by Mona Risk
Christmas Babies
Holiday Babies Series
Contemporary Romance
by
Mona Risk
Praise for the author...
“Risk’s writing is easy to read and engages the reader right away.” ~Sally Pink Reviews
“Keeping the reader entertained with the twists and turns in the plot.” ~Got Romance!
“The writing sweeps you into the story and keeps you turning the pages.” ~The Long & The Short Reviews
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Christmas Babies
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Christmas Babies, Copyright November 2012 - Mona Risk
Kindle Edition, License Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Madelyn Ramsey forced her leaden legs to move along with the bustle of nurses and doctors. White coats and blue scrubs flocked to the end of the conference room where the newly promoted director of the Women’s Clinic at St. Lucy’s Hospital accepted hugs and handshakes.
“Our best wishes, Dr. Preston.”
“Congratulations, Nick. You made it, man.”
“Let’s celebrate tonight at the Sea-Waves Bar,” Nick Preston hollered over the joyful cacophony. “My treat,” he specified with his usual charismatic grin.
“Yeah.” His staff cheered and scattered around.
Above the departing crowd, Nick’s gaze questioned hers. Unease floated in the dark blue eyes of the over-confident doctor. Madelyn moved closer to where he stood. She no longer resented him for snatching the promotion she’d worked so hard to obtain—the special Christmas gift she’d promised herself. To no avail.
New concerns had toppled her ambitious dreams. For the first time in her life, she was forced to concentrate on her health and worry about unexpected problems. Heck, she’d be lucky if she could continue to practice past the Christmas holiday. Her fingers tingled and her hand shook at the horrible prospect.
Lifting her chin, Madelyn smothered the anxiousness that gnawed at her heart and reached the tall and handsome doctor after most of the staff had withdrawn. “Nick, you’ll make a wonderful director.” Ignoring his arms opened for a hug, she congratulated the tall and handsome doctor with a bright smile.
“No hard feelings?” He dropped his hands to his side and tilted his head, peering at her under arched eyebrows. “You badly wanted the position.”
“I did. But we competed. You won. You have more experience anyway. Fair is fair.”
“It’s good to hear you say that. Thank you, Madelyn.” Still his frown didn’t relax. “I hope I’ll see you at the Sea-Waves?”
Drinking, chatting, and cracking jokes in a bar were the last items on her agenda tonight. She hesitated for a fraction too long.
“If you’re too busy as usual…” Nick’s sensuous lips curled at the corner with derision.
“Can’t miss such a special event, Dr. Preston. I’ll be there. Probably a bit late. I have errands to run as soon as I leave the hospital.” She’d turned down his invitation for dinner several times in the past year, yet she didn’t want him to think she resented him for his well-deserved promotion.
“As long as you show up, I’ll feel honored.” He broke into a devilish smile that had worked its magic on weaker feminine hearts.
Steel tweezers pinched her insides. But she chuckled when his sober gaze focused on her. “Madelyn, I wish—”
“Sorry but I have to run now if I want to make it to your celebration. See you later, Nick.”
“Sure. You’re always so busy.” He gave her a knowing glance and nodded.
Without waiting for more, she spun and strode out of the conference room. In her office, she peeled off her white coat, gathered her purse, and braced herself for the most important meeting of her life.
A moment later she cursed the heavy traffic as her Toyota zoomed on Highway 95. Last week she’d managed to get an appointment with a renowned neurologist in Miami. There was no way on earth she’d visit a local doctor and risk unsavory questions from well-intentioned acquaintances. Everyone in the medical community of Fort Lauderdale knew each other and too many reveled in gossip and explosive news. Dr. Ramsey retiring from Neonatology at the tender age of thirty-five would churn many imaginations. Oh God, I hope it doesn’t come to that.
In the waiting room, she grabbed an outdated magazine and sifted through the pages, hardly glancing at the pictures, only to put it back on the side table and take a medical journal. The commentaries about new facelift procedures and therapy for autistic children didn’t retain her attention. She focused on a preemie article and avidly read. Her fist clenched and unclenched. How long would she be able to dwell in the delivery room and save tiny patients?
“Ms. Ramsey, this way please.” No one had called her Ms. Ramsay for ages. Her smile faded as she realized how much she valued being called Dr. Ramsay. The medical assistant led her to a small office. “Have a seat. Dr. Lu will be with you in a moment.”
“Thank you.” Several diplomas hung on a wall and attested to the physician’s competence. She had studied them at length on her previous visit a week ago. Her back straight against the leather chair, she surveyed the bookcase with a professional look and perused the titles of the medical volumes on the middle shelf, all related to the nervous system and its diseases.
Dr. Shawn Lu had been a good choice. She trusted him as a doctor and a friend. He’d been her senior resident at George Washington’s Hospital, years ago. Pressing both palms on her knees, she urged herself to regain her calm and stop tapping the rug.
“Good evening, Madelyn.”
“Hi, Shawn.”
He shook her hand, sat behind his desk, and opened a large folder. “I have the results of your MRI, encephalogram, and blood tests.”
Her fingers entwined in her lap. She twiddled her thumbs, held her breath, and prayed.
“They confirm that the shaking of your hands and the two seizures you had last week are early symptoms of epilepsy.” His level tone sounded like a death sentence.
Her shoulders slumped. “Epi…lepsy?” The word lumped in her throat and she couldn’t say more.
Shawn left his chair and came around to put a hand on her shoulder. “You were right to identify it early on. We caught it in time to start a course of treatment.” His reassuring voice would have soothed a non-medical patient but did little to her frazzled nerves.
“The disease will progress with time.” Head bent, she mumbled. “I won’t be able to practice.”
“Who said so? Trust me, Madelyn, we can control it.”
“For how long?” With a big sigh, she opened her hands and stared at her palms. She needed her hands steady to continue to save babies.
“For as long as we can. Dr. Ramsay, I’m sure you always tell your patients not to give up. One of my other epileptic patients is a surgeon. He’s been on medication for ten years and still operates. You’ll do the same.”
“You’re right,” she said, too drained to argue.
“I know you’re depressed at the moment. But with the proper treatment, you can lead a n
ormal life, continue to practice.”
“What if I collapse in the delivery room? What if my hands tremble while I’m holding a preemie?” Her voice wobbled. “I may kill a baby instead of resuscitating him.”
“You won’t. Because you usually have an aura at the beginning of your seizure, you’ll feel it coming. If it happens, you can ask a nurse to help you hold the baby. So far you’ve only suffered absence seizures where you stare blankly into space. You’ve never collapsed. We will monitor you carefully. I also want you to get enough sleep and avoid stress.”
“Avoid stress?” A bitter chuckle escaped her. “Do you have a medicine for that too?”
“I wish I had. I’d have taken it myself. Anyway, do your best. To avoid stress, I’ll advise you not to talk about your condition—”
“Not even with my boss and colleagues? Is it ethical?”
“I’d rather have you not tell anyone for the next two weeks. You can always tell them later if the disease progresses.” He gave her a glance full of pity, the same glance she gave the parents of her little patients when announcing bad news.
His last words buzzed in her ears. If the disease progresses. A shudder raked her.
Shawn grabbed her shoulders and captured her gaze. “The less you think about your condition the better. You should realize that if you’re continuously stressed, you may hyperventilate and imagine symptoms you don’t really feel.”
“Of course, a type of induced crisis.” She’d studied about such illusory cases during her psychiatric rotation and wondered at the time how people could create their own diseases. “Unfortunately, mine is too real.” Tears tickled her eyes.
“Madelyn, trust me. I’ll do everything possible to help you lead a normal life.”
“I assume I shouldn’t drink alcohol?”
“No alcohol at all.” He shook his head.
“We’re celebrating Nick Preston’s promotion tonight.”
“Ah, the position you so badly wanted? I’m sorry.”
She waved away his sympathy.
“You can have a sip or two of light beer. Nothing stronger.”
With a superhuman effort, she smiled and nodded.“Thank you, Shawn. I’ll report to you next week.”
He held the door for her and squeezed her hand. “Call me if you need to talk.”
“Sure.” She walked out as fast as she could.
Afraid her tears might blur her vision, she avoided the highway and turned onto Route 1. Instead of listening to tapes of medical presentations, she switched on the radio. Passionate songs filled the silence of the car. As if she needed some stupid singer to needle her with tender words of love and forever. Exasperated, she tapped the radio button off.
Thank God, she’d reached most of her professional goals and didn’t regret her decisions to remain single.
Until now? She could have been married like Heather and holding adorable babies, or preparing a wedding like Claire and Tiffany. Her younger sisters had managed to enjoy a husband—fiancé, or boyfriend—without neglecting their jobs. Not Madelyn. Medical school, innumerable exams, and hospital training had engulfed her life. Later, she devoted one-hundred percent of her time and energy to her career.
Her fingers clutched the steering wheel so hard her nails dug into the leather. Where had the time gone?
To think she’d come up with one reason after another to shun relationships and concentrate on her patients. How often had she reassured herself there’d be plenty of time to slow down and start living later? At thirty? Maybe thirty five? Or when she’d reached the directorship that now belonged to Nick Preston?
The same Nick she’d rejected in the past—not because they’d competed at work. Be honest. Deep down she’d been too afraid to fall in love and waste precious hours that should be dedicated to her tiny patients.
A wail escaped her dry throat. Now her career was in limbo. Now, marriage and family would be stowed in a folder of unfulfilled dreams. Not that she had ever planned to get pregnant soon. But thanks to the powerful medicines that could cause deformities in a fetus, having babies was an absolute no-no. Uncontrollable sobs shook her shoulders.
Stop stressing. She could hear Shawn chastizing her.
How? When every thought brought a bucketful of regrets and stress? She forced her fingers to stop strangling the steering wheel and relax.
Maybe she could still have the fun she’d deprived herself of so far. Fun would numb her pain. She punched a few more buttons on the radio until rock music blared. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she hiccupped and sang along as loud as she could until she drove into the garage under her building and checked the time.
Seven-o’clock already? She was late for the get-together at the bar. What did it matter? A few minutes or a few hours would not make a difference. She showered and changed into an outfit less severe than her daily uniform of business pantsuits and shirts. Maybe the mini-dress her sister Roxanne had given her for her birthday and refused to exchange for a more respectable outfit. Something frivolous that would make her forget the tough decisions she’d have to face soon.
****
Sitting on a stool at the bar, Nick finished his third scotch, moved his glass away, and motioned to the barman for a refill. For the past hour, he’d chatted, joked, toasted, and reveled in Madelyn’s promise to attend his little celebration. His gaze never wavered from the mirror reflecting the entrance door and the huge Christmas tree in the corner.
Eight-thirty and she wasn’t here yet. He should have known that Dr. Ramsay would never give him the time of the day. Even more so now that he’d stolen the position she wanted. He stirred the ice in his glass and exhaled. She stood him up again. So what was new?
Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind once and for all? Disgusted with himself for allowing her to get under his skin, he raised his glass to gulp his drink. His hand froze midway and he stared at the image in the mirror.
Madelyn? No way on earth. His jaw sagged. He blinked several times and spun toward the door. His eyes rounded. And then he smiled at the incredible picture of Dr. Ramsay in a skin-tight, little white thing that hugged her figure the way he’d love to hug her. Bolting from his stool, he navigated his way toward the exquisite woman standing at the door, scanning the crowd.
“Madelyn, thank…thank you for coming.” He swallowed and hesitated as he reached her. His gaze caressed the creamy expanse of flesh exposed by her strapless mini-dress. Would she jump back if he tried to hug her?
She came forward, a bright smile on her face, and wrapped her arms around him. “Congratulations again, Nick. I’m so happy for you,” she said against his ear. Her perfume sensitized every nerve ending in his body.
His instincts on alert after his first shock, he pressed her against him for a few seconds, and released her right away. This new Madelyn didn’t seem real. “I’m so glad you made it. Come, let’s have a drink.” His hand light on her back, he led her to a table for two and held a chair for her.
She sat and crossed her legs. He forced himself not to stare at her perfect thighs and shifted his gaze to her face.
“I’m sorry I came so late. I had a few errands to run.”
“No problem at all.” Pulling a chair, he settled across from her and admired the golden brown curls cascading down her naked back. He was a sucker for long hair and hated the tight bun she knotted in the back of her head at work.
Tonight she looked so different with rows of silver chains hanging around her neck and a black pendant nestled in her cleavage. Even her eyes seemed bigger, greener, stretched and highlighted with makeup. Would this new Madelyn be more accessible? He would still tread carefully around her, for fear she might disappear if he made a wrong move.
Their friends noticed her presence and gathered around. Greg Hayes, his assistant, whistled. “Dear God, Madelyn, why have you been hiding all this time?”
“Did I drink too much already?” Sandra Morelli, the pediatric head nurse, leaned toward Nick’s new guest and rubbed
her forehead. “Is that you, my dear friend Madelyn, our serious Dr. Ramsay?”
A few more colleagues joined them with exclamations and giggles about Madelyn’s transformation.
“Stop it, you guys. Don’t make me blush,” she said with a delicious pout he’d give a month’s salary to taste. “Tonight is a special time for Nick.”
No kidding. A cough clogged his throat. Greg hit his back while bursting into a big laugh. “Swallowing wrong, my friend?”
Nick scowled at Greg and mouthed a go to hell. “We need to toast. Waiter, over here please. What will you have, Madelyn?”
“A light Michelob in a can.”
“And another round of drinks for everyone.”
When they all had their drinks in hands, Madelyn surprised him by raising her can. “To our new director. May our hospital continue to prosper under Dr. Preston’s successful leadership.” She clinked her can against his glass.
“Thank you.” He nodded, touched by her wish. If she was any one else but the serious Dr. Ramsay, he would have taken her in his arms and crushed her with a hug. Although, he’d often visualized them sharing more erotic poses than he’d ever dare to confess.
They enjoyed a few more toasts. The waiter came again with refills. Nick grabbed Madelyn’s can to push it aside but she took it from him. “I had enough.”
He fixed a puzzled look on her hand. The container was still almost full. “You haven’t had much?”
“I’m good,” she said, covering her beer with her hand. He didn’t insist.
One by one, their friends wished him the best with a hug or a clap on the back.
“Nicky, sweetheart.” More than half-drunk, Dr. Kathy Raynes swayed toward him and glued her lips to his. Her heavy perfume and the smell of beer nauseated him. He’d dated her in the past. Now he cursed her public display and disentangled himself. Over her shoulder, he met Madelyn’s gaze. Instead of the disapproving high eyebrows that had previously condemned him without trial, she faced him with a sober look.
“Goodnight, Kathy. Goodnight Greg.” He pushed them away, and whispered in his friend’s ear to make sure Kathy arrived home safely. Greg nodded. They finally left and he breathed better.
