How could he say no?
Those eyes had lost their sparkle when Phil’s mother had left fifteen years ago, the week after he’d first been diagnosed with cancer. How could someone who was supposed to love you do such a thing? Phil had cut his Australian surfing tour short to come home and see his father through the ordeal. It had been a lifechanging event for both of them, and he’d never spoken to his mother again. Last he’d heard, she was living in Arizona.
After that, Phil couldn’t fathom his dad pulling out of his slump. How could either of them ever trust a woman to stick around?
Carl Hansen had been granted a second chance with Roma, followed by a huge surprise pregnancy. “Hell, if I wait around for you to settle down and have a grandchild I’ll be too old to enjoy it. May as well have my own!” his father had joked with Phil when he’d first told him the news.
Carl and Roma had had a tough go when Robbie had been diagnosed with Down syndrome after amniocentesis, but they’d wanted him no matter what and hadn’t regretted one moment since. Then, after fifteen years of remission, Carl had been hit with cancer again and, on top of being a new parent of a handicapped baby, he’d had to go through chemo. Carl and Roma were nothing less than an inspiration as far as Phil was concerned.
Ten days wasn’t a lifetime. Anyone could survive ten days with a kid, right?
“We’ll be home in time for Thanksgiving,” Roma had said, “and I promise the best meal of your life.” Hell, she’d had him at please, please, please.
He’d already started the sign-up sheet for babysitters and backup. Good thing he’d always managed to stay friends with his coworkers and ex-girlfriends—maybe he’d call in a few extra favors.
“You’ve already met René’s replacement, Stephanie Bennett,” Jason said, breaking into Phil’s thoughts. His partner stood in his office doorway, and beside him the redhead. “She comes with a great endorsement from Eisenhower Medical Center.”
All Phil’s worries vanished for the time being as he took her in.
Her gaze darted to Jason and back to him, her cheeks flushing pink.
Though noticeably uptight, she had possibilities…Hold it—toddler on board!
“Hi, again. Jason’s giving you the official tour, I see.” He stood behind his desk. “Let me know if there is ever anything you need, Dr. Bennett.”
Her delicate mouth, which sat appealingly beneath an upturned nose, tugged into a tentative smile. “Call me Stephanie,” she said, as she tucked the more-red-thanbrown, shoulder-length hair behind an ear. “Please.”
Though she was saying all the right words, he sensed her standoffishness. He’d never had trouble making friends and acquaintances, especially with women, and sometimes had to remind himself that it didn’t come as easy for other people.
“Okay, Stephanie, welcome aboard.” He remembered how cool her hand was when he’d shook it, and an old saying came to mind, Cold hands, warm heart. It got him thinking about what kind of person she might be behind that cool exterior.
He engaged her sharp gaze, enjoying the little libido kick it gave him. A spark flashed in her butterscotchcolored eyes. Had she felt it too? “Oh, and call me Phil. My extension is 35, same as my age. If you ever need me, I’m right across the hall and I’ll be glad to help out.”
She nodded her thanks.
“Now let me show you your office,” Jason said to Stephanie, ushering her across the waiting room.
As quickly as she’d appeared, she left without looking back. That didn’t keep Phil from staring and giving a mental two-note whistle as she followed Jason.
Phil sat and leaned back in his chair, thinking about Stephanie in her copper-and-black patterned jacket, black slacks and the matching stylish lace-lined scoopneck top. He liked the way her hair was parted on the side and fell in large, loose waves over her cheek and across her shoulders. He liked the set of her jaw, more square than oval yet with a delicate chin. He liked the ivory color of her skin without a hint of the usual freckles of a redhead, and wondered if he might find a few on her nose if he got up close, really close. Just a sprinkling maybe—enough to wipe away that sleek image, enough to make her seem vulnerable beneath her obvious social armor.
And just as he was about to dream a little deeper, his intercom buzzed. It was his nurse. “Your dad’s on the phone,” she said.
The trip.
Robbie.
How in the hell was he supposed to impress Dr. Bombshell while babysitting his half brother?
Stephanie spent most of the day getting used to the Midcoast Medical OB/Gyn doctor René Munroe’s office, as well as the new setup. She’d held a minimeeting with her nurse, discussing how she liked to run her clinic and telling her exactly what she expected. She wanted to make this transition as smooth as possible, and stuck around later than she’d planned, logged in to the computer, reading patient charts for the next day’s appointments. For this stint, she’d concentrate on the gynecological portion of her license.
There had been one stipulation for her taking this job, and Jason Rogers had agreed to it. Though she’d take care of the pregnant patients, she wouldn’t be delivering their babies. Fortunately, after perusing the patient files, none of Dr. Munroe’s pregnant patients would be at term during her stay. And Jason had eased her concerns by mentioning that it would have been very hard to get her privileges at their local hospital anyway. She’d been in the process of picking up the pieces of her career, knew she could handle the clinical appointment portion, but no way was she ready to deliver a baby again. The thought of holding a tiny bundle of life in her arms sent her nearly over the edge.
Her stomach rumbled and in need of changing her thoughts, she packed up for the day. As she crossed the reception area, the front clinic door swung open and in rushed Phil Hansen with a little dark-haired boy tagging along beside him. The slant of the boy’s eyes with epicanthic folds, and the flattened bridge of his nose, hinted at Down syndrome.
“Hold on, Robbie, I’ve got to make a call,” Phil said, shutting off his beeper and reaching over the receptionist’s desk to grab the phone.
Robbie smiled at her as only a child with no fear of strangers could. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi, there.” Her insides tightened and her lungs seemed to forget how to take in air, knowing her son, Justin, would have been close to Robbie’s age…if he were still alive. She looked away. Before her eyes could well up, she diverted her thoughts by eavesdropping on Phil’s conversation.
“I’ll be right there,” he said, then hung up and blew out a breath. “Great. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he mumbled.
She cringed that he cussed so easily around a child.
Phil’s gaze found her. A look of desperation made his smooth, handsome features look strained. He glanced at Robbie and back to her. “I need a huge favor. I just got a call from the E.R. One of my patients inhaled his crown while the dentist was replacing it, and I need to do an emergency bronchoscopy to get it out.” He dug his fingers into his hair. “Can you watch Robbie for me? I’ll only be gone an hour or so.”
What? Her, watch a child? “I can’t…”
“I don’t know what else to do.” His blue eyes darkened, wildly darting around the room.
He was obviously in a bind, but didn’t he have a child-care provider?
She glanced at the boy, who was oblivious to Phil’s predicament, happily grinning at a picture of a goldfish on the wall.
“Pish!” he said pointing, as if discovering gold.
“I’m really in a bind here,” Phil pleaded. “The E.R. is overflowing and they need to get my patient taken care of and discharged. I can’t very well plop Robbie down in the E.R. waiting room.”
Oh, God, there it was, that lump of maternal instinct she’d pushed out of her mind for the past three years. It planted itself smack in the middle of her chest like an ice pick. She studied Phil, his blue eyes tinted with worry and desperation. She’d give the wrong impression if she refused to help out, and
she’d come to Midcoast Medical to help. He’d seemed so sincere earlier when he’d offered his assistance anytime she needed it. A swirl of anxiety twisted her in its clutch as she said, “Okay.”
“You’ll do it?” He looked stunned, as if he’d just witnessed a miracle.
Well, he had. Never in a million years would she have volunteered to do this, but as he was in such a bind…
She nodded, and her throat closed up.
“Thank you!” He grabbed her arms and kissed her cheek, releasing her before she had a chance to react. “You’re the best.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Just watch him. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be a good boy for Stephanie, Robbie,” he said before he disappeared out the door.
Why couldn’t she have left earlier, like everyone else in the clinic? Dread trickled from the crown of her head all the way down to her toes. Her heart knocked against her ribs. She’d made a knee-jerk decision without thinking it through. She couldn’t handle this. There went that swirl of panic again, making her knees weak and her hands tremble.
The boy looked at her with innocent eyes, licking his lips. “I’m hungwee.”
She couldn’t very well ignore the poor kid. “So am I, but I don’t have a car seat for you, so we can’t go anywhere.”
She’d spoken too fast. Obviously, the boy didn’t get her point.
He held his tummy and rocked back and forth. “Hungweeeeee.”
Oh, God, what should she do now? She scratched her head, aware that a fine line of perspiration had formed above her lip. He was hungry and she was petrified.
Think, Stephanie, think.
She snapped her fingers. The tour. Jason had taken her on a tour of the clinic that morning, and it had included the employee lounge. “Come on, let’s check out the refrigerator.”
Robbie reached up for her hand. Avoiding his gesture, she quickened her step and started for the hallway. “It’s down here,” she said, as he toddled behind, bouncing off his toes, trying to catch up.
She switched on lights as they made their way to the kitchen in the mansion-turned-clinic. “Let’s see what we can dig up,” she said, heading for the refrigerator, avoiding his eyes at all cost and focusing on the task. She had every intention of writing IOU notes for each and everything she found to share with Robbie.
Some impression she’d make on her first day, stealing food.
Heck, the fridge was nearly bare. Someone had trained the employees well about leaving food around to spoil and stink up the place. Fortunately there was a jar of peanut butter. She pulled out drawer after drawer, hoping to find some leftover restaurant-packaged crackers. If the kid got impatient and cried, she’d freak out. Drawer three produced two packs of crackers and a third that was broken into fine pieces. Hopefully, Robbie wouldn’t mind crumbs.
“You like peanut butter?”
“Yup,” he said, already climbing up on the bench by the table. “I wike milk, too.”
Stephanie lifted her brows. “Sorry, can’t help you there.” But, as all clinics must, they did keep small cartons of juice on hand for their diabetic patients. “Hey, how about some cranberry or orange juice?”
“’Kay.”
“Which kind?”
“Boaff.”
“Okay. Whatever.” Anything to keep the boy busy and happy. Anything to keep him from crying. She glanced at her watch. How long had Phil been gone? Ten minutes? She blew air through her lips. How would she survive an hour?
After their snack, she led him back to the waiting room, careful not to make physical contact, where a small flat-screen TV was wedged in the corner near the ceiling. She didn’t have a clue what channels were available in this part of the state, but she needed to keep the boy distracted.
“What do you like to watch?”
“Cartoons!” he said, spinning in a circle of excitement.
She scrolled through the channels and found a cartoon that was nowhere near appropriate for a child.
“That! That!” Robbie called out.
“Uh, that one isn’t funny. Let’s look for another one.” She prayed she could find something that wouldn’t shock the boy or teach him bad words. Her hand shook as she continued to flip through the channels. Ah, there it was, just what she’d hoped for, a show with brightly colored puppets with smiling faces and silly voices. Maybe the fist-size knot in her gut would let up now.
She sat on one of the waiting-room chairs, and Robbie invited himself onto her lap. Every muscle in her body stiffened. She couldn’t do this. Where was Phil?
His warm little back snuggled against her and when he laughed she could feel it rumble through his chest. She inhaled and smelled the familiar fragrance of children’s shampoo, almost bringing her to tears. Someone took good care of this little one. Was it Phil?
She couldn’t handle this. Before she jumped out of her skin, she lifted him with outstretched arms and carried him to another chair, closer to the TV.
“Here. This seat is better. You sit here.”
Fortunately, engrossed in the show, he didn’t pick up on her tension and sat contentedly staring at the TV.
It had been a long day. She was exhausted, and didn’t dare let her guard down. Robbie rubbed his eyes, yawning and soon falling asleep. She paced the waiting room, checked her watch every few seconds, and glanced at the boy as if he were a ticking time bomb. Her throat was so tight, she could barely swallow.
Several minutes passed in this manner. Robbie rested his head on the arm of the chair, sound asleep. Stephanie hoped he’d stay that way until Phil returned.
A few minutes later, one of the puppets on the TV howled, and another joined in. It jolted her. Robbie stirred. His face screwed up. The noise had scared him.
Oh, God, what should she do now?
After a protracted silence, he let out a wail, the kind that used up his breath and left him quiet only long enough to inhale again. Then he let out an even louder wail.
“It’s okay, Robbie. It was just the TV,” she said from across the room, trying to console him without getting too close. She patted the air. “It was the show. That’s all.” She couldn’t dare hold him. The thought of holding a child sent lightning bolts of fear through her. She never wanted to do it again.
Flashes of her baby crying, screaming, while she paced the floor, rooted her to the spot. Robbie cried until mucus ran from his nose, and he coughed and sputtered for air, but still she couldn’t move.
It took every ounce of strength she had not to bolt out of the clinic.
Phil’s patient had been set up and ready for him when he’d arrived in the nearby E.R. The dental crown had been easy to locate in the trachea at the opening of the right bronchus. He’d dislodged it using a rigid scope and forceps, and done a quick check to make sure it hadn’t damaged any lung tissue. He’d finished the procedure within ten minutes, leaving the patient to recover with the E.R. nurse.
He barreled through the clinic door, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Robbie screaming and Stephanie wild-eyed and pale across the room.
“What’s going on?” he said.
She blinked and inhaled, as if coming to life from her statue state. “Thank God, you’re back,” she whispered.
“What happened?” He rushed to Robbie, picked him up and wiped his nose.
“I was ‘cared,” Robbie said, starting to cry again.
“Hey, it’s okay, buddy, I’m here.” Phil hugged his brother as anger overtook him. “What’d you do to him?” he asked, turning as Stephanie ran out the door. What the hell had happened? Confused, he glanced at Robbie. “Did she hurt you?”
“The cartoon monster ‘cared me,” he whimpered, before crying again.
Phil hugged him, relieved. “Are you hungry, buddy? You want to eat?”
The little guy nodded through his tears. “’Kay,” he said with a quiver.
What kind of woman would stand by and let a little kid cry like that? Had she been born without a h
eart? Phil didn’t know what was up with the new doc, but he sure as hell planned to find out first thing tomorrow.
Chapter Two
STEPHANIE snuck in early the next day and lost herself in her patients all morning. She gave a routine physical gynecological examination and ordered labs on the first patient. With her first pregnant client, she measured fundal height and listened to fetal heart tones, discussed nutrition and recommended birthing classes. According to the chart measurements, the third patient’s fibroid tumors had actually shrunk in size since her last visit. Stephanie received a high five when she gave the news.
Maybe, if she kept extra-busy, she wouldn’t have to confront Phil.
Later, as she performed an initial obstetric examination, she noticed something unusual on the patient’s cervix. A plush red and granular-looking area bled easily at her touch. “Have you been having any spotting?”
“No. Is something wrong?” the patient asked.
To be safe, and with concern for the pregnancy, she prepared to take a sample of cells for cytology. “There’s a little area on your cervix I want to follow up on. It may be what we call an ectropion, which is an erosion of sorts and is perfectly benign.” She left out the part about not wanting to take any chances. “The lab should get results for us within a week.”
“What then?”
“If it’s negative, which it will most likely be, nothing, unless you have bleeding after sex or if you get frequent infections. Then we’d do something similar to cauterizing it. On the other hand, if the specimen shows abnormal cells, I’ll do a biopsy and follow up from there.”
“Will it hurt my baby?”
“An ectropion is nothing more than extra vascular tissue. You may have had it a long time, and the pregnancy has changed the shape of your cervix, making it visible.”
“But what if you have to do a biopsy?”
How must it feel to have a total stranger deliver such worrisome news? Stephanie inhaled and willed the expertise, professionalism and composure she’d need to help get her through the rest of the appointment. Maybe she shouldn’t have said a thing, but what if the test result came back abnormal and she had to drop a bomb? That wouldn’t be fair to the patient without a warning. She second-guessed herself and didn’t like the repercussions. All the excitement of being pregnant might become overshadowed with fear if she didn’t end the appointment on a positive note.
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