by Ann Gimpel
“Thank you.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
Brice trudged into the conference room and fell into the chair at the head of the table. His chair. The doctor’s chair. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t give him the usual burst of confidence. At least sitting hid his unruly appendage from view, although it was subsiding.
Resisting an urge to bury his face in his hands, he waited for the Wrays to show up.
Chapter Three
Juliana stood in the ICU gazing through glass at her sister’s sleeping form. She turned at the sound of Brice’s voice. More than turned, it dragged her around until she faced him. The rich baritone notes kindled bone-deep longing in her, longing she believed she’d moved past long since.
Her gaze skirted his face and body. Same drop-dead gorgeous hunk with his curly blond hair and unusual hazel eyes, one greener than the other. He’d added muscle to his six feet two-inch frame, or maybe he’d simply filled out as he moved into adulthood. Regardless, his shoulders were wonderfully broad, his waist slender. She assumed his ass was the same. High, tight, well-muscled. Yearning burned a path through her, as bright as if only days had passed since they’d made love, not fifteen years.
Her nipples tightened into peaks, and her swollen labia slicked. Breath hitched in her throat. What the fucking hell? She never even thought about sex, but one glimpse of Brice was enough to remind her of her badly neglected body.
Aw crap. I’ve got to get hold of myself.
Because saying something seemed like the right thing to do, she ground out. “Thank you for saving Sarah. We appreciate your care.”
“Welcome.” His smile looked strained, but maybe he was tired.
It wasn’t like she knew him anymore. Apparently, she’d never known him at all since she’d arrived home after a student dig to find him in bed with her sister. His stupid, lame, inane, shit-for-brains excuse was he’d thought Sarah was her, but that was impossible. Sure, they were twins, but no way could he mistake one for the other.
“How is she, Doc?” Her father’s words broke into her churning thoughts as he trained his forthright gaze Brice’s way.
“Probably a conversation we should have in a more private location,” Brice replied.
A nurse offered to set up a conference room, and Brice cautioned them Sarah was still quite frail. Julie resisted a sharp comeback. Anyone with eyes could see how depleted her twin was.
“This way.” The no-nonsense gray-haired nurse—Erika, from her badge—was back, duded up in mask, gown, and gloves. She opened a sliding glass door, and they filed in next to Sarah’s bed.
Maybe because Julie was used to listening for it, she heard the gurgling of Sarah’s lungs as she fought to breathe. “Can I touch her?” she asked the nurse, who hovered off to one side.
“Sure.” Erika smiled encouragingly. “She’s just worn out. She was trying to talk with the doctor, and it drained what little reserves she had.”
Trying to talk with Brice, huh? Juliana thought sourly. Had her sister maintained some kind of relationship with him all these years? Behind her back? She hauled herself up short. What difference did it make? She’d made it crystal clear she was done with Brice. She couldn’t very well cut her sister out of her life, but she could damn good and well eliminate Brice.
And she had.
Sarah’s illness had closed a lot of doors. Most people reacted much like the overly enthusiastic flight attendant on her last plane. The moment they heard about a “life-threatening illness,” they backed away. Pronto.
Despite setbacks, her sister had carved out a life for herself. They teased each other about being spinsters, and Sarah had always encouraged her to find someone special. They talked about lots of things, she and Sarah, but they never talked about Brice. Not after that morning she kicked him out of her apartment. Sarah had been apologetic, but she hadn’t ever said she’d pretended to be Julie.
The mistaken identity explanation was so preposterous, Juliana didn’t pursue it.
Over the years, she’d tried to find someone special. Maybe she hadn’t tried all that hard, but she’d dated. Lots of guys. Some she even kind of liked, but not well enough to give them a piece of her heart. After the rocky breakup with Brice, she wasn’t sure enough of her heart was left to offer much to anyone.
Graduate school had been a total grind, and she’d volunteered for every extra project that popped up. Being in the field kept her busy, and she liked it that way. After completing her Ph.D. dissertation on Native and Indigenous Peoples in the Guatemalan Highlands, she’d accepted a staff position at U.W. and quickly risen to tenured status.
“Ms. Wray?” Erika patted her arm. “It’s okay. She’s just sleeping.”
“My daughter is a doctor,” Ariel murmured.
“Fascinating.” Erika’s eyes lit with interest. “What kind?”
Here we go again.
Julie manufactured a smile. “Not medical. I’m an archaeologist.”
“Even more intriguing.” Erika lowered her voice. “Don’t spread it around, but I get damn tired of the medical types.”
The corners of Juliana’s mouth twitched. She appreciated Erika’s candor. Something about the no-nonsense older nurse was impossible not to like. Moving closer to the bed, she hunted for a stretch of skin that didn’t have tubes or lines sticking out of it.
She stroked Sarah’s upper arm, and her twin’s eyes fluttered open. When she saw Julie, they flooded with tears. “Sister.” Her voice was so rough, Julie wouldn’t have recognized it.
Sarah held out her arms, and Juliana glanced at the nurse. Erika nodded. “Some things trump our protocols.”
Sitting gingerly on the edge of Sarah’s bed, Juliana gathered her into her arms, shocked by how thin she’d grown. The edges of her shoulder blades almost poked through her skin, and her upper arms looked like they belonged to a starving adult from sub-Saharan Africa. All knobs and sinew.
“I waited,” Sarah rasped.
“Hush, sweetheart. Don’t try to talk.” Her throat thick with tears, Julie smoothed her sister’s hair back from her forehead, and Sarah slumped against her, relaxed in her embrace.
“Just like when you were babies,” her mother murmured, sounding suspiciously close to tears herself. Ariel never cried, or if she did, Julie had never seen it.
“That’s right,” her father broke in.
“What’s right?” Juliana asked, still cradling Sarah against her.
“When we first brought you home from the hospital,” her mother said, “we put you in separate cribs like they told us to.”
“But you cried and cried,” her father added. “Endlessly.”
“How would you know?” Ariel demanded. “You were deployed.”
“Because you told me, sweetheart.”
Juliana smiled. God, she loved her parents. What gems they were.
“Yes, well.” Ariel cleared her throat. “The doctor said it was a bad idea, but I put both of you in the same crib—watching like a hawk, mind you.”
“What happened?” Juliana was fascinated. She’d never heard this story.
“You cuddled up to each other just like you’d done inside me. And fell asleep.” Ariel’s words held a satisfied note. “I knew you were just missing each other. And I was right.”
“You slept in the same crib until you were about a year old,” her father chimed in. “By then, when we separated you, everything was all right.”
Sarah had fallen asleep again, so Juliana laid her back against the pillows. “It was pretty close, wasn’t it?”
Erika nodded, her expression solemn. “If it wasn’t for Dr. McKinnon, you’d be sitting over her remains.”
“We knew him when he was growing up,” Ariel said.
“Really?” Erika’s tone held interest. “What was he like?”
“A shy boy,” her father replied. “Always very talented. Lost his father when he was maybe sixteen. Brave Marine. Decorated the hell out of him, but posth
umously.”
“His mother taught science and mathematics at the base school,” Ariel noted. “She’s still there.”
“Thank you,” Erika said.
“What for?” Julie asked.
The nurse shrugged. “Some of the docs are like open books. I know most of what’s to know about them. Not Dr. McKinnon, though. He showed up here three years ago, and no one knows much about him. Beyond his credentials, which are impressive as hell. Speaking of the good doctor, he’s waiting for you. Follow me, and I’ll show you where he is.”
Julie leaned close. “I’ll be back, sweetie. Thanks for hanging on.”
Sarah nodded but didn’t open her eyes. Maybe it was too much for her right now. Julie filed out of the ICU, bringing up the end of their little queue. They stopped long enough to toss their masks, gloves, and gowns. She flirted with making excuses and returning to sit with Sarah, but she wanted to hear Brice’s assessment. Not that she was any judge of medical things, but Sarah appeared to have a long way to go before she was out of immediate danger.
Several corridors later, Erika pulled open a faux wood door and motioned them into a well-appointed room. An oblong table sat in the center, surrounded by chairs. The tang of coffee tickled her nostrils, and she caught the tail end of Erika saying “Help yourself. Coffee. Tea. Cocoa. Cups are in the credenza just below the hot water.”
“Thank you.” Her father shook Erika’s hand, and the nurse left.
“Want anything?” Ariel asked as she walked to the electric kettle.
“Nothing for me,” Juliana said.
“No thank you, Mrs. Wray,” Brice said, followed by, “Sorry. Colonel Wray.”
Her mom waved a dismissive hand Brice’s way. “I’m retired. Plain old Ariel will do. Why, we were almost family at one point.”
Julie avoided her mother’s sharp glance.
“Did you attend medical school here?” Chris asked Brice.
“No. I graduated from here, just like your daughters, but then I went to USF Medical School. From there I did an internal medicine residency at Harvard.”
“Impressive,” Chris said.
“Thank you. Post residency, I picked up a two-year fellowship in pulmonology at Johns Hopkins. I’ve been here for the past three years, for the most part. Just returned from the U.K. and Europe. They’ve done some intriguing things with immune modulation there. It’s what gave me the confidence to try something new on Sarah.”
“We’re grateful for your expertise,” Ariel murmured and finished brewing drinks for herself and Chris.
Brice waited until they were all seated. Juliana had taken a chair as far away from him as she could. It wasn’t far enough. No amount of distance could quell the longing rioting through her, and she sent up a prayer of thanks no one could read her thoughts.
His mop of blond hair was the same, inviting her to sink her fingers within its lush curls. Beneath his lab coat, broad shoulders held a promise of graceful muscles. He’d always been a runner, and his lower body, what she’d seen of it in the ICU, was all long legs and slender hips. Desire surged until her belly clenched with wanting him, and she swallowed around dry places in her throat.
Clearly, she needed to get laid. Only problem was no other man had this effect on her, where she wanted to rip his clothes off and lick and suck every inch of him.
“I’m sure you’re all tired,” Brice began. “I know I am. We came within an angstrom of losing your daughter. She’s still very depleted. I won’t bother explaining CF to you. You’ve lived with it for a long time. The scarring in her lungs is extensive, but until recently, her pancreas was in relatively decent shape. It’s hard to pinpoint why these things are stable for a long time but then deteriorate.” He stopped to take a breath. “In any event, she developed digestive issues on top of her already severely compromised lung function. What I did was introduce an immune modulator. It seems to be working, and I’m cautiously optimistic. If it continues to work, and she grows strong enough, we’ll try gene remodeling for a longer-lasting solution.”
“Longer-lasting,” Ariel echoed Brice, “but not permanent.”
He nodded. “Not permanent. Nothing cures CF. Not yet, anyway. The thing with gene remodeling is it takes time. Immune modulators normally do too, but it was our best hope.”
“We’ll take what we can get,” her father said.
“Any chance of having her home for Christmas like you told us earlier?” Hope underscored Ariel’s question, as did her unspoken thought that this may well be the last Christmas Sarah would ever have.
Brice tugged a phone from his lab coat and clicked its display, probably bringing up a calendar. “Maybe. It’s the sixteenth. I want her here for at least another five or six days.” He looked from one to the other of them. “Any questions?”
Yeah. Why’d you sleep with my sister? The real reason.
Julie squared her shoulders to drive any and all thoughts of sex out of her head. “I have a question. CF is an autoimmune disorder, right?” At Brice’s nod, she went on. “Autosomal recessive, not that I entirely understand what it means, but why don’t I have it?”
“You are a carrier,” her mother spoke up.
“Yes. I get that part, but Sarah and I are identical twins. Doesn’t that mean we’re exactly the same? Came from the same egg and sperm?”
“We thought you were identical,” her father cut in. “You looked so much alike, we assumed you had to be. It was only after Sarah was diagnosed with CF we had genetic testing done.”
“And found you two were dizygotic,” Ariel finished her husband’s thought.
Because she was watching Brice, Julie saw shock flutter across his face before he smoothed it of any reaction. As a doc, he had to be used to keeping his game face on.
“How come you never told us?” Julie demanded, followed by, “Never mind. We can have that conversation in the car.”
She got to her feet, hating to walk away from Brice and wanting to put as much space as she could muster between them. Her unsettled emotions jabbed her. Maybe she just needed to sleep, get over jet lag, and wrap her mind around her sister still being alive.
She’d been certain Sarah wouldn’t pull through this time.
“Want to add your cell to our list of family contacts for Sarah?” Brice asked in a perfectly neutral tone.
“Sure. I’ll call the ICU after we leave.” Her heart thrummed into overdrive, and she swept out of the conference room. Had his request been a backhanded way of him asking for her phone number? She ground to a halt outside the room, waiting for her folks. Even if that was what he was up to, it didn’t matter. None of it did. He’d sealed his fate when he’d cheated on her.
Unfortunately, he’d sealed hers too. A loveless life stretched before her, sterile and devoid of anything except work. The prospect depressed her, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to change it.
I have to figure out a way to stop loving him.
Yeah, right, she answered herself. It’s not as if I haven’t tried.
“There you are, honey,” her father boomed.
“Want to come home with us?” Ariel asked.
Julie considered it. “I’ll come over tomorrow. What I really need more than anything is to see my home again, take a long hot shower, and sleep off the jet lag.”
“We’ll drive you home,” Chris announced.
Juliana shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing. The traffic across the bridge is always bad. Besides, you need to stay on the east side of the lake. What if Sarah has a crisis? You’ll be close enough to get back here fast.”
“All right.” Her father’s tone brooked no space for disagreement—or further discussion. “Your mother and I will catch a cab home. I’ll send the car and driver with you.”
“You don’t have to—” she began, feeling like she was about five years old.
“Case closed.” Her father hooked a hand around her arm. “Come on. We’ll walk out to the rotunda. The car will be waiting for y
ou.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell Sarah and me we weren’t identical?”
“Oh honey, what difference would it have made?” Her mother asked.
“You two were just so proud about being identical,” her father cut in.
“We couldn’t burst your bubble,” Ariel murmured. “Although I have to admit I was relieved when the genetic testing came back. You girls were around eight at the time.”
“Because it meant I didn’t have cystic fibrosis?” Julie mumbled.
“Precisely,” her mother said, followed by, “Come on, Juliana. It’s not as if we kept something important from you. We made sure you knew you were a carrier. You know. In case you ever produce any grandchildren for us.”
The barb was so pointed and so typical of Ariel’s in-your-face communication style, Julie let it go. She’d given up longing for children. Good thing, since it appeared she’d never have any.
“You’re getting ahead of the curve,” she told her mother. “First, I need a husband.”
“Not necessarily,” Ariel replied. “With all those creative in vitro solutions popping up—”
“Not the time for this conversation,” her father cut in, his tone brusque. Julie could have hugged him.
They made their way through the endless branching hallways typical of most modern hospitals until her father held the front door for her and her mother. The uniformed Marine driver from earlier hurried over and saluted.
“At ease, son,” her father said, followed by, “Take my daughter to...” He rattled off her address north of the University District.”
“What about you, sir?” the driver inquired.
“We’ll take a taxi home.”
The driver saluted again and sprinted to a line of Yellow Cabs, bending to talk with the cabbie.
“See you soon, darling.” Her mother swooped in for a hug and a kiss.
“Yes. Good to have you home. Finally,” Chris grumbled.
“You should talk,” Ariel said to her husband and let go of Julie. “Your deployments lasted for months.”