by Kay Stockham
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think we’re going to make it.”
GARRET GLANCED at his watch when the contraction finally released its hold. That one had lasted forty-two seconds. No way could he deliver a baby. A legal brief he could handle. A crisis involving multiple unions—a friggin’walk in the park. But a baby?
Over the crunching precipitation, he heard Darcy moan, and glanced over to see relief etched on her pale, strained features. “Good one?”
“Oh, yeah.”
There were tears in her voice, one trickling down her cheek. Considering they were still miles away from the hospital, the sound and sight sent chills through him. Twenty miles an hour on a winding mountain road was getting them nowhere fast.
“Go on,” she murmured. “Please, tell me the story about your brother. It helps to focus on someone else.”
He looked at the road ahead of him, not liking the subject but willing to go along with the request. Whatever it took to get both their minds off the present predicament. “Nick dropped out as soon as he didn’t need our parents’ permission. They were disappointed and upset, and when they couldn’t get Nick to do what they wanted, they looked to me to get Nick to change his mind.”
“Why you?”
“I’m older than him and a good negotiator. Even as a kid, I settled the arguments in my family.” He smiled wryly, various scenes popping into his head. “I actually used to hold court about my siblings’ disputes. I’d hear the sides and make a judgment on everything from whose box of crayons it really was to who got to ride in the front seat. But this fight—It was huge. In the end Dad got frustrated and lost his temper. He and Nick are a lot alike that way. Dad told Nick he either had to stay in school or get out of the house.”
“The perfect words to make a teenager rebel.”
“Exactly. So Nick left. He moved out and lived in a storage area above our uncle’s garage.”
“Poor guy.”
He found himself chuckling at Darcy’s description, glad to have something to smile about. “Poor, he’s not. Nick’s done really well for himself. My uncle owns a variety of businesses around town and he gave Nick a job in his garage.”
“Then he’s okay?”
She was worried about Nick? Garret nodded to reassure her, liking her compassion. How many people in her situation would be thinking of someone else? “He’s done better than okay. A few years later Uncle Cyrus had a heart attack and couldn’t work for a while. Nick stepped up to the plate and ran the garage on his own.” He flashed her a grin. “Picture an eighteen-year-old kid bossing around mechanics two and three times his age—and getting away with it.”
“Your uncle didn’t mind?”
“Nah, Uncle C. was so impressed by all the compliments about Nick’s work and business ethic that he sold out to Nick when he retired. That’s why I said Nick’s not a crook. He’s had years to take advantage of people if he wanted, but I’ve never once heard someone say that he’s ripped them off.”
“Sounds like your brother deserves all the praise after working so hard.”
“I think so. He bought the building beside the garage not long ago. It was a gym he went to until the owner started going under because of poor management and rumors of cameras in the women’s locker room.”
“Pervert. So Nick’s a real entrepreneur.”
“Yeah, despite his lack of education, turns out he’s a great businessman. He’s a pretty good dad, too.”
Normally he wouldn’t dream of discussing Nick and his family’s situation with an outsider. Garret couldn’t remember ever really discussing it with Jocelyn, but something about Darcy made him feel comfortable. She wasn’t judgmental; instead she was supportive, acting as though she could relate.
“He’s doing all of that and raising a child?”
Garrett nodded. “He’s got one kid. My nephew.”
“Good for him. He showed the family, didn’t he? He struck out on his own and did well, all the while being a dad. That’s admirable.”
Darcy was obviously a compassionate person, but when she spoke it was as though Nick’s achievements were her own. Because she dreamed of doing the same thing herself? Striking out and being a success while raising her baby? While Garrett applauded independence, he couldn’t help but wonder where the baby’s father was.
Politically correct or not, what kind of man allowed the mother of his child to travel so far alone? He’d noticed her lack of wedding band. How upset would she be if he asked?
It’s none of your business.
“You should be proud of him.”
He was proud of Nick. Once his little brother had gotten away from the family, Nick’s confidence and abilities had soared. There was something significant in that.
Garret turned onto the more heavily traveled road leading to Beauty, thankful the salt trucks had already been there. He still couldn’t race to get his passenger to the hospital, but he was able to pick up speed. This close, he wouldn’t have to deliver anything but Darcy into the welcoming hospital doors. “I don’t want to leave you with a bad impression of my family. They’re great, and they love Nick. All of us do. Things simply got out of hand and snowballed.”
“That’s a really bad joke given the weather.” Her breathing picked up as another contraction hit.
He glanced at her repeatedly, wishing he could do more to help.
“Families d-don’t always get along, but th-they should stay close. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I do. But what about you? Would you like me to call someone for you? The baby’s father?”
Her curls stuck to her cheek when she shook her head. “No.”
Hurt, anger. Regret or sadness. The multilayered emotions flickered over her face before Darcy’s features smoothed into one of grim determination.
“I’m sorry, Darcy. You would’ve asked if you wanted my help. That’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay. Obviously if I’m in the middle of Tennessee alone, there’s a problem, right?” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “The father and I aren’t together. He signed away his rights so I would leave him alone. This baby is entirely mine.”
Silence followed her words, but he could’ve sworn he heard her whisper, If it makes it.
Knowing she had every right to be worried and angry at the idiot who’d take advantage of her, he grasped her hand, holding it loosely.
After a moment, a sniffle; her fingers tightened around his. “Garret?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we there yet?”
CHAPTER FOUR
NOT LONG AFTER she’d asked the age-old question in an attempt to lighten the intensity of the moment and the effect Garret holding her hand had on her emotions—who knew holding hands could feel so good?—they pulled beneath the hospital’s canopied E.R. entrance. He hurried out of the Cadillac to get help.
Darcy watched as he disappeared inside the double doors, sending up a prayer of thanks because they’d made it safely. She’d been found, and not by a knife-wielding psycho.
The doors slid open again and Garret emerged with several smocked individuals. Within moments she was placed in a wheelchair and whisked inside. Her last glimpse of Garret was as he stood beneath the harsh outdoor lights talking with someone, his dark hair and long wool coat very dramatic against the snowy backdrop.
“When are you due?” an aide asked.
“Mid-March. I’ve got s-six weeks left.” They rushed by the waiting area and veered left.
“Have you had any problems before now?”
Forcing herself to focus on one problem at a time, she nodded reluctantly. “Cramping, if I overdid things. But my doctor in Florida ran some tests and said everything was normal.”
The woman wheeled her into an elevator that soared to the second floor with stomach-jarring swiftness, and off they went again. Darcy saw a Labor and Delivery sign posted above a set of doors and after keying in a code, the aide pushed Darcy through as another contraction h
it.
“Almost there, honey.”
She wheeled Darcy into a room and then disappeared, leaving her in the hands of two waiting nurses. The contraction ended and they helped her step out of the wheelchair. While one nurse went to work on removing Darcy’s coat, the second nurse shut the door and snagged a cart from its position near a wall, pushing it toward the bed. It was loaded down with supplies and a machine that looked like something off a space ship.
“What’s that?” Darcy asked, wishing absurdly that Garret had accompanied her. She could’ve used a hand to hold.
“Don’t worry about anything, hon,” the older of the two nurses said. “We’re going to get you in a gown and then we’re going to start you on some fluids. After that, we’ll hook you up to a monitor to get a reading on the baby’s heartbeat, and find out what’s going on. I’m Betty,” the woman added, “and this is Debra. If you need anything and we’re not in here, you press that call button right there on the bed. But don’t get up, and don’t mess with these machines. If something slips or moves, you call us. Got it?”
Darcy nodded dazedly.
“Good. Now let’s get you settled in and all hooked up.”
She begged a trip to the bathroom, hoping the act would ease the cramping. It didn’t. When she emerged, the nurses helped her out of her blouse and propped her against the bed as another contraction built in intensity. While she breathed through it, they stripped her down, guiding her arms into a gown and snapping it closed with minimal fuss. Their impersonal attitude allowed her to set aside her embarrassment over her hairy legs and ratty underwear.
At least Garret’s not seeing it.
The nurses wrapped straps around Darcy’s stomach, inserted an IV into her arm with surprising gentleness and fired so many questions at her she could barely answer one before the next query came. Finally the nurse who’d been prepping her with needles, blood pressure cuffs and monitors stood back and checked her handiwork.
Betty finished taking notes in the chart, then smiled. “We’re all set. Debra and I are going to check on our other patients, but we’ll watch the monitors from the desk. You just lie there and relax. Mr. Tulane specifically asked for Dr. Clyde, and you’re in luck because she’s still here. She’s in delivery right now, but soon as she’s done, you’ll meet her.”
“Where’s…Mr. Tulane?” She’d almost referred to him as Garret, but here and now the closeness she felt after the rescue didn’t seem appropriate.
“I have no idea. You must have been so frightened. Were you stuck out there long?”
She wasn’t sure. “A while.”
“Well, we’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry about anything.”
She knew they needed to go, that they had other patients to tend to, but she didn’t want to be alone. “Wait—please.” She made herself meet their gazes. “Am I going to lose my baby?”
Both nurses fussed and smiled at her before they left to get someone to help her with the necessary paperwork. But neither of them answered her question.
When they were gone, Darcy wrapped her arms around her belly and held tight, ignoring the pull of the tape holding her IV in place.
Stephen had gone on and on about how people like them weren’t meant to be parents.
Please, God, don’t let him be right.
“DON’T YOU EVER LEAVE?”
Garret looked up from his desk to see Tobias Richardson standing in the doorway. Turning so that Toby could see the phone he held pressed to his ear, Garret reluctantly waved his friend in and tried to push through his distraction to concentrate on the hospital president’s words.
But every time he closed his eyes he remembered the look on Darcy’s face, the feel of her fingers holding on to his. It had only been a moment, several minutes at most, but something about it had gotten to him.
“I want something done and I want it done now.”
Harold Pierson growled the words into Garret’s ear and jerked him from his thoughts. His boss wasn’t a patient man, and the fact it was midnight on a Friday only seemed to increase Harry’s insistence that his demands be met.
Garret rubbed his forehead, pen in hand. “I spoke with maintenance before I called. The problem’s been taken care of.”
“You’re sure?”
If Harry would leave well enough alone, then yeah, Garret was sure. “Yes. I also had the men double-check the generators and the salt supplies. Everything’s taken care of. Trust me on this and try to enjoy your weekend.” So I can enjoy mine.
“What about the meeting Monday morning? Are those idiots still driving down from Nashville?”
As of January first, Beauty Medical Center had become a branch location for a much larger university hospital based in Nashville. According to Harry, the merger was the death knell of all they held dear. Garret knew enough to keep his mouth shut about his belief that the change was the best thing to happen to the town and the hospital. “I’ll contact you once I know the meeting’s status.”
“Are you spending the night to keep an eye on things?”
He didn’t doubt Harry would like for him to do just that. But having put in nearly eighty hours this week, the last thing Garret wanted to do was sleep here. Bad enough he hadn’t gotten any work done until after Harry had left. Once he knew Darcy was okay and the roads had another layer of salt on them, he was out of here. “If there’s a problem, I’ll handle it over the phone or drive back in.”
Toby grunted at his statement, and Garret shot him a warning glare. Garret did not need Harry to overhear Toby’s mutters. Harry didn’t like Toby for the sole reason that he thought Toby had overstepped his humble upbringing by becoming an attorney.
Well, that and the lawn incident. Twenty years ago Toby’s mom—Harry’s housekeeper for a very brief period of time—had arranged for her son to mow Harry’s lawn. He had watched Toby the entire six hours required to mow and weed the yard. When Toby had finished, Harry had refused to pay because he claimed Toby had done it wrong. In retaliation, Toby had dumped the day’s accumulation of grass clippings in the pool.
“If that SOB in maintenance spouts his nonsense again—”
“I’ve taken care of everything.” Garret opened the desk drawer and searched through the Tums, Alka-Seltzer and peppermints for something to ease his pounding head.
“Fine, then. You take care of things but keep me posted. I’m counting on you, Garret.”
“I know, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Toby grunted again. “Suck up.”
“You’re a good man,” Harry said. “Jocelyn complained the other day that I’m working you too hard, but I assured her you were only doing your job.”
Garret concentrated on Harry’s first comment and ignored the second. He was doing his job plus the majority of Harry’s. Over the years Harry had piled more and more on Garret’s shoulders. Now Harry had a damn good golf swing and Garret practically ran this place without receiving any credit.
Don’t get too big for your britches. You do that and you’ll end up going naked cause nothin’ fits your ego.
Garret pinched the bridge of his nose, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. Man, he missed Grandpa. “I’ll be sure to call Joss tomorrow.”
“You do that. She’s been working quite a bit herself lately. Her mother thinks it’s because she’s lonely and missing you with all the hours you’re putting in on the merger. But I’m thinking it’s something else entirely.”
“Something else, sir?” He ignored Toby’s impatient glance at his watch. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing you can’t fix. Did you know I proposed to my Charlotte on Valentine’s Day? This year will be twenty-nine years. The date’s creeping up, you know.”
The hint wasn’t subtle. Neither were any of the others Harold had dropped over the past year. “I believe you’ve mentioned that.”
Harry’s booming voice had to be carrying to Toby’s ears. Garret swung sideways in the office chair in a poor attempt to gain
some privacy.
“I suspect you’ll do right by our girl then. Soon.”
“Of course, sir. If there’s nothing else, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ve got a few things to take care of before I head home.”
“Fine, fine. Go take care of business. When you talk to maintenance again, tell them I expect hospital property to be clear at all times, and that idiot—”
“Understood,” Garret said before Harry could go off on another tangent about the Maintenance Department’s performance. The team was top-notch, but Harry wasn’t satisfied. “Good night, sir.” Garret dropped the phone and held up a hand when Toby immediately opened his mouth. “Don’t—”
“Comment on that? Yeah, right. The Whipping Boy’s getting an earful tonight. What’s got the old goat’s goat?”
Garret glared at his friend and returned to his search of the drawer. Finding what he wanted, he pulled out some ibuprofen and downed two with the help of lukewarm root beer left over from lunch twelve hours earlier. He grimaced at the flat taste. “What are you doing here?”
“I was wondering the same thing about you.” Toby nodded toward the door. “Maria’s in labor and Rob’s trying to get back from a business trip in this mess so I got elected to drive her and Ma. Labor and Delivery is a busy place tonight.”
“Always is when the barometric pressure drops or there’s a full moon. Freaky stuff,” Garret muttered, referring to all the cyclical and otherwise unexplainable things that happened in a hospital. He’d learned to prepare for these events over the years after being caught off guard the first year or so on the job. Weather changes were nearly as busy as holidays when families turned against each other and the world’s most inept chefs decided they wanted to be Emeril and speed chop.
“You can say that again.” Toby’s agreement was packed with the vehemence of a confirmed bachelor. “I grabbed this on the way out, thinking I’d slip it under your door.” He lifted the file and waved it in the air for a few seconds to make his point before dropping it onto the desk. “The Jacobs settled and agreed to no press statements or public discussions regarding the case. Signed and sealed.”