The Nurse's Baby Secret

by Janice Lynn

  “I’m sure he has,” she spat out, placing a protective hand over her belly. “But you can tell him to kiss my—”

  “Ma’am, I think you should—”

  This time she cut him off. “And I think you should go. You’re not welcome. You can tell Dr. Keele he’s not, either.”

  The lawyer looked torn a moment, then shoved the envelope toward her and left before she could toss it back.

  “I’ll fight him on this,” she called out to the retreating man, who glanced at her over his shoulder, a confused frown on his face.

  “What was all that about?” Chrissie asked, walking up next to her and staring down the hallway.

  “Charlie is filing for custody.”

  Chrissie’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? I thought he didn’t want anything to do with the baby?”

  “Obviously I was wrong about that, too.” She waved the envelope in front of her friend. “He can’t have my baby.”

  Okay, so logically she knew he could, and would, have time with their baby. That was what she wanted, right? For her baby to grow up with a loving father to be there for him or her, even if he hadn’t been able to be there for Savannah? She did want that, but the thought of him taking her to court... Her stew threatened to make a reappearance.

  How dare he do this to her so coldly? Without even discussing it with her first? They’d been together a year. A year! Didn’t she deserve an actual pick-up of the phone and, Hey, I’ve decided I do want to be a part of my child’s life. Let’s talk about it? How could she have thought she knew him so well, inside and out, and have been so very wrong?

  She’d thought he loved her. Lust and love were two very different things. Because she’d wanted to believe she’d credited Charlie for being more than he was. He was nothing better than every other Joe Schmoe looking for a good time.

  Yet even now she had a difficult time convincing herself of that. Look at what a great con job he’d pulled on her that, even after a month of not hearing from him, she still struggled to believe that he wasn’t the awesome man she’d put up on a pedestal. After he’d proved that she didn’t matter enough to discuss major life decisions with, such as moving two hours away or wanting legal rights over their child.

  “Maybe he just wants visitation,” Chrissie suggested, staring at Savannah. “If so, that’s a good thing, right?”

  It was. Although anxiety coursed through her, she truly did want Charlie to be a part of their baby’s life. Yes, that made things a hundred times worse for her because it would mean seeing him, but their baby knowing his or her father was more important.

  If Charlie wanted reasonable legal rights to their child, she wouldn’t fight him despite what she’d flung at the retreating lawyer.

  She threw the oversized envelope down on the dining room table next to her half-eaten bowl of stew and slowly sank onto a chair. Chrissie joined her and took her hand into hers, holding her tightly. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Chrissie nudged her.

  “Maybe you should open the envelope to see what it says.”

  Savannah closed her eyes and tried to go back to the happy place where she’d existed just a few months ago when she’d thought she was the luckiest woman alive. She’d been so naïve, so trusting, so caught up in being in love that she’d just looked at Charlie through rose-colored glasses and seen what she wanted to see. Foolish. Never again would she be so easily fooled. Never again would she open up and give her heart away.

  She didn’t need him.

  She didn’t need anyone.

  “Savannah? How can you not rip that open?”

  Resting her head in her hands, she sighed. “I don’t want to know what it says.”

  “Well, I do.” Chrissie picked up the envelope as if to open it. “If you’re not going to open this, I am.”

  “Give it to me.” Savannah took the envelope from her friend and tore into the end. Nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. Her baby’s future had been reduced to legal documents compiled by a lawyer.

  She pulled out the blue-backed document and a key, stared at it in confusion, read the lawyer’s letter in even further confusion.

  In total shock, she lifted her gaze to her curious friend. “He’s lost his mind.”

  Chrissie gave her an expectant look. “Well, what did he ask for? Surely not full custody. And what’s up with the key?”

  Words failed her so, with unsteady hands, she gave the papers to her friend and closed her shaky fingers around the key, letting the metal dig into her palm. She welcomed the discomfort, hoping it pulled her back to reality.

  Chrissie’s eyes widened. “Savannah! Oh, my!”

  She nodded. Exactly.

  “He’s given you his house. Savannah, this is unbelievable. He deeded you his house!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE MIGHT NOT be home, Savannah told herself for the hundredth time since she’d taken off toward Nashville. It was a Thursday morning. He was probably working. Or he could be out of town. Or it could be his day off work and he could be out with someone.

  That made her pause.

  It had been a month. Had he moved on? Started dating someone else? When she showed up at his house, would he have another woman there?

  Had deeding his house to her made him feel absolved from his obligations to her and their child?

  Ha, she was going to give him a piece of her mind over his high-handedness. She didn’t want his house or his money or anything material from him.

  She didn’t want anything from him, period. Not anymore.

  She was on her way to tell him that and to throw his deed and key in his handsome face. He couldn’t just do something like that. It wasn’t okay and a big gift, a huge gift, didn’t make it okay that he’d walked away from their child.

  She was going to tell him that. And more. And...she didn’t know what, exactly. Just that since the night before she’d been burning inside, had woken with that burn still present and, before she’d made a conscious decision, she’d been on her way to Nashville rather than the grocery store, as she’d originally set out to.

  He would likely be at work, so she’d go there first. But, if not, she knew right where Charlie’s apartment was. Sure, the weather had been better two months ago when she’d gone with him to Nashville than the cold drizzly rain that was falling today, but that was okay. The weather matched her mood.

  No, if the weather matched her mood the wind would be howling and the sky would be blood-red, not a dreary gray.

  She clung to her anger. Anger was better than sadness and loss. She’d experienced enough of that over the past few months. No more.

  How dare he?

  That was the question she asked herself over and over as she headed north on I-24 toward Nashville. Just inside the city limits, the traffic slowed to a sudden stop in all four lanes.

  Savannah’s heart thudded like crazy as she applied her brakes, hoping they didn’t lock, hoping she’d keep from slamming into the large black vehicle in front of her.

  The next few seconds drew out in slow motion, with her heartbeat doing overtime. Her sweat glands too as her skin was drenched with clammy stickiness. Despite the rain-slick road, she somehow got her sedan stopped just inches before crashing into the sports utility vehicle in front of her.

  Heart pounding, she let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  In the next second she cried out as the impact from whatever had been behind her crashed into her with great force, ramming her car into the SUV.

  Her body jerked forward against her seatbelt, digging painfully into her chest and shoulder. What breath she had remaining inside her gushed out in a hard whoosh. Her neck snapped forward, then whipped back. The sound of metal crunching into metal deafened her ears.

  The
second she thought it was over, another impact hit as another vehicle failed to stop in time. She jerked forward and back again, this time not as hard as the previous, but pain ripped through her body all the same.

  Tensing, she prepared herself for yet another hit and another as no doubt more cars would join into the interstate pile-up, but none came. Just the sound of the rain still falling around her and nothing more.

  Trying not to panic, she began to take stock of the damage. To her and to her car.

  She hurt. Her neck. Her shoulder. Her belly. She took a tentative breath. Pain shock-waved through her. Not good.

  She wiggled her fingers and her toes. Everything seemed to be moving as it should. Maybe. Odd, but she really wasn’t sure if she’d moved at all. She tried to raise her arm, but doing so hurt too much so she quit trying. She must have bit her tongue or the inside of her cheek as the strong metallic taste of blood filled her senses. Or maybe it was her nose, she thought as a drop of blood fell from her nostril. Despite the pain, she wiped at her face, registered the red liquid on her hand. She wasn’t sure why her nose was bleeding as she’d had her seatbelt on, but it definitely was.

  Or maybe the blood came from somewhere else on her face? She wasn’t sure. Did it even matter where the blood was coming from?

  That there was warm liquid between her legs, she also registered.

  No, she thought. No. No. No.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?” a man who appeared to be in his early twenties asked from outside her shattered driver’s door window. She glanced at her busted windshield, at the shattered passenger door window, at the SUV that was where the front of her car should be.

  She glanced down, realized her steering wheel was against her chest, that she couldn’t see the lower half of her body.

  “Ma’am?”

  She turned back toward the driver’s window, opened her mouth to tell the young man that no, she wasn’t okay, that she couldn’t feel her baby moving, and to please do something, but nothing came out. She was still trying to tell him as her eyes became too heavy to stay open.

  So she closed them.

  * * *

  Charlie made his way toward the heart failure unit at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. He’d consulted on a patient that morning prior to heading over to teach a class to second year medical students, and wanted to pop his head back in to check on the woman before seeing his scheduled afternoon patients.

  His stomach rumbled as he passed a food cart.

  The food didn’t smell that appetizing, but his stomach was lodging its protest that he had once again forgotten to eat lunch.

  Had he eaten breakfast?

  He honestly couldn’t remember. Every day ran into the next and they all seemed the same. They all seemed lackluster. They all seemed to be missing something.

  Maybe it was him missing something.

  Or, more accurately, missing someone.

  Savannah.

  His throat tightened just at her name consciously passing through his mind.

  He’d not talked to her. Not a single time. He’d decided staying away altogether was best.

  He’d thought about her, though. A lot. Almost all the time.

  He also thought of their baby, despite doing his best not to think of the life he and Savannah had created. How could he think of anything else?

  He was going to be a father.

  He knew nothing of being a good father. Nothing.

  That Savannah would be a good mother wasn’t even in doubt. She would be an excellent mother, just as her mother had been. In that respect, their child had hit the parenting jackpot. Savannah would do everything she could to give their child a good life.

  As would he.

  After her ultrasound, he’d contacted his realtor, told her he wanted to pull the house off the market, then he’d had his lawyer take care of everything else.

  Savannah and their child would have a nice home in a good neighborhood. She wouldn’t have to worry about providing a roof over her and their baby’s head. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything financially. He’d see to that. If she wanted to stay home and raise their child, she’d be able to.

  It was the least he could do since he couldn’t be with her.

  Guilt hit him.

  Guilt he shouldn’t be feeling. He was taking care of her. In a much better way than if he was physically there because he wouldn’t be making her miserable, making their child miserable. He wouldn’t be standing in the way of her happiness.

  He was doing for her what his father should have done for his mother. He was letting her be free so she could live her life without being encumbered with a man who would eventually resent her presence and destroy who she was. Not to mention the damage he could do to a child’s mental and emotional stability.

  Currently, it was difficult to imagine that because he craved Savannah’s presence so intensely he dreamed of her every time his eyes closed. He’d see someone with red hair and be struck with the memory of the first time he’d unclipped Savannah’s hair, the way her long tresses had tumbled over her shoulders, how silky the strands had felt between his fingers as he’d kissed her throat, her neck, her creamy shoulders.

  He missed her.

  But his father’s voice echoing through his head couldn’t be silenced. Nor could the memory of his mother and her tragic death.

  Savannah was better off without him.

  Much better off.

  No matter how much he missed her, he’d stay away.

  He checked on his patient, made chart notes for one of the residents to follow up on, and left the unit. He’d gotten to the elevator and pushed the down arrow when his cell phone rang.

  He glanced at the number. It wasn’t one he recognized.

  He started to ignore it as he’d soon be stepping into the elevator and would likely lose the signal anyway, but some inner force had him sliding his finger across the screen.

  “Charlie Keele?”

  Charlie didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes?”

  “This is Sergeant Oliver Casteel. I’m with the Metro Police Department.”

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open, revealing an elderly couple and a nurse inside the car already. Brow furrowed to form a tight knot between his eyes, Charlie motioned for the elevator to go on without him and stepped away from the doors. He couldn’t fathom why the police would be calling him, but he sure didn’t want to step into the elevator and possibly lose the signal.

  “You were listed as the emergency contact for Savannah Carter.”

  Listed as the emergency contact.

  Charlie’s knees threatened to buckle. There were very few reasons why the Police Department made phone calls.

  “She’s been in an accident.”

  “Is she...” His voice broke and he couldn’t finish his question. He was used to dealing with life and death, with emergencies. Yet nothing had prepared him for this phone call and the very real fear gripping him. Savannah had been in an accident and the police were calling him.

  “She’s been in a multi-car accident. She’s alive but seriously injured.”

  She was alive.

  “I’m calling because she had you listed as her emergency contact,” the officer continued.

  His brain raced. “I’ll let her mother know and head to Chattanooga immediately.”

  “Chattanooga?”

  What the officer had said registered. “She’s in Nashville?”

  “She’s been airlifted to Vanderbilt University Medical Center.”

  Airlifted. Vanderbilt. Savannah was there.

  “I’m there. Here.” Savannah was here. “I work there. Here.” He wasn’t making much sense, had no idea what else he said to the officer, knew that he responded to the man’s
comments about Savannah’s personal belongings and her car being totaled and towed to a local garage, but all he really focused on was getting to the emergency department. Today, the hospital seemed a hundred times larger than he knew the building to be.

  He had to flash his name badge a few times but, fortunately, once in the emergency department, it didn’t take long to find her. The helicopter had obviously just landed and she’d only been inside the hospital a few minutes. She was surrounded by nurses and at least two emergency room physicians. A portable X-ray machine was being rolled up to no doubt check for internal injuries.

  “She’s pregnant, just over four months,” he said to no one in particular. At this point, he had no idea if she’d lost the baby. He just knew pregnant women didn’t get X-rays unless it was an emergency.

  Blood streaked Savannah’s face. Wires and tubes jutted out from everywhere. She lay on the gurney quite lifeless other than the soft moaning of pain that the hustle-bustle and machines couldn’t quite drown out.

  This was an emergency.

  Oh, God, please let her be okay.

  Please let their baby be okay.

  He tried to objectively assess what he could see of Savannah. Tried and failed. He had no objectivity where she was concerned.

  His eyes took in her pale appearance, her blood-streaked face, her lack of movement, her legs that had been elevated as if to prevent shock. Had she lost that much blood?

  “Can I help you?” one of the nurses asked, glancing up from where she punched data into an infusion pump.

  “Is she...?”

  What was he asking? Of course she was still alive. The monitors showed a heartbeat, sounded a reassuring beep. Then there were the painful moans. But Savannah wasn’t awake. There was too much activity around her. Intravenous lines rapidly putting fluid into her body and even a pint of blood being infused as fast as her veins would take it.

  “You are?” the nurse asked, eyeing him as if she was going to call Security any moment.

  What could he say? He was nothing to Savannah. Not anymore.

  “She’s pregnant with my baby.”