Check your email. I may have information about your baby.
The message was signed MysteryMom.
“Huh.” Elise shifted on her chair and cast a glance to Jared. “What do you suppose…?”
He shrugged. “Check your email.” While she navigated to a new webpage and accessed her email account, he pulled his chair closer to the desk so that he was beside her.
She opened the email and leaned closer to the screen to read.
Dear Elise, I read your post to the “Parents Without Children” message board with a heavy heart. Losing a child is every mother’s worst nightmare, and the last thing I’d ever want is to add to your pain. But the circumstances of your story rang familiar to me, and I took the liberty of doing some digging. I have powerful contacts with access to reliable information about birth records and have made it my mission to help mothers like you—and I do think I can help you. Not wanting to raise false hope for you, I triple-checked my information before contacting you.
Elise, my sources tell me that your baby might be alive.
Dear Reader,
Last autumn, I was brainstorming story ideas centered around babies and hunky heroes when my agent let me know that the editors at Harlequin Romantic Suspense had asked if I wanted to write a story for the Top Secret Deliveries series. I would be free to write whatever story I wanted as long as I incorporated MysteryMom, the behind-the-scenes woman who has been helping reunite parents with their babies in earlier books in the series. Call it fate, or serendipity, or just good luck, but all the pieces came together in the right place and time. “As a matter of fact,” I told my agent, “I have been working on a story that fits those parameters beautifully. Count me in!”
I hope you enjoy Elise and Jared’s love story, one in which fate/serendipity/good luck gets a helping hand from MysteryMom, and tragedy leads to the sweetest blessings…love and family.
Thank you to Tammy Yenalavitch of Charlotte, North Carolina, for sharing her kitties, Bubba, Diva and Brooke, with me for this story. Tammy won the chance to have her cats featured in my book through a contest I ran on Facebook. Stay tuned, more chances to win fame and celebrity for your cat will be coming soon!
Best wishes and happy reading,
Beth
BETH CORNELISON
Operation Baby Rescue
Books by Beth Cornelison
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Special Ops Bodyguard #1668
Operation Baby Rescue #1677
Silhouette Romantic Suspense
To Love, Honor and Defend #1362
In Protective Custody #1422
Danger at Her Door #1478
Duty to Protect #1522
Rancher’s Redemption #1532
Tall Dark Defender #1566
*The Christmas Stranger #1581
Blackout at Christmas #1583 “Stranded with the Bridesmaid”
*The Bride’s Bodyguard #1630
P.I. Daddy’s Personal Mission #1632
*The Prodigal Bride #1646
BETH CORNELISON
started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.
She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171 or visit her website, www.bethcornelison.com.
To my mom, who is always ready to lend me a helping
hand (or eyes to read a manuscript) and who shares my
passion for books. I love you!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Prologue
“Push!”
Elise Norris squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and pushed through the contraction that wrenched her belly in an excruciating vise grip.
The nurse at her side held her hand and wiped perspiration from Elise’s brow. “You’re doing great! Almost there…”
“Now breathe. Catch your breath. I think the next one should do it.” Dr. Arrimand peered at her over his mask and gave a confident nod.
As the pain eased, Elise rolled her head to the side to gaze at the ultrasound image of her daughter that was taped to the bed rail. The photo, which she’d carried in her wallet for weeks, had been her focal point throughout the delivery. In fact, her daughter had been her focal point for the past nine months. Longer than that. She’d been planning for, saving money for and praying for this day for years.
With a trembling finger, she traced the lines of the fuzzy picture she’d memorized in the past several weeks and smiled. Raising a child alone would be difficult. She had no illusions otherwise. But Elise had known she wanted to be a mother, wanted to raise a family, since she’d been a little girl herself. When she’d celebrated her thirtieth birthday without a husband with whom she could share the joys of parenthood, she’d researched sperm banks and set about finding the perfect donor to father her baby.
“It’s okay, Gracie,” she whispered to the ultrasound picture. “We’ll be fine. You and me. We’ll be a t-team.” The last word of her pledge caught in her throat as another powerful spasm of pain ripped through her. Building quickly to a crescendo, the contraction stole her breath.
“This is it. Keep pushing!” Dr. Arrimand coached.
She clenched her teeth and concentrated on bringing her daughter into the world. All her physical strength and love were focused on the task. Minutes later, the nurse laid a pink-faced bundle in her arms.
Elise gazed into her daughter’s eyes and fell instantly in love. The bond was powerful, emotional, solid. Her daughter. Her flesh and blood. Her dream come true.
With one finger she traced Gracie’s nose and lips. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m your mommy. Oh, you’re beautiful.” She smoothed her daughter’s tiny eyebrows and kissed her sweet forehead. A thin layer of hair the same shade of golden blond as Elise’s crowned Grace’s head, and she saw her own blue eyes reflected in her baby’s cerulean gaze. “You’re perfect. I love you.”
Elise tugged on the pink blanket the nurse had swaddled Gracie in and freed her daughter’s right arm. She lifted Grace’s hand and studied the tiny fingers, perfect fingernails, delicate skin. “So sweet and little…”
Not wanting Grace to get chilled, Elise pulled the blanket back around her daughter and noticed a small red pear-shaped birthmark on Grace’s right shoulder. “Angel kissed,” she whispered to Grace. “That’s what my mom said about my brother’s birthmark.”
A pang of regret stung her heart. Had she lived, what would her mother have thought about her granddaughter, her namesake?
At her side, the nurse fumbled with the tubes of her IV.
“What’s that?” she asked, spotting the syringe in the nurse’s hand.
“This will help with the pain so you can rest.” She injected a clear solution into the port and smiled. “Just another minute, Mom, then I need to take the baby to be checked thoroughly by the staff pediatrician.”
Already the drug she’d been given made Elise woozy. She frowned. She hadn’t asked for pain medicine. She wanted to be alert, savoring every detail of the experience. “I don’t want to sleep. I want to be with my baby, to bond…”
She heard her speech slur slightly as her eyelids drooped.
“We’ll bring her to your room later to breastfeed.” The nurse scooped Grace from Elise’s arms, and Elise felt a pang in her heart.
“Not yet. Give me…just another…minute.” But Elise could barely keep her eyes open. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to watch the nurse whisk Grace through the door to the next room. As she disappeared from Elise’s line of sight, her daughter gave a mewling cry.
Gracie…
Elise fought off the fog of sleep and blinked her surroundings into focus. The patient room at the small-town hospital was not lavishly furnished but was comfortable and painted a cheerful pale yellow. With a sigh she thought of the state-of-the-art hospital in Lagniappe, Louisiana, where she’d planned to give birth.
With her due date still three weeks away, she’d believed she’d be fine driving to the weekend crafts fair in the rural community forty-five minutes from her home. If she began having contractions, she could easily get back to Lagniappe. Or so she’d thought. But the best laid plans…
Her water had broken while she paid for an antique rocking chair, and the contractions had come hard and fast. Within ten miles, she’d been doubled over in pain and had pulled to the side of the road to call 911.
The local ambulance had arrived quickly—thank God—and she’d been rushed to Pine Mill Community Hospital in time for the delivery.
The window was dark now, telling her night had fallen, and she searched her walls for a clock. How long had she slept? A simple white clock over the door read eleven forty-five. Elise rubbed her eyes and worked to clear the cobwebs of drug-induced sleep to do the simple calculation. Grace had been born at 3:30 p.m., so…more than eight hours had passed. She groaned and found the call button on the bed rail.
Enough of sleep. She wanted to hold her daughter. Nurse her daughter. Memorize every inch of her daughter’s face and hands and toes…
“Can I help you?” came the response to her page.
“I’m awake now, and I want to see my baby. Can someone bring her to me?”
Her request met silence then a hesitant, “Um, I’ll…have the doctor come talk to you.”
The doctor? Elise tensed, butterflies kicking to life in her gut. She didn’t like the uneasy hesitation in the nurse’s voice.
“Is there a problem? Is my baby okay?”
“Dr. Arrimand will be in to see you in a moment, ma’am,” a different, more authoritative voice said.
“But what about my daughter? I want to see her.” No response. “Hello? Hello? I want my baby brought to me!”
Again silence answered her. She buzzed the nurses’ station, but her page was ignored. Irritation and concern spiked her pulse. Elise threw back her covers and swung her feet to the floor.
If they wouldn’t bring Grace to her, she’d go get her from the nursery herself. She was Grace’s mother, and they had no right to keep her from her. If something was wrong, she deserved answers…now!
Her head spun as she pushed off the bed, and her body throbbed from the rigors of the delivery. Elise grabbed the bed railing to keep from falling. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and she waited impatiently for her equilibrium to return. When the room stopped shifting around her, she tried again to make her way to the door.
“Oh, Ms. Norris! You shouldn’t try to walk alone yet!” a nurse fussed as she bustled into the room with a blood-pressure cuff in her hands. She took Elise’s elbow and steered her back to the bed.
Elise tried to shrug away from the nurse’s grip. “I want to see my daughter!”
With a strength that overpowered Elise’s post-delivery condition, the nurse guided her back to the bed. “Dr. Arrimand has been called. He’s on his way, and he’ll explain everything.”
The cryptic response rang warning bells in her head. A bubble of panic formed in her chest. “What does he have to explain? What’s wrong with Grace?”
“The doctor will—”
“No! Tell me now! What happened? Where’s my baby?” Tremors of dread shook her.
At that moment, the dark haired doctor, now wearing a white lab coat instead of scrubs, stepped into her room and helped the nurse maneuver Elise back to the bed.
Elise drilled the doctor with a hard, frantic stare. “Where’s my daughter? Why won’t anyone talk to me?”
Dr. Arrimand took a step back from the side of the bed and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Ms. Norris, but while you were asleep, your daughter’s heart…” He paused, pressing his mouth in a grim line, then sighed heavily. “…Stopped beating.”
A chill washed through Elise, and she was sure her heart had stopped, as well. “Wh—what?”
“We did everything we could to resuscitate her, but…we couldn’t save her.”
The room tilted. Blood whooshed in her ears. Shock rendered her mute and unable to move.
This couldn’t be happening. She had to be hallucinating from the drugs they’d given her. Surely she’d heard him wrong. They had the wrong person.
“I’m very sorry,” the doctor muttered, eyeing her with pity.
No. Her baby was not dead.
No, no, no, no, noooo!
The denials in her head became a keening wail. Agony and horror rose in a suffocating wave, filling her chest, squeezing her throat.
Questions pounded her brain. What made her heart stop? Why couldn’t they save her? Why had they waited to tell her? Where was Grace now?
But her heart ached too much to voice them. Shock and grief made all but gasping sobs and tormented moans beyond her reach.
In the blink of an eye, her dream come true had turned into every parent’s worst nightmare. Her baby was dead.
Chapter 1
Fourteen months later
Elise shuffled into the church fellowship hall and cast a wary gaze around the assembled group. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee scented the air, lending a warmth and welcome to what she expected to be a most uncomfortable environment—sharing her grief with strangers.
One of the women seated in the circle of chairs spotted her standing in the doorway and called to her. “Hello. Are you looking for the grief-support meeting?”
Elise took a reinforcing breath and nodded.
The woman stood and waved her closer. “Please, come join us.” As Elise approached the circle of chairs, several of the men stood, as well, greeting her with smiles and nods of welcome, and the woman who’d spoken first took her hand and patted it. “My name’s Joleen Causey. I’m the group facilitator. Welcome.”
“Thanks. I’m Elise Norris.” She gave Joleen an awkward smile, and when the facilitator motioned to a seat next to her, Elise sat on the folding metal chair. As the others introduced themselves in an onslaught of names she didn’t even try to remember, she scanned the faces of the group gathered in the small circle and gripped the edge of her chair. Several elderly ladies gave her curious glances, two gentlemen with gray-streaked hair nodded in greeting, a couple about her age clutched hands and sent her wan smiles, and a raven-haired man she estimated to be in his early thirties met her gaze and flashed her a strained crooked grin. “Jared Coleman,” he said.
Other than the couple who clung to each other’s hands as if their lives depended on it, Jared Coleman stood out simply because he was at least twenty-five years younger than any of the other members. She wondered briefly whom he’d lost and how he’d wound up in this group.
She’d been to
ld about the group by a neighbor who attended the church that sponsored the meetings. For six months, Elise had worked on gathering the nerve to attend this grief-support program. For someone who’d been looking out for herself most of her life, who had established her independence from an early age and prided herself on her efficiency, reliability and self-sufficiency, seeking help had felt like a defeat. But when the one-year anniversary of Grace’s death passed, Elise had still been moving through her life in the same fog of pain and denial as she had the first week. While she knew she’d never forget the child she lost, she had to come to grips with Grace’s death so she could move on in her life.
“Don’t feel like you have to talk tonight if all you want to do is listen,” Joleen said. “But if you want to talk about what brought you here today or anything else that’s in your heart, please feel free. We’re here to listen and support you however we can.” She flashed another warm and encouraging smile, tucking a wisp of her blond hair behind her ear, and Elise nodded.
“I came tonight because…” She took a deep breath. “…Just over a year ago, my daughter died right after birth.”
Across the circle, the young wife gasped. Elise’s gaze darted to her, but the woman was sharing a sad look with her husband. A prick of envy poked Elise. At least this woman had someone to share her grief with. In the past months, Elise had felt more alone than ever.
Elise squeezed her hands into such tight fists, her fingernails bit into her palms. “I only had a few minutes to hold her before…” She paused, feeling a knot forming in her throat. “Anyway, I’m just having a hard time…handling it.”
“Of course. Many people say losing a child is the hardest death for a person to experience. But you’re not alone.” Joleen gestured to the rest of the group. “We’re all here to help each other.”
Elise forced a thin smile of acknowledgment then stared down at her lap. She hadn’t talked with anyone about Gracie in months, largely because she couldn’t get through even a simple comment without getting choked up. And the instant her eyes got teary, her neighbors or her colleagues at the Lagniappe newspaper, where she was a staff photographer, would back away with stricken expressions, as if they expected her to dissolve into wailing histrionics.
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