Terry nodded and sniffled. “I’ll do anything you want. Just bring him.”
Holly summoned the nurse on duty. “Please bring Baby Corry. Dr. Suarez and I will stay with the patient.”
Marc dragged a chair next to the patient’s bed for Holly and leaned against the windowsill. “Has Dr. Caruso explained the rehabilitation procedure to you?”
Terry shrugged. “No need. I’ve done a rehab before.”
“I see. What made you decide to deliver in a river?”
Terry lowered her head, dismay written all over her face. “I heard a man preach about nature. How good it is. He said, ‘Return to nature in everything you do’. I thought it’d be beautiful for the baby to be born in the river. With the water carrying him out. With no pain, or effort. Just naturally.”
“Terry, do you realize he could have died?” Holly asked. “Your beautiful, healthy baby could have died because you were on drugs, trying a dangerous experiment.”
The woman covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.” Wracked with sobs, she hiccupped.
The nurse returned carrying a bundle of blue in her arms. Holly took the baby and walked toward the bed, holding him. “Terry, here’s your baby.”
Tears poured down Terry’s face as she opened her arms wide to receive her child. They allowed her a few minutes to cuddle the baby and kiss him.
“What are you going to call him?” Marc asked.
She raised a face bright with tears and smiled. “I was gonna call him like the nature preacher. No more.” She turned her head toward Marc. “What’s your name, doctor?”
Marc arched his eyebrows. “My name? Marc Suarez.”
“And you, doctor?” she asked Holly.
“Holly Collier. Why?”
“I’ll call him Marc Collier Corry. Thanks for bringing my baby. I’ll do anything to keep Baby Marc.”
Marc caught and held Holly’s surprised gaze. Was there a longing in the beautiful turquoise pools?
“Would you like to feed him?” Holly asked.
“Can I?” She raised eyes full of supplication.
“Terry, we’ll give you a chance to help yourself and your baby.” Holly turned to the nurse. “Can you please bring a bottle of formula while we’re here?”
A moment later, the nurse came back and handed the requested bottle to Terry. Calm and serene, the new mother fed her child. A scent of formula milk floated in the air. “Do you have kids, Dr. Collier?”
“Nope.” Holly’s eyelashes lowered for a brief moment, then her chin tilted up. “But I have hundreds of babies to care for at the hospital.”
Had Holly ever thought about having a family? Kids of her own and a loving husband? Had she ever cast him in that role? Or any other man?
The questions stabbed Marc’s midsection like a series of incisions from a sharp scalpel. Madre de Dios, he refused to imagine Holly with another man.
“Not the same.” Gazing at her child with adoration, Terry dropped little kisses on his cheek and forehead. “My own baby in my arms. I’m his mommy. You doctors can say what you wanna say, but a baby needs his mommy first. A mother loves him more than anyone in the world.”
Marc stiffened. His gut caved in as if he’d been punched by the words coming out of the unfortunate woman. A baby needs a mother. Paulito had no mother. Marc was ready to love Paulito more than anyone in the world. But was a good father enough to replace a mother?
The hair on his neck bristled as he realized what a loveless void Paulito would have to face without a mother. The same void Marc’s family had faced after Mama’s death. Marc glanced at Holly.
She stood rooted in place, her gaze fixed on Terry and her baby, her lips pursed. Was she also thinking about Paulito? Would Marc dare ask her to devote more time to his orphaned nephew? If only he could ask her...
A picture flashed in his mind. Holly snuggling in his arms, while a baby slept in a nearby bassinet.
It was a recurrent fantasy. One he’d had to abandon years ago under the weight of family obligations.
While Terry continued to feed her baby, Holly stepped next to Marc. “Thank you for coming with me to talk with her. I think we’ve made some progress. She needed to bond with her son. It’ll be a good incentive for her during her rehabilitation.” And then Holly dazzled him with a beautiful smile and a dreamy expression. “Marc Collier. Hmm.”
Marc stared at her, wondering if the juxtaposition of their names meant something special. A symbol of them being together?
Or an omen?
CHAPTER SIX
“Holly, don’t you think the yellow has faded?” Marc directed the beam of a flashlight over his nephew’s face and belly while Holly examined the baby.
“Definitely. He’ll be over the jaundice in a few days.” Holly wrapped Paulito back in his blanket and then gathered him in her arms.
“I was about to give him a bottle,” the NICU nurse on duty said. “The six other preemies have been fed.”
“I’ll do it,” Holly said.
“Dr. Collier, can I take a break to get a sandwich? Jenna left a few minutes ago. Her replacement hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Go ahead, Stacey. I’ll be here for at least an hour.” After the nurse left, Holly reached for a bottle and settled in the rocking chair to feed Paulito. She pressed a kiss on his forehead and slipped the nipple between his lips.
Marc bent toward her rocking chair, allowing his eyes to feast on the image she presented with the baby in her arms. No tra
ining could account for her delicate gestures and vigilant attention to her little patients. It was a natural gift. Always going the extra length, just as a mother would do. Exactly the way Lydia would have wanted her baby to be loved.
As Holly turned toward him, Marc jerked back and shook his head to clear it.
“Are you all right?” Holly frowned, concern written all over her face.
“Yes.” His voice lacked conviction. He stared at Paulito who dozed, the nipple of the bottle slipping out of his mouth. Nothing was all right. Nothing had been all right for the last thirty-six hours.
“Do you want to hold your son?”
“My son? Yes. Of course.”
Marc held his arms toward her. She stood and handed him the precious bundle. He pressed the baby against his heart.
“My son,” he repeated in awe as he looked at Paulito.
The baby was his mirror image. Same features and same coloring. His very own child now, to love and protect. He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, “My son.” Marc allowed tears to moisten his lashes. He knew without the shadow of a doubt he’d gladly trade his carefree lifestyle to protect this frail life.
For a man sworn to no commitment, he felt deeply committed to his nephew.
He turned around to hide his emotion and put the infant in his isolette. When he straightened, he was back in control.
“I have to get ready for the wake.”
She nodded. “What time is your flight tomorrow morning?”
“Six. I won’t have time to come back to see you before I leave.”
“Well, have a safe trip, Marc.”
He let a quick smile flicker across his lips. “That’s it? No hug?”
“Oh, I—”
“In Puerto Rico we say ‘Hasta la vista’ with a big hug. It’s a must.”
She bit her lip and looked around the NICU, uncomfortable at best. Marc followed her gaze and chuckled. “No nurses as you can see. Are you worried your preemies may tell on us?”
“Bug off, Marc.”
“I will in a minute, but I’m still waiting for my hug. For good luck, you know.” Amused by her hesitation, he raised his eyebrows, challenging her.
She’d given him enough hugs for the day. But he was leaving and needed his Godspeed. One more couldn’t hurt. She rose on tiptoes and deposited a quick kiss on his cheek. His arms closed around her waist, and he laughed. “You call that a hug? Pitiful.”
