The Surgeon's Surprise Twins

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “This isn’t your baby—aren’t your babies,” Phyllis amended. It was an open challenge, as if she were daring him to speak up.

  Owen nearly took the bait. But what then? If he claimed paternity, that wouldn’t change the fact that he’d agreed to father a baby for his brother. In every state that he was aware of, a sperm donor gave up all rights to the offspring so long as the donation was freely made, the donor wasn’t the woman’s husband, and the insemination was performed by a licensed doctor. In this case, all three conditions had been met.

  Most likely, the revelation would make Bailey angry enough to move out, and maybe in with Ned Norwalk or some other loopy friend of hers. The last thing he intended was to force her into an unstable living situation.

  Worse, Owen would be shut out. Unable to watch the babies grow, and in no position to intervene if Bailey required it.

  He swallowed his anger. “Since she’s only three months along and seems healthy, the situation isn’t critical. But by next month—”

  “By next month, we’ll be able to prepay those doctors for the entire maternity package.” Phyllis bounced to her feet. “Which we’d intended to do, but some of our money got tied up offshore. These things happen. You do trust me, don’t you, Bailey?”

  Even as he saw the answering nod, Owen felt an unpleasant quiver of recognition. Don’t you trust me? He’d heard Boone’s father use that phrase during a visit while promising to return two weeks later. If memory served, the man had then disappeared for the better part of a year.

  “Of course I do.” Bailey jumped up and caught her sister’s hands. “Isn’t this fantastic? Boone will be thrilled, don’t you think?”

  Phyllis propped the ultrasound picture on the mantel, a precarious perch given the flexibility of the paper. “We’re going to spoil those little darlings to death. You can help me decorate the nursery. Bears and dolls and books and the best furniture. Everything we dreamed about when we were growing up. Once we get this deal nailed down, we’ll be rolling in it.”

  Rolling in what, exactly? Owen was tempted to ask. But Bailey clearly didn’t share his skepticism.

  “I’m so glad I can do this for you,” she told her sister. “I love you, Phyllis.”

  “I love you too, honey.” The blonde, a good three inches taller than Bailey, swept the younger woman into a fierce hug. Owen could have sworn there were tears in Phyllis’s eyes. “Oh, wait! I have a present for you.” She slipped out of the room and returned with a basket tied with a large bow. Inside he glimpsed bars of scented soap, bubble bath and other toiletries, along with a first aid kit. “Just a few things to help make you comfortable.”

  “They smell divine!” Bailey beamed at her.

  These two shared a closer bond than he did with Boone, Owen realized. While Phyllis might be guilty of magical thinking, assuming that problems would somehow resolve themselves, he didn’t believe she would deliberately take advantage of her sister.

  On the other hand, he was a lot less certain about his brother’s motives toward anyone.

  As he walked Bailey out through the foyer, Owen tried to imagine the twins racing about this elegant house, but he doubted that his brother would be able to keep the place. For most people, an ordinary house or a modest apartment would be fine, but Boone was never satisfied with ordinary. Otherwise, why spend a fortune renting a mansion when he couldn’t afford doctor bills?

  Owen shuddered to think how his brother would react if everything blew up in his face. Would Boone put his family first? And, if so, did that include the twins or were they simply another acquisition to him?

  Today’s visit had reinforced Owen’s doubts. Boone’s absence combined with Phyllis’s initially tearful appearance, plus her grandiose claims that they would soon be rolling in money, all added up to much more than a question mark.

  Owen conceded an obligation to keep his hands off Bailey’s medical situation for the moment. But he had a moral obligation to protect her and the babies, as well as Boone’s investors, from a shady setup.

  Much as the prospect troubled him, it was time to pay a discreet visit to the police department’s fraud unit. He hoped the authorities would be equally circumspect in making sure they got all the facts before this matter spun out of control.

  Chapter Eight

  The following week, Bailey had only passing encounters with Owen at breakfast and late at night, and occasionally at the medical center. But she felt his presence everywhere.

  Sunday night, he left his underwear in the dryer and she had to remove it in order to dry her own stuff, which seemed rather rude. But fascinating, too. The man wore black jockeys, very sexy.

  At work on Wednesday, she heard he’d lost his temper at his new office nurse, Keely Randolph, a heavyset woman who refused to indulge the doctor’s preferences regarding office procedure. While Keely might not be the most popular individual at Safe Harbor Med, much of the nursing staff was rooting for her. No one else had wanted to take on the pugnacious Dr. T. after his previous nurse left.

  Bailey relished the fact that Keely was unimpressed by hotshot surgeons. As for Ned, he’d begun taking bets on how long Keely would last, with additional points for guessing whether she’d transfer to another office first or be sent packing. It was all in fun, with most of the money to go to charity. The winner would receive a gift certificate to the hospital cafeteria.

  But although she enjoyed listening to the chatter at lunchtime, Bailey wished her friends wouldn’t keep prodding her to reveal details of Owen’s behavior at home. “He’s entitled to some privacy,” she said on Thursday to Devina Gupta, a nurse who worked for pediatrician Samantha Forrest, and Lori Ross, who was Dr. Rayburn’s nurse as well as the wife of a neonatologist.

  At an adjacent table, she caught a slight nod from newcomer Erica Benford, who tended to sit by herself or with other surgical nurses. Obviously, Erica approved of Bailey’s discretion, but then, she had a well-known loyalty to Owen, since they’d worked together for years.

  Bailey wished Erica would join them, because there was a lot she wanted to know. She’d heard from Patty and Alec that Owen had appeared at social events in Boston with several stunning women, often with credentials that rivaled his own. Not that she would dare to ask directly, but had there been anyone special, anyone who might reappear without warning?

  “It’s just strange that you two are related by marriage,” said Devina, lifting a glass of orange juice carefully with her beautifully manicured fingers. None of the other nurses could figure out how she kept her nails that perfect, and Devina never revealed her secret.

  “He’s not so bad,” Bailey said. Especially when he runs his hands over my abdomen. His touch still tingled through her, and she got warm every time she recalled him staring at the screen, fascinated by the babies’ antics in the womb.

  Why was he so protective about her medical care? He’d insisted on going with her to see Phyllis and, although she would never admit it, she’d been touched by the way he’d stood up for her

  Don’t start thinking you matter to him. It was a crazy idea, for all kinds of reasons. Also, a great way to get her heart bruised and end up feeling like a fool.

  “You’re defending him? Unbelievable.” Ned made up the fourth person at their table. “Are you going to eat that roll? If not, I’ll take it.”

  Devina pretended to slap his hand. “Don’t be greedy. She’s eating for two.”

  “Or more,” Lori said. “Are you sure your doctor didn’t detect anything?”

  Since Bailey normally revealed whatever was on her mind, she nearly answered with the truth. But how could she explain suddenly knowing that she carried twins, when she’d been telling everyone that nothing had showed up at her last exam?

  “I’d better get back to work.” She handed the roll to Ned. “Enjoy.”

  “Are you avoiding the subject?” Devina challenged.

  “Dr. Franco’s going to Hawaii next week and I’ve got a lot to do,” Bailey reminded her.
August had arrived, and with it Nora’s delayed honeymoon. “We’re squeezing in as many patients as possible.”

  “Thanks.” Ned began buttering the roll. “By the way, I’m trying to firm up my weekend plans, seeing as I’m such a popular guy. How about if I drop by on Saturday?”

  Usually, she enjoyed singing together, ordering pizza and watching old movies. Having Ned around seemed to irk Owen, which was also a definite plus. But Bailey didn’t feel like hanging with her buddy Saturday night. “I’m counseling in the afternoon and it might run late.” Renée had called to request a three o’clock get-together. Maybe they’d have coffee afterward, although Bailey had pretty much lost her taste for the brew. “Another time.”

  “No problem.”

  She sensed her friends watching as she wove her way between crowded tables. Even from across the large room, Bailey recognized their voices as the conversation resumed. Although she couldn’t make out any words, she had a pretty good idea that they were talking about her and her newfound reluctance to spill all.

  She didn’t entirely understand it herself. It wasn’t only because of her sometimes confusing feelings about Owen, either.

  Instinctively, Bailey’s hand closed over her midsection as she walked next door to the medical office building. Inside, still too small for her to detect their movements, lay her children.

  No, Phyllis’s children, and Boone’s. A deal was a deal. But instead of focusing on proper diet and when to start childbirth classes, her brain kept returning to two little individuals. Boys? Girls? What names would Phyllis choose? Surely she’d let Bailey babysit—probably insist on it.

  What if they moved away? Bailey’s throat tightened at the idea. The kids might grow up as virtual strangers, yet she had no right to insist that they stay here in Safe Harbor forever. What if they came back to her years later, armed with the truth, and demanded to know why she’d given them up?

  She couldn’t talk about this with her friends. There’d be a smattering of I-warned-you’s, and all sorts of opinions about how and what she should do. But to them, it would be nothing more than idle chitchat. To Bailey, this meant more with every passing day.

  Because with each new day, her children were growing. That meant the moment was approaching when she’d have to hand them over to someone else.

  As for Owen, he seemed to have forgotten all that caring uncle stuff. On Thursday, he arrived home late, grabbed a sandwich and got busy checking his email, or whatever he did on his computer. Bailey missed the way they’d joked together in the hot tub and during the ultrasound. She even tried to pick an argument by removing his laundry from the dryer while it was still damp and leaving it on the couch, but if he noticed, he ignored it.

  On Friday, Bailey heard that he’d blown up at Keely for forgetting to ask a patient about current medications. Since prescription information was kept in the computer system, that was largely a formality for regular patients, but it could still be important. When Keely protested that she’d been interrupted twice, Owen had made a sarcastic rejoinder and the nurse had stalked out after calling him a string of adjectives in which arrogant and egotistical featured prominently.

  That night, he hadn’t come home by the time Bailey went to bed. She was just as glad. Poking a sleeping tiger might be amusing, but confronting one in full slasher mode would be unwise.

  Saturday morning, he ate two of her yogurts and left money on the kitchen table to pay for them. What did he think she was, his housekeeper? Bailey grumbled silently when she found it. Fortunately she’d planned a foray to the supermarket anyway.

  Since Nora had left and she had a slow week ahead, Bailey had expected to enjoy her free time. Instead, she was too restless to stroll through the mall and uneasy about calling any of her friends or her sister. Oddly, she missed Owen. Who else could she talk to about the twins?

  She headed for the counseling center early, and spent half an hour chatting with the volunteer director, Eleanor Wycliff, about fundraising ideas. Promptly at three, Renée arrived. Although her hair remained an unflattering gray-brown, it seemed to Bailey that her eyes had more spark and she held her shoulders straighter.

  They went into the counseling room, where Bailey sat on the frayed love seat while Renée took a folding chair. Aside from a few more chairs, the only other furniture was a child’s table with paper and markers set out.

  “How’s your week been?” Bailey asked.

  “Thanks to you, I had an epiphany,” Renée announced with a smile.

  An epiphany? What did that mean exactly? Bailey recalled a church holiday, but she doubted that was what Renée meant. “Oh?”

  “I decided to try on wigs to help me choose a color and style,” the older woman said, smoothing down a pocket flap on her cargo pants. They were a lot more interesting than the outdated polyester ones she’d worn a week ago, Bailey mused.

  “Good idea,” she prompted.

  “I walked into this wig and hat shop. There were two other women there and it took me about thirty seconds to realize they were both cancer patients.” Renée paused a moment. “Here I am fretting about lacking a purpose in life, and these women are fighting to survive. To them, a wig didn’t mean a new hairstyle, it meant a way to feel normal while undergoing chemotherapy.”

  “That was quite a revelation.” Bailey hadn’t expected Renée to have such an emotional experience over a simple change in hair color.

  “As I said, I had an epiphany. It put my whole life into perspective. That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” Renée leaned forward, purpose blazing in her face.

  Bailey had a sudden urge to run and fetch Eleanor, who was a lot older and more experienced. “I don’t know much about putting life in perspective,” she admitted. “I’m kind of confused about mine at the moment.”

  “Oh, not that!” The older woman chuckled. “I meant about volunteering at the hospital. They do use volunteers, don’t they?”

  “Absolutely.” Relieved, Bailey gave her the name of the auxiliary coordinator who did the training and scheduling. “You could work in the gift shop or reception desk, assist visitors, take flowers and gifts to patients. Stuff like that. Our volunteers make everyone’s life easier.”

  “I’d like to do that.” Renée nodded vigorously. “I’m going to sign up next week. You’ve given me a future worth looking forward to, Bailey.”

  “Wow.” That was unexpected. She didn’t feel as if she deserved credit, but there was another area in which she might be able to help. “What about finding your son? I have a friend who’s a detective. I could ask Patty to make inquiries.”

  Renée didn’t hesitate. “No, thanks. Since my epiphany, I’ve decided to quit being so selfish. If my son wishes to find me, I’ve posted enough information to make that easy. If he doesn’t, I’d only be intruding.”

  “Do you think kids have some special psychic connection to their birth parent?” Bailey asked. “I’ve been wondering about my own situation.”

  The other woman considered for a moment. “Emotionally, whether we feel a bond depends on our personality and maybe the family we grew up in. Your baby is going to be raised by relatives, so he or she won’t be left guessing about where he came from. But I suspect everybody’s different.”

  “Thanks.” Although it was ironic that her client was counseling her, Bailey appreciated it. “You might want to sign up as a peer counselor here at the center, too. You have a natural talent.”

  “One new enterprise at a time. But I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

  Happy to see Renée embark on a new course, Bailey shook hands with her. “This isn’t goodbye. I’m sure I’ll see you around the medical center.”

  “We could have lunch occasionally,” Renée suggested.

  “That would be great!”

  On the way home, Bailey picked up a double serving of Greek food—stuffed grape leaves along with moussaka, a baked eggplant dish. While she told herself she’d enjoy the leftovers, the truth was that she hoped s
he’d find someone at home to share it with.

  But the driveway and the house were empty. Figuring Ned must be booked by now, and reluctant to invite him over when Owen was likely to be home soon, she ordered a new romance novel on her ebook reader. Then she settled down to eat and fall in love by proxy.

  “I DON’T SEE HOW WE’RE EVER going to work this out,” Alec Denny told Owen as they regarded the rows of incubators stacked like small refrigerators along a freshly painted wall.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Owen asked in surprise. So far, their review of the new laboratories in the hospital’s converted basement had been highly satisfactory. Alec had done a superb job of overseeing the remodeling and installation of sensitive equipment to process and preserve eggs, embryos and sperm.

  “Patty wants to elope on a motorcycle, or possibly a skateboard. My daughter wants a big wedding where she can be the flower girl, and my mother thinks we should have a simple ceremony at her church.” Alec stared toward a stereo microscope, but he wasn’t really seeing it, Owen could tell.

  Thank goodness there wasn’t a problem with the labs. And for all his friend’s joking complaints, the wedding plans didn’t seem like much of a problem, either.

  In the four years that he’d worked with the embryologist, he’d watched Alec weather a painful divorce from an unstable woman, win a custody battle and become a successful single dad. In all that time, Owen had never seen his friend glow with pure happiness until he fell back in love with his high school sweetheart.

  “What kind of ceremony do you want?” he asked.

  “I just want to marry Patty. We could do it on the back of a donkey for all I care.”

  “How romantic.”

  His friend shot him a puzzled glance. “Was that sarcasm? I never figured you’d care about things like that.”

  Neither had Owen. “It seems to me that if you’re going to spend the rest of your life with a woman, the ceremony ought to be memorable.”