by Tina Beckett
He couldn’t stop the obvious question. “So who were you planning to ask?”
“No one. I’ve gone to a sperm bank. I’m in the process of selecting the best match.”
The thought of Kady carrying someone else’s baby made him feel physically ill. But he was the one who’d told her no over and over again. Not that he would have been able to get her pregnant back then.
“You’re going to do artificial insemination?”
She shrugged. “I’m going to start there, and if that doesn’t take, I’ll try in vitro.”
“You really do want another child, don’t you?” His anger disappeared in an instant and regret took its place. Regret that he hadn’t been able to give her what she needed. Regret that she’d needed it so badly that she hadn’t been able to see past it.
“I told you I did.” Her eyes turned sad. “Many times.”
“I know. And I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.”
“It’s over and done with. We’re moving on.” Her gaze went past him.
Was she talking about what had just happened between them? Yes, that was over and done with. But as far as moving on went? He was pretty sure the aftershocks of that encounter were going to be wreaking havoc with his system for a long time to come.
“So where do we go from here?”
Her head tilted, the confusion on her face plain. “What do you mean? We don’t go anywhere from here. We decided that two years ago when we got a divorce. You go back to your life, and I’ll go back to mine as soon as this conference is over.”
“Of course.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked that question. It was better to bury any weird sentimental notions before they could take root and fester below the surface. “I phrased that badly. I meant how do we put what just happened behind us so we can finish out the rest of the seminar without it becoming awkward?”
This time she laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I think it became awkward the moment I landed in New York and realized you were at the conference. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No doubt about that.” And yet they’d had sex.
“Are you going to be able to get past this?”
Said as if the only one she had doubts about was him. He was going to blow that idea out of the water. “I already am.”
A skitter of some strong emotion passed through her eyes and then was gone replaced with a wary nod. “Me too. So we have nothing to worry about, then.”
“No, nothing.”
But deep in Tucker’s heart he knew he just told the biggest lie of the century. Because the word worried didn’t begin to cover the thoughts that were currently ricocheting through his head and threatening to explode into something far worse. It wasn’t worry. Or concern. Or uneasiness.
This was more like the heavy dread that came with knowing something big was just on the horizon. Something that would rock his world and change it forever. And no matter how hard he tried, he knew there was probably nothing he could do to stop it.
* * *
Tony’s surgery was underway.
Kady had asked to observe, something about the case pulling at her.
Obviously...since it was what had sent her into his arms in the first place. Hearing him call that baby by name had touched a part of her she’d thought was dead. It wasn’t.
And now that she was here, she was having trouble thinking about anything other than what had happened in Tucker’s office. They hadn’t even locked the door.
Anyone could have walked in.
The janitor. A patient. Even the department head.
Her stomach twisted.
At midnight? Not very likely. Even if anyone had known Tucker was in his office, they would have thought he was getting some much-needed sleep before the surgery.
And he had. At least she thought he had. After they kind of hashed out a tentative agreement for how to proceed professionally, he had stretched out on the couch again. But this time Kady hadn’t stuck around. She’d told him she was going up to check on her patient and would be back before his surgery. She had peeked in on Samantha, but the young woman, of course, had been sound asleep. So Kady had gone down to the waiting room and curled up in one of the most uncomfortable chairs known to man and waited for the hour hand on the clock to creep around to five o’clock.
Then she’d met Tucker back at his office. When she’d arrived, he had already showered and dressed. He offered her the use of the tiny cubicle in his bathroom, which she gladly accepted. But even his shower carried his clean masculine scent, a stark reminder of what they had done hours earlier. Once his surgery was over, she was going straight to her own hotel room and rid herself of any trace of it.
At least she hoped she could.
She glanced down at the operating-room floor again, and every thought suddenly vanished when Tucker lifted something, his lips moving as he said something to someone...
Yes, I talk to them.
She swallowed hard. He was talking to the baby he held in his hands.
Tony.
Her ex bent low over the tiny form, his big body now blocking her view. But she’d seen it. It was unbelievable that surgery could be done on a fetus that size. But she’d watched Tucker operate more than once during their marriage, so why was it so surprising to see him do it now?
Maybe because she couldn’t reconcile the Tucker who under no circumstances wanted another child—who had gone so far as to guarantee it would never happen—with the Tucker who could take a baby from its temporary home and treat it with such tender care. To repair the little one so that it had the best possible chance of living and thriving once it entered the real world.
Which man was the real Tucker Stevenson?
Maybe he was both. Or neither. Maybe the true man was somewhere in between.
He was still young. The fact that he’d made such a permanent decision about his fertility should tell her how strongly he’d felt about the whole thing. When they had been together she’d thought his reluctance was a result of his grief and that with time he would work through it and come round. That hadn’t been the case.
Just then he glanced up at the observation window, causing her thoughts to freeze. It only lasted a second or two, but even that brief look made a shiver go through her. How was she going to get through the rest of the day, much less the rest of the week?
They were set to meet the medical students for rounds almost immediately after this surgery and then they had the conference later this afternoon.
He took a step to the side, glancing up at her again.
Why was he...?
He was trying to make sure she could see. That gesture made her heart squeeze. No matter how often she’d tried to cast him in the role of bad guy, he proved her wrong time and time again: sending flowers to Grace’s grave; the funny tone he’d had when asking her who she was getting pregnant with; the way he’d just taken a few steps to the left.
The way he’d made love to her?
No, that had been sex.
Just sex.
Are you sure?
Oh, Lord, she’d better hope so. For her heart’s sake.
Because even if it meant something more to her, there was no future in it.
And Kady was not willing to have a meaningless fling. Even with her ex-husband.
Tucker’s low voice came over the speaker, detailing each step of the procedure just as he’d done the entire time. He was steady. Steady hands. Steady voice. Steady presence.
At least he had been.
“Kady, do you have any questions up there, before I close up shop?”
Questions? Oh, she had plenty. But none of them were about Tony. Or the procedure.
But now every head in the surgical suite had swiveled toward her, probably wondering how Tucker knew her or, worse, if they were dating.
Ha! They hadn’t dated in a very long time. And when they had...
Think up something intelligent! Professional.
She leaned close to the tiny microphone hanging in front of her, glad her earlier thoughts hadn’t been captured by it. “Will the surgery have to be redone in the future? Or will this procedure be the only repair needed?”
Tucker’s eyes found hers and held them. “We can hope this will be it. But there are never any guarantees.”
Just like she’d hoped that their divorce would bring an end to all the heartache she’d endured. But it never quite went away. She’d had opportunities to date over the last couple of years, but she just hadn’t had the energy or desire to start over.
Maybe that’s what looking for a sperm donor was all about. A new start. A chance to finally make that break with the past.
Except, even in death, Grace would always be a point of connection. Like the fresh flowers she found whenever she went to visit her daughter’s grave.
“Well, I hope for his sake that he can go on from here without ever needing to think about what happened today.”
And if that didn’t sound like wishful thinking, she didn’t know what did. Because she would never be able to get away from thinking about what had happened in his office last night.
“That’s the hope. Okay, let’s get this little guy back where he belongs. Good job, everyone.”
With one last glance up at where she was sitting, Tucker bent over his patient once again and began closing up the gaping wounds his scalpel had created.
If only they could each find someone who could do the same for them.
Whoever had said time healed all wounds had either been crazy or a damned liar.
Because looking at Tucker still hurt.
And she had no idea when that ache would finally go away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HE’D HOPED THE conference would be a refuge.
No such luck. He and Kady had been thrust once again into the same workshop after a disastrous day following an even more disastrous night. The medical students who’d followed them around had had questions. Lots of them. Some of them having to do with colleague relationships. Platonic ones, but it still made Kady’s face light up like a neon sign.
Afterward, they’d had to rush over to the conference center together. This was the seminar he’d been dreading the most: Genetics and Pregnancy—identifying common abnormalities. And, of course, Kady was the replacement for Dr. Blacke so she was there with him. Seated next to him this time. Colleague relationships indeed.
If he’d known, he might have feigned a patient emergency and risked the wrath of Phil Harold if someone checked up on his excuse.
But since they’d come together, Kady would have known immediately why he was skipping out on the session.
He glanced over at her. Nothing was in front of her. No notes. No computer tablet. Well, that made two of them. He had no intention of saying a word other than his short canned speech, unless one of the audience members asked him something point blank.
Like about interdepartmental relationships?
Why would anyone ask something like that? He was imagining things that weren’t there.
Or were they?
Dammit, Tucker, knock it off!
The microphone passed to the third panel member, who, according to his bio, was a researcher in the area of bioengineering. “Okay, so true story—I went to college to get a degree in music. I wanted to be a concert pianist. I had it all going for me—hard work and a drive to succeed. And then... I met a girl.” He paused when knowing laughter erupted across the audience.
“Well, things got serious, and she got pregnant. We got married, and we both continued going to school. She went into labor five weeks early. We were scared but unbelievably happy. And then our life together changed forever. Our boy—Alexander—was born a harlequin baby. He never came home from the hospital.”
He swallowed hard.
Harlequin ichthyosis was a terrible condition where thick scalelike armor encased a newborn’s body. It created treatment challenges that were difficult if not impossible to overcome.
It was equally impossible not to notice the parallel threads that ran between the bioengineer’s story and Tucker and Kady’s saga.
Unexpected pregnancy. Check. Quick marriage. Check. Baby born with devastating fatal condition. Check.
Tucker couldn’t even bring himself to glance at Kady to see if she was thinking the same thing he was.
“In a matter of months, I changed my major from music to medicine, studying how genetics affect the human story. It was the only way I could think of to make sense of my son’s death.”
Was there a way to make sense of a thing like that?
Maybe each person dealt with tragedy differently. Tucker peered sideways at the woman next to him. Kady’s head was down, and she was staring at a closed manila folder to the right of her.
Yes. She was thinking of Grace too. Or at least he thought she was.
He couldn’t stop his hand from covering hers.
When she glanced up at him, her eyes glistened, but that was the only sign that this topic was affecting her. Him? It was damn well ripping his heart from his chest.
She squeezed his fingers and then let him go, maybe afraid someone would see them and wonder what was going on.
He used to be weirdly fascinated with genetic abnormalities. Had been called in to consult on a number of them. Now he tried to avoid them whenever possible. So whatever had driven the researcher to abandon his goals and dive into the deep end of the very condition that had killed his child had passed Tucker over.
He’d never operated on a Tay-Sachs baby. It didn’t normally show up until six months after birth. Or when routine testing revealed the lack of an enzyme needed to break down fatty material.
Tay-Sachs was a death sentence. Grace had slowly lost her ability to do things, her motor skills decreasing at an alarming rate until she had been paralyzed.
And unlike the man who’d just laid his heart on the table for everyone to see, Tucker had no intention of mentioning Grace. Or anything else personal. That was his cross to bear.
When it was his turn to speak, he just rattled off a few obvious areas where genetics and fetal surgery overlapped. He then nodded to Kady, giving her the floor.
“Thank you, Dr. Stevenson. Almost every inherited condition that we are able to identify prenatally automatically changes that patient’s status to high risk. Obviously we wish we could identify every anomaly before birth, but we just can’t. The best option, if you know you carry a certain gene, is to get genetic counseling. Before getting pregnant, if possible.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “But even if you find out about the condition after having a baby, I strongly urge you to get counseling. Not to is irresponsible.”
By the time she finished, his abdominal muscles were rock-hard. Maybe she wasn’t talking about him. But what else could she be referring to?
There’d been no need to get counseling, since they weren’t going to have more children together. Ever.
Or maybe she had been talking about herself, since she was thinking of getting pregnant through a sperm donor. His gut tightened even further.
How the hell was she going to make sure her donor wasn’t a carrier, unless the sperm bank tested everyone? Or maybe they did nowadays. He had no idea, because the thought of donating sperm made him sick.
By the time the Q & A portion of the seminar came around, Tucker had a raging headache that started at the back of his neck and stretched like a band over the top. Maybe because he’d gotten less than five hours’ sleep last night and had done surgery, led around a pack of medical students for most of the afternoon and now was here at the conference. A sixteen-hour day. And less than twenty-four hours since he and Kady had made love.
“Dr. Mc
Pherson, can you give us an idea of what types of cases you would refer for genetic counseling?”
There was a long pause while Kady waited for the microphone, which had moved further down the table. Her fingers were pressed tight against the laminated surface, but other than that telltale sign of nerves, there was no indication that the question bothered her.
The microphone landed in front of her.
She cleared her throat. “There are any number of inherited disorders that I’ve seen or worked with over the years. Sickle cell, thalassemia, hemophilia, some types of breast cancers, and Tay-Sachs are a few of them.”
The words Tay-Sachs hit him like a hammer blow.
“Thank you. Can I ask one more question related to that?”
“Certainly.” Her fingertips seemed to push harder against the table, turning white.
“Do you ever have patients who refuse genetic counseling? If so, would you refuse treat them if they were to become pregnant again?”
“I would never refuse to treat anyone.” If anything, she sounded surprised by the question. “As for patients refusing testing, there are more of them than you might think.”
Like Tucker?
She went on. “As for why, I think most of it boils down to fear. But what people should realize is that knowledge is a powerful tool.”
And sometimes it wasn’t. He’d pretty much read the whole encyclopedia when it came to his daughter’s illness. He had a whole lot of head knowledge. But it changed nothing. Not then. And not now.
That person sat and another stood.
Hell, how long was this going to go on?
“This question is directed to the panel as a whole. If someone knew they had a recessive gene and it was unlikely that their significant other had the same gene, should they tell their partner?”
The harlequin baby’s father motioned for the microphone. When it arrived, he looked the person straight in the eye. “Yes. Always. What Dr. McPherson said is true. If you know and don’t tell, and your partner unknowingly carries that same gene, you could endanger any child you might have. Are you willing to take that risk?”
His vasectomy had kind of taken care of that. And now Kady knew about it.