Читать книгу Unexpected Babies - Anna Adams - Страница 10

CATE HARDLY SLEPT the night before she was scheduled to go home. The next day’s possibilities ran furiously around her mind. With Caroline’s help she’d already begun to collect clues about her life. Now, to piece her past and present into one cohesive puzzle.

Lights from the nighttime traffic danced on her walls as crazily as her thoughts until she began to pick out repeating patterns that calmed her. An occasional jet roared overhead, rousing her when she was getting sleepy. She finally dozed off just before dawn.

A crack of thunder brought her straight up in bed. Its rumble slowly faded, and an early-summer downpour sheeted rain across her window.

She woke each morning, thinking the same question. Would she remember?

Not today. She sensed everything she needed to know, hanging just beyond her reach. No amount of determination brought her answers.

Impatiently, she slid out of bed, but the moment she was vertical, nausea gripped her. She clung to the table, waiting for her stomach to settle. Dr. Davis had suggested saltine crackers, but they only seemed to make her queasier.

Pushing herself to use her weakened legs, she traveled from bureau to bed to pack the small, violently floral overnight bag Aunt Imogen had brought her.

By the time she snapped the catch on her bag, the rain had begun to ease off. Cate perched on the side of her bed to wait for Alan or Dr. Barton. After a few long seconds, she crossed the room to open her door. Then she hobbled back toward her chair. Footsteps in the hall made her look over her shoulder.

Alan stopped in the doorway. His brooding expression suggested strength. His sheer size backed up the claim. He looked from her to her bag. “I came early to help you.”

At the slight reproach in his tone, she wished she’d waited. She’d already learned he showed his feelings through service. “The rain woke me early.” She pointed toward the hall he dwarfed with his height. “Is Dr. Barton out there?”

Shaking his head, he turned to peer down the hall to his right. His white oxford shirt lovingly caressed the strong, straining muscles of his upper back. Bracing his hand against the door frame, he twisted to look the other way. The worn shirt stretched almost out of the narrow waist of his jeans. Another shake of his head, and rich, dark strands of his hair rubbed his tanned neck. Did he know how good he looked?

“I was hoping Barton might have signed your release papers already.”

“No.” She tried to sound normal, but hollow, electric bursts of attraction came as a relief. If she planned to stay married, wanting her husband had to be a plus. “Do we have to wait?”

“You’re all set?”

She nudged the bag. “I’ve packed everything except for the magazines and books you all brought me. The book cart lady suggested giving them to the other patients.”

“Good idea.” Stepping back from the door frame, he looked a touch uneasy. “Why don’t you sit and rest your leg? I’ll look for Dr. Barton.” Alan paused. “Dan’s waiting for us in the parking lot.”

“Dan?” That put a crimp in her plan. She wasn’t sure how she’d react to a home she didn’t remember, and she didn’t want to risk disappointing her son. They’d formed a tentative bond that day he’d explained about Aunt Imogen’s tape.

“He thought we should take you home as a family.” Alan paused, his gaze pensive. “If he needs family time because he’s been worried about you, I say we all go home together.”

She eyed him carefully. They were both Dan’s parents, but Alan knew him better. She thought back to the day Caroline had told her she didn’t share personal troubles. Her instincts hadn’t changed, but she had to take a chance for Dan. “What if he expects me to be comfortable at home? I won’t know the house. I don’t have a clue about his life or what kind of mother I’ve been.”

Alan tapped the door frame, his gaze bemused. “You don’t have to give Dan much. He just wants you home.” His deep voice drew a shiver down her spine. Left unspoken in his husky reassurance was a hint he wanted her there, too. “Maybe you should try not to think of Dan as a child. He’s trying hard to become an adult.”

Dr. Barton appeared behind him, carrying the clipboard that held her chart. Alan moved out of his way, but the doctor stopped, clearly discerning stress in the air.

“Am I interrupting?”

Cate shook her head, still digesting everything Alan had said. “Can I go?”

“Don’t rush me. How do you feel? Any morning sickness? How’s the leg?”

“My leg’s fine, but I feel sick as a dog.”

“Sometimes morning sickness lasts and lasts in a pregnancy.” He flipped up a page on her chart. “I see the nurse liked the look of your wound last night.”

Cate picked up her bag. Alan started toward her, but Dr. Barton stopped him.

“What’s your hurry? Cate has to wait for a wheelchair, and you might want to bring your car around. I’ll walk out with you.” He scrawled notes on the chart. “Cate, I believe I covered all your instructions last night?”

She nodded. “But you can tell me anything you want to say to Alan. I’m not an invalid.”

The older man laughed. “You’re getting paranoid.” His bland smile annoyed her. “Once you’re home, take it easy. If you want to exercise, walk on the beach, but take water along. I don’t want you to get dehydrated. Call me if you have any questions. Oh, and Dr. Davis asked me to remind you about your appointment with her.”

“I have the card she gave me.”

“Fine.” He capped his pen and held the chart to his chest as he extended his hand. “Good luck to you, Cate Palmer.”

She ignored his hand, forgave him for his chauvinistic urge to talk about her with Alan and hugged him. “Thank you for everything.”

Alan’s bewildered gaze told her she rarely hugged spontaneously. She wasn’t surprised after her talk with Caroline, but she didn’t like thinking of herself as a woman who withheld affection.

After a brisk squeeze, the doctor released her and turned to Alan. “She’s going to be fine. Better than ever. Let’s go. I’ll tell the nurses you’re ready, Cate.”

They left, and Cate felt painfully alone. What kind of woman would be better than ever because she hugged her doctor? A frightened one who wasn’t sure people would return her affection? Cate shook her head and chose not to be frightened anymore.

STRIDING BESIDE Dr. Barton, Alan glanced back at Cate’s door. Her concern for Dan made him feel even guiltier about their fiscal jam. He had to fix it before she found out anything was wrong. He’d made his decision to help her, not to hurt her. He hoped he wasn’t kidding himself when he tried to believe she’d forgive him.

“Alan, slow down. You don’t have to worry about Cate.” Dr. Barton hurried, the sound of his footsteps ricocheting off the pale-blue walls.

Alan’s heart thudded in time, but he shortened his stride. “You don’t understand.”

“I do. She’s not the wife you knew, but she’s charming, and she wants her life back. She’ll benefit by returning to her old habits.”

Barton had to be right, and yet…“Is she more likely to remember at home?”

“Seeing the places and people she loved may stimulate her memory, but I can’t promise you. Just take good care of her. If she seems down or upset, and you don’t know what to do for her, persuade her to call me.”

Alan nodded. “As long as she tells me how she feels.”

“You’ll know. She isn’t a complete stranger. The Cate we know is still inside her. Are you afraid you can’t wait for her?”

What if he didn’t know the real Cate? Maybe she’d never told him how she truly felt. How much had they hidden from each other? Alan lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll wait.” What else could he do? Except patience had never been his strong suit. “Cate’s my wife.”

Dr. Barton’s thin smile implied he shared Cate’s opinion of that statement. What did they expect? He wanted the Cate he’d married. Did that mean he wasn’t a good man?

A good man’s wife would have told him about their unborn twins. She would have trusted him enough to share news that must have shocked her.

The day of the accident Cate had been angry enough, disappointed enough—maybe even hurt enough to believe he had no right to know about his own children. Why hadn’t he realized then how far apart they’d grown?

“Alan, I wonder if I should let you leave without talking to someone. You wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t unsettled about your future with Cate.”

“We have to make a future. Can a stranger tell me how to do that?”

Big talk from the little man who’d been the last to know.

Alan punched the elevator button. His lie about the business was no foundation for a new life. But he cared for his family, and he’d provide for his wife.

Bracing himself to start a future he only half trusted, Alan shook the other man’s hand. “I’m grateful for the care you’ve given Cate.”

“My pleasure. I’ll say goodbye here because I’m in the middle of rounds, but remember what I told you.”

“I will. I’m sorry if I’ve been abrupt.”

“You have a right.” The doctor pulled his pen out of his pocket. “You know my phone number, Alan?”

He frowned. “I can find it. Why?”

“If you need to talk, call me. Don’t fume about your problems alone. Dan and Imogen and Ford depend on you as much as Cate does.”

Barton’s grasp of his weakness made him smile. “Good advice. I’ll remember.”

The elevator doors jittered open, and he stepped inside. He avoided looking at Dr. Barton as he pushed the lobby button. The elevator jerked once before it began to descend.

The doctor might be right. He wasn’t himself, but his resolve built with every inch of space he put between himself and Cate’s room. Never, in all their marriage, had she leaned on him easily. She’d always held parts of herself back as if she had to force herself to share. Now, with their past and her memories beyond her reach, even she needed him. If she leaned on him, he’d support her.

He stepped off the elevator in the lobby to find Dan sprawled in a big chair. “I thought you wanted to wait in the car,” Alan said. “Why didn’t you come up?”

Faint color dusted Dan’s fuzz-covered, youthful cheeks. He shrugged with his mother’s reserve. “I thought you’d want some privacy. Besides you had to come through here sooner or later. Where’s Mom?”

“Waiting for a wheelchair. Why don’t we get the car?”

Dan tossed him the keys.

Alan caught them. “You can drive if you want, son.”

“I always make Mom nervous.”

“You’re a sensitive guy.” Alan garnered a sheepish grin from his son. Side by side, they pushed through the glass doors into light, warm rain and a rumble of dying thunder. “Where did you park the car?”

“This way,” Dan said and started toward the parking lot.

As he followed, Alan resisted an urge to tell his loose-limbed son not to slouch. He’d parked Cate’s SUV in a spot not too far from the entrance. They got in and Alan started the engine.

He parked beneath the canopy at the hospital entrance. A nurse pushed Cate through the doors in a wheelchair. His wife’s stiff posture suggested she remained a woman who accepted assistance only under duress.

“Boy, she’s pissed about the wheelchair,” Dan said.

“Have you ever said the word pissed to Mom or me before?” Alan opened his door. “Don’t say it around her.”