“I was wondering when you were going to wake,” she mock-scolded the infant. “Mama needs relief.”
Jenna felt her own breasts contract as Lily discreetly nursed the baby. She laid a hand on her abdomen where her own child rested safe and sound, waiting until the proper time to make his appearance into the world. Glancing up, she saw Rachel doing the same. They smiled at each other.
“I know,” Lily said, catching their misty-eyed emotion. “It’s like a miracle, isn’t it? The three of us with babies…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze went misty, too.
Jenna blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve got to run. It’s almost one.”
“Take your breaks,” Rachel advised, giving her a stern, motherly glare.
“And prop your feet up as often as you can,” Lily continued the advice. “Eric can be a slave driver.”
After paying for her lunch, Jenna headed over to the hospital. No cars or ambulances were parked at the emergency-room portico, so maybe it would be an easy Friday night.
Going inside, she stored her purse in a drawer at the receptionist desk, locked it, then joined the day-shift staff for a rundown on the day’s happenings. Eric was already there.
Her heart did its racing act, but she smiled calmly, nodded to him, then listened to the report. There were three cases being seen at present, but no true emergencies. People without insurance had no choice but to come to the Emergency Room for treatment.
“That’s it,” the head shift nurse told her, closing the folder on the last patient. “Have fun. There’s a rock concert on for tonight. That usually brings in business.”
Jenna grimaced. After the others left, she went over each case again, noting symptoms and treatment. All was under control. She was aware of Eric standing close by as if waiting for something from her. She concentrated on the files until she’d read every word.
“I want you to take it easy tonight,” Eric said when she finally looked up. “You should sit every chance you get. You need more rest.”
He scooted the desk chair behind her knees. She sat down. He pulled a stool over. She recognized it as one they used so patients could climb up on an examining table.
“It’s from supply,” he assured her when she frowned. “I didn’t steal it from a cubicle.”
“Do you read minds?” She tried to keep a modicum of humor in her tone, but truthfully she felt snappish.
“Only yours. Excuse me.”
He went into his office and answered the phone while she started her nightly inspection of supplies. When she went to dinner at five-thirty, she saw his office was dark. Good. He needed to rest more, too.
At that moment he strolled into the cafeteria, looked around, spotted her at the staff table and came over.
“I’m leaving now,” he said. “I’ll be over in the morning. Is nine too early?”
Her glanced at him in surprise. “Why?”
“To put the baby furniture together.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m sure I can figure it out. I’ll go to a baby store and examine the cribs they have set up. First thing Monday,” she added when he didn’t look appeased.
He studied her for a long twenty seconds. “You’re well into your fifth month.”
“Well, duh,” she said to that piece of information.
His sudden smile made her blood go all frothy like a bottle of soda pop shaken vigorously. The bubbles rose to her brain and made her dizzy.
“You should be prepared,” he told her.
Her answering smile disappeared. “If the baby came now, its survival would be pretty risky.”
“I meant…I didn’t mean…” He stopped, his eyes going dark with emotion she couldn’t read. “You’re strong and healthy. So is the baby. There’s no reason you won’t carry to term, but you should be getting everything together so you won’t have to worry about it when the time comes. I thought I could help.”
He walked away. The automatic doors slid open, and he left the hospital.
After a tense couple of minutes, Jenna leaned back in the chair and relaxed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Eric’s offer of help. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t get more involved with him.
On the other hand, maybe it was better for him if he did help her. Working on the baby bed would force him to face the loss of his own child and perhaps accept that it hadn’t been his fault.
She sighed, not sure where her concern for him ended and where her desire to see him began. Things were already hopelessly tangled between them.
Later, on her break, she called and left a message on his home phone. “Nine would be a good time to come over,” she said. “I’ll have breakfast ready.”
For the rest of the shift, she worried about her motives and the way her insides tightened at the slightest thought of the handsome E.R. physician.
Jenna glanced out the window for the tenth time in ten minutes. The coffee and omelets were ready to be served. The patio table was covered with a pretty floral tablecloth and a fresh bunch of roses she’d filched from the bushes beside the sidewalk.
Holding her hand up, she studied her trembling fingers and sternly reminded herself that Eric was coming over as a friend, nothing else. Remember that.
It was no use. She thought of him as a lover. Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingers to her temples and blocked out the pictures of him and her together—
A tap on the front door broke up the erotic vision. She wiped her hands down her tan maternity slacks, pasted a smile on her mouth and called out, “Come on in. It’s open.”
His entry brought the scent of his aftershave and the freshness of the outdoors to her. Her heart pounded so fiercely she had to steady it with a hand to her chest.
“You okay?” he asked, his eyes taking in every detail.
She nodded. “Breakfast is ready. I thought we’d eat on the patio.”
That way, they wouldn’t be inside. Alone. With the bedroom a short distance up the stairs. And she wouldn’t be tempted to drag him up there and have her way with him.
A wave of passion spread over her entire body as she retrieved the food from the warm oven.
“The biscuits look good. It’s been ages since I’ve had some. My mother used to make them.” He picked up the basket of warm bread and the pitcher of orange juice.
“Mine, too. I hope I didn’t leave any ingredients out. I can’t remember the last time I made them. Oh, yes, I do. It was when my dad brought up the baby furniture. He wanted gravy and biscuits made the old-fashioned way as opposed to popping them out of a can.”
They carried the food outside and sat at the small table. The neighborhood was quiet. People slept in on Saturday morning, if possible.
“My favorite time of day,” she said. “I like having the mornings to myself.”
“What are you going to do when the baby comes?”
This seemed like a good time to mention her plans. “I want to take six months off, then I’m thinking of working part time for a year.”
“With three twelve-hour shifts, you would get full benefits and still be free most of the week.”
“Well, I want to nurse Stevie for the first…” She let the words trail off as he gave her an odd stare. “What?”
“You’re going to name the baby Steve?”
There were emotional undertones present in the question that she didn’t understand. Was that the name he and his wife had chosen? If she remembered correctly, the child was to have been a girl. But then, people gave kids all kinds of names nowadays, no matter the gender of the baby.
“Steven Alexander. After my father,” she hastened to add, in case he thought…well, she didn’t know what he thought as he continued to study her.
“My middle name is Steven,” he said softly.
“Oh.” Confusion swept over her. “I didn’t know. Really. I don’t think I’ve ever heard your whole name. I mean, at work, it’s always Dr. Thompson. And you sign the forms with your initials, which nobody can
read. I mean, you sort of run them together.” She stopped before the hole she was digging for herself got any deeper.
The tension drained from his face, and he smiled in a thoughtful, but natural manner. “Steven Alexander. I like that. It’s a fine name for a fine boy.”
She was relieved. He liked the name. He really did. His expression was sincere, his body relaxed. Also, he’d spoken of her baby without past memories darkening his eyes. That was good. Her idea of forcing him to talk about family life seemed to be working.
“Eat up,” he coaxed. “I want to get the bed together before dark.”
“I have to go to work at one,” she reminded him.
“That’s four hours. It’ll be finished long before then,” he promised.
All the things they could do in that length of time danced through her mind like an endless chorus line. “Well,” she said, flustered by the passion and his nearness, “let’s get to work.”
Chapter 9
Jenna held the side of the crib against the end piece while Eric bolted them together. The task went quickly.
“It’s amazing how fast work goes with someone who knows what he’s doing,” she remarked as they finished.
“Stand back,” he said.
When she let go, the baby bed stood on its own. “Wow, success. I can’t stand it.”
“Do you have a mattress?”
“Yes, over here.” She moved boxes aside. “I bought one on sale a month ago.” She struggled with stuff her father had stacked on top of the mattress.
“Let me do that,” Eric said in scolding tones.
She observed while he unearthed the mattress, then removed the plastic wrapping. He easily lifted it and fitted it into position in the crib.
“Ah, perfect,” she said, bending over the boxes once more. “Dad brought all the baby stuff my mother had saved. I don’t know if it’s any good now.”
Eric nodded. She noticed his expression had changed, becoming more somber as he used a pocket knife to split the wrapping tape on the six large boxes. She found crib sheets, blankets, towels, tiny washcloths and drawstring gowns in one box. In the others were clothing of various sizes, both for girls and boys. The scent of lavender, thyme and mothballs wafted around them.
“This was my brother’s,” she said, holding up a playsuit in bright red. “They aren’t faded or moth-eaten.” She gave the material an experimental tug along the seams. “They look fine, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at Eric. His voice had been husky, almost hoarse-sounding. He wasn’t looking at the romper set, but at her. Gazing into his eyes, she recognized the hunger. An answering passion flared in her.
“Eric?” she said, a question and an invitation.
He shook his head slightly, then reached out and cupped his fingers behind her neck. His thumb traced a fiery outline of her lips.
“I don’t know why I thought I could come over here and be around you and not react. It’s impossible.”
“I know,” she said softly, a glow starting inside her. His light touch felt so right. She laid her hands on his chest, wanting to melt into him as their combined heat made her legs weak.
“Stupid,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have come.”
She stopped herself from leaning into him as the words penetrated the haze forming around her. “Why?”
A frown settled on his brow as he took a quick, harsh breath. “Because I can’t be around you and not want you. It was foolish to think we could be friends. Or go back to a casual basis after…after…”
“After we made love,” she supplied.
“I didn’t want involvement,” he told her, so sweetly earnest she wanted to kiss him. “I didn’t want the responsibility for another person’s happiness. Then there was the accident. I was worried about you. What I didn’t expect, didn’t figure into the equation, was the passion.”
“I know. It shocked me, too. A little,” she added truthfully. “So where do we go from here? Do you want me to transfer to another hospital?”
“No,” he said sternly.
“Then what?”
“I’m not sure. I think we both need time to think this through and make sure this is where we want to go.”
She wanted to argue that she was sure, but looking into his eyes, she kept silent. The twin pits of hell were again reflected in those dark depths. “You’re right. Let’s give each other some space, then—” She shrugged.
“Then we’ll see what comes next,” he murmured, brushing her lips once with his thumb, then releasing her.
He stared intently into her eyes for another second, then he stepped away from her. With a troubled frown, he walked out.
In the silence that followed his departure, she considered the implications of their conversation. One thing she knew—being with her didn’t open the possibilities to a glorious future for him as it did for her. It only reminded him of all he’d lost.
The atmosphere was strained in the E.R. when she went in at one that afternoon. The usual Saturday mishaps arrived via ambulance or private vehicle, usually driven by wild-eyed relatives or friends.
Jenna found that she and Eric worked together as competently as ever, no matter what their emotional stress might be. The other nurses were nervy around him, she noticed. The very grimness of his expression was enough to silence any unnecessary chatter.
“This is the third time you’ve been in this year,” Eric said to a seven-year-old. “Isn’t it time you learned not to pick up stuff off the floor in a store and eat it?”
The boy gazed at him with big brown eyes that would soften a polar bear’s heart. “It looked like candy.”
“You had no idea what it was,” the doctor said. “You’re a smart kid. Don’t be stupid in the future. You’ll make plenty of other mistakes without repeating this one. I don’t want to see you in here again, understand?”
The mother looked rather offended, but the child nodded. Jenna kept her expression neutral as she labeled a specimen for the lab, then cleaned the stomach pump and related equipment.
The mother and son left. Eric took the paperwork to his office to finish, and she went to the cafeteria for her dinner break.
“You look tired,” a feminine voice said.
Jenna glanced at her friend. “Rachel,” she said warmly. “You’re working rather late yourself.”
The other nurse nodded and settled into a chair with a carton of juice. She covered a yawn. “This has been a hard day.” She sighed.
Jenna didn’t ask if there had been a death. Oncology was a difficult field, worse than trauma cases in some ways.
“We’re making enormous strides in fighting cancer,” Rachel murmured, “and we win some cases, but we also lose.”
“Some losses hurt more than others. Who was it?”
Rachel massaged her temples. “A sixteen-year-old boy. Cancer of the bone. It had spread to his spine. He loved baseball. He wanted to make it to the majors.”
Jenna listened as her friend spoke quietly about the youth. He’d shared his dreams with Rachel. He’d introduced her to his girlfriend.
“He was bright, talented and friendly, a good person,” Rachel finished, grief clouding her eyes.
“That’s his legacy then,” Jenna said. “Years from now, perhaps at a class reunion, his girlfriend will think of him and her memories will be sweet.”
Rachel squeezed her arm. “Time for me to get home. Thanks for letting me talk it out. That helped. Come over tomorrow for lunch. Are you free, or is a certain doctor demanding all your time?”
Jenna managed a careless smile. “No such luck. I’d love to have lunch with you. Will Bryce be there?”
“No, he and a friend are taking part in a golf tournament for a local charity. The nursery is finished, and I’m dying to show it off to someone.”
After Rachel left, Jenna ate her balanced, healthy meal and pondered Life with a capital L. Fate could be unkind, but people survived…most of them…
&n
bsp; Tears gathered behind her eyes as a sense of sadness came over her. Her child would never know a father. Would he feel this as a loss in his life? Would he see her as selfish to want a baby without providing a complete family to help raise him?
Still in this sentimental mood, she returned to the E.R. Things were quiet. Eric’s office was closed and dark. He’d gone home for the day. She worked steadily until ten, then drove home and let herself into the silent condo.
“We’ll get a dog,” she promised the baby as she went up the stairs and prepared for bed. “Will that work as a father substitute?”
She realized it was a bit late to be thinking of that. Lying in the bed where she’d experienced such bliss, she knew why her thoughts were haunting her. She wanted Eric as the father for her son. She wanted him as her lover. She wanted him as her love.
Sunday dawned clear and bright. The air was fragrant with the scent of spring flowers. Jenna watered the pots on the patio, picked a few dead flowers off the shrubs around her place, then freshened up for lunch with her friend.
Driving to Rachel’s new home, the impressive Armstrong mansion, she felt a few pangs of envy. Not for the house or the Armstrong money, but for the love Rachel and Bryce had found. He behaved as if the child Rachel carried was his.
Suppressing the feeling, she put on a smile for her longtime friend and actually had a thoroughly enjoyable visit. The baby’s room, done in pink and gold with genuine antique furniture that had been in the Armstrong family for generations, was perfect for the girl Rachel was expecting.
Driving home later that afternoon, Jenna was truly happy for her friend. She sighed contentedly. Maybe one couldn’t have everything, but she had plenty of good things—friends, a father who would be a wonderful grandparent to her son, a job she loved. Who was complaining?
At the next street, she noticed the sign and the elegant rock garden planted at the entrance to an expensive subdivision. Eric lived in here, she recalled. On an impulse, she slowed and turned in. She just wanted to see the area.
At the last house on a winding street, she spied his SUV. Her heart lurched when she saw his familiar figure in the yard, which looked freshly mown. A riding lawn mower was visible through the open door of a three-car garage.
Mother by Design Page 21
