In the examining room, Cole shook hands with the blond teacher, exchanged pleasantries and conducted a physical exam. Normal protocol. He could double-check the other doctor’s findings, but he didn’t like to subject a patient to costly duplicate tests.
He also wanted to assess how Gladstone was dealing with infertility. For many men, difficulties with becoming a father delivered a serious blow to their sense of worth. Some became depressed and angry and avoided friends and relatives with children. Others tried to compensate by going overboard in their work, sports or other activities. If a patient had trouble coping, Cole referred him to counseling and to support groups such as Resolve.org.
Peter, however, seemed clear-headed and focused. Becoming a father had been important to him all his life, he explained. “My dad’s been a great role model. We played sports together while I was growing up, and he’s the person I turn to for advice. I always planned to have that kind of experience with my own children.”
“What about adopting?” Cole asked.
“Not much chance for a single guy.” The man folded his arms, emphasizing his well-developed muscles. “Also, my mother’s hooked on genealogy. She’s traced our family history back a couple of centuries. We’ve been an interesting bunch, including an inventor, a Revolutionary War hero and a buccaneer, which I guess is a pirate. My sister doesn’t want kids. I hate to think the line would end with me.”
“Family history can be important.” Not that Cole had any personal experience with that. His mother had been adopted by a narrow-minded couple against whom she’d rebelled. As far as he knew, she’d never tried to find her biological family. He hadn’t been close enough to his father for discussions about ancestry.
Irrelevant.
“You mentioned sports,” he said. “Is that in your medical history?” He could only recall a reference to regular exercise.
Peter shrugged. “I’m an assistant wrestling coach, if that makes any difference.”
“It might.” Cole jotted a note. “You’re a wrestler yourself?”
“All through high school and college,” Peter confirmed.
“Ever get injured?” he asked.
The teacher chuckled. “I never met a wrestler who didn’t. Bruises and strains come with the territory. Nothing severe, though. My dad insisted on proper equipment and training techniques.”
“He was your wrestling coach?”
“For a while.”
Cole disallowed his twinge of envy at this father-son bond. He was here to help the patient, not indulge in regrets over matters beyond his control. “Ever take a blow to the balls?”
This time, Peter laughed outright. “Is that medical terminology?”
“Sometimes it’s best to be direct,” Cole replied with a smile.
“Well, yes, sure.” Abruptly, all mirth vanished. “Could that be what’s causing this?”
“It’s a remote possibility,” Cole said. “Since nothing else has shown up, I’d like to test you for antibodies to your own sperm.”
The teacher regarded him in bewilderment. “How is that possible?”
“Sperm is usually protected from the immune system by a mechanism called the blood-testis barrier,” Cole explained. “Sometimes an injury breaks through this barrier. In that case, the immune system may form antibodies to the sperm.”
“You said that was rare.”
“It’s found in less than one percent of infertile men,” Cole agreed, “although the incidence is higher when they’ve had surgery on their reproductive tract. I don’t see that in your case. But the wrestling might have caused it.”
“This test—is it invasive?” The man swallowed. “Never mind. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
His determination to become a father, even without a woman in the picture yet, was striking. Although Cole tried to avoid becoming overly invested in his patients, he hoped he could help.
“We need to test a sperm sample for antibodies,” he assured him. “Nothing invasive.”
“Let’s do it.”
Cole summoned Lucky to arrange for the specimen. Then, in his office, he made notes in the patient’s file. The problem was that even with a diagnosis, treatment for male antibodies was controversial and uncertain. He supposed they’d cross that bridge when and if they came to it....
A tap at the door announced an unexpected visitor. Ned Norwalk popped in, his teeth gleaming white in his tanned face when he smiled. Although they’d hung out together at the Sunbeam Saloon, this was the first time the nurse had paid him a visit. “What’s up?” Cole asked.
Ned dropped into a chair. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
“About what?”
“Stacy.”
Irritably, Cole recalled Ned’s comment at the nightclub: There’s one I wouldn’t mind getting to know better.
“What about her?”
Ned spread his hands placatingly. “I’m looking for a place, so we discussed her ad for a roommate. When she confided that she’s pregnant, I put two and two together. She refused to say anything about the father, but I saw you two leaving the club, and the timing is right.”
Cole pried apart his clenched teeth to ask, “And?”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll take good care of her.”
Considering Ned’s reputation for gossiping, Cole did not feel reassured. “You will, eh?”
The nurse hurried on. “People will assume I’m the dad, which lets you off the hook. With all this publicity, I figured you’d appreciate that.”
A swell of anger nearly choked Cole. He did not want to be let off the hook, and he hated the idea of another man living with Stacy. “You figured wrong.”
Ned regarded him uneasily. “You don’t like the idea?”
“Correct,” Cole muttered. Then he remembered the first lesson he’d learned about Stacy: not to control her. He struggled to moderate his tone. “I should discuss this with her. Any idea where she is?”
“I saw her on the elevator a few minutes ago. She got off on the second floor. Something about an ultrasound.”
The exam wasn’t scheduled for another week and a half, but there must have been a change in plans. Was she having problems? Cole sprang up so fast he banged his thigh against the edge of the desk. “I’d better go.”
“Yeah. Glad we had this little talk,” Ned said as Cole hurried past him. “Guess I’ll find another place to live.”
“Excellent plan,” he snapped.
He supposed he should have been more diplomatic, and more careful about revealing his paternity. Sworn the man to secrecy, too. But right now, Cole didn’t care.
He had to find Stacy.
Chapter Ten
As Stacy approached Nora Franco’s office, Una stepped into the hall, the tag sticking out of her flowered maternity dress. She must have already completed the ultrasound and dressed hurriedly afterward.
Stacy wished she had arrived earlier, but she’d been at home when she received a text saying the eager mom-to-be had arranged to move up her ultrasound by a few days. “How’d it go?”
“I’m having twins!” Una cried, and twirled around in the corridor.
“That’s great! Hang on a sec.” Reaching out, Stacy tucked the tag into the collar. “There you go. Where’s Jim?”
“Hauling a load back from Oregon.” Una’s husband was a long-distance truck driver. “Dr. Franco knew how anxious I was, so her nurse called about a cancellation. Jim gave the okay, and here I am. Jim was ecstatic when I told him the news. Me, too!”
“I wish I’d been there.” Stacy had meant to share as many special moments as possible with her co-mom.
“Don’t feel bad,” Una told her. “Dr. Franco and Harper were almost as excited as I was. I did kind of hope for triplets or quads, though.”
Down the hall, a staff door opened. Stacy expected to see her roommate leaving for the day. Instead, she caught a glimpse of Zora Raditch’s short ginger hair and green uniform. Even after nearly three years, S
tacy still felt a blast of resentment toward the woman who’d stolen her husband. At least she had the good grace to duck away in the opposite direction.
Stacy returned her attention to Una. “You don’t really want to be pregnant with more than two. I sure hope I’m not.” She halted, startled by what she’d blurted. If she hadn’t been so distracted by seeing Zora...
“You’re pregnant?” Una’s eyes widened.
“I had a little accident.” Boy, was that an understatement.
“How wonderful!” Her fellow mom gave her a hug. “Our kids will be brothers or sisters. When are you due?”
“February,” Stacy said. “A few weeks after you.”
“We might deliver at the same time,” Una pointed out. “That’s so sweet. The kids can grow up together.”
Stacy raised her hands to stem the flow of words. “I’m planning on adoption.”
Silence fell as the other woman absorbed this information. “Wait! That’s even more perfect. Jim and I will adopt your baby! The more the merrier.”
She would do what? “Una, this town is full of couples with empty arms,” Stacy said with more feeling than she’d intended. “Don’t be...” She nearly said “greedy,” but that would be offensive and just plain mean. “Think of the expense, not to mention the exhaustion.”
“People at my church will help,” Una responded cheerily. “Another congregant had triplets and our women’s group formed a diaper and bottle brigade. I’m sure they’d do the same for me.”
No way was Stacy giving her baby to the Barkers. She resented the assumption that any child of hers automatically belonged to Una.
This is my baby.
For nine months, anyway.
Still, she understood Una’s desire to have a large family. Her co-mom had been a foster child, abandoned by her father and orphaned at her mother’s death. Her few relatives had been indifferent. No wonder she yearned to surround herself with love.
“It isn’t a good idea,” she said more gently.
“Yes, it is.” Una tugged her toward the elevator. “Give the idea a chance to sink in.”
Talking to Una was like swimming against a strong current. “I told you...” Stacy was saying as the doors slid open.
“We’ll adopt however many babies you’re carrying. Once you get used to the idea, you’ll see that I’m right.”
Cole was standing in the elevator, his brown eyes smoldering as he took in Una’s remark and Stacy’s frustrated expression. “Stacy doesn’t like being pressured.”
Una blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“She told you she doesn’t want you to adopt her baby,” Cole said firmly. “That should end the matter.”
Una’s gaze flicked over the name tag on his jacket. “Dr. Rattigan. You’re famous!”
“Infamous would be more accurate.” As Stacy entered the enclosed space, he touched her arm. “Watch your step.”
Una’s eyes widened in understanding. “He’s the dad?”
Oops. “This is private,” Stacy said.
Cole didn’t seem to care. He was too busy glaring at Una like a bulldog guarding its territory.
As the elevator doors closed, the mom-to-be held up her hands in surrender. “My lips are sealed. As for your baby, all I ask is that you keep me in mind if you do go through with an adoption. Oh! I have a great idea.”
Stacy wasn’t sure she could handle any more of Una’s great ideas. “What’s that?”
“I’m tired of keeping a lid on the news about my pregnancy,” the other woman said. “Now that we’ve confirmed twins, I’ll ask the hospital to hold a press conference. I mean, it is a first for the egg bank. That ought to take the heat off you, Dr. Rattigan. Give you both a little peace and privacy.”
“That would be a welcome change,” Cole conceded, his tension ebbing. “Thank you.”
Stacy appreciated Una’s thoughtfulness. As they reached the ground floor, she said, “I’m sorry I was touchy.”
“If anybody understands about mood swings, it’s me.” Una patted her shoulder. “See you soon.”
“You bet.” Stacy was glad to stay on good terms with Una. It saddened her that, although their children would be half brothers or sisters, they’d probably never meet.
Cole walked Stacy to her car. It was becoming a tradition, she mused, and a welcome one. “I appreciate your sticking up for me. Una’s enthusiasm can be hard to take.”
“When I heard something about an ultrasound, I was afraid you’d run into a problem,” he said.
“Una’s, not mine,” she said. “Why’d you think it was me?”
“Ned Norwalk mentioned it.” They stopped beside her sedan. “He came to request my approval to be your roommate.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I guess since I’m the father...”
Stacy didn’t bother to ask how Ned had figured that out. He had a talent for snooping. “I didn’t say he could move in. As a matter of fact, I’ve had several inquiries.”
“Good.” Cole regarded her hesitantly. Strange how he could be so fierce one moment and shy the next. “I warned him off.”
“That wasn’t up to you.” Still, Ned had chosen to consult Cole. And Stacy felt a twinge of appreciation. Having a protector felt kind of nice.
“If you need taking care of, I should be the one to do it,” he said. “This pregnancy is as much my responsibility as yours. I should be your roommate.”
Stacy touched her still-flat abdomen, keenly aware of what lay inside. Part of her longed to lean against Cole and yield to his protective instincts, but she’d learned the hard way to be cautious. “One disastrous mistake per relationship is the legal limit. And we used ours when we made this child.”
“Why would living together be a mistake?” he pressed.
“Because I’m vulnerable,” she said. “Have you ever been in love?”
He frowned. “Define ‘been in love.’”
Oh, for pity’s sake!
“If you had been, you wouldn’t have to ask. It will sweep away everything else like a wildfire.” She recalled her intense early months with Andrew. “You’ll be consumed, delirious. Longing for the person you love. Desperate to spend your life with him or her.”
Cole’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t think that’s in my personality.”
“Neither do I,” Stacy said sadly. “Let’s leave it at that.”
As she got into her car, she wasn’t sure why she felt so let down. She had to stop hoping for more than Cole was capable of giving.
Especially since some foolish part of her still yearned to nestle into his arms and stay there, safe and warm.
* * *
WHEN COLE HAD REALIZED, back in Minneapolis, that he wasn’t capable of committing to his girlfriend, the discovery had bothered him only because it meant distressing Felicia. More accurately, infuriating her. She’d fired off several nasty emails that had emphasized the less-than-lovable side of her personality and made him doubly glad of his escape.
It was different with Stacy. He regretted letting her down, for his own sake as much as for hers. Why couldn’t he be the kind of man who made her heart beat faster?
During the next few days, Cole’s thoughts kept returning to the concept of love as a sort of hemorrhagic illness. He wondered if a modified version might be acceptable to her. Seeing Stacy lifted his spirits. He missed her when a day went by without contact. Yet he supposed the fact that he could consider the situation rationally meant he didn’t meet her definition of being in love. Or, as he feared, he simply wasn’t capable of it.
During surgery on Friday, Cole inquired about the roommate situation. Stacy informed him that Harper was moving out the following day, but had paid for another week’s rent. Stacy hoped to have chosen one of her prime candidates by then.
From the look on her face, he judged that he wasn’t in the running.
On the plus side, Cole wasn’t nearly as worried anymore about how the press would react i
f they learned of Stacy’s pregnancy, which by now had become common knowledge around the hospital. Una Barker’s press conference, held the previous afternoon, had succeeded in deflecting the spotlight from him.
Owen Tartikoff had spoken enthusiastically about the egg bank’s first pregnancy, and Una and her husband were a sympathetic couple. Although the announcement fell short of being earthshaking, last night’s local newscasts had played up the human-interest angle.
One reporter had tried to relate the case to the alleged Daddy Crisis by asking whether Una’s husband required fertility treatments. Luckily, Jim hadn’t. Cycling home on Friday, Cole hoped they could lay all that nonsense to rest.
Turning into the driveway, he spotted his landlady descending the steps from his apartment, her pink bubble of hair bouncing as she moved. What had she been doing up there? Emergencies aside, she was required to alert him in advance if she needed to enter.
Cole waited for her in the driveway. “Mrs. Linden?”
She gave him a too bright smile. “Hi, there! How’s it going, Doc?”
“Fine. Why were you inside my apartment?”
She tugged on a tight sweater ill-suited to a woman in her late sixties. “I was in the garage and thought I heard a noise, so I went to check.”
Cole didn’t believe her for a second. “What kind of noise?”
“Scurrying,” she said.
“Like a rat?”
“Oh, heavens no!” She sidled toward the house. “More like a squirrel.”
“How can you tell the difference?”
“You scientists certainly ask a lot of questions,” she responded. “I guess that’s what makes you so good at your job. You know, I think I left a pot boiling on the stove. Keep an eye out for squirrels, would you? They can be a real nuisance.”
If he didn’t have a lease, he’d be out of there, Cole thought grumpily as he put his bike away. While her excuse might sound plausible to an outsider, he didn’t buy it.
Upstairs, he fought a growing sense of discomfort as he ate a salad. Although nothing appeared out of place, he felt invaded. While he made a point of password-protecting all his electronics and keeping his financial papers in a lockbox, he shouldn’t have to.
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