His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty (The Hollywood Hills Clinic)

by Lynne Marshall

  His suddenly dry-as-paper tongue made it difficult to swallow. His pulse thumped harder and his mind took a quick spin, gathering questions as it did. Did the mystery lady know she was pregnant? He wondered if the father had been worried out of his mind about her since she’d gone missing. Or was the guy who beat her up the father…because she was pregnant?

  Had she been running away? Most likely.

  Shifting thoughts made bittersweet memories roll through his mind over another most important pregnancy test. One that had changed his life. He wanted more than anything to make those thoughts stop, knowing they never led to a good place, but right now he was too tired to fight them off.

  He’d once been on that pregnancy roller-coaster ride, one day ecstatic about the prospect of becoming a father. Another day further down the line getting a different lab test irrefutably stating there was no way in hell he could have gotten his wife pregnant. Any hope of becoming a father had been ripped away. The questions. The confrontations. The ugly answers that had finally torn his marriage apart.

  Hell.

  He needed to leave the clinic. James had been right. He should go home and get some sleep because if he didn’t he might do something he still wanted to do desperately. Give his best—strike that—ex-best friend the beating he deserved.

  *

  On the third day Joe sat in his now favorite chair at the mystery lady’s bedside, thumbing through a fitness magazine. Di Williams, the middle-aged, hard-working head of DOU, had shaken him up earlier when she’d explained Sleeping Beauty’s condition as brain trauma—or, in her case, swelling of the brain—that had disconnected the cerebral cortex circuits, kind of like a car idling but not firing up the engine. She’d also said that if she didn’t come around soon, they’d have to consider her in a coma and would need to move her to a hospital that could best meet her longer-term needs.

  The thought of losing track of the woman he’d vowed to look after made his stomach knot. The doctor had also said she’d be getting transferred to a specialist coma unit later that afternoon for an enhanced CT scan that would test for blood flow and metabolic activity and they’d have to go from there, which kept Joe’s stomach feeling tangled and queasy.

  Time was running out, and it seemed so unfair for the girl from the bus. What about her baby?

  Jane moved and Joe went on alert. It was the first time he’d witnessed what the nurses had said she often did. He’d admitted, when no one had been around, to flicking her cheek with his finger from time to time to get some kind of reaction out of her, but nothing had ever happened. The lady definitely wasn’t faking it. She moved again, this time quicker, as though restless. A dry sound emitted from her throat. He held his breath and felt his heart pump faster as he pushed the call light for the attending nurse.

  Jane Doe was waking up.

  Tiny sputtering electrical fuses seemed to turn on and off inside him as his anticipation grew. He stood, leaned over the hospital bed and watched the sleeping beauty’s lids flutter. Instinctively, he turned off the overhead lamp to help decrease the shock of harsh light to her vision as her eyes slowly opened.

  They were dark green. And beautiful, like her.

  But they’d barely opened before they snapped shut again as her features contorted with fear.

  *

  Carey fought for her life, flailing her arms, kicking her feet. Someone wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t Ross. Not this time. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. She tried to scream, but the sound didn’t leave her throat. Fear like she’d never felt before consumed her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to protect herself in order to protect her baby.

  Someone shouted and ran toward her. She knew he wanted to help. Broad shoulders, and legs moving in a powerful sprint. “Hey!” His voice cut through the night. That face. Strong. Determined. Filled with anger over the man trying to take her purse. She fought more. She had to break away from the smelly man’s grip.

  “Hey!”

  Fight. Fight. Get away.

  “Hold on, everything’s okay. You’re safe.” Did she recognize the man’s voice? “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her shoulders, kept her still. She held her breath.

  More hands smoothed back her hair. “It’s okay, hon.” A woman’s voice. “Calm down. You’re in the hospital.”

  Hospital? Had she heard right?

  Carey shook her head. It hurt. She was hit by a wave of vertigo that made her quit squirming. She lay still, waiting for the hands to release her. It felt like she was in an extremely comfortable bed. She relaxed her tight, squinting eyes and slowly opened first one then the other. She turned her head to a shadow looming above her. It had features. The face she remembered from her dreams. Strong. Brave. Was this still a dream?

  She stared at him, her breathing rapid, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.

  “You’re in the hospital and you’re safe,” he said in a low, comforting voice.

  She looked beyond him to a gorgeous room. A hospital? It looked more like an expensive hotel with muted colors and modern furniture, chic, classy, a room she’d never been able to afford in her life. Was she still dreaming? Since she’d stopped protesting, it was quiet. Oh, and there was an IV in her arm. Being an RN herself, she recognized that right off. A catheter between her legs? And she wore a hospital gown. But this one was silky and smooth, not one of those worn-out over-starched jobs at the hospital where she worked.

  Everything was so strange. Surreal. As she gathered her senses she couldn’t remember where she was other than being in a hospital. She couldn’t figure out why she’d be here. Wait. Someone had attacked her. She’d been pushed down. Oh, no! Her hand flew to her stomach, and she gasped.

  “My baby!” Her voice sounded muffled and strange, as if her ears were plugged.

  “Your baby’s fine,” the woman said. “So you remember you’re pregnant.”

  Her hearing improved. She nodded, and it hurt, but she smiled anyway because her baby was fine.

  The attractive young man smiled back at her, and the concern in his eyes was surprising. Did she know him?

  “My baby’s fine,” she whispered to him, and a rush of feelings overcame her until she cried.

  Then the strangest thing happened. The man that she wasn’t sure if she knew or not, the man with the kind brown eyes…his welled up, too. “Your baby’s fine.” His voice sounded raspy.

  She cried softly for a few moments, his eyes misty and glistening as he gave a caring smile, and it felt so good.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the hospital, hon,” the nearby nurse said.

  “But where am I?”

  “Hollywood,” he said. “You’re in California.”

  She thought hard, vaguely remembering getting on a bus. Getting off a bus. It was all too much to straighten out right now. She was exhausted.

  “What’s your name, honey?” The nurse continued.

  “Carey Spencer.” At least she remembered her name. But she needed to rest. To close her eyes and…

  “She’s out again.” The kind man’s voice sounded far, far away.

  “That’s what happens sometimes with head injuries,” the nurse replied.

  *

  Dr. Williams cancelled the plan to transfer her to a coma unit since it was clear Carey Spencer was waking up. Joe assigned another paramedic to cover his shift and stayed by her bedside, hoping to be there when she woke up again. The next time, hopefully, would be permanently. He had dozed off for a second.

  “Where am I?” Her voice.

  Had he slept a few minutes?

  He forced open his eyes and faced Carey as she sat up in the bed, propped by several pillows. Her hair fell in a tangle of waves over her shoulders. Those dark green eyes flashed at him. She’d already figured out how to use the hand-held bed adjuster. “Where am I?” she asked more forcefully.
>
  He’d told her earlier, but she’d suffered a head trauma, her brain was all jumbled up inside. Because of the concussion she might forget things for a long time to come. She deserved the facts.

  “You’re in the hospital in Hollywood, California. You got off a cross-country bus the other night. Do you remember where you came from?”

  “I don’t want anyone contacting my family.”

  He rang for the nurse. “We won’t contact anyone unless you tell us to.”

  “I’m from Montclare, Illinois. It’s on the outskirts of Chicago.”

  “Okay. Are you married?”

  She shook her head, then looked at him tentatively. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes captured his and he could tell she remembered they’d gotten emotional together earlier when she’d woken up before. “And my baby’s okay.” She gave a gentle smile and odd protective sensations rippled over him. Those green eyes and the dark auburn hair. Wow. Her blackened eye may have been healing, but even with the shiner she was breathtaking. In his opinion anyway.

  “Yes. Everything is okay in that department. How far along are you? Do you know?”

  “Three months.”

  “And you came here on the bus for…?”

  She hesitated. “Not for. To get away.” She lifted her arms, covered in fading bruises. “I needed to get away.”

  “I understand.” The uncompromising need to protect her welled up full force again. “Are you in trouble?”

  She shook her head, then looked like it hurt to do so and immediately stopped.

  The nurse came in, and asked Joe to leave so she could assess her patient and attend to her personal needs. He headed toward the door.

  “Wait!” she said.

  He turned.

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Joseph Matthews. I’m the paramedic who brought you here.”

  “Thank you, Joseph. I owe you my life. And my baby’s,” she said from behind the privacy curtain.

  He stared at his work boots, an uncertain smile creasing his lips. She certainly didn’t owe him her life, but he was awfully glad to have been on scene the night she’d needed him.

  The police were notified, and Joe didn’t want to stick around where he had no business, though in his heart he felt he deserved to know the whole story, so he went back to work. Around ten p.m., nearing the end of his shift, James approached. “Did you know she’s a nurse?”

  “I didn’t. Interesting.”

  “She won’t tell us how she got all banged up, but the fact she doesn’t want us to contact the father of the baby explains that, doesn’t it.”

  “Sadly, true.”

  “So, since she’s recovering, if all goes well after tonight, I’m going to have to discharge her.”

  Startled by the news, Joe wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course she couldn’t live here at the clinic. Her identity had been stolen along with her purse and any money she may have had in it. She was pregnant and alone in a strange city, and he couldn’t very well let her become homeless, too. Hell, tomorrow was Sunday! “I’ve got an extra room. I could put her up until she gets back on her feet.”

  Joe almost did a second take, hearing himself make the offer, but when he thought more about it, he’d meant it. Every word. Even hoped she’d take him up on it.

  “That’s great,” James said. “Though she may feel more comfortable staying with one of our nurses.”

  “True. Dumb idea, I guess.”

  “Not dumb. Pretty damn noble if you ask me. I’ll vouch for you being a gentleman.” James cast him a knowing smile and walked away.

  Joe fought the urge to rush to Carey’s room. She’d been through a lot today, waking up after a three-day sleep and all, and probably had a lot of thinking and sorting out to do. The social worker would be pestering her about her lost identification and credit cards and helping straighten out that mess. The poor woman’s already bruised brain was probably spinning.

  He needed to give her space, not make her worry he was some kind of weird stalker or something. But he wanted to tell her good night so he hiked over to the DOU and room Seventeen A, knocked on the wall outside the door, and when she told him to come in, he poked his head around the corner.

  “Just wanted to say good night.”

  She seemed much less tense now and her smile came easily. She was so pretty, the smile nearly stopped him in his tracks. “Good night. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Glad to be of service, Carey.”

  “They’re going to let me go tomorrow.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?”

  “Not yet. Social Services is looking into something.”

  He walked closer to her bed and sat on the edge of his favorite chair. “I…uh…I have a two-bedroom house in West Hollywood. It’s on a cul-de-sac, and it’s really safe. Uh, the thing is, if you don’t have any place to go, you can use my spare room. It’s even got a private bathroom.”

  “You’ve done so much for me already. I couldn’t—”

  “Just until you get back on your feet. Uh, you know. If you want. That is.” Why did he sound like a stammering, yammering teenager asking a girl on a date? That wasn’t what he’d had in mind. He just wanted to help her. That was all.

  She was the vision of a woman trying to make up her mind. Judging him on whether she could trust him or not, and from her recent experience Joe could understand why she might doubt herself. “Um, Dr. Rothsberg will vouch for me.”

  “I’ll vouch for who?” James walked in on their awkward moment.

  “I was just inviting Carey to stay in my spare room, if she needs a place to stay for a while.”

  James nailed Carey with his stare. “He’s a good man. You can trust him.” Then he turned and faced Joe and looked questioning. “I think.”

  That got a laugh out of Carey, and Joe shook his head. Guys loved to mess with each other.

  “Okay, then,” she said, surprising the heck out of Joe.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” The woman truly knew how to be gracious, and for that he was grateful.

  He smiled. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” It was his day off, but he’d be back here in a heartbeat when she was ready for discharge.

  He turned to leave, unusually happy and suddenly finding the need to rush home and clean the house.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JOE HAD WORKED like a fiend to clean his house that morning before he went to the clinic to bring Carey back. He’d gotten her room prepared and put his best towels into the guest bathroom, wanting her to feel at home. He’d stocked the bathroom with everything he thought she might need from shampoo to gentle facial soap, scented body wash, and of course a toothbrush and toothpaste. Oh, and a brush for that beautiful auburn hair.

  Aware that Carey only had the clothes on her back, he’d pegged her to be around his middle sister Lori’s size and had borrowed a couple pairs of jeans and tops. Boy, he’d had a lot of explaining to do when he’d asked, too, since Lori was a typical nosy sister, especially since his divorce.

  Once, while Carey had been sleeping in the clinic, he’d checked the size of her shoes and now he hoped she wouldn’t mind that he’d bought her a pair of practical ladies’ slip-on rubber-soled shoes and some flip-flops, because she couldn’t exactly walk around in those sexy boots all the time. Plus, flip-flops were acceptable just about everywhere in Southern California. He was grateful some of the nurses had bought her a package of underwear and another bra—he’d heard that through the grapevine, thanks to Stephanie, the gossipy receptionist at The Hollywood Hills Clinic, who’d said she’d gone in on the collection of money for said items.

  Now he waited in the foyer for the nurse or orderly to bring Carey around for discharge, having parked his car in the circular driveway. Careful not to say anything to Stephanie about the living arrangements, knowing that if he did so the whole clinic would soon find out, he smiled, assured her that Soci
al Services had arranged for something, and with crossed arms tapped his fingers on his elbows, waiting.

  She rounded the corner, being pushed in a wheelchair—clinic policy for discharges, regardless of how well the patient felt, but most especially for someone status post-head injury like her. She was dressed the way he’d first seen her last Wednesday night, and she trained her apprehensive glance straight at him. Even from this distance he noticed those dark green eyes, and right now they were filled with questions. Yeah, it would be weird to bring a strange lady into his home, especially one who continuously made his nerve endings and synapses react as if she waved some invisible magnetic wand.

  He wanted to make her feel comfortable, so he smiled and walked to pick up the few things she had stuffed into a clinic tote bag, a classier version of the usual plastic discharge bags from other hospitals he’d worked at. It was one of the perks of choosing The Hollywood Hills Clinic for medical care, though in her case she hadn’t had a choice.

  *

  It was nothing short of a pure leap of faith, going home with a complete stranger like this, Carey knew, but her options were nil and, well, the guy had cried with her that first day in the hospital when she’d woken up. The only thing that had mattered to her after the mugging was her baby, and when she’d been reassured it was all right, she’d been unable to hold back the tears. Joseph Matthews was either the easiest guy crier she’d ever met or the most empathetic man on the planet. Either way, it made him special. She had to remember that. Plus he’d saved her life. She’d never forget that.

  When Dr. Rothsberg had vouched for him, and she’d already noticed how everyone around the clinic seemed to like the guy, she’d made a snap decision to take the paramedic up on his offer. But, really, where else did she have to go, a homeless shelter? She’d been out of touch with her parents for years and Ross was the reason she’d run away. She had zero intention of contacting any of them.

  Recent history proved she couldn’t necessarily trust her instincts, but she still had a good feeling about the paramedic.

  When they first left the clinic parking lot Joseph slowed down so she could look back and up toward the hillside to the huge Hollywood sign. Somehow it didn’t seem nearly as exciting as she’d thought it would be. Maybe because it hurt to turn her head. Or maybe because, being that close, it was just some big old white letters, with some parts in need of a paint touch-up. Now she sat in his car, her head aching, nerves jangled, driving down a street called Highland. Having passed the Hollywood Bowl and going into the thick of Hollywood, she admitted to feeling disappointed. Where was the magic? To her it was just another place with crowded streets in need of a thorough cleaning.