by Tina Beckett
Kady must have sensed the change in him because she set her plate down next to her hip and leaned across to touch his wrist. “It wasn’t your fault, Tucker. It wasn’t either of our fault. We were in a hurry. We were young and in love. We’d been talking about marriage from the time of our second date. The pregnancy just fast-forwarded all of those plans.”
Did she think he was upset that they’d gotten married because of the baby? He never regretted marrying her. What he did wish was that they’d known about the possibility of Tay-Sachs right from the beginning. And he wished he’d talked to her after Grace had died about what was going on in his head.
It would have solved nothing, though.
“There’s no way we can change any of it, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Would you, if you could?”
At the look of hurt on her face, he frowned, realizing how brusque he’d sounded. But when she moved to pull back, his fingers lightly encircled her wrist, holding her in place. “I don’t know, Kady. It’s not something I would choose to go through a second time.” He’d made sure he wouldn’t. And he didn’t regret it. Not for a second.
“I don’t think any of us would.”
And yet she’d wanted another baby, despite the possibility that it could happen a second time. Was it probable? No. But the slim chance that it could tied his stomach in knots, making it impossible to make love to her. What if she’d accidentally gotten pregnant a second time? Part of the reason he’d pulled back emotionally had been because of that. And part of it had been that he’d just been unable to perform, knowing that any type of birth control could fail. Any except for one.
“It’s over and done with.” And so were they. Yet seeing her in that pool had coaxed a reaction from his body that he hadn’t been able to manage for the last year of their marriage.
Why now? Why not back then?
Was she dating anyone? It was none of his business, but it would be a lot easier to resist the tug and pull of need if she was. His gaze dropped to her stomach. What would it be like to see her swollen with someone else’s child?
A faceless form appeared in his head, only to have Tucker kick it away as hard as he could.
Thank God that wasn’t something he would ever have to witness.
She tugged her wrist free from his grip. “You’re right. It is.”
“Kady.” This time it was he who leaned forward. “I never wanted it to end the way it did.”
“The fact that you filed for divorce says you did.”
His gaze raked her face. “You gave me no option.”
“‘There are always options to be explored.’ Isn’t that what you said at the workshop that first night?”
He shook his head. “You wanted another child. I didn’t.”
“You made that rather obvious.”
Hot air stuck in his lungs. Was she talking about how he’d avoided the bedroom?
She went on, “When you moved into the guest room, I figured a divorce was inevitable.”
He had moved out of their bedroom. But he hadn’t had much of a choice. It had been either that or have her discover his secret. And add one more thing to her plate? Kady had always been good at blaming herself.
So was he.
“We were both dealing with so much at the time.” They had been. Decisions that had been impossible to make under the weight of grief. “I wanted to give us both some space.”
“You succeeded. We had a whole lot of space. And not just in terms of the bedroom.”
“I know. Maybe we can get off to a fresh start.”
“Fresh start?” She met his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We were once friends. Maybe we could start there.”
Friends. Was he kidding?
“What makes you think that’s even possible?”
Tucker propped a foot on his left knee. “Because we’re mature adults. We’ve both moved on with our lives. We should be able to let the past go, right?”
They should. Except that her sitting across from him was sending messages to all the wrong parts of his body. Parts that were definitely showing signs of functioning around her again.
“We’ve never made very good friends, Tucker.”
She was right. The sex had always been too intense. So crazy hot that they hadn’t been able to stop and nurture some of the deeper stuff.
“No. We didn’t, did we?”
And there it was. That glitter of green eyes that said she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Nope. But I don’t remember either of us complaining about it.” Their gazes locked, her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips. And suddenly there was a familiar pressure behind his zipper and a big old hole where common sense should have been.
His body was functioning, but right now he needed it to take a few deep breaths and hit pause before they wound up somewhere they would both regret. “No, we didn’t. But maybe we should have.”
She reeled back slightly in her seat. “I’m sorry?”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just want us to tread carefully. You’re here for a week. I don’t want to do something that I can’t undo.”
The image of that undone bikini top wandered through his head before he pushed it aside.
“I don’t either. So what are you proposing?”
“That we use self-discipline. Self-control. The very things that carried us through medical school. Surely we can do that.”
Not that Kady hadn’t shown both of those things. But since he was the one who seemed to be struggling, maybe he needed to voice the words to give her fair warning.
“That sounds reasonable. But maybe you should stay away from the pool from now on.”
He smiled. “For once, we’re in agreement.”
“Shake on it?” She held out her hand.
As he rose to his feet and moved over to do as she asked, he hoped he could remember what he’d said. And start practicing a little of that self-discipline he seemed to be lacking.
“Well, now that that’s settled—” he let go of her hand “—shall we go down to the maternity ward and see what cases they have?”
* * *
She’d thought he was going to kiss her a moment or two ago. And she wouldn’t have stopped him. Her lungs had greedily held onto every scrap of air, just in case.
And then he’d shut the whole thing down with a single line.
A little voice whispered that it was for the best. Of course it was. But that didn’t mean her body agreed with that voice. Or even listened to it. Ever. At least not where Tucker was concerned. She should be glad he’d come to his senses. Because she sure hadn’t come to hers.
Smoothing her blouse down and waiting for him to gather what he needed off his desk, she tried to get her errant heart and her crazed thoughts back under control. There was nothing to worry about. Tucker was just taking precautions.
But she was worried. Maybe not about him but about herself. How easy it would have been to slide back into his arms. To forget all the pain and heartache that had happened between them.
But he was right. Once it happened, there would be no undoing it.
“Ready?” He glanced back, his hand on the door lever.
“Yes.”
Please, let’s go out and rejoin the real world, where exes don’t fantasize about each other. At least, they shouldn’t.
People streamed up and down the corridor, lanyards designating some as staff, while others were either patients or visitors. The hospital was busier than the one in Atlanta, but at least it gave her a chance to catch her breath. Not easy with Tucker’s tight haunches and broad shoulders striding ahead of her. His phone pinged twice, but the messages couldn’t have been important because he glanced down and then kept walking, not bothering to respond.
Or may
be he didn’t want her to know who they were from.
Ridiculous.
It didn’t matter one way or the other. He didn’t have a ring on, though, so he hadn’t remarried. And she knew him well enough to know there was no way he would have hinted about things happening between them if he was involved with someone.
A minute later they joined several people in front of the elevator. “What floor is the maternity ward on?”
“Third. The surgical department is here on the fifth floor, which is where I spend the bulk of my time.”
She cocked her head and said in a low voice, “Is it hard to do the surgeries?”
“What do you mean?”
A quick shrug as she tried to blow away the impulsive question. Then the doors to the elevator opened. They waited for those who were getting off to do so, before moving into the cabin. It was a quick trip, since they only had to go down two floors. Then they were in the lobby of the maternity unit where a huge sign over the main door gave the department’s mission statement:
To give every pregnant woman who crosses the Wilson-Ross threshold the safest, most respectful birthing experience possible.
She paused. It was worded differently than the one at her hospital, which was interesting. She had assumed both hospitals would be cookie-cutter versions of each other, but that wasn’t the case. She was already seeing subtle differences. The way the hospitals were laid out. The decor was individual as well, probably to reflect the flavor of the host city.
Tucker paused by one of the doors. “Yes. Sometimes it’s hard to do the surgeries. Especially when it’s a case where genetics are involved.” He glanced at her. “But then there are those days when everything just falls into place and I feel like I’m doing what I wasn’t able to do for Grace—give a baby a chance for a normal life.”
“Oh, Tucker...” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “I feel the same way. There are times I think I see her, when I’ll pass a child’s room and see what I think are Grace’s blond hair and blue eyes.”
“I know.”
He really did know.
She touched his arm and went to say something else when a bustle of movement caught her eye as they turned a corner. The pace on the floor was frenetic, which might have been normal, except for the... Her vision sharpened as nurses rushed from room to room, and several alarms beeped at the unattended nurses’ desk. Her grip tightened on his arm as a sliver of fear went through her. “Is it always this way?”
“No.” He stopped the nearest nurse. “What’s going on?”
“There was a fire at the Heritage Birthing Center a few streets over. Ten patients in various stages of labor are either here or on their way over.”
Kady let go of Tucker’s arm, her chest tightening. She knew all too well the pain, fear and confusion some of those women were experiencing. She’d felt the same panicked helplessness firsthand, which was why she’d specialized in this area of medicine. And yet it was an area in which there was at least hope for a good outcome. Unlike with Grace.
She took a step forward. “I’m a maternal-fetal doctor from Wilson-Ross in Atlanta. Tell me how I can help.”
Tucker nodded as well. “We’ll both help. Put us where you need us.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BABY’S HEAD finally crowned. Three hours of pushing had exhausted the young mother, whose chart said she was just seventeen years old. Tucker had thought for sure that Kady was going to order a C-section, but instead she had manually maneuvered the baby several times, the patient groaning in agony with each attempt. She’d arrived at the hospital in the pushing stage, too close to delivery to attempt an epidural unless they were going to take the baby.
“You’re almost there, Samantha. Deep breaths and rest until the next contraction.”
Kady’s face was beaded with perspiration, and fatigue rimmed her eyes. This was the fourth delivery they had assisted with, having had to leave this patient to attend others who had given birth quicker than their current patient.
Picking up a cup from a nearby table, he offered Kady a sip from the straw so she wouldn’t need to swap out her gloves after touching the glass. She leaned forward and pulled a couple of long drinks of cold water, nodding her thanks up at him.
She had always been good with her patients, empathy mixing with skill. It was the perfect combination in any physician, but it was even more valuable in an obstetrician.
Did these deliveries seem mundane to her, since she was used to dealing with the sickest of the sick? If so, there was no evidence of it in her face.
The patient moaned. “It’s starting again.”
She had no one with her, whether it was because of the fire or just because she was alone in this thing, he had no idea. There hadn’t been any next of kin listed on her chart, and Kady probably didn’t want to put any unnecessary stress on her by asking about a significant other.
He imagined Kady all alone, raising a child, and a rock formed in his stomach. She had been such a great mother to Grace, but it was something they’d shared in together. To do it all by herself... There were women like Samantha, though, who did it all the time—from birth to high-school graduation and beyond. Kady would at least have her grandparents. But if her grandmother really was beginning to lose her memory, how long would she be able to count on her?
If Kady decided to have a child, she’d do it with someone. Wouldn’t she?
“Okay, Samantha, take a deep breath and bear down.”
That was Tucker’s cue to count. Banishing everything else from his mind, he laid a hand on the patient’s shoulder and did just that, counting down the seconds and letting his ex do her job without interference from him.
Not that he would. This was her area of expertise. His was in infants far smaller than this one. “Ten. Deep breath and go again.”
Samantha’s face turned red as she continued to push, pulling up on her legs, limbs trembling with effort.
“Head’s out. Stop pushing.”
“I—I can’t. I have to...”
Tucker stepped into her line of vision. “Blow through it, Samantha. You can do it.” He huffed along with her, knowing that Kady was working to make sure the shoulders could be eased out. Tears streamed down the girl’s face, tugging at something in his chest. Samantha had red hair, much like Kady’s, and it brought back memories from years earlier of Grace’s birth. He shoved those thoughts from his mind in a rush.
“Okay, we’re ready. Not much longer, Samantha.”
He guided her through counting once more, praying Kady was right.
Two more pushes and then a thin cry drifted his way. Samantha’s head fell back to the pillow, eyes closed as she struggled to catch her breath.
A nurse brought the baby up to the young mother, easing her gown aside to allow the skin-to-skin contact that the birthing center would have wanted. Wilson-Ross did this as well if mothers requested it, but sometimes traditional methods were slower to change. Kind of like the difference between turning a barge and turning a speedboat. The smaller operations were able to make those shifts in methodology a lot quicker than a bigger hospital could. But sometimes there were trade-offs to be made.
Kady was still working on delivering the afterbirth evidently, but when he looked over at her, he noted the tight white lines on either side of her mouth immediately. Something was wrong.
He glanced back at the mother, who, although she had one arm around the baby’s back, was very quiet. Too quiet.
Then he saw a splash of blood on the floor just as Kady raised the alarm. “I have a PPH here! I need two large-bore IV lines started.”
Postpartum hemorrhage.
The two nurses both went into action, one removing the baby from the mother’s arms and carrying her over to a nearby table. The staff was already bare bones because of the added caseload from the birthing center, so Tucke
r jumped to help, checking the chart for blood type and calling down to get the wheels turning. He then called the surgical department, in case they needed to take the patient in for emergency surgery.
The urge to take over bubbled up inside him, but he held back, knowing that Kady was well qualified to call the shots. He couldn’t stop his head from going through the steps he would take, though, were this his case.
The patient’s eyes were now closed, face much paler than it should have been. Dammit. How much blood was she losing?
“Tucker, I need fluids and Pitocin pushed. I want to try to close off these vessels.”
“On it. Can you see what’s causing it?”
“Not yet. Looking now.”
He let her work, another nurse coming in to get the baby and take it to the nursery. Lines were started with the Pitocin drip. If they could get the uterus to contract down on the leaking vessels they might be able to avert a catastrophe. “Do you want me to apply pressure manually?”
Sometimes massaging the abdomen would also help encourage the body to get back on track.
“Yes.”
He applied deep rhythmic massage to the area over the uterus, glad that the woman was unconscious. After five minutes his forearms began to burn. Kady was still working feverishly, trying to figure out what was causing the bleeding.
“It’s slowing.”
Relief filtered through his system. “Do we need a couple of units of blood? They’re standing by with some.”
“Give me another minute. If I can get it stopped, we may be good with just the fluids.”
“Do you want me to keep going?”
“Yes. I’ll take whatever help I can get.”
There had been a time when he had prayed that very prayer to a God who’d remained silent. In the end, Grace’s condition had remained unchanged, and she’d died.
Was life really that arbitrary?
He wasn’t sure, but he was glad that in this case things seemed to be turning around.
“Okay, I think we’re close to normal levels. Let’s stop and see what we’ve got.”
Tucker halted his manipulations and waited, as did the nurse who was working to keep track of times and vitals. Silence enveloped the room as they waited for Kady to either set them back in motion or call off the alarm.
