Doctor's Secret (Carver Family)

by Lyz Kelley

  His thoughts drifted to the safe-haven baby. “The little girl you’ve been rocking will be ready for surgery on Tuesday. The nurses have named her Ellie, by the way.”

  Her excited smile enhanced the gentle curves of her face. He didn’t reveal that the tiny infant’s lungs were filling with fluid, and there was doubt she’d make it through surgery. She would need to fight. Fight hard to live.

  “Ellie. I like that name. It has a special ring to it.”

  “She reminds me of a girl in my neighborhood, Ellie Sanchez.” He pictured Ellie with a bloody nose and boxing gloves. “She’d fight anything that moved.”

  “Sounds like a nice girl.” The sarcasm dripped from each syllable.

  Boss probably imagined Ellie in little pink toe shoes and a tutu.

  “Wait a minute. State wards aren’t to be named until placed.”

  His shoulders bunched into a shrug. “The way I see it, she can’t go about the job of living without a name. Besides the name’s not official, but she does seem to respond to it.”

  “I’m glad you named her. And thank you for telling me about the surgery.” She turned just as he saw the sparkle of a tear. She pointed at the potato chips basket. “You hungry?”

  “Not really.” The idea of Ellie’s surgery soured all possibility of getting food down.

  “Great, you can help me carry.”

  A plate full of hot wings, pizza, and celery dipped in ranch dressing landed on the palm of his hand. The pepperoni pizza with a layer of grease balanced on top made his stomach wrench and his nostrils twitch. “Have you had your cholesterol checked lately?”

  The groan of the crowd reached them and eliminated the need to respond. Both turned to the nearest flat screen to see a player with a black and silver jersey stretch across the goal line.

  “Yessss!”

  “Don’t tell me you’re a Raiders fan.”

  “Just because I moved to New York doesn’t mean I’ll be wearing green.”

  The exaggerated eye roll and relaxed sneer gave him an odd sense of cheer.

  “Sam’s going to love you.”

  “Sam? Does she like football?”

  “Sam, as in Samuel, and he lives for the Raiders. He can tell you every statistic of every player on the field. I tried talking him out of wearing his jersey to the game, but he refused to listen. I hope you don’t mind, I gave him your seat so he could see the game better. And that food’s for him, not me.”

  The way she so tenderly and vibrantly spoke about another male gave him a surprisingly unpleasant jolt. For weeks he’d watched her watching him, but it had never occurred to him that she had someone special in her life. Had she put their relationship on hold to participate in the engagement? There weren’t any signs. No whispered phone calls, no rushing off to dinners, absolutely no indication there was a significant man.

  Garrett already didn’t like this guy. Whoever he was.

  What was he thinking? There would never be a Mrs. Branston. Once he was married to the hospital, he’d committed to lifelong bachelorhood. So why did this resentment over a man in her life flare and linger?

  Through a layer of jealousy he hadn’t known existed, he suggested, “Let’s not keep your guy waiting.”

  An odd, puzzled look flew his way before she grabbed three cans of cola and some popcorn. She skimmed through the crowd to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors. Watching the soft waves of her strawberry blonde hair sway as she walked, he almost missed the first step.

  She descended the stairs, and then stepped into the first row. “Here you go, Sam.” She lowered a tub of popcorn to waiting hands. “Slide sideways so I can get by? And say hi to Dr. Branston.”

  A pair of magnified blue eyes stared up at him through a pair of inch-thick glasses. He mentally gave himself a duh-slap upside the head.

  “Dr. Branston. I hear you played football.” The boy’s infectious excitement was catching.

  “You must be Sam.”

  “Do you mind that I took your seat?” The noticeable slur in the boy’s words seemed related to the raw surgical scar hiding beneath the new growth of fuzz extending beyond the lines of the ball cap.

  The pasty white color of the kid’s skin worried him, but he resisted reaching under the boy’s chin to check his pulse.

  “Not at all.” The stainless steel shield he depended on dropped into place. “Do you play ball?”

  The question set the kid off with a peal of laughter that lit his face. Then, a muscle tic made his arms jerk upward, and the popcorn container went flying. Sam leaned forward, glancing at the ground, and a moan of despair replaced the joyous giggles.

  Garrett slid into the seat next to the upset boy. “Don’t worry about the popcorn. Pizza is better for you anyhow.”

  “Really?” McKenzie’s voice lifted in a mocking tone as she picked up the empty popcorn cup. “And, here I thought you Raiders fans enjoyed eating green Giants.” Her hands made a crawling spider motion up the boy’s leg, and the giggling started again.

  “Is everything okay?” A female voice came from over his shoulder.

  A middle-aged woman, with a lifetime worth of worries pooled in her eyes, stood in the aisle. He could only imagine a mother’s worry, a need to protect, to heal the simplest of pains. Motherly protectiveness wasn’t something he had any experience with growing up, but he’d seen the caring expression on countless faces since becoming a physician.

  “I’m Dr. Branston.” He extended his hand and smiled, hoping to ease the woman’s fears. “Sam and I were discussing how the Raiders are going to tromp the Giants.”

  The woman’s frown reversed. “I see. Well, I’m up there,” she pointed over her shoulder, “if he needs anything. Seems he’s in good hands.” She leaned closer. “He doesn’t like me hovering,” she whispered.

  He swiveled toward Sam. “It’s okay if we hang, isn’t it?” Sam’s head bobbled for a smidge of a second before showing approval. “Seems we’re good,” Garrett said, both to project confidence and to make the boy happy. Sam’s mother returned to her upper row seat.

  “You gonna share some of your pizza?” Garrett nudged Sam’s shoulder, meeting McKenzie’s eyes over the top of a baseball cap.

  She mouthed thank you, and a tinge of guilt for his earlier assumptions made him gaze toward the scoreboard. “So, Sam, how bad are the Raiders going to beat the Giants?”

  Sam snickered.

  “Doctor.” McKenzie’s gritty tone drew his attention. “You’ve obviously been working too hard because you’ve clearly lost touch with reality. The Raiders will lose, big time.”

  “What color are the rainbows in your world, Boss? Imagining things again?”

  The boy pointed at the Raiders’ running back sprinting down the field, a salt-water-taffy grin stretching across his face.

  She tapped the lid of Sam’s baseball cap. “You think this is funny, do you?”

  “Awesome,” came Sam’s happy-football-fan reply.

  “That’s my man.” Garrett held out his fisted hand for a knuckle bump.

  “I can’t believe I’m allowing you both to sit here and bash New York’s beloved team.”

  He so wanted to wipe that pretentious grin off her cute, flawless face. He leaned toward Sam’s ear and whispered loud enough for her to hear, “How about we make her suffer?”

  A protective frown crossed Sam’s face.

  “Let’s make her wear the colors. If the Raiders win, we’ll shame her into wearing a Raiders jersey. And we’ll force her to get you a signed jersey. If the Giants win, you and I’ll wear the green. But we both know that will not happen, so we’re good.”

  Startled eyes locked on his. “A signed Raiders jersey?”

  “That’s what I said.” He extended a plate full of hot wings and blue cheese dressing. “So what do you think?”

  “Don’t take the bet, Sam,” she advised. “Look at the score. Your team’s behind.” She gave Garrett a penetrating stare, one that indicated he had grown two devil hor
ns in the past few seconds.

  A spiraling pass moved the field of play closer to the end zone. “Not for long.” Seconds later, the crowd groaned and booed. “See? All tied up.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked in a tight, jaw-crunching tone. She didn’t wait for a response before standing, her fists clenched at her sides, and pushed past him to the aisle.

  His gut churning in anticipation of the gale force winds heading his way, he stood and moved to join her. Her body vibrated with a subtle level of anger. Anger directed at him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked through gritted teeth. “These Special Wish kids are tough, but they’re also fragile. They’ve been through a lot.”

  “It’s just a little bet. Where’s the harm in that?”

  “You shouldn’t promise things you can’t deliver.”

  Promises. He always kept his promises. Except for one. The one he would always regret and never forget. The one that guaranteed he would do everything in his power to keep all future promises.

  An understanding struck him like a spiraling football pass to the gut. “The jersey.”

  “Yes, the signed jersey,” She crossed her arms. “I don’t have Raider contacts. And I doubt the wish network I belong to does, either. You’ve promised something that will be very difficult to deliver. Sam will be very disappointed.”

  “Well, I guess you’re right about one thing. The Raiders are winning this game.” He planted his hands on his hips and leaned in. “Did it ever occur to you I might have gone to college with some of these guys? Maybe, if you ask pretty please, I might get you one too, Boss”

  “Don’t call me Boss”

  A devilish thrill swept through him, and he leaned another inch into her space, bringing his mouth closer to her ear. “Why?”

  She tensed and dropped to a lower step. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn a paralyzing fear passed through her eyes before she turned and looked away. That same fear he saw in her face the day they traveled to Brooklyn.

  “Just don’t. And I’m not saying please. This is not a request.”

  “Oh, I think you will. How can you say no to a boy like Sam?” he said, grabbing the empty popcorn box from her hand to get her attention. “Don’t worry, Boss. We’ll work something out.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, refusing to allow her time to respond.

  McKenzie turned to get a perfect snapshot of the doctor’s jeans-covered backside before he disappeared through the glass doors. The unpredictable, confusing, overwhelming feelings that flooded her whenever she was in his company affected her more than she wanted to admit.

  “You okay?” Liam asked. “I can bust him up if you want.”

  “Who? Dr. Branston? We had a silly misunderstanding. That’s all.”

  His puckered expression demonstrated he still wanted to smash the man. Her emotional side appreciated the brotherly protectiveness. Her sisterly side wanted to smack him.

  Liam had always been there. So had Weston, her oldest brother. Weston had rescued her, but Liam was her confidant. Her tormentor. Her best friend. He’d been there when she’d been dragged into hell. And he’d been there to help her regain a sense of normal.

  She tipped her head back to see his face. “Don’t you have some waitress or cheerleader to chase?” Her brewing irritation now rerouted toward her brother.

  “It’s more fun watching you being chased.”

  “Garrett’s not—”

  “Oh, so it’s Garrett now? What happened to the more formal Dr. Branston?”

  If he’d been in a suit, she’d have choked him with his tie. “Why don’t you find one of those foam finger things and shove it down your throat?”

  He gave her a long, searching scan she couldn’t avoid. “C’mon, I was teasing. He seems like a nice guy. Why don’t you give this engagement thing a real try?”

  A real try? Screw you. “It’s your fault everyone thinks I’m engaged.” Tears stung her eyes. She hated herself for blaming him, and letting him push her buttons. And Liam knew exactly what to say to set off the emotions. “I can’t. Why can’t you leave the past be?”

  Draping an arm across her shoulder, he gave her a reassuring squeeze, but she could only feel the pressure of family. “It’s not the past I’m worried about. It’s your future.”

  Pressure to be an executive, a daughter, a sister. Pressure to conform to their image of perfection. Pressure to be normal again.

  “I want my bold, confident, stubborn buddy back,” Liam said softly so no one else could hear.

  She drove her fingernails into the palm of her hands to prevent the tears from falling. “She’s not coming back. She died three years ago.”

  “I don’t believe that.” His arm tightened trying to persuade her not to pull away.

  He might not believe, but she did. No one understood. How could they? The hole in her soul bled an underlying sense of inadequacy, bewilderment, and anxiety into every cell. Keeping busy, pushing harder and harder every day to the point of exhaustion, seemed the only way to survive. But it didn’t stop the nightmares. Always, the nightmares. The same nightmares she swore to everyone, even herself, she didn’t have anymore.

  Embarrassed by the sudden burst of emotion, she pushed Liam back. “Don’t. I won’t go there. And I don’t want to talk about it here.”

  She scanned the VIP seating section to see if anyone overheard their conversation. Everyone was watching the game, with one exception. Garrett. He descended the stairs with a beer in each hand, his gaze intent on Liam. She recognized the protective, back-off stare. The look all guys mastered before turning fourteen.

  A step above Liam, Garrett stopped a little too close for her comfort. “Is everything okay?” he asked, the casual-fun absent from his question.

  Liam relieved him of a beer and handed it to her. “Everything’s perfect,” he said, giving her an expression only she could interpret.

  “What did I miss?” Garrett asked.

  “Nothing of importance.” She sent her brother a don’t-you-dare warning glare.

  Garrett pointed to the field. “Raiders recovered a fumble. That’s something. You will lose. You know that, don’t you?”

  The doctor’s pompous prediction gave her brother’s pride a tweak. Liam took a step in Garrett’s direction. “You aren’t seriously betting against the Giants.”

  “What if I am?”

  Liam turned to her. “He’s an idiot. Did you warn him this town doesn’t take kindly to trash talk? If he keeps it up, there isn’t enough security in this place to get him safely to his car.”

  The levels of testosterone were more than she wanted to deal with. She pushed her way between the men. “That’s your job, Liam. Just make sure his hands don’t get hurt. He has surgery to perform next week.”

  “My job? As his fiancée, that’s your job. I thought we already discussed this?” Liam’s innuendo wasn’t lost. She wasn’t going there.

  Resentment flashed in Garrett’s eyes. “I don’t need—”

  “Here we go again,” she cut him off. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. By the time I get back, have this chest-beating-male thing done or take it outside. There are children present.”

  Liam nudged the doctor. “Isn’t she sexy when she gets feisty?”

  Men. She didn’t wait for a response, grabbing the railing with trembling fingers, refusing to look at either of them. Her cheeks tingled with irritation. Neither her brother nor the doctor would manipulate her into playing their game.

  Keep moving. All she needed to do was keep moving.

  Chapter 6

  “Is it time?” McKenzie asked with a faltering certainty. She brushed a fingertip over Ellie’s blue-gray skin before looking at Garrett.

  “She’s more than ready. We need to prep her for surgery.” The confidence in his tone gave the NICU staff an injection of silent courage.

  Guilt plagued her. If the robot hadn’t been damaged, the baby’s surgery wouldn’t h
ave been delayed. She closed her eyes and listened to the stifled breathing. The infant’s wheezing sounded like someone trying to draw air through a wet washcloth. X-rays showed her lungs still had filled with fluid, and she had stopped growing, eating, or sleeping. Surgery became critical.

  This morning McKenzie had overheard the staff say Ellie’s odds of survival weren’t good. The infant wasn’t getting enough oxygen in her blood to help her fight—fight to live, fight to have the life she deserved.

  “Take care of her, Doc.”

  He lifted Ellie into his arms, careful of the monitoring wires and oxygen tubes. “She’s a fighter, Mac. She’s made it this far.”

  This far? What did that mean? Her heart ka-thumped in her chest. The tenderness on his face as he looked at Ellie cradled in his arms created an image she would never forget. “I’ll wait for her until she’s out of surgery.”

  “You look exhausted. You should go home and rest.”

  Not wanting to hear compassion, she blocked out the soft sympathy in his voice. She wanted to hear a firm conviction—a confident faith that Ellie would live a long, healthy life.

  Concern morphed into frightened anger. She leaned forward in the high back rocker. “This baby needs someone in her corner. I may be tired, but that’s no excuse for me to go home. I’m certain she knows and responds to my voice. She needs to know someone who loves her is waiting. So don’t you dare tell me to leave.”

  His eyes darkened. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  What am I doing?

  Fear of losing the precious infant, fear of not being in control, fear of the unknown pushing her closer to the edge of vulnerability. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just—”

  “Mac, I know you’re worried. She’s in good hands. I’ve got a good ops team.”

  Wise creases at the corners of his eyes and the experienced set of his shoulders told her what she so desperately needed to remember. He was the most capable and accomplished person in the room and the only one who could help Ellie.

  “If it’s all right, I’d like to stay.” She hoped the humbled words translated into a sincere request for forgiveness. “If you get a chance, would you be willing to send someone to tell me how she’s doing?”