SH Medical 09 - The M.D.'s Secret Daughter

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  Occasionally they discussed a matter of public policy, disagreeing on details but agreeing in principle. Even when they weren’t talking, the room came alive with his breathing, his movements, his thoughts.

  During the night, when she awoke, she felt his presence across the second-floor hallway. Even asleep, he made her feel safer.

  It was only one night. She’d be fine.

  Still, when she heard Zack’s car pull out of the garage, Jan felt a sudden emptiness in the house. Not only because she missed him, but because of what she faced during the hours to come.

  She’d been confident she could keep the peace and transform the girls into lifelong friends—not to mention becoming a sort of aunt to Berry. Now she was about to be put to the test.

  That ought to keep her too busy to get lonely.

  Taking advantage of the break, Jan finished emptying the dishwasher. She was getting accustomed to the arrangement of the cabinets and drawers. Since Zack was well supplied with cooking gear she’d left her own stuff in boxes.

  Turning to her laptop she checked rental listings in Safe Harbor and marked a few that allowed pets. However, until she received the repair bill from the landlord, she hesitated to make a financial commitment. Zack had declined her offer to pay him rent, for which she was grateful. But if she owed thousands of dollars...

  Upstairs the floor creaked beneath footsteps. “Dibs on the bathroom!” came Berry’s voice.

  “I gotta go!”

  “Me, too, and I was here first!” From the sound of it, they were scuffling.

  For heaven’s sakes. This house contained three bathrooms, but the girls chose to fight over the one between the bedrooms.

  Gathering her resolve, Jan closed the laptop and went to intervene.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the scheduled start of his on-call shift Zack had delivered four babies. Each birth filled him with joy and a sense of privilege at witnessing a miracle.

  How ironic that he’d missed the birth of his own daughter. Both his daughters, although he could hardly have attended Berry’s. In the long run, the circumstances of their births weren’t what mattered, Zack reflected. He was lucky to have them in his life, and to be a part of his patients’ special experiences.

  On the downside, it was eight-fifteen and he had not yet eaten dinner. He was about to descend from the third floor to the cafeteria when one of the labor nurses came chasing after him.

  “Mrs. Murdock’s baby is crowning!” she cried. “We need you fast. Dr. Rayburn’s coming but she can’t hold out for ten minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Swinging back, Zack followed her at a run.

  Sarah Ann Murdock was a thirty-two-year-old patient of Dr. Rayburn’s. She’d been admitted three hours earlier in labor with her first baby. The administrator, who lived close to the hospital, had left instructions he planned to deliver the baby himself and had been notified to stand by.

  The last time Zack checked, he’d estimated the patient had several more hours of labor. Obviously, she’d progressed more quickly than expected.

  There was no sign of any problem with mother or baby, the nurse assured him. “She claims women in her family deliver fast, even the first time. We should have listened.”

  “Guess so.”

  He scrubbed and hurried into the delivery room, where the nurses were urging the distraught mother to restrain her urge to push. Hovering near his wife, the husband spotted Zack with obvious relief. “Honey! The doctor’s here.”

  Sarah Ann Murdock glared at Zack. “You aren’t Dr. Rayburn!”

  “He’s on his way. We didn’t realize you were going to set an Olympic speed record.” Zack confirmed everything seemed normal and on track with mother and baby. “You can push now.”

  “Thank goodness!”

  A few minutes later, she was cradling her healthy blanket-wrapped son while Dad snapped pictures. Mark Rayburn hurried in, dark eyes apologetic as he addressed the patient. “I hear you decided I was too much of a slowpoke. How do you feel, Sarah Ann?”

  “Like I just gave birth to a whale.” Tears of happiness ran down her face. “But it was worth it.”

  The couple had tried for years to have children—Zack had seen her records. After surgery on blocked fallopian tubes failed to do the trick, they’d succeeded at last thanks to in vitro fertilization.

  “Next time I’ll come the instant you go into labor,” Mark assured her. “And never mind what else I’m doing.” He’d once explained to Zack that he would quit the post of administrator if it required giving up patient care.

  Husband and wife exchanged glances. “There won’t be a next time,” the husband said regretfully. “We’ll be paying the bills for this one until he’s ready for college.”

  “We plan to relish every minute,” his wife added.

  “Got a name picked out?” Zack asked.

  “Simon,” both parents said.

  “Good name.” Mark smiled.

  As Zack departed, a nurse brought him a turkey sandwich. “We’ve got two more in labor and another was just admitted,” she told him.

  “This was thoughtful. What do I owe you?”

  “I’ll put it on your tab.” No doubt he’d run up more food bills before the night was over, he reflected as he thanked her.

  Zack was eating the sandwich in the doctors’ lounge when the administrator found him. “Just wanted to say you did a great job in there.”

  “Beautiful kid.”

  Mark regarded the bulletin board with the contest rankings. “You and I ought to share this one.”

  “It was your pregnancy,” Zack said. “Deliveries don’t count.”

  The older man’s black eyebrows drew together. “I hate to see couples give up on completing their families because of money.”

  The patient’s situation must have touched a nerve. “Are you referring to the grant program?”

  “It’s a good idea. Wish we had one in place.”

  “Puts you in a tough spot,” Zack observed.

  “Samantha and I don’t necessarily think alike.” That was as close as the administrator came to admitting he disagreed about allocating the prize money to the counseling center. “Frankly, I’m thinking of taking myself out of the running. It’s a conflict of interest.”

  Much as Zack would like to move up in the standings, he disagreed. “It’s not as if you’re a judge. Either your patients get pregnant or they don’t, and where to donate the money is the winner’s choice.”

  “I should think you’d encourage me to step back.”

  “It’s Dr. T who’s likely to win.” Zack broke off. “Never mind. He has the same right as anyone else.”

  “That could be debated.” Mark frowned at the chart. “The point of the contest is to build staff morale and generate some positive publicity.”

  “No matter who wins, the corporation’s money will go to a good cause,” Zack acknowledged. “We could look for other sources to fund a grant program.”

  “I’ll give that some thought. But a major donation would certainly get it off to a strong start.”

  “Guess I’ll just have to inspire my patients to greater fertility.” Zack gave the administrator a wry grin.

  “You may develop a sense of humor yet.”

  I thought I had one already. Was he really perceived as being that stern?

  With a wave Mark was off, no doubt to spell his wife on overnight duty with the triplets. Meanwhile, Zack recalled,
Jan was dealing with their two kids.

  Not theirs, except temporarily. All the same, he appreciated her effort. And hoped she was in touch with her sense of humor, because she was likely to need it.

  * * *

  HOW MANY WAYS COULD two little girls find to pester each other and make life miserable for the adult in charge? By early evening Jan had lost count.

  They squabbled about who got to play with the kitten and how much time Gorilla could spend in the den, which required banishing Smidge to the bedroom. They argued over what to have for dinner, forcing Jan to make an executive decision. The girls made short work of the homemade veggie pizza and salad with low-fat ranch dressing, but as if unable to bear more than a few moments of peace, they fought over the last half scoop of sherbet. Jan ate it herself, then felt childish for doing so.

  She tried to reason with them, together and separately. Both listened sullenly, then went and picked another quarrel.

  While she disliked using TV as a babysitter, Jan made a last-ditch attempt to settle them in front of a documentary about parrots, one of Kimmie’s favorite films. Her daughter promptly sprawled next to Jan on the couch and refused to make space for Berry.

  “You’re my mom,” she declared. “I get to sit here!”

  “There’s room for both of you on either side.”

  “Oh, she can sit there. Who cares? She’s just a baby.” Arms folded, Berry sank into an armchair and plopped her feet on the coffee table.

  If the girls shot each other any more laser-sharp glares, Jan was likely to get burns. “That does it.” She turned off the DVD. “We’re going for a walk.”

  “It’s cold out!” Kimmie protested.

  “Dad and I already exercised today,” Berry grumbled.

  They both aimed their objections at Jan, which she considered a step in the right direction. Having them unite against her represented progress of a sort. An uncomfortable sort.

  “You’re fighting like a pair of tomcats,” she told them. “Let’s see who claims to own the sidewalk.”

  “It was my neighborhood first!” Berry said.

  Jan laughed.

  “What?” the girl demanded.

  “Yeah, what’s so funny? I mean, besides her face,” Kimmie added.

  “Get your jackets on, now!” The exercise ought to take the edge off their restlessness, and Zack would approve.

  Jan admired his insistence on healthy habits for Berry, even if he was a little rigid. Faced with time pressures, she too often took the easy way out with Kimmie, eating fast food and collapsing in front of the TV.

  Zack was a good influence. Now if she could keep the girls from becoming enemies... Until today, she’d believed the two would enjoy being sisters, but she was having doubts. What if their antagonism hardened into a long-lasting rift, as Zack feared?

  You can do this. Don’t give up.

  Outside, the cool air raised another protest from Kimmie, which inspired Berry to call her a wimp. “No talking,” Jan said. “First girl to spot a stray cat gets a sugar-free candy.” She’d brought a pocketful.

  The girls fell silent, peering into the twilight. Older homes, many in the California bungalow style with old-fashioned porches, featured clumps of birds of paradise and calla lilies. Here and there between cottages rose newer Mediterranean-style structures, fences draped with bougainvillea, and Cape Cod houses like Zack’s, planted with roses. Lots of places for kitties to prowl.

  As the girls kept a lookout, Jan noted some residents had raised Halloween banners on their flagpoles. This must be a fun area to go trick-or-treating, although she usually took Kimmie to a party at a church or community center, to be safe. She was wondering about Zack’s plans when she recalled he didn’t let Berry eat most types of candy.

  Jan supposed she might restrict Kimmie’s sugar intake this year, but it didn’t seem right to ban candy entirely. Another battle loomed between the girls. And possibly between Jan and Zack.

  “There’s one!” Berry cried.

  “I saw it first!”

  The girls pointed to a tortoiseshell cat skulking around a street corner. “You both win.” Jan handed each a wrapped candy. “No littering. Put the trash in your pocket or give it to me.”

  “Can we play this some more?” Kimmie asked.

  “You bet.”

  They had just rounded the corner when Kimmie said, “Oh, look!”

  Toward them strolled a tall woman with thick gray hair. Alongside her, on leashes, paced a wiry terrier bouncing with energy and an easy-gaited, flop-eared pooch triple its size.

  “Those are dogs, not cats,” Berry sneered.

  “I know that,” Kimmie returned. “That’s Ilsa Ivy. She runs the animal shelter.”

  A good person to meet. “Hi,” Jan said as the woman approached. “I’m new to the neighborhood.” They introduced themselves and shook hands, while the dogs waited obediently.

  “You remember me!” Kimmie said confidently.

  “I do, indeed.”

  “And this is Berry, Zack Sargent’s older daughter.” Seeing Ilsa’s confused expression, Jan decided to explain. “My daughter, Kimmie, and I are staying with the Sargents until we find a place that accepts pets. We own Gorilla, the cat you got neutered. Thank you for taking care of him.”

  “Always glad to help an animal.”

  “Can we pet the dogs?” Kimmie asked.

  “Yes, and thank you for asking.”

  Kimmie knelt to pat the smaller animal, which wagged its tail so hard it nearly flew into orbit. It also let out a few high-pitched barks as if to justify its name, which Ilsa said was Yappy. Berry gravitated to the calmer Pal, a Labrador-shepherd mix that tolerated her hug indulgently.

  “They’re very well behaved.” Jan could tell these canines had lovable personalities.

  “Both former strays,” Ilsa announced. “You can’t believe how much work it took before they got along.”

  “Like me and Berry,” Kimmie said from her kneeling position on the sidewalk.

  “I have to share my bedroom,” Berry complained.

  “That can’t be easy,” the shelter operator sympathized. “You know, I have a project you could both work on, if your parents agree. It might give you girls something in common and it would help the animals.”

  “Okay!” Kimmie didn’t hesitate.

  Berry proved more cautious. “What is it?”

  “Instead of asking for candy on Halloween, some children raise funds for good causes,” Ilsa told them. “Our shelter may have to close if we can’t fix our plumbing and air-conditioning systems.”

  “They need about a million dollars,” Kimmie said.

  “Twenty thousand, but it feels like a million. And that doesn’t include expanding the kennels and our spay-neuter program.” The older woman paused to pat each dog and praise it for sitting quietly. “We’ve made up fliers to distribute, requesting donations instead of candy and explaining what it’s for. Even if people can’t donate now, they might help later.”

  Jan had to admit the idea offered a welcome solution to the candy dilemma. And judging by how intently both girls listened, they might be willing to work together. “What do you kids think?”

  “No candy?” Despite her disappointed tone, Kimmie squared her little shoulders. “Okay.”

  “Can we still wear costumes?” Berry asked.

  “That’s up to your parents.” Ilsa regarded Jan questioningly.

  “Costumes, yes. As for the fund-
raising, I’ll have to clear it with Zack.” Judging by the way the girls were jumping up and down, she doubted he’d have much choice.

  “I get to be a kitty!” Kimmie announced.

  “I’m older! I get to pick first!” Berry shot back.

  “You can both be cats,” Jan said.

  “But you must cooperate.” Ilsa gave Jan a conspiratorial smile. “If you fight that sets a bad example for the dogs. See how well they’re getting along?”

  “Yeah.” Kimmie gave Yappy another pat. “We can both be cats.”

  “I want orange stripes like Smidge,” Berry announced.

  “And I’ll be gray with white patches.”

  “We’d better finish our walk and start planning our costumes.” Much as she’d like to wait for Zack’s okay, Jan decided to capitalize on the girls’ willingness to work together.

  “You can download the flier from our website and run off your own copies,” Ilsa said. “That would save us money.”

  “Of course.” Jan was grateful for Ilsa’s suggestion. “I’m not sure how much we’ll collect, but...”

  “Everything helps.” With a friendly nod, the woman clucked to the dogs. They jumped up and strolled away at her heels.

  Jan kept that image in mind. While she didn’t expect one project to transform Kimmie and Berry into best pals, it was a start.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Usually, Zack fell instantly into a deep sleep between deliveries. The noise from the hospital hallway, the uncomfortable stiffness of the bunk beds in the on-call room—none of that mattered.

  This night, though, he lay awake worrying about Berry. Had he yielded to his own convenience without adequately weighing what it meant to let her stay home with Jan? Sure, sleeping in her own bed might increase her sense of security, but what about the security of familiar arrangements with Mrs. Ellroy? If Jan failed to reconcile the girls, Berry might feel isolated and embattled in her own home.