She winced as she pictured the frown on her mother’s face and a veined hand agitatedly pushing back a shock of graying hair. Her sister had urged them to use Skype so they could see each other. Right now, Stacy was immeasurably glad they hadn’t.
“This Dr. Rattigan,” her mother said at last. “How did he react?”
“He asked me to marry him,” she admitted. “I said no. We aren’t in love. He’s a nice guy and he’s helping me, but I’ve decided on adoption.”
She waited tensely. Hoping for support, bracing for criticism.
“Are you sure?” Ellen probed. “I realize Andrew hurt you badly. Don’t let that sour you on marriage altogether.”
“That isn’t the case,” Stacy assured her. “Adoption is simply the right choice.”
“Then let’s keep this between us,” her mother said. “If you’re going to give it up, there’s no reason to tell your father.”
What an odd reaction. Although Stacy’s father could be quick to judge, it seemed strange for her mother to keep such a major secret. “Don’t you two share everything?”
Ellen’s quick release of breath was almost a snort. “Your father, like most men, has to be managed.”
“He does?” In view of her mom’s mood swings, Stacy had always thought of their father as the steady one.
“Surely you’ve noticed that he tends to overreact.”
“Well, sometimes.” During her sister’s rebellious phase in high school, a bad report card had sent their father into a tightly controlled rage. He’d grounded Ellie, Jr. for a month and forced her to drop out of cheerleading. Later, he’d apologized, but by then she’d been replaced on the squad. “You really don’t think I should tell him?”
“Let me give it some thought.” Her mother was backing off a little. “You kind of sprung this on me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m glad you told me, even if it did come out of the blue,” Ellen replied. “It’s just that you were always the peacemaker. You helped me with your dad.”
If I’m such a peacemaker, why couldn’t I save my marriage? But that was a question Stacy didn’t expect her mother to answer. “I’ll follow your advice, whatever you decide.”
“You sure you’re all right?” Ellen pressed. “Getting good medical care and everything?”
“Absolutely. Mom, I’m a nurse. I work at a hospital.”
“There’s an old saying about the shoemaker’s children going barefoot,” her mother warned.
“Adrienne’s treating me.” She’d introduced her parents to her friends when they’d visited the previous year. “I’m in excellent hands. Now go back to your customers.”
“Well, okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Only after she clicked off did Stacy realize she hadn’t mentioned the ultrasound. But what would be the point?
There was no sense worrying about what it might reveal. She’d already given her mom plenty to think about.
Chapter Thirteen
All day Friday, Stacy tried not to think about the ultrasound. She tried to avoid thinking about it while assisting Cole in two surgeries, and later while working with obstetrician Zack Sargent as he reversed a patient’s tubal ligation so she could conceive a child with her new husband.
Luckily for Stacy’s concentration, the conversation in the operating room focused on the egg bank, where activity was booming. News of Una’s pregnancy had brought in new infertility patients and donors.
“The program is growing faster than Jan expected,” observed Zack. Being married to the director dovetailed with his interest in helping infertile women. “It’s exciting.”
Aware that other members of the surgical team were watching her reaction, Stacy merely nodded. Everyone seemed to know that she’d become a donor and then gotten pregnant during her first cycle. But while most people had a good idea who the father was, the gossip remained discreet. Even the anesthesiologist was keeping his sharp tongue in check, since Cole had responded to a few of his comments with quelling sarcasm.
She ventured to ask, “How many pregnancies has the egg bank achieved so far?”
“Three more confirmed,” Zack replied.
Rod waggled his eyebrows as he tracked the patient’s vitals. Regardless of what he might be implying, Stacy was glad he didn’t cite her as an unannounced statistic. Anyway, she wasn’t a recipient, so she didn’t count.
“How’s the success rate?” After all, it wasn’t the total number of pregnancies that mattered as much as how they compared to the number of implantations.
“Excellent,” the surgeon responded. “Of course, since we haven’t had any deliveries yet, it’s too soon to congratulate ourselves.”
Nevertheless, this was promising news for the program and the families involved. Under other circumstances, Stacy would have felt a swell of pride. Instead, she merely felt swollen. Although she doubted others—aside from some of the obstetrical nurses—could see her weight gain yet, she’d added a few pounds already.
It might be partly due to the ice cream she’d consumed. And the popcorn.
At three-thirty, Stacy finished her shift and went home for a nap. The ultrasound was scheduled for five forty-five. Cole had promised to arrive there as early as possible. However, since Stacy understood how often doctors ran late, she wasn’t surprised to find only Eva waiting for her at Adrienne’s office.
“The tech scheduled for tonight got sick,” the other nurse explained as she showed Stacy to an examining room.
“Don’t tell me we have to postpone.” That would be a huge letdown. Why hadn’t they called?
“Dr. Cavill said it’s important to proceed as planned.” Eva handed Stacy a hospital-type gown. “Leave this open in the front.”
“Then who...” Stacy didn’t bother to hide her reaction as she realized who would be performing the scan. “Not Zora!”
Eva pushed her thick glasses higher on her nose. “Sorry. It’s the best we could do.”
Stacy understood the predicament. Still, the prospect of being touched by the woman made her skin crawl. Zora was sleeping with Stacy’s ex-husband and had probably started sleeping with him while they were still married. In a perfect world, the woman would have to wear a big red A for adulteress on her chest.
You’re a nurse. Get over it.
Gritting her teeth, Stacy changed clothes, pressed the ready button and sat on the examining table. Zora must have been waiting outside, because a knock sounded instantly, and the tech entered with the ultrasound equipment on a wheeled cart. After a hasty nod, the green-clad technician began plugging in and setting up for the scan.
Although Stacy caught annoyingly frequent glimpses of Zora around the hospital, she didn’t recall ever being alone in the same room with her. At close range, she could smell the other woman’s light floral fragrance and, this late in the day, a hint of perspiration. As hard as Stacy tried to ignore Zora, she kept noticing details: her reddish-brown hair, shorter and curlier than Stacy’s. Her rather thin face. Her unspectacular figure. What on earth did Andrew see in her that had been lacking in Stacy?
Having finished her initial tasks, Zora gave Stacy an apologetic glance. “I was the only tech available.”
“I heard.” She pressed her lips together.
“And at a time like this...” Zora swallowed. “I realize how upset you must be.”
Why should Zora care? “It’s not that big a deal,” Stacy muttered. “It’s just an ultrasound.”
“I meant, Andrew told me how strongly you didn’t want children.” The woman squeezed gel onto Stacy’s abdomen. “Sorry if this feels cold.”
Stacy was too stunned by her statement to care about the gel. “He told you what?”
“The reason you split up.” The tech sounded bewildered. “Because you didn’t want kids.”
“You have to be joking!” Stacy snapped. “We were planning to start a family as soon as we saved enough money.”
The other
woman paled. “That’s not what he...told me.” She seemed to run out of breath.
Had Zora not been so obviously shaken, Stacy might have believed she was faking. “Either you misunderstood or he lied.”
“I couldn’t have,” Zora responded. “Is it possible he misunderstood?”
“Not in a million years.”
A tap at the door cut her off. It was Cole, his expression eager. “I’m not late, am I?”
Stacy tried to give him a welcoming smile, but her cheek muscles had gone numb.
“We were just starting, Dr. Rattigan,” Zora told him, and bent to her work.
Stacy wanted to focus on this moment, when she was about to see her baby or babies for the first time, but Zora’s statement had shaken her. Why had Andrew lied to the woman he’d fallen in love with? What kind of basis was that for a marriage?
There was no way to make sense of this. Not that she could figure it out, however hard she tried. Perhaps once it all sank in, she’d gain perspective. She hoped so.
As the sensing device moved across her stomach, Stacy turned her attention to the monitor.
* * *
STACY AND THE TECHNICIAN kept their gazes averted as if he’d interrupted something. Cole folded his arms, wishing he understood the vibrations in the room.
Once, during college, he’d stopped by a female friend’s dorm room to lend her his study notes, and interrupted an all-girl gathering. Four flushed faces had regarded him with varying degrees of discomfort. Later, his friend had explained that they were playing a game called Truth or Dare, which apparently consisted of them revealing embarrassing secrets.
Cole didn’t see the point of baring one’s soul for the entertainment of one’s friends. True, last Monday he’d told Stacy about his parents’ unorthodox arrangement, but that hadn’t been a game. Anyway, he doubted she and the ultrasound tech had chosen this particular moment to exchange confidences. He must be projecting his own mixture of excitement and concern onto the women.
The technician, whose name tag read Z. Raditch, was moving the paddle across Stacy’s abdomen while adjusting knobs on the monitor. “Isn’t that a heartbeat right there?” Cole asked, and pointed.
“Yes, Doctor.” She cleared her throat. “It’s nice and steady.”
One down. His pulse quickened.
Stacy was staring at the screen, her expression unreadable. How did she feel, seeing her baby? As breathless as he did?
Even though at this early stage it appeared as a squiggly shape with a heart throbbing in the middle, everything was there. Cole knew that the eyes and limb buds were starting to form, and within a few weeks the nose and ears would become visible. Arms would grow and bend, and there’d be tiny toes appearing on the feet. Internally, the organs were taking shape, obeying their genetic instructions.
It was nothing short of miraculous. And to him, despite all his training and experience, a revelation.
“I see another one.” The technician indicated a second sac, its tiny heart throbbing like the first.
“Twins.” Stacy’s voice trembled.
Two children. Cole grasped her hand. Stacy squeezed his in return.
Behind him, he felt the air stir as someone entered. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Adrienne’s white coat and blond hair.
His instinct told him to move aside, since this was her patient. Then he remembered that, rather than being a consulting physician, he was the dad.
Cole’s throat tightened. These tiny, pulsating blobs of humanity had a grandfather in Paris and a grandmother who’d forged her own path as a surgeon. And they might never know.
“Oh, my word!” The paddle gave a jerk, and the technician had to stabilize it. “There’s a third one.”
“Triplets.” Stacy shivered.
“You okay?” Cole asked, his feeling of awe mutating into unease. A multiple pregnancy often meant serious health hazards.
She lay there stiffly. “I guess.”
“Let’s make sure there aren’t any more,” Adrienne said.
“Yes, Doctor,” responded the tech.
Several tense minutes passed as the sensing device made additional passes. Once, Cole thought he spotted a fourth sac, but it turned out to be one of the original three.
He heard Adrienne’s breath of relief. “Three are more than I’d like to see, but it could have been worse. I mean—well, you know what I mean. The more babies, the greater the risk.”
“It’s manageable, though,” he said. “Given her general good health.”
Adrienne quirked an eyebrow. Had he come across as too clinical?
“A positive attitude benefits the patient,” Cole added.
“You’re right,” Adrienne conceded. “You’ll do great, Stacy.”
She didn’t answer.
The tech cleaned the goo from Stacy’s stomach and retreated from the room, wheeling her cart out. The name Raditch finally sank in. That was the director of nursing’s last name, so this must be her daughter. Only she’d been wearing a wedding ring—that meant daughter-in-law.
While Cole tried not to listen to rumors, he’d heard enough to make the connection. No wonder Stacy seemed unusually tense. This was the Jezebel who’d destroyed her marriage.
After Stacy got dressed, the three of them lingered while Adrienne previewed what lay ahead. Extra testing, including a second ultrasound in a few weeks, and the possibility of bed rest or hospitalization late in the pregnancy. Stacy listened, asking few questions. As a nurse, she probably could have delivered the spiel herself.
Finally, she said, “I guess this will make some family very happy.”
You can’t mean that.
Surely she didn’t intend to go through this difficult, dangerous process, to usher three beautiful babies into the world, and then give them away.
Cole held his reaction in check. He’d promised not to interfere. But it was killing him.
With the medical session finished, Adrienne and Stacy reviewed their plans for tomorrow afternoon’s housewarming party. Stacy would be fixing some of the food, while Adrienne was preparing the flower beds at Harper and Mia’s new home for plants. They’d suggested those as gifts on the email invitation.
At last Adrienne shook hands with the two of them. “I have other patients waiting. We’ll keep a close watch on this pregnancy. I’m sure it will turn out fine.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can provide, beyond the obvious,” Cole interjected.
“You bet.”
Despite his offer of a ride, Stacy insisted on driving herself home. As she pointed out, she’d brought her car, and she claimed that she was handling the earthshaking news just fine.
“Pregnancy didn’t turn me into a china doll,” she assured him.
“Well, it’s turning me into a worrywart,” he answered.
Stacy gave him a hug. “And a cute one.”
That made him feel better. Still, he wished she’d accept his support.
Once he’d seen her off at the parking structure, Cole meandered back into the hospital. The cafeteria’s advertised special tonight was Better Than Your Mother’s Meat Loaf. Since Colette Rattigan’s meat loaf had come frozen from the store, he was curious to find out how this tasted.
Passing the day care center, Cole halted as Owen Tartikoff barreled through the door, a toddler tugging on each hand. “Sorry,” the fertility chief told Cole with a grin. “They’re hungry.”
“Guess their mom’s got dinner ready, huh?” he asked wistfully.
“No, she’s at choir practice.” The tall man nearly lost his balance as the twins yanked him forward. “We’re eating at the cafeteria. Care to join us? I’m kidding. Nobody in his right mind would volunteer for this.”
“That’s okay.” Cole fell into step beside them. “I’m tired of eating alone.”
The twins’ dueling cries of “Da-Da!” and “Hungwy!” filled him with a sense of wonder. When he’d arrived at Safe Harbor last summer, they’d been five-month-old
babies squawking and babbling in a double carriage. Now they were chatty toddlers.
As they sat around a table, Cole noted that the boy had red hair like his father, and the girl medium brown curls like her mother. He’d heard the boy had been named Richard after the composer Richard Rodgers, and the girl Julie after the heroine of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Carousel.
Who would name the triplets? Cole wondered.
Quit torturing yourself. He returned his attention to the kids.
Julie was taking tiny spoonfuls, careful to avoid dropping a single kernel of corn. Richard milled his food into a big pile and was barely prevented from plopping his face into it by his father’s outstretched arm.
I want to hear my kids call me Da-Da. I want to know when to stick out my arm to keep my babies from getting a snootful of mashed potatoes.
Cole had to change Stacy’s mind, not only about the kids but about him. Since she yearned to be swept away, he decided to start researching how men accomplished that. “How did you propose to your wife?” he asked.
“Beg pardon?” Owen plucked a green bean out of Richard’s hair.
“Did you just ask her? Did you get down on one knee? Or did you do something fancy?”
“All of the above. Hang on.” The chief won a staring contest with his son, who finally settled down to eat. “I sang ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ from Carousel. Then I got down on my knee and begged her to marry me.”
Cole could see how a woman might enjoy that. While he had the voice of a lonely frog, some sort of private performance might be feasible. “Did you stage this anywhere in particular?”
“In the hospital auditorium in front of a few hundred people,” Owen said. “I’m surprised no one’s mentioned it to you.”
“All I heard was that you fell in love with a nurse.” Initially, when Owen offered him a job at Safe Harbor, Cole had hesitated to accept because of the surgeon’s reputation for harshness. Learning that the man wasn’t such an ogre had changed his mind. “People said you’d turned romantic. But no details.”
“Now you know.”
“Interesting.” Unfortunately, it didn’t help Cole’s situation. If he ever sang in public, people would likely throw shoes at him.
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