Читать книгу The Nurse's Pregnancy Miracle - Ann McIntosh - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

NYCHELLE SIGHED AS she stepped into the kitchen of her South Fort Lauderdale bungalow and pulled the door closed. Putting down her tote bag, she toed off her shoes, appreciating the cool air indoors, so different from the heat of her garage. Twisting her head first one way and then the other, she tried to work out the tension tightening her neck muscles.

Although each of the medical personnel were only asked to work a three-hour shift at the free clinic, she knew extra hands were always needed at the patient intake booth, or as troubleshooters for the other medical practitioners, and she’d offered her services.

The afternoon had flown by, and before she’d even realized it the clinic had been winding down, so she’d stayed until it ended at five. She was tired—maybe even more so than she’d usually be—but as she yawned widely a feeling of accomplishment made the weariness bearable.

Barefoot, she wandered into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from her fridge, grabbing a handful of grapes at the same time.

The day had been a resounding success, as usual, yet a nagging sense of discontent dogged her every move, and she wasn’t able to put her finger on the source. Stifling another yawn behind the water bottle in her hand, she considered having a nice soak and an evening of watching some of the myriad TV shows she’d recorded.

Usually there would be some wine thrown into the mix for good measure but, of course, that wasn’t in the cards right now. Hopefully wouldn’t be for another thirty-nine weeks.

There was no stopping the grin stretching her lips to the maximum, nor the little thrill trickling down her spine. No matter what else was bothering her, the prospect of a baby—her baby—made it all okay.

She was still smiling as she put the grapes in a bowl and then headed across the living room toward her bedroom to prepare her bath.

When her cell phone rang, the distinctive sound of Beethoven’s Fifth made her good humor all but evaporate. A little groan escaped before she could stop it, and the immediate wave of guilt that brought had her shaking her head.

Reversing course, she strode back toward the kitchen, hurrying so as not to miss the call. Dumping the water bottle and bowl on the console table, she launched a frantic rummage in her bag to find her phone. Locating it under her wadded-up lab coat, she swiped the screen and brought it up to her ear.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Nychelle. How did the clinic go?”

Not How are you? or What are you up to? Nope—straight to work. Sometimes Nychelle wondered if that was all herself and her mother had in common. The thought irritated her more than usual tonight, and she had to temper her annoyance so it wouldn’t show in her voice.

“It went very well. We had approximately two thousand patients come through.”

“When will you be taking on the chairperson position? Haven’t you been asked?”

Nychelle took a deep breath, willing herself not to react to the obvious implication of her mother’s last question.

“I was asked, but I didn’t accept.”

Before her mother could launch into another lecture about ambition and the necessity of taking on hard tasks so as to be able to advance in the workplace, Nychelle continued.

“I was in the middle of those skill improvement courses Dr. Hamatty requested we all take. To be honest, I wanted to make sure I didn’t just complete them, but aced them.”

“Hmph.”

Nychelle knew her mother still wanted to take her to task for not accepting the position anyway, but really couldn’t, since her reason for not doing so was also work-related.

“Well, I suggest taking it on if it’s offered to you again. But don’t be surprised if it isn’t. Many of the best opportunities come along only once. Rarely are there second chances in life.”

Nychelle bit her lip, holding back a snort of laughter. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Nychelle had already gotten another chance to chair the committee and had once again asked to defer to one of the other committee members.

“Also, I want you to make sure you’re on time for the pre-gala reception next Saturday.”

Having said her piece on one subject, her mother had swiftly moved on to the next. She probably had a list of points to touch on written out in front of her.

“I know it’s embarrassing to come to these functions by yourself, but please endeavor to arrive early. If you lived closer to Martin, he and Jennifer could pick you up, but your house is too out of the way to be convenient.”

Another one of her mother’s thinly veiled criticisms. While her parents and her cousin Martin all lived in the northern end of the city, in far more expensive neighborhoods, Nychelle had chosen to live in the trendier and more affordable South Fort Lauderdale. It was a nice area, but the way her parents talked about it anyone would be forgiven for thinking it a slum.

“No problem, Mom. The hotel isn’t that far from here, so it wouldn’t make sense to have someone pick me up anyway. And, yes, I’ll be there early enough for the reception.”

“Do you have something appropriate to wear?”

Nychelle allowed the chuckle she’d been holding in to escape.

“Not yet, Mom.” Her mother didn’t wear the same formal dress twice, and expected the same from her daughters. “I plan to go and buy something this week.”

She actually didn’t plan to buy a new dress. For her, the outfit she’d worn to a friend’s wedding would be suitable—but she wouldn’t be telling her mother that. No. She’d avoid the lecture until later, then just say she’d been too busy with work to get something.

“Leaving it a little late, aren’t you?”

Shaking her head, Nychelle picked up the water bottle from where she’d put it on the console table and, juggling it, her phone and the bowl of grapes, started back across the living room.

Suddenly exhausted, all she wanted was that longed-for bath and a chance to relax: impossible to do with her mother on the other end of the phone.

“I haven’t had a chance before. You know how it is. Work must come first.”

Unfair, perhaps, to quote her mother’s words back at her, but it should be an effective topic-closer.

Yet it wasn’t.

“The annual Medical Association charity gala is where you’ll find all the movers and shakers of the Florida medical community assembled in one place. You need to make a good impression.”

“Yes, Mom. I know.” If there was one thing her parents had drummed into their daughters, it was that connections were important when it came to building a career. “One day I might be applying to one of them for a job.”

If she’d had more energy she’d have pointed out that Dr. Hamatty, arguably one of the most influential doctors in the city, had hired her without knowing anything about her other than her credentials. Tonight she just felt as if she’d be battering her head against a wall.

“Exactly. Well, I’ll let you go. See you next Saturday.”

And just like that, without waiting for Nychelle to reply, her mother hung up.

“Wow, Mom. Bye to you too,” she said to the dial tone, before throwing her phone onto the bed.

While she undressed, she carried on the imaginary conversation. “And how’s Dad? Oh, I’m glad to hear his shoulder is better. How was the surgical conference? Will his latest paper be published?”

Still grumbling to herself, she filled the bathtub and added a sprinkle of bath salts, hoping to soak out the aches of the long, busy day. Sinking into the warm water, she released a long sigh and willed herself to relax.

There was no changing her parents at this late stage, so it didn’t make sense to let their attitude toward her life and her career stress her out. Especially now. When she told them she was pregnant there’d be no excitement or joy, just more disapproval, so best she prepare for it.

Realizing she was grinding her teeth, she sank a little deeper into the tub and, forcibly dismissing old hurts, turned her thoughts to the day just past.

Immediately David Warmington came to mind, and she smiled as she remembered little Etienne, the Haitian toddler, throwing himself out of his mother’s arms into David’s. Children of that age were notorious for clinging to their parents, especially if they weren’t feeling well, but Etienne had hardly hesitated before happily going to the doctor.

Not that Nychelle blamed the little boy in the slightest. She’d found herself wanting to throw herself into Dr. Warmington’s arms too. Which was ridiculous—and no doubt caused by some strange chemical reaction that all the IUI drugs had created in her brain. Yes, he was gorgeous, seemed nice, and was sexy as hell—but those weren’t good excuses to be panting after him. In fact they were all great reasons to avoid him like the plague.

Besides, even if she had been tempted, now she knew for sure David Warmington would never be the man for her even if the circumstances had been different.

Suddenly wanting to move, to be active, even though the whole point of the bath was to relax, she sat up and reached for her body wash, shivering slightly as the cooler air touched her shoulders and breasts when they rose out of the water.

It wasn’t a conversation she should even have been privy to, but it wasn’t as though she’d eavesdropped on purpose. She’d just happened to be sitting at the table behind David and Dr. Tomkins, one of the other doctors from Lauderlakes, in the cafeteria during her lunch break. Besides, neither had made any effort to keep their voice down, so they obviously hadn’t had any expectation of privacy. Mind you, Dr. Tomkins had a voice like a cannon, his words booming out in ear-shocking volleys.

“Dr. H. mentioned to me that the parents are very impressed by you, David. Saying how well you handle their kids. Maybe you should have gone into pediatrics.”

When David had replied he’d sounded neither gratified nor amused. “No...no pediatrics for me. It was never an option.”

Dr. Tomkins had chuckled. “Well, at least when you have children of your own you should have a good rapport with them, if today was any indication.”

“That’s something else I don’t consider an option.”

Had it been her imagination, or had his voice been cold—not like his usual mellow tones? Without being able to see his face she hadn’t been sure, but the alacrity with which Dr. Tomkins had changed the subject had Nychelle suspecting she was right.

Shaking her head, she sank back into the water and frowned. Another man who professed not to want kids—probably for some damned selfish reason too. Nick had said he’d consider children once his career was more settled, although he was already well on his way. Now Nychelle couldn’t help wondering what David’s reason was. He didn’t strike her as the selfish type.

Charm, which Nick had exhibited in abundance, was something she’d learned could be easily feigned, and it differed markedly from good character and genuine caring. Even her father, normally coolly distant, had the ability to turn on the charm when he thought it worthwhile.

Nychelle couldn’t help wondering if the real David was hiding behind a thin veneer of charisma, like the one Nick had. Not that it mattered to her. She couldn’t care less. Wouldn’t allow herself to care.

What truly irked her, though, was her physical reaction to David, since she should know better than to be attracted to another charmer.

As she lay back in the water, it wasn’t the popping of the soap bubbles floating away from her skin that raised goose bumps on her arms and chest and made her nipples tighten and tingle. It was the memory of watching David’s hands as he’d worked, hearing the warm cadence of his voice as he’d soothed the patient and his mother, and the breathlessness she’d felt each time his gaze caught hers or she looked at his lips.

With a little groan of surrender Nychelle swept a palm over one breast, succumbing to the lure of a fantasy in which David Warmington pulled her close to his strong body and kissed her until she turned to putty in those gorgeous hands.

And somehow she knew those hands, lips and body could bring her more pleasure than she’d ever known before.

“Cut it out, Nychelle.”

Saying it out loud didn’t stop the ache building in her core, and with a growl of frustration she slapped both palms down on the surface of the water, inadvertently splashing herself in the face.

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

Spluttering, she wiped the soapy water from her cheeks, then laughed as she reached for a towel to dry her eyes. It was the kind of silly thing she’d usually share with Aliya, but in this case probably wouldn’t. The last thing she needed was to get in the habit of talking to her cousin about David. Aliya would definitely pick up on hearing his name over and over again.

Despite claiming to understand why Nychelle was undergoing IUI, her cousin had tried to convince her to wait a little longer before having a baby.

“There’s a man out there for you,” Aliya had said over lunch the last time she’d come to Florida for a visit. “I know Nick broke your heart, and you’re probably not ready to trust yet, but give it a little more time.”

Just the sound of her ex-fiancé’s name had made a sour taste rise into the back of her throat, and Nychelle had shaken her head. “It’s not about Nick.”

When Aliya’s eyebrows had gone up, Nychelle had known her cousin didn’t believe her.

“It’s not all about Nick,” she’d qualified. “Yes, he broke my heart, but that was a couple of years ago, and I’m over it.”

“Are you really?” Aliya had pressed the point. “You were with him for years, and he used our family connections to advance his career. Then he cheated on you and got some other girl pregnant after telling you he wasn’t ready to have a child yet. I’d have a hard time getting over that. And the fact you won’t even consider waiting to find someone else tells me you’re anything but over it.”

“I don’t need a relationship to get what I want.” She raised her hand to stop her cousin launching into a rebuttal. “And I don’t have time to build one, to learn to trust again, before I start trying to conceive.”

“But...”

“No. You know that with the scarring on my uterus the longer I wait to try to start a family the harder it will be. Realistically, I’m almost thirty, and at the optimal time in my life—physically, financially and emotionally—to start a family. I don’t want to wait, hoping I’ll meet someone, and miss this chance.”

Aliya’s expression had softened, and she’d said, “From when you were little you said you wanted a big family. I guess that’s never changed.”

“Exactly. So I’m going to do the IUI and let the rest of it take care of itself.” Then she’d added, just so Aliya wouldn’t figure out she wasn’t planning even to consider another relationship and get on her case, “If there’s someone out there for me he’ll find me, or I’ll find him. If not, it’s not a big deal.”

“Huh.” Disgruntlement had radiated from Aliya’s snort. “I still think waiting a couple years more wouldn’t hurt.”

Now, as Nychelle stepped out of the tub, she reached down to touch her belly, skimming her fingertips over the place where, hopefully, her baby was growing and thriving. “It’s okay that it’s just you and me, sweetie. We really don’t need anyone else.”

Funny how suddenly the words had a bittersweet quality—but she didn’t want to consider why that might be. Instead, she gave her reflection a bracing nod, then turned away to reach for her towel. This was the best time of her life and nothing would make her regret trying for a baby.

Nothing.