His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty (The Hollywood Hills Clinic)

by Lynne Marshall

  It was the first time Carey had ever seen the doctor grin. “We thought about adopting once, but our jobs are so demanding we decided it wouldn’t be fair to the baby. Plus we’re both, well, you know, getting older.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “So we’ll enjoy meeting your bambino when the time comes.”

  She patted Carey’s stomach, and Carey fully realized the reality that, yes, her baby would be born, and that after tomorrow, when she’d had another sonogram, maybe she’d even know the sex. Which made ner think how Joe had always called her baby little Spencer. It hit her then. She really needed a place to live. She was ready to “nest,” as she’d learned the word in her parenting class. She wanted this, and the good doctor had just solved her problem.

  “But I have to insist on paying rent.”

  Dr. Williams tossed her a gaze that perfectly expressed her thoughts—Please, I’m a rich doctor and do we really have to negotiate money when we’re having such a good moment? “Whatever you want to pay is fine. Money isn’t an issue for us. In case you didn’t know, Lisa’s a doctor, too.”

  “I’ll be in great company.” Carey beamed while she talked, never having felt more grateful in her life. Well, after her unending indebtedness to Joe, of course. She gave an amount she felt she could afford, nothing close to what the place would be worth, she was pretty much sure of that. But she was being honest, though, not wanting to insult the doctor by going too low, since she’d have to live on a tight budget. Especially as she’d have to return the rental car soon and would need to find a used car for transportation. One step at a time, Carey. Thank goodness she’d banked some unused vacation time at her hospital back in Chicago and they’d sent the final check to Joe’s address last week.

  “That works for me,” Di said. “I’ll bring the key tomorrow and you can start moving in right away.”

  The doctor turned to walk away, but Carey grabbed her hand and shook it, well, over-shook it, because she wanted to make her point. “You and Lisa are lifesavers. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Like I said, it’ll be fun.” Before right this moment fun would never have been a word she would have associated with Dr. Di Williams. Who knew?

  Along with the warmth Carey felt for the incredible kindness of others, especially from Joe, and now from a woman Carey hardly knew, she felt new hope for her and her baby. She just might be able to pull this off, start a new life in California and move on from her past once and for all. One sad and nagging point kept her from full elation.

  Joe.

  She loved the guy. And she’d never get to tell him. But she’d learned her lesson in life well. Just because you wanted something, it didn’t mean you’d get it. It would be too much to ask of him to love her and to accept her child, too. Not after everything he’d been through. She understood that now.

  She sighed, a bittersweet thought about leaving Joe’s sweet little house for her new and as yet unseen place nearly making her cry. She’d gotten so used to living with him she hated thinking about not seeing him every day. Was this really happening? Maybe she was still in a coma and this was one big Alice-in-Wonderland-style dream. The thought amused her briefly.

  But she had labs to look at, and one of her assigned patients had just put on their call light.

  Thank heavens for the distraction of her day job.

  *

  In order to avoid Carey and every disturbing thought she dredged up in him, Joe worked several extra shifts during the last week she lived with him. On Friday he’d even stayed on for an extra night shift so he wouldn’t chance seeing her move out. The thought of watching her go would only widen the gaping wound inside him.

  He’d finally opened up and told her everything, and she’d seen how messed up he truly was. Even then he’d felt her need to comfort him, but he’d held her off, pushed her away, then, once she’d seen there was just no point, that he’d never let her in, she’d agreed to move out. Whatever they’d once shared had breathed its last breath, and all the CPR in the world couldn’t revive it.

  It had been a crazy evening on the job with nonstop calls, and truthfully, Joe was grateful for the constant distraction.

  James had thought of everything when he’d set up the hospital for his private and exclusive clientele. One perk was an emergency box in every home that went directly to The Hills emergency department instead of the more general Los Angeles system.

  At two a.m. another call came through, this one from an affluent area, the Los Feliz Hills, east of The Hollywood Hills Clinic. A woman reported her husband in sudden pain that was shooting down his left arm. The emergency operator sent the message to Joe and he grabbed his team and hit the road within two minutes, siren switched on.

  The five-mile distance would take fifteen minutes, thanks to the winding roads in both of the hilly communities. While they drove, the emergency operator stayed on the line and gave instructions to the wife of the patient, in case she needed to begin CPR.

  Once in front of the ornate house Joe’s team grabbed their emergency kits and EMT Benny rolled in the stretcher. A young housekeeper waited at the front door to the huge several-storied home and directed them up an open stairwell to the master bedroom. Joe couldn’t help but notice the largest chandelier he thought he’d ever seen in a home. He quickly recalled the Hills ER operator having mentioned that the patient was the head of one of the movie studios in town.

  Joe found the white-haired patient on the floor, unconscious, his wife kneeling over him in near panic.

  “He just passed out,” she said, fear painting a frightened mask on her face.

  “Does he have a history of coronary artery disease?”

  She nodded.

  Joe rushed to the patient’s side, finding him unresponsive. He checked his airway and found him to be breathing, then he checked his carotid artery for a pulse.

  “Let’s get him on the stretcher,” Joe directed his team, taking out the portable four-lead ECG machine and hooking up the patient for an initial reading as they applied oxygen and rolled him onto the adjustable stretcher. Then, in an effort to save more precious time, he started the IV as they transported the man down that huge stairwell. Once that IV was in place, he checked the initial four-lead heart strip, which showed possible ST elevation. Once Benny and his partner got the patient in the back of the emergency van, Joe jumped in, immediately switching the man to the twelve-lead EKG for a more thorough reading. Applying the leads, Joe was grateful the old guy wore loose-fitting pajamas, making his job a little easier.

  Time was of the essence with MIs and seconds after securing the stretcher in the safety lock in the back of the van Benny and the other EMT shot to the front, turned on the emergency lights but not the siren, as a courtesy not to add stress to the heart patient, and sped down the winding hills.

  Now with proof the man was in the midst of a STEMI, thanks to the twelve-lead EKG but still maintaining a decent enough blood pressure—he was even coming around a little bit, giving occasional moans—Joe added a nitroglycerin IV piggyback, gave him morphine through the IV line and aspirin under his tongue. He might not be able to stop the ST elevation myocardial infarction, but he hoped to at least help decrease the patient’s pain. All this was done while the ambulance tossed and rolled around the hills, heading for Los Feliz Boulevard and onward toward Hollywood and the clinic.

  Without the benefit of lab reports, he couldn’t treat the patient more aggressively. And since the definitive treatment for an MI was catheterization, Joe’s one job was to keep the guy alive.

  The man looked ashen and his breathing had become more difficult. Joe repositioned his head for better airway and increased the oxygen one liter. oxygen sats stank. Then he checked his blood pressure, which was even lower than previously, but assumed it could be due to the nitro and morphine.

  The heart monitor started alarming. Damn it, the guy was crashing. At times like these Joe felt frustrated with his role as a gap-filler until the patient got to the ER and could be h
it with all the fancy lifesaving drugs. If only the ambulance could get there faster.

  When the monitor went to flatline, Joe immediately started CPR, and continued to do so for the last five minutes of the ride to the clinic and the ambulance entrance where the medical big guns waited.

  Unfortunately for the patient, medically the future didn’t look too bright. In an oddball nonmedical way, Joe could relate.

  *

  Joe parked the car in his garage, closed the door, and headed into his house from the backyard entrance on Saturday morning. He hated how the house had felt since Carey had moved out yesterday. Had it only been yesterday? It seemed more like a month or a year even since he’d last seen her. Before, there had been this incredible life force radiating from her room. Today all he felt when he walked near it was his energy getting zapped by pain and regret. Well, he planned to save himself the angst and head right to his room to sleep.

  After the stress of that morning, with the Hollywood movie tycoon who’d wound up dying despite all emergency measures, he felt dejected and needed to sleep. It seemed typical of issues of the heart, and maybe even a metaphor for his own life lately, especially where his relationship with Carey was concerned, and with all the practical training in the world he still couldn’t fix his own messed-up heart. Come to think of it, he might tear a page from Carey’s story—a short-term coma would be a good thing right about now.

  As usual, with any downtime, Carey was foremost on his mind. The word “coma” brought unwanted thoughts about a lady he’d once sat vigil for at her bedside. What had he done? He’d lost her. Sent her away. He unloaded the contents of his cargo pockets onto his dresser top then dug out his cell phone.

  Wait a second. He’d worked all night and hadn’t turned on his personal phone so he’d missed a text from Carey. He was so tired he squinted to read it.

  It’s a girl. Latest sonogram. Yes!

  The words nearly brought him to his knees. Little Spencer was a girl. Carey didn’t have anyone in her life to share the news with but him. A sudden feeling of sadness punched his gut. He’d been so selfishly focused he hadn’t considered what moving out had meant for her. She’d volunteered to go and, like a wuss, he’d let her.

  She deserved so, so much more. Yet, with all the bad things life had dealt her, she insisted on being upbeat. Yes! she’d written. The text was short but so touching, and all he wanted to do was find her and hold her and tell her how he really felt.

  It wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t possible.

  He should leave well enough alone.

  His house had never felt so big or empty since she’d moved out. Only yesterday! Damn, it already felt like a year. How would he go on without her?

  “You did the right thing,” he said aloud, glancing into the mirror above his dresser. He had to believe it because otherwise he’d go crazy. He was so messed up. Carey and the baby only would have left at some point anyway, so it was better it had happened sooner rather than later, and as his idea, not hers. In a childish way he admitted it felt better to have forced the change because he couldn’t have survived Carey leaving him. By his spin, sending her away had been the most unselfish thing he’d done in his life.

  Besides, she deserved a man with more to offer, someone without baggage like his. Anger, mistrust, suspicion, yeah, he was good at those sorry emotions. She’d had all of that tossed in her face long before she’d met him, beginning with her father and ending with that scumbag Ross. It was Carey’s time to catch a break. He’d given it to her by pushing her out the door. Because he knew she was the special kind of woman who would have stuck around, put up with his sorry attitude, and tried to make the best of things if he hadn’t made her leave. Beyond a laundry list of the ways she’d be better off without him, the main reason still stood out. He’d come around enough to know that Carey was nothing like Angela. He could trust what she said and did. She was as stable as they came, despite her tough life before coming to L.A. The issue was still with him.

  He thought about her ultrasound and the fact her baby was a girl. The crux of the matter was that he would never know what it was like to have a woman he loved carry his baby. A kid who might look like him. And he was too damn messed up to get over it.

  Better to set her free now before it got even more difficult because, honestly, he hadn’t been prepared for the level of pain her leaving had unleashed. Sometimes he could barely breathe.

  He thought about what he’d said to her the other night and cringed. He’d been harsh, insisting he couldn’t get past his wife cheating on him, and he’d held it against a completely innocent person. What sense did that make?

  He flopped, back first, onto his mattress, hands behind his head, praying sleep would find him and put him out of this torture, if only for a few hours. He’d tried to make peace with his decision about letting Carey go, but deep down something still didn’t feel right.

  Why, even now—when she’d found a great place to live, from what he’d heard floating around at work, and when she had nothing but good things to look forward to, a solid job, the upcoming arrival of her little baby girl, a bright future—things didn’t feel right to him.

  Why did he still have the foreboding sense she needed his protection?

  He squeezed his eyes tight. Go to sleep. Just go to sleep. You’re getting delusional from lack of rest.

  He was bound to settle down soon because his body was completely drained and his mind so weary he could barely put two coherent thoughts together. Yeah, he’d get some sleep today, he promised himself. But first he needed a glass of water. So he hopped off the bed and headed to the kitchen for a drink.

  *

  Carey wanted to scold herself for accidentally taking Lori’s clothes along with her when she’d packed the few meager possessions she owned and had moved out. Joe’s sister had been nice enough to loan her some jeans and tops when she’d first moved in with zero belongings left to her name. Now she’d have to face him again, as painful as that would be, to return them. Truth was it had hurt to the core when he hadn’t even bothered to reply to her text about her baby being a girl. She guessed he’d already moved on. Didn’t care. Hadn’t he said all she did was remind him of what he’d never have?

  An ache burrowed deeply into her chest, not only for herself but for him, too. She still loved the guy. Had she imagined every good thing about Joe, or was this just how it felt to lose him? She was positive she’d never get over him, and had missed him every second since she’d moved out.

  Mid-morning, she parked the rental car across the street from his house on the small cul-de-sac, thinking the car was another topic she had to bring up with Joe. As soon as she found a used car she could afford, she’d make sure this one got returned to Mr. Matthews. She wanted to make sure Joe knew she didn’t expect to keep this car forever. Just for a little longer. She promised.

  She reached around to the backseat and grabbed the tote bag with Lori’s clothes inside. Carey had gotten the bag from the clinic the day she’d been discharged and Joe had taken her in. She’d almost slipped up and thought “home” the day when Joe had taken her home. Because that was how it’d felt when she’d walked through that door with him. She glanced at the small sage-green house across the street. Yes, he’d been a stranger then, but he’d saved her life and then kept vigil beside her hospital bed, and she’d never felt more protected or safe in her life than when she’d lived with him.

  With the bag in her hand, she got out of the car and battled a feeling of half hope and half fear that Joe would be home. She’d left her house key the night she’d moved out. If he wasn’t home now, she’d leave the items on the porch and make a quick getaway. On second thoughts, he’d been working so much it was possible he was sleeping and the last thing she wanted to do was wake him up. Maybe she’d just leave the bag on the lounger on his deck and not even attempt to face him right now. If she snuck off without seeing him, she’d save her lovelorn heart a whole lot of grief.

  S
he started down the driveway, getting halfway to the kitchen-window area when she caught herself. This was cowardly. She was a big girl now. She needed to face him if he was home, though there was no sign of his car so she made a one-eighty-degree turn and headed back toward the front of the house, stunned to find a man she’d never expected to see again only a few feet away.

  Ross.

  How had he found her? How had he known where she’d been living? A chill zipped down her spine and her stomach felt queasy.

  Then it hit her. He was the one who’d sent the flowers. How had he…? Oh, wait, he knew how to manipulate people, especially women, and had probably gotten the work address out of Polly in the employee relations department back in Chicago. Carey had been in touch with her regularly since she’d arrived in Hollywood—first to let the hospital know about her situation and to take a leave of absence, then to set up receiving her backdated pay checks, and eventually to give notice on the job and to collect her unused vacation pay. What a fool she’d been to think he wouldn’t find her.

  She’d thought she’d been so careful, but nothing seemed to be beyond Ross’s reach. The bastard. After the quick flash of fear at seeing him she went directly into anger. The creep had another thought coming if he planned to mess up her life again. She was in control now, in no small part thanks to Joe, and Ross was powerless.

  He kept his distance. Even held his hands up, all the while watching her, like a prowling animal waiting to pounce. “I know what you’re probably thinking,” he said, trying to sound appeasing. “What am I doing here?” He gave a poor excuse for a smile that looked more like an insincere politician’s than a former lover’s.

  “I don’t want to see you. Leave. Now.”

  Quickly his expression changed to that of a mistreated puppy. “I’m sorry. I’ve come to tell you I’m sorry. I love you. We can still be happy together. Make a life together.”

  “Ha! That’s rich. You wanted me to get rid of my baby. That’s not going to happen. There’s nothing further to talk about.”