“Dr. Cole, you’re needed over here!” A nurse with a blood-covered uniform gestured wildly to him.
Skirting a dazed man sitting on the grass cradling an injured arm to his chest, Tyler rushed over to the nurse. Leaning over, he peered at a young woman holding her distended stomach as she moaned softly. Her light-colored slacks were soaked with her own blood. He recognized her immediately. She was Miranda Connelly.
He ripped off his latex gloves. “Nurse, get me a clean pair of gloves, undress this patient from the waist down, and cover her with a sheet.” He had to discover how far along she was in her labor.
The nurse moved to a nearby cart, grabbing the items he’d requested; she covered the lower portion of Miranda’s body with the sheet and removed her slacks and blood-soaked underpants.
Reaching under the sheet, Tyler parted his patient’s knees, inserting a finger into her vagina. His heart sank. She’d dilated four centimeters. He had to deliver her baby despite the risks. Miranda was only twenty-six weeks into her confinement, her unborn son weighing about two pounds.
“Mrs. Connelly?”
Miranda opened her pain-filled eyes, staring up at the familiar face looming above her. “Dr. Cole.” His name had come out in a breathless sigh.
“I’m going to have to take your baby.”
Tears stained her pale cheeks as she shook her head. “It’s too soon.”
“He’s not full-term, but we have to give him a chance to survive.” She tried to sit up, but Tyler placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her back to the cot. “You can’t get up.”
“I need to see Chuck. I want him with me.”
“Where is he?”
“Someone took him to get stitched up. He took a large piece of glass to the side of his neck. He’s lucky it didn’t cut an artery.”
“We’ll try to find your husband,” Tyler said, hoping to put her at ease. Removing his gloves, he motioned to the nurse. “Tell Dr. McCann I need an operating room for a C-section. I’ll also need a neonatal team standing by. And please have someone page a Charles Connelly.”
The nurse nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”
Dana lay in bed, struggling to stay awake. A clock on the bedside read twelve-ten. Clad in a white T-shirt belonging to Tyler, she inhaled the fragrance of his cologne clinging to the pillow under her head, closed her eyes, and fell asleep, her right arm resting on the open pages of the book she’d been reading.
She’d tried amusing herself during his absence, hoping to remain awake long enough to ask him about the damage from the tornado. She took a leisurely tour of his home while awaiting his return, totally awed by its magnificence.
She searched through the drawers in a massive walk-in closet for something to cover her nakedness, took a shower, put her clothes in the washing machine in the laundry room off the kitchen, and then prepared a light snack for herself. She cleaned up the kitchen, and then wandered throughout the large structure, beginning with the first floor.
At the rear of the house, an unfurnished space with glass walls would eventually become a conservatory. Another room facing east had been set up as a library/music room. Built-in floor-to-ceiling cherry-wood bookcases with sliding ladders were crowded with volumes ranging from anthropology to zoology. One wall held hundreds of DVDs, CDs, videotapes and audiocassettes, the latest state-of-the art stereo component system, and a large flat-screen television.
Dana found herself transfixed by a large, handcrafted, gemstone globe inlaid all around with semiprecious gems. She spent three quarters of an hour tracing each country, which was represented by a gem. Canada was mother of pearl, India green aventurine, and Paraguay red jasper. The oceans and seas were depicted in black onyx, and the meridians by silvery wires. A leather-bound unabridged dictionary from the nineteenth century lay atop a mahogany library stand. There was no doubt the antique library stand was as old as the book it cradled.
A quartet of hand-cast bronze-layered plaques was positioned on a wall, two inscribed in English, the other two in Latin. Reading the plaques revealed a lot about Tyler Cole.
Be still then, and know that I am God. The inscription inspired by Psalm 46:10, this simple phrase invoked silence, mindfulness, contemplation, and prayer.
Another, with a quote from Michelangelo, read: I am still learning.
She read the Latin, making a mental note to ask Tyler to translate Vocatvs atquenon, Vocatvs Deusaderit, and the palindrome: Sator arepo tenet opera rotas.
After perusing the room, she had selected a movie, settled down on a comfortable club chair, and watched it in its entirety.
A clock on the fireplace mantel had chimed eleven-thirty when she finally retreated to the upstairs bedroom with a hardcover mystery novel tucked under her arm.
The master bedroom suite on the second floor was the only one of the four completely furnished. The king-sized mahogany sleigh bed and exquisite bed dressing were the room’s focal point. A blue-gray knotted silk quilt, hand stitched with intricate diamond shapes, each surrounding a circle that mimicked a small knot, and matching pillow shams created a pearly luster and an antique appearance. Pale gray silk panels covered floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows. A mahogany desk and matching chair were nestled in a sitting area along with twin club chairs and ottomans in a black, white, and gray velvet and silk striping. The effect was sophisticated masculinity.
She had been intrigued by a spiral staircase, which led from the bedroom to the seating area. Climbing the staircase, she discovered a private little dormered loft with a scenic view of the Mississippi River in the distance. The reproduction of a sixteenth-century Dutch colonial bench was only object in the space. She sat for a few minutes, staring at the darkened landscape, her mind drifting back to another era.
Each of the four bedrooms had adjoining baths, utilizing varying shades of the color scheme selected for the bedrooms. The walls of the smaller bedrooms were covered with Smithsonian patterned wallpaper, reminiscent of a bygone era. Two of the smaller bedrooms were partially furnished with tables, chairs, and lamps, while the last one stood completely empty. She remembered Tyler saying the house was only partially furnished and that he awaited the arrival of furniture for more than half the rooms.
Sunrise was still an hour away by the time Tyler maneuvered his SUV into its bay in the garage. He was beyond being tired—he was exhausted. He’d left the hospital when a team of doctors arrived from several hospitals in the state’s capital. All of them had had to be airlifted in because only one road leading into Calico had been cleared, and only for official emergency vehicular traffic.
He’d delivered the Connelly baby, but had remained in the hospital’s tiny neonatal unit watching the machines monitoring the two-pound, six-ounce infant’s fight for survival. Someone had located Charles Connelly in time for him to witness his son’s birth. Tyler reassured the new father that each day his son remained alive was looked upon as a miracle, quoting a favorite line from Willa Cather’s Death Comes for the Archbishop. Where there is great love there are always miracles.
He craved a hot shower, at least four hours of uninterrupted sleep, and Dana Nichols. He hadn’t remembered he had to stop at her house to pick up clothes for her until he was halfway home. Reversing his direction, he made it to her house, and after searching two bedrooms, found hers. He shoved a pair of sandals and running shoes into a canvas bag he’d found in a closet. He opened dresser drawers, pulling out panties, bras, T-shirts, jeans, and shorts, adding them to the bag. Lastly, he picked up several bottles of perfume, creams, and personal hygiene products, put them in the bag, zipping it.
Hillsboro was ominously quiet. Tyler hadn’t encountered anyone on the road, except for several police cars parked along the shoulder, their lights flashing in the dark. Every house he passed was unlit. It was as if everyone quietly mourned the loss of life and property in the town several miles away. If the twister had turned north rather than south, then it would’ve been Hillsboro residents who would be found picking through the remains
of what would’ve been their life possessions for something to salvage, or making arrangements to bury their loved ones.
Tyler’s step was slow and heavy as he walked the short distance from the garage to the house. It wasn’t until he unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicked a switch turning on the overhead chandelier, that he felt a rush of gratitude sweep over him. It was times such as this when he was grateful for his profession. He’d always thought of his ability to aid in healing as a special gift from God. And tonight his gift had been manifested over and over as he tended the injured, while helping to bring another life, albeit fragile, into the world.
Leaving the bag with Dana’s clothes on a table in the entryway, he slowly made his way up the staircase. The soft golden glow from a table lamp at the far end of the second-story hallway illuminated the space. He smiled, weariness etched into the lines ringing his nose and mouth as he made his way down the hallway to his bedroom. Dana had left a light on for him. Peering into the bedroom, he made out the outline of her body under a sheet.
He decided to use the bathroom in one of the other bedrooms to shower and brush his teeth, not wishing to wake or startle her. Fifteen minutes later his eyelids were drooping when he walked into the master bedroom, lifted the sheet, and slid into bed next to the woman who’d captured his heart with only a glance.
Dana felt the heat and the arm thrown over her hip. She stirred restlessly, turning toward the source of heat. Her eyelids fluttered wildly as a whisper of warm breath caressed her forehead.
“Tyler?” Her voice was heavy with sleep.
“Go back to sleep, baby. We’ll talk later.”
Snuggling against his heat and strength, she complied, returning to the comforting arms of Morpheus.
Thirteen
Dana rubbed the tip of her nose, hoping to swat away whatever it was tickling her. She loathed opening her eyes to get up. Something brushed against her nose again, and this time she opened her eyes, encountering the dark amused gaze belonging to Tyler Cole.
Gasping, she inched away from him, but was thwarted from putting space between their bodies as he tightened his grip on her waist. Her face had been pressed against his hair-covered chest.
Streams of bright sunlight filtering through the pale gray panels lining the windows provided enough light for her to see the stubble of black hair on Tyler’s lean jaw. Smiling, he shifted, bringing her belly into direct contact with his groin. He had come to bed naked!
Pulling back her hips as naturally as she could, she smiled up at him. “Good morning.”
Tyler returned her smile with a dimpled one. “That it is, beautiful, especially if I can wake up with you in my bed every morning.” Lowering his chin, he dropped a light kiss on the top of her mussed hair.
Dana glanced up at him through her lashes. The dark smudges under his eyes indicated fatigue, but rather than detracting, they enhanced the large, intense, deep-set eyes framed by long black lashes. She found his gaze hypnotic.
“At what time did you get in?”
“A little before four.” It was now after eight.
“How bad is it?”
Sighing, Tyler released her, shifted, and folded a muscular arm under his head. He stared up at the ceiling. “There’s a lot of property damage.”
Rising on an elbow, Dana studied his grim expression. “Any fatalities?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on his solid shoulder and said a silent prayer. Both of them were silent, each lost in their private thoughts.
“There were a lot of broken bones and lacerations from flying glass,” Tyler continued slowly, choosing his words carefully. “There was also a birth. A tiny little boy who weighed in at a little over two pounds.”
Dana sat up, smiling. “A preemie?”
Turning his head, he looked at her. “Three months premature.”
“Do you think he’ll make it?”
“The next few weeks are very critical. If he gains weight, then we are hopeful he can make it. Of course there’s still the problem of his underdeveloped lungs. The doctors in the neonatal unit will monitor his progress very closely. I’m certain they’re going to recommend transferring him to a hospital in Jackson.”
“Why move him at all?”
“There’s a hospital there that specializes in treating low birth weight babies.” He knew he would be the one to break the news to Connellys, hoping they wouldn’t balk in giving their approval to move their newborn to a more qualified facility.
“Why don’t we have a similar unit at our county hospital?”
Lowering his arm, Tyler gently pulled Dana against his body, her hips pressed to his groin. He smiled. She’d said our instead of the county hospital. Could he hope she was beginning to regard Hillsboro as her home?
“Maybe that will change in the future.”
Dana held her breath when she felt the flesh between Tyler’s legs stir against her buttocks. She didn’t know if she was ready for him, unlike the day before in the tunnel. Fear and desperation had replaced common sense when she’d begged Tyler to make love to her. But now in the bright sunlight, in the warm, protective grasp of his arms, she felt shy.
“Do you have to go back to the hospital today?”
“No. However, I’m still on call for the next thirty-six hours.” He covered her smooth legs with one of his. “Would you mind if we stay in bed a little longer?”
She gave him a long, penetrating look over her shoulder, her heart turning over when she saw the longing in his gaze. “No, Tyler, I don’t mind.” At that moment she did want to stay with him, in his arms, in his bed for a long, long time.
His left hand feathered up her thigh and under the T-shirt, fingers splaying over her hip. His hand burned her sensitive flesh through the delicate fabric of her silken panties.
Tyler buried his nose in the gold-streaked strands flowing over the pillow next to his, inhaling the very essence that was Dana Nichols. They lay together, wrapped in a cocoon of gentle intimacy almost as satisfying as the aftermath of a passionate coupling. He hadn’t made love to her, yet felt satiated. What he was experiencing with Dana he’d never shared with any other woman.
Women who’d shared his bed in the past were usually interested in one thing: sex. One or two had wanted more, but he had never been able to commit—not when his research projects had garnered so much of his time. Most of his time had been spent at the laboratory entering and analyzing the data he’d spent thousands of hours gathering. He and the members of the research teams had studied the effects of differing drugs, enzymes, and chemical changes in pregnant women. He was one of the lead doctors on a study of endometriosis, GTN—abnormal pregnancies with a cystic growth of the placenta, and IUGR—the inadequate growth of a fetus during the last stage of pregnancy.
He woke up each morning thinking of the work he’d done the night before. It was only when the labs closed for holiday vacations that he permitted himself to step away from his world of research. He always returned to Florida the last two weeks of the year to reconnect with his family. In West Palm Beach he was Tyler Simmons Cole, son of Martin and Parris, brother to Regina Cole Spencer and Arianna Cole Kadir, and uncle to Clayborne and Eden Spencer. As Tyler, he interacted with his grandmother, brother-in-law, aunts, uncles, and numerous cousins.
He and his unmarried cousins, who usually visited trendy nightclubs, returned home with the sunrise, slept late, frolicked in heated pools, played tennis, and often engaged in spirited competitive basketball games. It was also the time to bet good-naturedly on professional and college football teams. The wagers were always done in secret, because the family matriarch forbade gambling in any form.
Dana felt some of her uneasiness dissipating as she lay in Tyler’s protective embrace, marveling that he hadn’t attempted to make love to her even though his hardness throbbing against her hips indicated he was fully aroused. She had to admit that the surging heat and size of his prodigious sex was defi
nitely a turn-on, and there was no doubt Tyler Cole was a virile man in the prime of his life.
As a young girl she remembered knocking on the door to her parents’ room, waiting for them to acknowledge her presence. She’d race into their bedroom, jump on the bed, and lay atop the sheets between them. There were occasions when her mother’s face was flushed with excitement, and it wasn’t until years later that she realized her mother’s expression reflected a satiated woman who’d experienced what it meant to be born female. It was a time when one could conclude with a single glance that Harry and Alicia had been very much in love with each other.
Was that how it had been between them before doubt, distrust, and deception destroyed their marriage? Dana recalled the sensual glances, the surreptitious caresses, and the endearments her parents had exchanged whenever they thought her attention elsewhere. She’d thought her parents and their marriage perfect.
“Were you home the night your mother died?”
The peace Dana felt fled, strange disquieting memories taking its place with Tyler’s query. She inhaled, and then let her breath out slowly. If she planned to become involved with Tyler, then he had a right to know who she was, what she’d become because of a single act of violence.
“Yes, but I’d slept through it.”
Her voice was soft, calming, as she told Tyler everything: Alicia and Harry’s argument, his decision to divorce his wife, and his threat to seek sole custody of his daughter.
She told him about the fire, which had destroyed all evidence connected with Alicia’s murder, Harry’s arrest, and the judge’s decision to deny bail. Pausing, she related the pain she encountered when her grandmother would not permit her to visit her father while he awaited trial.
Each time she faltered, waiting to regain her composure, Tyler pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. He made no attempt to interrupt her, and she was grateful for this, because his presence had become more valuable than words of comfort.
Homecoming Page 15