The Baby Doctor's Bride

by Jessica Matthews

  “Is there anything I can do?” Ivy asked.

  “Pray.”

  Ethan did a lot of praying himself. The supplies he’d amassed were only temporary measures. The smallest airway was too big, there wasn’t an umbilical catheter anywhere to be found, and none of the staff were comfortable with handling a person who weighed in at slightly over two pounds and would have breathing difficulties. He bagged the infant himself to ensure the right amount of air got into the preemie’s lungs.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Just hang in there for a few more minutes and then life will get better. I promise.”

  Suddenly a flurry of activity took place down the hall, and he breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew the real work was just beginning.

  As soon as the navy blue-uniformed Medevac crew, consisting of a male nurse practitioner and a female respiratory therapist, carried in an incubator and a suitcase of supplies Ethan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I need an airway.”

  The respiratory therapist opened the package and held it toward him. With one smooth, practiced motion, Ethan slid it into the baby’s trachea. “There, now,” he soothed with his voice, aware that physical contact tended to stress premature babies rather than comfort them. “You won’t have to work so hard.”

  Ethan continued with his tasks, inserting appropriate catheters and IV lines to carry the medication and fluids that would be required during the weeks ahead. As soon as he and the flight NP had finished administering the appropriate drugs they’d brought, Ethan placed the baby inside the warm incubator and snapped the lid closed.

  “You’ve done this before,” the nurse remarked.

  Relieved that he’d performed as if he’d walked away from the NICU yesterday, rather than over six months ago, Ethan managed a smile. “Children’s Hospital, St. Louis.”

  “It’s lucky you were here,” the fellow said. “We don’t often take one back this small, or in such relatively good condition.”

  “Yeah, lucky thing,” Ethan echoed. “Keep me posted, will you?”

  “Here’s our card,” he said, and he handed one to Ethan. “The number listed is a direct line to the NICU.”

  “Thanks.”

  Within a few minutes Ethan’s small patient had left. Surprisingly enough, by the time he’d stripped off his protective gear and found Ivy at the nurses’ station with Walt, he felt a disquieting sense of loss. He simply wasn’t accustomed to handing his patients to someone else. Normally he was the one who received them for the long haul, and in turn they’d become “his” kids.

  Yet he’d left that life behind, so those feelings were inappropriate—weren’t they?

  “Everyone deserves a commendation,” Ivy declared, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “You, Walt, for delivering a baby when it’s been years since you’ve done so—”

  “Let’s hope it won’t happen again before I retire,” the older man said fervently, craning his neck in an obvious attempt to work out the kinks.

  “And you, Ethan—” Ivy turned toward him “—deserve one for keeping that baby alive without proper equipment. You were utterly and amazingly fantastic.”

  He grinned. “Just what I like to hear. Undying praise.”

  “I’m serious. I couldn’t have done what you did.”

  “You’d be surprised what you can accomplish when you don’t have a choice,” he said. “I have a suggestion, though. Even if we don’t routinely offer obstetric services, there will be times, like today, when we will. In order to be properly prepared we need supplies on hand for a preemie, as well as a term infant. If the helicopter hadn’t arrived when it did, the story could have ended differently.”

  “I’ll talk to the nursing director right away,” Ivy promised.

  “Good, because, for the record, I hate improvising. By the way, where’s the mother? I didn’t get a chance to visit with her.”

  “She’s on her way to Wichita by ambulance,” Walt said. “Other than going into labor early, she doesn’t seem to have any problems. I only wish she hadn’t waited to come in. I might have been able to stop her contractions completely, or at least for long enough to ship her out so she could have had her baby elsewhere.”

  “Unfortunately we have to play the cards we’re dealt,” Ethan mentioned. “We got them both this far. The rest is up to the specialists in Wichita.” For an instant he felt an overriding sense of jealousy, then told himself he was being ridiculous.

  Walt rose and stretched. “Such drama so early in the morning. I feel like I’ve put in a full day’s work, and it’s barely ten o’clock.”

  “Stop by our place for Ethan’s special blend of gourmet coffee,” Ivy suggested. “There’s enough caffeine in one cup to turn you into the Energizer Bunny.”

  “Hey,” Ethan protested without heat. “Are you complaining about my nectar of the gods?”

  “Whatever you call it, I can use a tall one with extra sugar.” Walt clapped Ethan on his back. “In case I forgot to tell you the other night, welcome aboard.”

  “Thanks. I have to say, there’s never a dull moment around here.”

  Walt nodded soberly. “Never has been and never will be. A smart man will buckle in and hang on for the ride.”

  If Walt’s experience had drained him, by his own admission Ethan claimed the opposite. He hadn’t felt this energized in months. Yet, in spite of the adrenalin rush caused by his apparent success, and in spite of how skills that had once been second nature had surfaced when he needed them, he hadn’t forgotten how easily the situation could have turned into his worst nightmare instead of a celebration. As he’d groused to Ivy beforehand, he hadn’t had the proper equipment or specially trained staff during that first crucial hour or so before the experienced flight team had arrived.

  While the “what ifs” sent a chill down his spine when he reflected on them, he found himself wondering all day what interventions and treatments the neonatalogist in Wichita was implementing. He began watching the clock, guessing at what the NICU staff a hundred and fifty miles away would be doing. He wanted to phone the number on the business card and ask for a status report, but, having been on the other side, as an attending physician who hated interruptions before he’d had time to do his job, Ethan forced himself to wait.

  By five o’clock it seemed safe to call.

  As soon as he identified himself the neonatalogist’s voice warmed, and he rattled off the baby’s problems and treatment in familiar lingo. Poor respiratory effort headed the list, but that was only to be expected.

  By the time Ethan broke the connection he was grinning like a loon and feeling immensely satisfied at his role in the morning’s drama.

  “You’re looking rather pleased with yourself,” said Ivy.

  “I just talked to the NICU about baby girl Jarrett,” Ethan admitted. “She’s behaving like a little lady and not throwing any big surprises at the staff.” He grinned.

  “I’m glad,” she said simply. “After seeing you in action, I can understand why Stewart wants you back.”

  He dismissed her comment. “Stewart’s prejudiced. He hates it when any of his staff leaves.”

  “Probably, but people with your skill don’t grow on trees, Ethan. You managed the impossible without proper equipment, which tells me you can move mountains when you have it.”

  The one mountain he’d wanted to move more than anything had refused to budge, no matter how hard he’d tried. “I couldn’t save my son,” he reminded her.

  “But you did everything possible,” she insisted. “Sometimes what’s possible isn’t enough. In another ten years who knows how far science will have progressed? Meanwhile, we aren’t there yet, no matter how badly we want it.”

  She’d offered the same argument Stewart had presented time after time, but guilt was stronger than logic.

  “You didn’t fail your son, Ethan, because some things are simply out of your hands. Forgive your profession for not being as advanced as you needed it to be. Concentrate on wha
t you can do with the knowledge we have so far. That was the knowledge you used to save the Jarrett baby, as well as every baby before her and every child who will come after her.”

  Her argument made sense, and because it did the day’s experience demanded that he take a fresh look at his life and reevaluate what he wanted. At the moment, though, he was basking in the afterglow of success. Decisions could come later.

  He drew her into his arms. “How did you get to be so wise?”

  “I was born that way,” she said pertly as she tucked her head underneath his chin. “Are you ready to put the day behind you and rest on your laurels?”

  He laughed. “I don’t claim any laurels, but, yeah, I’m ready to decompress.”

  “Good, because I know this great little place for dinner. No reservations required.”

  Ivy had always considered her sixth sense to be a blessing, and she’d learned to rely on those instincts. Now those instincts didn’t comfort her at all.

  After watching Ethan work on the Jarrett baby she knew beyond all doubt that he didn’t belong in Danton, treating nosebleeds and strep throat. He belonged in a highly specialized environment where he could give hope to the hopeless.

  It had taken every ounce of fortitude to talk to him about his skills when she really wanted to ignore everything she’d seen. Unfortunately, ignoring the obvious wouldn’t make it disappear. Ethan might believe he’d be content sharing her practice, and perhaps he would be for a while, but he was destined for greater things. He might not realize it today, but he was a smart, intuitive man. One day soon he’d realize that settling for second best wasn’t the answer.

  For the next few days Ivy pretended that life was perfect. She joked and teased and acted as if she didn’t have a care in world. Underneath though, her heart was breaking.

  Although Ethan hadn’t said a word, she knew his former career was whispering his name. He phoned the NICU daily for updates on Lacey Jarrett, and he’d had a lengthy conversation with Stewart on Thursday.

  As further evidence, he seemed more quiet and introspective, and at times she caught him studying her as if he were memorizing her features.

  He would be leaving soon. Although he hadn’t mentioned the possibility, she knew it deep in her bones. The only question was when?

  For the third night in a row, Ethan tossed and turned before finally dozing off in the wee hours of the morning. His thoughts of Ivy intertwined with thoughts about his future until he felt as if he were stuck on a hamster wheel and couldn’t free himself.

  But, in spite of his dilemma, he knew what he had to do. “Dream big” Walt had told him. Well, he’d dusted off those dreams of a wife, family and a career he loved, and now he held them in front of him. Each one was attainable, but before he could work toward the two he craved the most he had to sort out his career—because it had affected and would continue to influence the others.

  He didn’t object to working with Ivy in her clinic, but after treating the Jarrett baby he realized that he missed the challenges of the profession he’d once loved. After losing his son he’d become disillusioned, but, as Ivy had reminded him, medicine wasn’t yet a perfect science, no matter how much he wanted to believe it was. Tiffany might hold him responsible for the loss of their son, and he would always mourn for the little boy who’d died before he had a chance to live, but beating himself up over circumstances he couldn’t control wasn’t the answer. He had to move on.

  He wanted to move on.

  Unfortunately doing so meant he had to walk away from Ivy. It would be easier to rip out his heart, which was why he’d directed their conversations these past few days toward superficial or work-related topics and away from personal ones. Sadly enough, being lighthearted didn’t stop him from feeling guilty over the way he’d leave her when she’d been counting on his help.

  He had to tell her, and soon.

  Oh, how he hated goodbyes. It would have been easier if Ivy had remained a colleague or an acquaintance, but she’d become so much more. She’d literally saved him from himself. How could he possibly expect to walk away without wrenching his heart?

  He’d tell her on Friday, after Italian night at the diner. She and her father were already gearing up for the event, and they didn’t need the distraction of knowing he would drive away in a couple of days.

  Friday night. He’d pack all the memories he could into the next twenty-four hours and hope they’d be enough to sustain him.

  “What’s my job, boss?” Ethan asked on Friday night, before Don opened the doors to the public.

  Ivy smiled. Ethan had insisted on coming to the diner with her, but she hadn’t expected him to work. “Are you serious?”

  “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” he said. “Besides, you’re helping. Why can’t I?”

  Ivy had donned the required waitress uniform for the evening, which consisted of black jeans, a white shirt and a black vest. “It’s my dad’s business. I have to help. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d want to get your hands dirty.”

  “You were wrong. For the record, though, I have busboy experience.”

  He looked like a little boy who was eager to play. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if we had two instead of one.” Ivy adjusted a red checkered tablecloth.

  Don passed by on his way to turn over the sign in the window from Closed to Open. “I have a better idea. Ethan, you can be in charge of the coffee and carry heavy trays of food to the table, so the girls won’t have to. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Good. Then grab an apron and get ready.”

  As customers began streaming into the diner, Ivy began taking orders. After a while she devised a system for Ethan to follow. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers to grab his attention, then held up the appropriate number of digits to indicate how many cups were requested at each table.

  Her system generated a lot of teasing comments, but Ethan took them in stride.

  “I’ll get you for this,” he threatened good-naturedly, when he met her in the kitchen to carry out a large serving tray of spaghetti to a party of six.

  Ivy laughed. “Promises, promises.”

  As the evening wore on, she noticed how easily he visited with everyone in town. He’d changed completely from the man who’d first huddled in the corner by himself, avoiding everyone and dining alone. The image of him as he served her father’s clientele, clad in a white “Don’s Diner” apron and looking as if he were enjoying himself, wouldn’t ever leave her.

  Maybe he wasn’t leaving, she considered hopefully. He hadn’t said a word, and surely he wouldn’t drive away without a goodbye of some sort? Even as she clung to the thought she knew she was only fooling herself.

  How could she let him go?

  She didn’t have a choice.

  Fortunately, the steady crowd kept her from dwelling on a situation that was out of her control. Even after the hordes of hungry people had cleared out, the usual closing tasks of filling condiment shakers, sanitizing tables and sweeping the floor occupied her mind, as well as her hands, until finally Don sent them home.

  “We should start a campaign to raise the tip percentage waitresses earn,” Ethan said as he ushered her to his car. “They need it just to replace their shoes.”

  “Remember that the next time you visit a restaurant.”

  “Trust me, I will.”

  After a short, silent drive, he escorted her to her front door. “Would you like to come in?” she asked.

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I would.”

  His expression seemed far too serious for this time of night, and her instincts warned her to brace herself. With a troubled heart, she led the way inside.

  Although she wasn’t thirsty, she needed a task to occupy her hands. “I’m going to fix a pot of coffee. Want some?”

  “Sure. We had quite a crowd tonight, didn’t we?”

  She measured the grounds, poured water into the reservoir and flicked the switch. “We did,” she
agreed. “I’ll be curious to know if we topped our last event in sales.” She rubbed her neck. “It certainly feels like we did.”

  “Your dad should bottle his homemade sauce and sell it in gourmet food stores. He’d make a small fortune in the city.”

  “I’ll tell him. He’ll be flattered you think it’s good enough to compete.” She filled two mugs and set them on the table.

  “If it’s something he’d like to pursue, I know some people who—”

  “Ethan,” she said softly, “you didn’t come here to devise a marketing plan for my dad’s Italian sauce.”

  “You know me too well,” he said wryly.

  “You want to tell me something, don’t you?”

  He frowned. “How did you know?”

  “I’ve suspected it all week,” she said, gripping her mug with both hands as if it were a lifeline. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  He pressed his mouth into a hard line, and with apologetic eyes he nodded. “Yeah.”

  “When?” She braced herself for his answer.

  “In the morning.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IVY was pleased she sounded so normal when she was screaming inside. “So soon?”

  “It seemed best. Postponing would only make leaving more difficult than it already is.” He paused. “Stewart’s expecting me on Monday. I’m already packed.”

  He’d already packed? She wanted to toss something at him for not telling her until the last minute, but she would be adult about this even if it killed her.

  “Any reason why you waited until now to tell me?” she asked calmly. “Were you afraid I’d talk you out of going?”

  “No. I just didn’t want to hurt you and I knew I would.”

  “I see.” She rose to dump her mug’s contents down the drain before she flung them at him.

  “I have to leave, Ivy. I realized on Monday that I can’t go forward without first going back.”

  As painful as his comment was, he was right. “I know,” she whispered.