Читать книгу Rumors: The McCaffertys: The McCaffertys: Thorne - Lisa Jackson - Страница 13

Chapter 5

“What about him?” Thorne clutched the receiver in a death grip. His heart thudded in dread. For the love of Mike, how could one little baby, Randi’s son whom he’d never even held, make such a difference in his life?

He heard the back door open and Matt, unbuttoning his sheepskin jacket, strode in. “Slade’s still—”

Thorne silenced his brother with a killing glance and a finger to his lips.

“What about the baby?” he repeated, bracing himself and he saw Matt’s dark complexion pale.

“He’s lethargic, experiencing feeding problems and respiratory distress, his abdomen is distended, his temp has spiked—”

“Just cut to the chase, Nicole. What’s he got? What went wrong?” Thorne was pacing now, stretching the telephone cord as Matt’s eyes followed his every move.

Nicole hesitated a beat and Thorne found it hard to breathe. “Dr. Arnold thinks the baby might have bacterial meningitis. He’s going to call you later and—”

“Meningitis?” Thorne repeated.

“No way!” Matt broke his silence.

“How the hell did that happen?”

“When Randi came into the hospital, her membranes had already ruptured—”

“What? Ruptured?”

Matt swore under his breath, then looked up, his gaze locking with that of his older brother. “Let’s go,” Matt said. “Right now. To the damned hospital!” Thorne cut him off with a quick shake of his head. He had to concentrate.

Nicole was talking again—her voice calm, though he sensed an urgency to her. “Her water had broken in the accident and there’s a chance that there was contamination, the baby was exposed to some source of bacteria.”

“This Dr. Arnold? Is he there? At the hospital now?”

“Yes. He’ll call you with more information—”

“We’re on our way.”

“I’ll meet you there,” she said as he slammed the receiver down.

“What the hell’s going on?” Matt demanded.

“The baby’s in trouble. It doesn’t sound good.” Thorne was already striding to the front hall where he yanked his coat from a hook and shoved his arms down the sleeves. Matt was right on his heels. The two men half ran to Thorne’s truck, but before he climbed into the passenger side, Matt said, “Wait a minute, I’d better tell Slade that we’re on our way to the hospital—”

“Make it fast,” Thorne ordered, but Matt was already running toward the barn. He disappeared inside. Thorne jabbed his key into the ignition, the truck roared to life and he glared at the barn, willing his brother to return.

Less than a minute later Matt, head ducked, holding on to the brim of his Stetson, dashed through the rain. Thorne was already throwing the pickup into gear by the time Matt opened the door and slid inside.

“He’s gonna follow us.”

“Good.”

Thorne stepped hard on the accelerator, though he didn’t know why. The urge to get to the hospital, to do something pounded through him. What had gone wrong?

Rain poured from the sky and the twin ruts of the lane glistened in the glow of the headlights as water spun beneath the tires.

“Okay, now what happened?” Matt demanded, his face tense in the dark interior.

“Something went wrong.”

“What?”

“Everything.” Thorne squinted against oncoming headlights, shifted down and turned onto the main road cutting through the pine-forested canyons and rolling acres of farmland surrounding the Flying M. In clipped words, Thorne repeated his conversation with Nicole.

Matt’s jaw clenched. “Why was Nicole the one who called? Why not the pediatrician?”

“He couldn’t get through, but I’ll have more phone lines installed. Tomorrow. And I’d asked Nicole to phone me if there was any change. She said Dr. Arnold would call us, but I’m not going to hang around and wait. I want answers and I want them now.”

The ranch was nearly twenty miles from town. Thorne pushed the speed limit and the truck’s tires sang against the wet pavement.

They arrived at the hospital in record time. Thorne was out of the truck like a shot. Matt kept up with him, stride for stride. They sprinted across the dark parking lot, flew through the automatic doors of the lobby, then took the stairs two at a time to the second floor.

This time, Thorne didn’t allow any nurse to tell him what to do. The poor woman, a slight blonde with a tentative smile tried to ward them off. “Excuse me, you can’t come in here,” she said, pointing to a sign that read Authorized Personnel Only.

“Where’s the McCafferty baby?” Thorne demanded.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the baby’s uncle and so is he,” Matt said, hooking a thumb toward Thorne. “We’re Randi McCafferty’s brothers.”

“The only family the baby has right now,” Thorne explained, “as our sister is in Intensive Care and we haven’t located the child’s father.” That wasn’t a lie. Not really. He just didn’t bother to add that they had no idea who the father was. Slicing Matt a look warning him not to elaborate, Thorne continued. “I want to see my nephew.”

“He’s in his crib,” the nurse said patiently. “And he’s being monitored closely.” Her lips pursed and she motioned toward the glassed-in room where the baby, lying seemingly peacefully under a warm lamp, with a monitor strapped to him, was sleeping. Tubes were inserted into his small body and he breathed with his tiny mouth open. Another nurse hovered near his plastic bed. The blonde nurse continued, “Dr. Arnold has seen him and should be right back—oh, here he is now.” She was obviously relieved to pass the responsibility of dealing with Thorne and Matt to a small man with wire-rimmed glasses, slightly stooped shoulders and a ring of wild white hair.

“Dr. Arnold?” Thorne asked, pinning the shorter man with his gaze.

“Yes.”

“I’m Thorne McCafferty. This is my brother, Matt. The baby’s mother is our sister. What the hell’s going on?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Dr. Arnold said calmly, obviously not offended by Thorne’s sharp words and demanding attitude. “The baby’s suffering from bacterial meningitis, probably contracted at the site of the accident as your sister’s amniotic sac had already ruptured.” Thorne’s chest tightened. He felt a muscle in his jaw work as the doctor explained in finer detail what Nicole had already told him on the phone. Slade, white-faced, jaw set, fists coiled, arrived and was introduced quickly and brought up to speed.

“So how dangerous is this?” Thorne demanded.

“Very.” The doctor was solemn. “We’re a small hospital but luckily, we’ve got a state-of-the-art intensive pediatric unit.”

Matt got straight to the point. “Is the baby going to make it?”

“I wish I could tell you that he’s out of the woods, but I can’t.” The doctor’s eyes, behind his glasses, were solemn. “The mortality rate for this kind of meningitis is high, somewhere between twenty to fifty percent—”

“Oh, God,” Matt whispered.

“However, your nephew’s survival chances are good here because of the staff and equipment. Already the baby’s on antibiotic therapy and a mechanical ventilator along with compulsive fluid management.”

“What?”

“An IV to minimize the effects of cerebral edema. Even if the baby is to survive, there’s a chance that he might be deaf, blind or have some retardation.”

“Damn,” Slade mumbled and ran a hand over his chin and was suddenly pale as death, his scar more visible.

Thorne was thunderstruck. He stared at Randi’s baby and felt, for the first time in his life, impotent. Frustration burned through his bloodstream.

“Isn’t there anything else you can do?” Matt asked, lines of worry sketching his brow.

“There must be,” Thorne added.

“Believe me, we’re doing everything possible.” Dr. Arnold’s voice was steady.

“If there’s anything he needs, anything at all—equipment, specialists, whatever—we’ll pay for it.” Thorne was adamant. “Money isn’t an issue here.”

The doctor’s lips pulled together just a fraction. His spine seemed to stiffen and his voice was clipped. “Money isn’t the problem right now, Mr. McCafferty. As I said we have the best equipment available, but this hospital is always looking for endowments and benefactors. I’ll see that your name is on the list. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to check on my patient.”

He punched a code into a keypad and the doors marked Authorized Personnel Only opened. Dr. Arnold disappeared for an instant before he stepped into the neonatal nursery and was visible through the thick glass of the viewing window. Thorne’s teeth clenched, anger and impotence burned in his brain. There had to be something he could do to help Randi’s boy. There had to be! He stared at the pediatrician hard, but if Dr. Arnold felt Thorne’s eyes upon him, he didn’t so much as flinch or glance up. Instead he focused on the baby, carefully examining the fragile little boy who was Randi’s only child—John Randall McCafferty’s sole grandchild.

“He’s got to pull through,” Matt said, his fists balling in determination. “If he doesn’t and Randi wakes up to find out that he didn’t make it—”

“Don’t say it! Don’t even think it! He’s gonna be fine. He’s got to!” Slade slashed Matt a harsh glance filled with his own private hell. Not too long ago he’d lost a girlfriend and an unborn child. “He’ll make it.”

“Will he?” Matt wasn’t convinced. “Here? I mean, I know this is a good hospital—the best around—but maybe he needs specialists, the kind that you find in bigger cities at teaching hospitals in L.A. or Denver or Seattle.”

“We’ll check it out,” Thorne agreed. “I’ll find out the best in the country.”

“Right now it would be a mistake to move him.” Nicole’s voice came from somewhere down the hallway.

Thorne hadn’t heard her approach but saw her reflection in the glass, a pale ghost in jeans and ski jacket, a filmy image that pulled strangely on his heartstrings. “Trust me on this one, Thorne, the baby’s in good hands.”

He turned and stared into a face devoid of makeup except for a bit of lipstick, her hair falling freely to her shoulders, her gold eyes quietly reassuring. She looked younger than she had before, more like the girl he remembered, the one he’d thought he’d loved, the one he’d so callously left behind. “Sorry it took me a while to get here, I had to round up a babysitter.”

“You have a child?” Matt asked.

“Two. Twin girls. Four years old.” Her serious face brightened at the mention of her daughters and Thorne tried to ignore the ridiculous spurt of jealousy that ran through his blood that another man had fathered her daughters, then he gave himself a swift mental shake. What the hell was he thinking? “And I’d trust them to Geoff—er, Dr. Arnold.”

“Good enough for me,” Matt allowed, though his face was still tense.

“Nothin’ else we can do but have some faith in the guy,” Slade agreed, then cursed softly in frustration.

“There are always other options,” Thorne disagreed.

“None better.” Nicole’s voice brooked no argument. Her face was a mask of certainty. She had absolute trust in this man and again, ludicrously, Thorne felt a prick of jealousy that she would have such unflagging confidence in another male. “Let me talk to Geoff and see what’s up.” Nicole punched a code into the door lock. “I’ll just be a minute.” The electronic doors opened. Nicole slipped through.

Slade shifted from one foot to the other. Scowling through the glass, he eyed the two doctors and finally said, “I think I’ll go check on Randi, then head back. You can fill me in when you get home.”

Matt nodded curtly. “I’ll come with you.” He glanced at Thorne. “I’ll catch a ride back to the ranch with Slade.”

“Fine,” Thorne said. “Call Striker again. Tell him I want to talk to him. ASAP.”

“What about?” Slade asked.

“The kid’s father for starters.”

“Okay, I’ll try to find Kurt.”

“Don’t try. Do it.”

Slade’s eyes flared and he slanted Thorne a condescending, don’t-push-me-around smile. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll handle it.” With that he turned and walked away.

“Hell, you can be an insufferable bastard,” Matt growled. “You might be used to barking orders at your office and everyone hustles to do what you want, but back off a bit, okay? We’re all in this together. Slade’ll call Striker.”

“Will he?” Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “It seems to me he’s made a lot of promises in his life that he somehow managed to forget.”

“He’s straightening out.”

“Good, ’cause he sure as hell has messed up his life.”

“Not all of us are blessed with the Midas touch,” Matt reminded him. “And, as far as I can see, you’re not in much of a position to start slinging arrows.” Matt glanced through the glass to Nicole. “Somethin’ about the lady doctor that’s got you riled?”

Thorne didn’t respond.

“Thought so.” Matt’s smile was positively irritating. “Well, good luck. She doesn’t much look like a filly that’s easy to tame.”

“This has nothing to do with her.”

“Right. I forgot. You never get too involved with a woman, now, do ya?” Matt gave an exaggerated wink, pointed his finger at Thorne’s chest, then sauntered down the hall after Slade.

Irritated as hell Thorne waited, watching Nicole and Dr. Arnold through the glass, hating the feeling that he was powerless, that the baby’s life was out of his control, and that his brother had seen through his facade of indifference when it came to Nicole Sanders Stevenson. The truth of the matter was that she’d already gotten under his skin. He’d kissed her last night not certain of her marital state, not really giving a damn, then taken a flower to her doorstep like some kind of junior high kid suffering some kind of crush. Afterward he’d called her and manipulated the facts just to get a date with the woman. He’d never acted this way before. Never. Didn’t understand it. Yes, she was beautiful and beyond that she was smart. Sassy and clever. But deeper still, he sensed a woman like no other he’d ever met. And he’d lost her once. Given her up all for the sake of making a buck.

He was still mentally kicking himself up one side and down the other when Nicole emerged. Her brow was creased, her eyes shadowed with concern.

“How bad is it?” Thorne asked.

Little lines appeared between her eyebrows and he braced himself for the worst. “It’s not good, Thorne, but Dr. Arnold is doing everything he can here. He’s also linked by computer to other neonatologists across the country.”

Thorne’s jaw was clenched so hard it ached. “What can

I do?”

“Be patient and wait.”

“Not my strong suit.”

“I know.” The ghost of a smile crossed her lips as they walked down the stairs and outside together. Nicole flipped up her hood and held it tightly around her chin. They dashed through puddles to her SUV while sleet pelted from the sky in icy needles.

“Thanks for calling me and letting me know about J.R.,” he said as they reached the rig.

“J.R.? That’s the baby’s name?”

“He doesn’t really have one. But I’ve been thinking that he should be named after my father since Randi is still in a coma and well…who knows what she’ll call him when she wakes up.” If she wakes up. If the baby survives. “Anyway, I appreciate the call.”

“No problem. I said I would.” She fumbled in her purse, found her keys and unlocked the door.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to go to the trouble of getting a babysitter and driving down here.” It had touched him.

“I thought it would be best.” She flashed him a small grin. “Believe it or not, Thorne, some of the doctors here, including Dr. Arnold and me, really care about our patients. It’s not a matter of clocking in and out on a schedule so much as it is about making sure the patient not only survives but receives the best care possible.”

“I know that.”

“Good.” She blinked against the drops of water running down her face and a twinkle lighted her gold eyes. “Okay, so now you owe me one.”

“Name it,” he said so softly that she barely heard the words, but when she looked into his face and saw an unspoken message in his eyes, her throat caught and she was suddenly touched in the most dangerous part of her heart. She remembered his kiss, just yesterday in this very parking lot, and she couldn’t forget all the passion that was coiled behind the press of his lips against hers. And that was just the start of it. She knew that within the past day and a half her life had changed irrevocably, that she and Thorne had rediscovered each other and it scared the devil out of her, so much that she couldn’t think about it. Not now. Not ever. “Careful, McCafferty,” she said, clearing her throat. “Giving me carte blanche could be dangerous.”

“I’ve never been one to steer clear of trouble.”

“I know.” She sighed, remembering how many of her friends had tried to warn her off Thorne way back when. The McCafferty boys were known as everything from rogues to hellions who always managed to find more than their share of trouble. “Look, I’ve got to go—”

He grabbed the crook of her elbow. “I meant it when I said thank you, Nicole. And I really am sorry.”

“For—?”

“For taking off on you way back when.”

Her heart jolted a bit when she realized his thoughts had taken the same wayward path as her own. As the wind ripped the hood from her head, she warned herself not to trust him. “That was a long, long time ago, Thorne. We—well, I was a kid. Didn’t really know what I wanted. Let’s just forget it.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

“Well, you did a damned fine job of it for a lot of years.”

“Not as fine as I’d hoped,” he said. “Look, I’d just like to set the record straight.”

“Now?” She glanced away from him and felt her pulse skyrocketing as the sleet ran down her neck. “How about another time? When we’re both not in danger of freezing?”

His fingers gave up their possessive grip and she yanked open the door. Hoisting herself behind the wheel, she pulled the door shut and plunged her key into the ignition. With a flick of her wrist, she tried to start the engine. It ground, then died. She pumped the gas, all too aware that Thorne hadn’t moved. He stood outside the driver’s door, his bare head soaked, his long coat dripping, as she tried again. The engine turned over slowly, revved a bit and then sputtered out.

Three more flicks of her wrist.

Three more grinding attempts until there was no sound at all. “No,” she muttered, but knew it was over. The damned rig wasn’t going to move unless she got behind it and started pushing. “Great. Just…great.” And Thorne was still standing there, like a man without a lick of sense who wouldn’t come in out of the freezing rain.

He opened the door. “Need a ride?”

“What I need is a mechanic—one who knows a piston from a tailpipe!” she grumbled, but reached for her purse and slid to the ground. “Failing that, I suppose a ride would be the next best thing.” She locked the SUV, abstained from kicking it and turned. He took her hand in his, linking cold, wet fingers through hers as they dashed to his pickup. She told herself not to make any more of this than what it was, just an old friend offering help. But she knew better.

Once inside the cab, she swiped water from her face and directed him through town as the defroster chased away the condensation on the windows. He drove carefully, negotiating streets that were slick with puddles of ice as the radio played softly.

“So tell me about yourself.” Headlights from slowly passing cars illuminated the bladed angles of his face and she reminded herself that he really wasn’t all that handsome, that he was a corporate lawyer, for God’s sake, the kind of man she wanted to avoid.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“How you got to be a doctor.”

“Medical school.”

He arched a brow and she laughed. “Okay, okay, I know what you mean,” she admitted, glad to have broken some of the ice that seemed to exist between them. “Guess I wanted to prove myself. My mother always told me to aim high, that I could achieve whatever I wanted and I believed her. She insisted I have a career where I didn’t have to rely on a man.” And Nicole knew why. Her own father had taken off when she was barely two and no one had seen or heard from him since. No child support. No birthday cards. Not even a phone call at Christmas. If her mother knew where he was, she’d never said and her answer to all of Nicole’s questions had never wavered. “He’s gone. Took off when we needed him most. Well, we don’t need him now and never will. Trust me, Nicole, we don’t want to know what happened to him. It really doesn’t matter one way or another if he’s dead or alive.” At that point in the speech she’d usually bend on a knee to look her young daughter straight in the eye. Strong maternal fingers had held firm to Nicole’s small shoulders. “You can do anything you want, honey. You don’t need a deadbeat of a father to prove that. You don’t need a husband. No—you’ll do it all on your own, I know you will and you can do and be anything, anyone you want. The sky’s the limit.”

In the last few years Nicole had wondered secretly if her need to succeed, her driving ambition, her quest to make her mark was some inner need to prove to herself that she could make it on her own and that the reason her father left had nothing to do with her.

Of course at seventeen, after meeting Thorne McCafferty, she’d fallen head over heels in love and been ready to chuck all her plans—her dreams and her mother’s hopes—for one man…a man who hadn’t cared enough for her to explain what had gone wrong.

Until now.

She sensed it coming. Like the clouds gathering before a storm, the warning signs that Thorne hadn’t given up his need to explain himself were evident in the set of his jaw and thin line of his mouth.

He waited until the second light, then slowed the truck and turned down the radio. “I said I wanted to explain what happened.”

“And I said I thought it could wait.”

“It’s been nearly twenty years, Nikki.”

She closed her eyes and her heart fluttered stupidly at the nickname she’d carried with her through high school, the only name he’d called her. “So why rush things?” Don’t be taken in, Nicole. He used you once and obviously he thinks he can do it again.

He let her sarcasm slide by. “I was wrong.”

“About?” she said in a voice so low, she thought he might not have heard her.

“Everything. You. Me. What’s important in life. I thought I had to go out and prove myself. I thought I couldn’t get entangled with anyone or anything—I had to be free. I thought I had to finish law school and make a million dollars. After that I thought I’d better keep at it.”

“And now you don’t?” She didn’t believe him.

“And now I’m not sure,” he admitted, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as the interior of the cab started to fog.

“Sounds like midlife crisis to me.”

He shifted down and took a corner a little too fast. “Easy answer.”

“Usually right on.”

“You really believe that?”

She leaned back in the seat and stared out the window to the neon lights of the old theater, and wondered why she was in this discussion. “Let’s just say I’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“Oh.”

“And I swore to myself that the next midlife crisis I was going to suffer through was going to be my own.”

He parked at the curb in front of her little bungalow and she reached for the door handle. “I suppose I could ask you in for some coffee, or cocoa or tea or something.”

“You could.”

She hesitated, one hand on the door handle. “Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

“And why’s that?”

She tilted up her chin a bit. “Because this is getting a little too personal, I think.”

“And you’d rather keep it professional.”

“It would be best for everyone. Randi—the baby—”

To her surprise one side of his mouth lifted in a sexy, damnably arrogant slash of white. “Is that the reason, Doctor, or is it that you’re scared of me?”

No, Thorne, I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why should I stop now?” He reached for her, dragged her close and started to kiss her, only to stop short, his mouth the barest of whispers from hers. His breath fanned her face. “Good night, Nikki.” Then he released her. She opened the door and nearly fell out of the truck. Embarrassment washed up her cheeks as she strode to the door and felt him watching her, waiting until she made it inside. Then he threw his truck into gear and took off, disappearing through the veil of silvery sleet.