by Lisa Jackson
“I should have.”
“Yeah…oh, well.” She sighed. “Dad was disappointed.”
“Was he?” Thorne drawled, imagining Kent Williams’s reaction. The shrewd old man was probably in a stew as he’d wanted to invest with Thorne and was hoping they could cozy up with members of the city council and get an edge on a zoning ordinance that was up for review. “Thanks for giving him my apologies. You didn’t have to do that. I would have called him.”
“And me, would you have called me?”
“Yes.”
“Eventually.”
“Right.” No reason to lie. “Eventually.”
“Oh, Thorne.” She let out a world-weary sigh and some of the shrewishness in her voice disappeared. “I miss you.”
Did she? He doubted it and their relationship had always left him feeling alone. “It looks like I’m going to be in Montana a while.”
“Oh.” There was hesitation in her voice. “How long?”
“A few weeks, maybe months. It all depends on Randi.”
“But what about your work?”
“What about it?”
“It’s—it’s your life.”
Was my life, he wanted to say. Instead, added, “Things have changed.”
“Have they?” Silent accusations sizzled over the wires.
“Afraid so.”
“What does that mean?” But she knew. It was obvious. “You know, there are other men who are interested in me. I’ve put them on hold because of you.”
“I’m sorry.”
She waited and the silence ticked between them. “So, what’re you telling me, Thorne?” she asked. “That it’s over? Just like that? Because your sister is in the hospital?”
“No, Annette,” he admitted, “it’s not because of Randi. You and I both know that this wasn’t going anywhere. I was up front about that at the beginning.”
“I thought you’d change your mind.”
“It didn’t happen.”
“So I should start seeing other men.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“Okay.” Again a frosty pause. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Do.”
“And you, too, Thorne,” she said with a renewed amount of spunk. “You think about what you’re giving up.” She hung up with a click and he replaced the receiver slowly, wondering why he didn’t feel any sense of loss. But then he never had; not with any woman. Not even with Nikki way back when, and she’d been the most difficult. But he hadn’t trusted her with his heart and when it came time to take off for law school, he’d left Grand Hope, his family and Nicole Sanders and never once looked back. Until now. While away at school, whenever he’d thought of her, which was often at first, he steadfastly turned his mind to other things. Eventually he’d quit thinking about her altogether and he’d lived by the axiom that women weren’t a priority in his life.
But now, as he stared out the window into the dark, wet night, he felt a change inside him, a new kind of need. He reached for the phone as it rang again sharply.
Annette. He should have known she wouldn’t give up without a fight.
“Hello,” he said, as the receiver reached his ear.
“Thorne? This is Nicole.” Her voice was cold and professional.
He knew in a heartbeat that Randi’s condition had worsened. Fear clutched his heart and for the first time in his life he felt absolutely helpless. Oh, God. “It’s my sister,” he stated.
“No. Randi’s still stable, but I just got a call from the hospital because they couldn’t get through to you—your line was busy.” Nicole hesitated a beat and before she got the words out, Thorne experienced an anguish the like of which he’d never felt before. He sagged against the wall as she said, “It’s the baby.”
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.