He allowed himself a smile, even though the situation was far from amusing. “We’ve hardly declared war. I suggested we make a list. If you don’t like that idea, then tell me how you’d like to proceed, because you’re right about one thing. Drifting along isn’t the answer.”
“Maybe we haven’t declared war yet, but it’s coming,” she said direly. “I’m afraid of that, Noah. Just as you said, once either of us digs in our heels, we’ll lose everything.”
He saw the genuine misery in her eyes and pulled her up and into his arms. “We’re not going to lose anything,” he said firmly. “Not if we’re honest and if we love each other.”
“I wish I believed that as strongly as you do.”
He brushed another of those wayward curls that he loved from her cheek. “Then it’s a good thing I have enough faith for both of us.”
* * *
After a surprisingly tension-free meal, Cait went into the living room and found a legal pad and a pen, then returned to the kitchen table to sit across from Noah. He was right. Putting their thoughts on paper might help them to find clarity. At the very least they could eliminate anything either of them truly hated. That should narrow down the options.
“Okay, let’s do it,” she said when she returned. “Let’s make a list.”
Noah put the last of the clean dishes away and joined her at the table. “Maybe it should be two lists,” he suggested. “You make yours. I’ll make mine. Then we can see where there’s a workable overlap.”
She nodded and handed over a piece of paper. She frowned when he immediately started jotting down notes.
“You’ve obviously been thinking about this a lot,” she said.
He glanced up. “And you haven’t?”
“Well, sure. It’s all I’ve thought about, but you’ve obviously drawn some conclusions. I haven’t.”
Noah flipped over his piece of paper. “Then let’s try this a different way. We’ll come up with relevant questions and each of us will write down our answers. Then we’ll compare notes.”
“What sort of questions?”
“Let’s start with where we see ourselves a year from now,” he suggested.
Caitlyn nodded. That was easy enough. She’d be right here, working at the hospital and raising her baby. Noah would be...where? How did he fit into the picture? He wanted to be married, but she knew with absolutely certainty he didn’t want to be in Baltimore, no matter what he’d said earlier.
She told herself not to get bogged down in trying to figure out his answers. The whole purpose of this was to focus on her own replies.
“Okay, what next?” she asked after writing down her answer.
“Where do we see ourselves in five years?” he suggested.
That was easy, too. She’d be working in that village in Africa where she’d found such fulfillment. She glanced over at the latest photo she’d received of half a dozen smiling faces. Those children were healthier because she’d been there, even for such a short time. No way, though, would returning to that village mesh with anything Noah might write down, she thought wearily. She crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the direction of the trash can.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said.
“You haven’t given it much of a chance.”
“We want different things. Unless you’ve undergone some major transformation, that is.” She looked him in the eye. “You haven’t, have you?”
He held her gaze. “Have you?”
She shook her head. “No. There’s no middle ground here, Noah.”
“There isn’t if you won’t even try to find it,” he said, clearly frustrated. “What will work for you, Cait? Me saying I’ll come with you to Africa? Me saying I’ll care for our child while you go off to save the world? If those are the only solutions you see working, write them down.”
She frowned at his tone. “You’re starting to sound like my grandfather, as if my goal is horrible and selfish.” She gestured toward that snapshot. “Look at them, Noah. Those kids matter.”
He sighed at the heartfelt comment. “I didn’t mean to make it sound as if they didn’t. It’s a noble dream, Cait, and if we didn’t have a baby to consider, I’d be backing you a thousand percent.”
Tears, always a threat these days, filled her eyes. “I know you’re right. I have to accept reality, but I hate it, Noah. I really hate it.”
She saw the color wash out of his face and knew he’d misinterpreted her meaning. “Not the baby. I could never hate our child. It’s the circumstances, the timing. I never expected to be in a situation like this, having to make a seemingly impossible choice.”
“Cait, if marrying me and making a home for our family isn’t what you want, if you can’t imagine ever wanting that, just say so. I’ll take custody of the baby and you can follow your dream. I love you enough to let you go.”
She found herself actually considering what he was offering. It was yet more proof of the kind of man he was, and she loved him even more because of it, but the thought of walking away from him, from her baby, left her feeling hollow inside. That wasn’t an answer she could live with, either.
“I don’t want to give up on us,” she admitted tearfully. “I just don’t know what’s right anymore.”
Noah reached across the table and enveloped her hand in his. The heat and strength were a surprising comfort.
“Then we’ll give it more time,” he told her quietly. “The last thing I want is to push you into making a decision you’ll regret. There must be some way we can all win—you, me and the baby.”
“I hope so,” she said fervently. “That’s what I want, too.” She held his gaze. “You do know that none of this indecision is because I don’t love you, right? You’re the best man I’ve ever known outside of the O’Briens. They set the bar high and you’ve exceeded it. Please don’t ever doubt that.”
He smiled. “Okay, then. One day at a time, and no pressure from me.”
Cait laughed at that. “You’re not the one I’m worried about. I’ve had a few more messages from Grandpa Mick just since he told me the very same thing. Trace’s silence is almost as hard to take, because now I know he’s only biting his tongue because my mom told him to and it didn’t stop him from coming to see you. Just about the only person in my family who hasn’t been in my face is my sister, and that’s only because no one has filled her in yet.”
Noah regarded her with surprise. “Carrie doesn’t know yet?”
“I haven’t spoken to her. Mom says she’s having problems with a temperamental boss. Personally, I think Carrie’s addicted to drama. Mom thinks I’m imagining things, but I’m pretty sure Carrie’s crazy about the designer, not the job. He is one serious hunk. The fact that he’s difficult would only be more appealing to Carrie. If I were wrong, she’d have quit by now.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t called to see what’s going on,” Noah said.
“Carrie only wants to talk to me when things are going her way. She’s convinced I think her world is frivolous.” Caitlyn shrugged. “And I do, but it’s important to her. I respect her for finding something she’s passionate about and sticking with it. That’s what all of us need in our lives.”
“I agree,” Noah said pointedly. “That’s why I will never dismiss your goal, no matter how much it might stand in the way of our future.”
Caitlyn regarded him seriously. “I want the same for you, you know. Baltimore or even Annapolis were never in your game plan, Noah. You shouldn’t have to lose your dream, any more than I should.”
“I won’t lose anything important, Cait, not unless I lose you.”
The heartfelt simplicity touched her in a way nothing else had. Regret washed over her because no matter how badly she wanted to say the same thing held true for her, she couldn’t get those words out. No
t yet. Not without fighting hard to hold on to the future she’d envisioned for herself.
* * *
The too-thin not-quite-three-year-old boy who’d been admitted to the pediatrics wing the night before was listless and pale. He flinched when Caitlyn put the stethoscope on his chest. Reacting to the fear, she immediately withdrew it and placed it on her own chest.
“Yikes, that’s cold!” she said with an exaggerated shiver. She rubbed it dramatically between her hands to warm it. “Let’s see if that’s any better.” She put it against her own chest again. “Definitely better. Want to see for yourself, Mason?”
He held her gaze with his big blue eyes and finally nodded.
This time she approached more slowly before gently placing the stethoscope against his skin. “Better?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, but the fear had left his eyes. She made quick work of taking his vitals, then started to leave.
“No!” he protested, tears spilling down his cheeks. “No go.”
Caitlyn walk back to the crib, where he was standing now on legs too wobbly for a child his age. She touched his pale cheek. “How about I stay for a couple more minutes and read you a story?”
She didn’t really have time for that, but she simply couldn’t ignore his plea. It must be terrifying to be all alone in a strange place and not feeling well.
His expression immediately brightened at her offer. “Story,” he echoed excitedly, showing more animation than at any time since he’d arrived the day before.
“Okay, then,” she said, smiling at him. “You put your head down for a little nap and I’ll read.”
Hopefully he’d drift off before Dr. Davis wondered why she hadn’t completed her rounds. She chose a book from the pile nearby. Instead of lying down, though, he regarded her wistfully as she read. She’d been around enough children his age to recognize that he wanted to be held. When she stood, he immediately held out his arms to her. She picked him up and settled into a nearby rocker.
“This is not part of my job description,” she said as he snuggled against her trustingly. The weight against her chest, the little-boy scent, the tiny finger pointing at the pictures in the book, filled her with surprising contentment.
So, she thought, this is what it will be like, more aware now of the simple act of reading to a child than she’d ever been with any of the O’Brien babies. Was it possible for even a couple of months of pregnancy to sharpen her maternal instincts?
“Caitlyn!”
A disapproving voice cut through her reverie and she looked up to find Dr. Davis regarding her with dismay.
“He was scared,” she said in her own defense. “He just needed a little attention.”
The pediatrician’s expression softened. “I know your instincts are good, Caitlyn, but we don’t have a diagnosis yet of what’s going on with him. Until we’ve ruled out an infection of some kind, you should be taking precautions, especially under the circumstances.”
There was little question about the circumstances to which she was referring: the pregnancy.
“He doesn’t have a fever,” she protested. “I just checked his vitals.” She sighed. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be taking chances.” She’d just seen a scared little boy and wanted to make it right.
Dr. Davis removed Mason from her lap, gave him a tickle that had him giggling as she set him back in his crib. “Outside, Caitlyn,” she instructed, even as she smoothed the hair back from the boy’s forehead and gave him a little pat before following.
“I think we need to talk about this,” she told Caitlyn. “I haven’t asked because your personal life really isn’t my business, but you are pregnant, aren’t you?”
Caitlyn nodded. “I don’t want that to affect my work, though.”
“No reason it has to,” Dr. Davis agreed. “As long as you’re sensible. If we’re dealing with a patient who might be contagious, you either take the appropriate precautions or we assign that patient to another student.”
“I don’t want the pregnancy to turn into a big deal,” she said. “I need to pull my weight.”
“Don’t worry, you will,” the doctor assured her. “Now, tell me what you found when you were with Mason just now.”
Caitlyn described his listlessness and his fearful reaction when she went to touch him. “He might have something that makes him especially sensitive to touch, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“What, then?” the pediatrician prodded.
“He was afraid of me at first,” she said. “He moved away when I first reached out to him. Who brought him in? Why weren’t either of his parents with him?”
“They’ve been ordered to stay away,” Dr. Davis told her. “Until we rule out abuse.”
Caitlyn frowned. “But there aren’t any bruises.”
“Not all abuse leaves physical scars,” the doctor reminded her.
“Shaken-baby syndrome,” Caitlyn said at once.
“That’s definitely a possibility. You’re new to this service, but this isn’t the first time he’s turned up in the emergency room with signs of a mild concussion. A CT scan will tell us more.”
“Have you done one before?”
“Twice, as a matter of fact. They were inconclusive, which is why Mason is still at home, rather than in foster care. I dread the day, though, that he comes back here and it’s too late to help him. My instincts are telling me I’m right about this.” Worry darkened her eyes. “I have to find some way to protect that child.”
Her heartfelt reaction demonstrated a level of caring that Caitlyn hadn’t seen in her before. Dr. Davis was always the consummate professional, kind but a little distant. Caitlyn liked seeing this side of her.
“So you were never really worried about an infection,” she concluded.
“I always worry about everything until I’ve ruled it out,” Dr. Davis told her. “Let that be a lesson to you. Being a good diagnostician is a wonderful attribute. Jumping to conclusions isn’t.”
Caitlyn got the message.
As they walked down the hall, Dr. Davis said casually, “Did you know that I spent five years working in Africa before I came back to the States to practice?”
Caitlyn regarded her with surprise. “I had no idea. Did you love it?”
“It was the most rewarding five years of my career, but the most frustrating, too.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized that no matter how idealistic I might be, I simply couldn’t save the world. I could barely make a dent in all that needed to be done.”
“So you gave up?”
“Hardly. I came back here where I could fight to get research funded and needed supplies to other doctors who were as well-equipped as I was to do the actual healing. I simply redirected my need to help to something that could benefit even more patients in more villages. I still go back for a few weeks every couple of years. It renews my commitment to making sure the doctors there have everything they need to do the job the best they can.”
Caitlyn regarded her suspiciously. “Have you been talking to Noah about this?”
“No. Why?”
Since she didn’t want to explain how far apart she and Noah were on planning their future, she shrugged off the question. “I just wondered. Could we talk some more sometime about your work over there and what you’re doing now? I’m surprised I haven’t heard more about it around here.”
“I like to keep the two things separate,” Dr. Davis explained. “I never want anyone here to think I’m not fully committed to what we’re doing. I do the other work because it matters to me, not to win any accolades.”
“Then I won’t mention it,” Caitlyn assured her, respecting her all the more for her attitude. “But I would like to know more.”
Dr. Davis nodded. “We’ll have
lunch one day and I’ll fill you in. Now, let’s get busy.” She beckoned for Caitlyn to follow as she walked briskly down the hall, reading charts as she went, asking for Caitlyn’s perceptions of the patients they had yet to see this morning.
From then on, Caitlyn didn’t have time to think about the future. The sick and injured children right in front of her were the only ones who mattered.
7
Noah had been in the pediatrics unit checking on one of the other patients when he’d spotted Cait with little Mason Waycross. The sight of her cuddling the boy in her arms while reading him a story had made his breath catch. She was such a natural with children. An image of her holding their child formed in his head and wouldn’t go away.
He had to find some way to ensure that happened, he thought as he left the unit and went back to his own rounds.
The next time he’d caught a glimpse of Cait, it was more than forty-eight hours later and she’d been deep in conversation with Dr. Davis in the cafeteria. Since she’d never given him any indication that she was close to the pediatrician, he couldn’t help wondering what that was about, but he didn’t interrupt them. He and Cait had an unspoken rule about keeping their distance at work, except for shared meals, coffee or professional conversations. The past couple of days, there hadn’t been time in their schedules for any of that. Even their phone calls had been hurried.
All of their discretion was probably wasted. Their relationship wasn’t much of a secret, he acknowledged dryly. Two weeks after they’d started seeing each other, his basketball buddies had been taunting him about it. Jill Marshall had put two and two together even more rapidly. Gossip spread as quickly in a hospital as it possibly could in Chesapeake Shores or any other small town.
That was just one of the reasons he’d hoped for a quick resolution to their current situation before word leaked out about the pregnancy. He was finally coming to accept, though, that there wouldn’t be one. They were just going to have to deal with the speculation in the meantime.
The Christmas Bouquet Page 9