Читать книгу The Christmas Baby Bump - Lynne Marshall - Страница 7

MONDAY morning, Stephanie opened the door of the cream-colored Victorian mansion and headed toward the reception desk. Though the house had been turned into a medical clinic, they’d kept the turn-of-the-century charm. Hardwood floors, tray ceilings, crown molding, wall sconces, even a chandelier made everything feel special. She could get used to showing up for work here.

A man with longish dark blond hair in a suit chatted with not one but two nurses at the receptionist’s desk. Nothing short of adoration gleamed from the women’s eyes. He looked typical trendy Santa Barbaran—businessman by day in a tailored suit and carefully chosen shirt/tie combo, outdoorsman on the weekends by the tone of his tan. Not bad, if you liked the type.

“Of course I’ll help you out, Dr. Hansen,” one of the young and attractive nurses gushed.

“Great.” He held a clipboard. “I’ll pencil you in right here. Anyone else?”

Was he taking advantage of the staff? Unscrupulous.

“Sign me up for Saturday,” the middle-aged, magenta-haired receptionist chimed in.

Hmm.

“Got it.” As he scribbled in her name his gaze drifted upward. The warm and inviting smile that followed stopped Stephanie in her tracks.

“May I help you?” he said.

Flustered, and not understanding why—okay, she knew exactly why, the guy was gorgeous—she cleared her throat. “I’m Stephanie Bennett. I have an appointment with Dr. Rogers.”

“Yes,” the older receptionist said, back to allbusiness. “He’s expecting you, Dr. Bennett. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Before she could take a seat in the waiting room, the man with the bronze-toned suntan (even though it was November!) offered his hand. “I’m Phil Hansen, the pulmonologist of the group. If you’d like, I’ll take you up to Jason’s office.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, out of habit.

A long-forgotten feeling twined through her center as she shook his hand. She stiffened. Tingles spiraled up her arm, taking her by surprise. No wonder the ladies were signing up on his clipboard. She stifled the need to fiddle with her hair.

“Oh, that’s fine,” she muttered. Then, finding her voice, said, “I’ll wait for him to…” Before she could finish her sentence and drop Phil’s hand, another man, a few years older but equally attractive with dark hair, appeared at the top of the stairs. Working with such handsome men, after being celibate for over three years, might prove challenging on the composure front. She’d imagined typical stodgy, bespectacled, aging doctors when she’d signed on as a locum. Not a couple of Gentleman’s Quarterly models.

“That would be Jason,” Dr. Hansen said, his smile narrowing his bright blue eyes into crescents. Instead of letting go of her hand, he switched its position and walked her toward the stairs, as if they were old friends. “Here’s Stephanie Bennett reporting for duty.”

“Great. Come on up, Stephanie. After we talk, I’ll show you around.”

Phil brought her to the stairway complete with turned spindle rail, dropped her hand on the baluster, and patted it. “Thanks for stepping in,” he said in all sincerity. “You’ll like it here.”

Considering the odd feeling fizzing through her veins, she was inclined to agree.

Stephanie saw the temporary stint in Santa Barbara as the perfect excuse for missing the holidays with her family in Palm Desert. Thanksgiving and Christmas always brought back memories too painful to bear. Not that those thoughts weren’t constantly in her mind anyway, but the holidays emphasized everything.

The promise of going through the season surrounded by well-meaning loved ones who only managed to make her feel worse was what had driven her to take the new and temporary job. She’d only been dabbling in medicine since the incident that had ripped the life from her heart, shredded her confidence, and caused her marriage to disintegrate. A huge part of her had died that day three years ago.

The Midcoast Medical Clinic of Santa Barbara needed an OB/Gyn doctor for two months. It was the perfect opportunity and timing to get away and maybe, if she was lucky, start to take back her life.

As she walked up the stairs, she overheard Phil. “Okay, I’ve got one more slot for Friday night.”

“I’ll take it,” the other nurse said, sounding excited.

Was he full of himself? That fizzy feeling evaporated.

Phil sat at his desk, skimming the latest Pulmonary Physician’s Journal unable to concentrate, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to do with a kid for ten days. But he couldn’t turn Roma or his father down.

His father had recently survived his second bout with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. His stepmother, Roma, who was closer to Phil’s age than his father’s, had called last night. She’d wanted to talk about her plans to take Carl to Maui for some rest and relaxation.

Reasonable enough, right?

No!

Just the two of them, she’d said. Had she lost her powers of reasoning by asking him to care for Robbie? The kid was a dynamo…with special needs.

Robbie, the surprise child for his sixty-five-year-old dad and his fortysomething stepmom, had Down syndrome. The four-year-old, who looked more like a pudgy toddler, always got excited when his “big brother”—make that half brother—came for a visit. Phil didn’t mind horsing around with the kid on visits, because he knew he’d go home later on, but taking on his complete care was a whole different thing. Robbie’s round face and classic Down syndrome features popped into his mind. The corner of Phil’s mouth hitched into a smile. The kid called him Pill. Come on. No fair.

“And it’s only for ten days. Your dad needs this trip and if we don’t jump on booking it right now we won’t get these amazing resort rates and airfares. Please, please, please!”

Roma knew how to surgically implant the guilt. His father’s craggy sun-drenched face, with eyes the color of the ocean, the same eyes Phil had inherited, came to mind. The guy deserved a break.

How could he say no?

Those eyes had lost their sparkle when Phil’s mother had left fifteen years ago, the week after he’d first been diagnosed with cancer. How could someone who was supposed to love you do such a thing? Phil had cut his Australian surfing tour short to come home and see his father through the ordeal. It had been a lifechanging event for both of them, and he’d never spoken to his mother again. Last he’d heard, she was living in Arizona.

After that, Phil couldn’t fathom his dad pulling out of his slump. How could either of them ever trust a woman to stick around?

Carl Hansen had been granted a second chance with Roma, followed by a huge surprise pregnancy. “Hell, if I wait around for you to settle down and have a grandchild I’ll be too old to enjoy it. May as well have my own!” his father had joked with Phil when he’d first told him the news.

Carl and Roma had had a tough go when Robbie had been diagnosed with Down syndrome after amniocentesis, but they’d wanted him no matter what and hadn’t regretted one moment since. Then, after fifteen years of remission, Carl had been hit with cancer again and, on top of being a new parent of a handicapped baby, he’d had to go through chemo. Carl and Roma were nothing less than an inspiration as far as Phil was concerned.

Ten days wasn’t a lifetime. Anyone could survive ten days with a kid, right?

“We’ll be home in time for Thanksgiving,” Roma had said, “and I promise the best meal of your life.” Hell, she’d had him at please, please, please.

He’d already started the sign-up sheet for babysitters and backup. Good thing he’d always managed to stay friends with his coworkers and ex-girlfriends—maybe he’d call in a few extra favors.

“You’ve already met René’s replacement, Stephanie Bennett,” Jason said, breaking into Phil’s thoughts. His partner stood in his office doorway, and beside him the redhead. “She comes with a great endorsement from Eisenhower Medical Center.”

All Phil’s worries vanished for the time being as he took her in.

Her gaze darted to Jason and back to him, her cheeks flushing pink.

Though noticeably uptight, she had possibilities…Hold it—toddler on board!

“Hi, again. Jason’s giving you the official tour, I see.” He stood behind his desk. “Let me know if there is ever anything you need, Dr. Bennett.”

Her delicate mouth, which sat appealingly beneath an upturned nose, tugged into a tentative smile. “Call me Stephanie,” she said, as she tucked the more-red-thanbrown, shoulder-length hair behind an ear. “Please.”

Though she was saying all the right words, he sensed her standoffishness. He’d never had trouble making friends and acquaintances, especially with women, and sometimes had to remind himself that it didn’t come as easy for other people.

“Okay, Stephanie, welcome aboard.” He remembered how cool her hand was when he’d shook it, and an old saying came to mind, Cold hands, warm heart. It got him thinking about what kind of person she might be behind that cool exterior.

He engaged her sharp gaze, enjoying the little libido kick it gave him. A spark flashed in her butterscotchcolored eyes. Had she felt it too? “Oh, and call me Phil. My extension is 35, same as my age. If you ever need me, I’m right across the hall and I’ll be glad to help out.”

She nodded her thanks.

“Now let me show you your office,” Jason said to Stephanie, ushering her across the waiting room.

As quickly as she’d appeared, she left without looking back. That didn’t keep Phil from staring and giving a mental two-note whistle as she followed Jason.

Phil sat and leaned back in his chair, thinking about Stephanie in her copper-and-black patterned jacket, black slacks and the matching stylish lace-lined scoopneck top. He liked the way her hair was parted on the side and fell in large, loose waves over her cheek and across her shoulders. He liked the set of her jaw, more square than oval yet with a delicate chin. He liked the ivory color of her skin without a hint of the usual freckles of a redhead, and wondered if he might find a few on her nose if he got up close, really close. Just a sprinkling maybe—enough to wipe away that sleek image, enough to make her seem vulnerable beneath her obvious social armor.

And just as he was about to dream a little deeper, his intercom buzzed. It was his nurse. “Your dad’s on the phone,” she said.

The trip.

Robbie.

How in the hell was he supposed to impress Dr. Bombshell while babysitting his half brother?

Stephanie spent most of the day getting used to the Midcoast Medical OB/Gyn doctor René Munroe’s office, as well as the new setup. She’d held a minimeeting with her nurse, discussing how she liked to run her clinic and telling her exactly what she expected. She wanted to make this transition as smooth as possible, and stuck around later than she’d planned, logged in to the computer, reading patient charts for the next day’s appointments. For this stint, she’d concentrate on the gynecological portion of her license.

There had been one stipulation for her taking this job, and Jason Rogers had agreed to it. Though she’d take care of the pregnant patients, she wouldn’t be delivering their babies. Fortunately, after perusing the patient files, none of Dr. Munroe’s pregnant patients would be at term during her stay. And Jason had eased her concerns by mentioning that it would have been very hard to get her privileges at their local hospital anyway. She’d been in the process of picking up the pieces of her career, knew she could handle the clinical appointment portion, but no way was she ready to deliver a baby again. The thought of holding a tiny bundle of life in her arms sent her nearly over the edge.

Her stomach rumbled and in need of changing her thoughts, she packed up for the day. As she crossed the reception area, the front clinic door swung open and in rushed Phil Hansen with a little dark-haired boy tagging along beside him. The slant of the boy’s eyes with epicanthic folds, and the flattened bridge of his nose, hinted at Down syndrome.

“Hold on, Robbie, I’ve got to make a call,” Phil said, shutting off his beeper and reaching over the receptionist’s desk to grab the phone.

Robbie smiled at her as only a child with no fear of strangers could. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi, there.” Her insides tightened and her lungs seemed to forget how to take in air, knowing her son, Justin, would have been close to Robbie’s age…if he were still alive. She looked away. Before her eyes could well up, she diverted her thoughts by eavesdropping on Phil’s conversation.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, then hung up and blew out a breath. “Great. What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he mumbled.

She cringed that he cussed so easily around a child.

Phil’s gaze found her. A look of desperation made his smooth, handsome features look strained. He glanced at Robbie and back to her. “I need a huge favor. I just got a call from the E.R. One of my patients inhaled his crown while the dentist was replacing it, and I need to do an emergency bronchoscopy to get it out.” He dug his fingers into his hair. “Can you watch Robbie for me? I’ll only be gone an hour or so.”

What? Her, watch a child? “I can’t…”

“I don’t know what else to do.” His blue eyes darkened, wildly darting around the room.

He was obviously in a bind, but didn’t he have a child-care provider?

She glanced at the boy, who was oblivious to Phil’s predicament, happily grinning at a picture of a goldfish on the wall.

“Pish!” he said pointing, as if discovering gold.

“I’m really in a bind here,” Phil pleaded. “The E.R. is overflowing and they need to get my patient taken care of and discharged. I can’t very well plop Robbie down in the E.R. waiting room.”

Oh, God, there it was, that lump of maternal instinct she’d pushed out of her mind for the past three years. It planted itself smack in the middle of her chest like an ice pick. She studied Phil, his blue eyes tinted with worry and desperation. She’d give the wrong impression if she refused to help out, and she’d come to Midcoast Medical to help. He’d seemed so sincere earlier when he’d offered his assistance anytime she needed it. A swirl of anxiety twisted her in its clutch as she said, “Okay.”

“You’ll do it?” He looked stunned, as if he’d just witnessed a miracle.

Well, he had. Never in a million years would she have volunteered to do this, but as he was in such a bind…

She nodded, and her throat closed up.

“Thank you!” He grabbed her arms and kissed her cheek, releasing her before she had a chance to react. “You’re the best.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just watch him. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be a good boy for Stephanie, Robbie,” he said before he disappeared out the door.

Why couldn’t she have left earlier, like everyone else in the clinic? Dread trickled from the crown of her head all the way down to her toes. Her heart knocked against her ribs. She’d made a knee-jerk decision without thinking it through. She couldn’t handle this. There went that swirl of panic again, making her knees weak and her hands tremble.

The boy looked at her with innocent eyes, licking his lips. “I’m hungwee.”

She couldn’t very well ignore the poor kid. “So am I, but I don’t have a car seat for you, so we can’t go anywhere.”

She’d spoken too fast. Obviously, the boy didn’t get her point.

He held his tummy and rocked back and forth. “Hungweeeeee.”

Oh, God, what should she do now? She scratched her head, aware that a fine line of perspiration had formed above her lip. He was hungry and she was petrified.

Think, Stephanie, think.

She snapped her fingers. The tour. Jason had taken her on a tour of the clinic that morning, and it had included the employee lounge. “Come on, let’s check out the refrigerator.”

Robbie reached up for her hand. Avoiding his gesture, she quickened her step and started for the hallway. “It’s down here,” she said, as he toddled behind, bouncing off his toes, trying to catch up.

She switched on lights as they made their way to the kitchen in the mansion-turned-clinic. “Let’s see what we can dig up,” she said, heading for the refrigerator, avoiding his eyes at all cost and focusing on the task. She had every intention of writing IOU notes for each and everything she found to share with Robbie.

Some impression she’d make on her first day, stealing food.

Heck, the fridge was nearly bare. Someone had trained the employees well about leaving food around to spoil and stink up the place. Fortunately there was a jar of peanut butter. She pulled out drawer after drawer, hoping to find some leftover restaurant-packaged crackers. If the kid got impatient and cried, she’d freak out. Drawer three produced two packs of crackers and a third that was broken into fine pieces. Hopefully, Robbie wouldn’t mind crumbs.

“You like peanut butter?”

“Yup,” he said, already climbing up on the bench by the table. “I wike milk, too.”

Stephanie lifted her brows. “Sorry, can’t help you there.” But, as all clinics must, they did keep small cartons of juice on hand for their diabetic patients. “Hey, how about some cranberry or orange juice?”

“’Kay.”

“Which kind?”

“Boaff.”

“Okay. Whatever.” Anything to keep the boy busy and happy. Anything to keep him from crying. She glanced at her watch. How long had Phil been gone? Ten minutes? She blew air through her lips. How would she survive an hour?

After their snack, she led him back to the waiting room, careful not to make physical contact, where a small flat-screen TV was wedged in the corner near the ceiling. She didn’t have a clue what channels were available in this part of the state, but she needed to keep the boy distracted.

“What do you like to watch?”

“Cartoons!” he said, spinning in a circle of excitement.

She scrolled through the channels and found a cartoon that was nowhere near appropriate for a child.

“That! That!” Robbie called out.

“Uh, that one isn’t funny. Let’s look for another one.” She prayed she could find something that wouldn’t shock the boy or teach him bad words. Her hand shook as she continued to flip through the channels. Ah, there it was, just what she’d hoped for, a show with brightly colored puppets with smiling faces and silly voices. Maybe the fist-size knot in her gut would let up now.

She sat on one of the waiting-room chairs, and Robbie invited himself onto her lap. Every muscle in her body stiffened. She couldn’t do this. Where was Phil?

His warm little back snuggled against her and when he laughed she could feel it rumble through his chest. She inhaled and smelled the familiar fragrance of children’s shampoo, almost bringing her to tears. Someone took good care of this little one. Was it Phil?

She couldn’t handle this. Before she jumped out of her skin, she lifted him with outstretched arms and carried him to another chair, closer to the TV.

“Here. This seat is better. You sit here.”

Fortunately, engrossed in the show, he didn’t pick up on her tension and sat contentedly staring at the TV.

It had been a long day. She was exhausted, and didn’t dare let her guard down. Robbie rubbed his eyes, yawning and soon falling asleep. She paced the waiting room, checked her watch every few seconds, and glanced at the boy as if he were a ticking time bomb. Her throat was so tight, she could barely swallow.

Several minutes passed in this manner. Robbie rested his head on the arm of the chair, sound asleep. Stephanie hoped he’d stay that way until Phil returned.

A few minutes later, one of the puppets on the TV howled, and another joined in. It jolted her. Robbie stirred. His face screwed up. The noise had scared him.

Oh, God, what should she do now?

After a protracted silence, he let out a wail, the kind that used up his breath and left him quiet only long enough to inhale again. Then he let out an even louder wail.

“It’s okay, Robbie. It was just the TV,” she said from across the room, trying to console him without getting too close. She patted the air. “It was the show. That’s all.” She couldn’t dare hold him. The thought of holding a child sent lightning bolts of fear through her. She never wanted to do it again.

Flashes of her baby crying, screaming, while she paced the floor, rooted her to the spot. Robbie cried until mucus ran from his nose, and he coughed and sputtered for air, but still she couldn’t move.

It took every ounce of strength she had not to bolt out of the clinic.

Phil’s patient had been set up and ready for him when he’d arrived in the nearby E.R. The dental crown had been easy to locate in the trachea at the opening of the right bronchus. He’d dislodged it using a rigid scope and forceps, and done a quick check to make sure it hadn’t damaged any lung tissue. He’d finished the procedure within ten minutes, leaving the patient to recover with the E.R. nurse.

He barreled through the clinic door, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Robbie screaming and Stephanie wild-eyed and pale across the room.

“What’s going on?” he said.

She blinked and inhaled, as if coming to life from her statue state. “Thank God, you’re back,” she whispered.

“What happened?” He rushed to Robbie, picked him up and wiped his nose.

“I was ‘cared,” Robbie said, starting to cry again.

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy, I’m here.” Phil hugged his brother as anger overtook him. “What’d you do to him?” he asked, turning as Stephanie ran out the door. What the hell had happened? Confused, he glanced at Robbie. “Did she hurt you?”

“The cartoon monster ‘cared me,” he whimpered, before crying again.

Phil hugged him, relieved. “Are you hungry, buddy? You want to eat?”

The little guy nodded through his tears. “’Kay,” he said with a quiver.

What kind of woman would stand by and let a little kid cry like that? Had she been born without a heart? Phil didn’t know what was up with the new doc, but he sure as hell planned to find out first thing tomorrow.