So Miranda had won, and Dillon had left town. He’d thought Taylor was out of his life for good. Then one day, out of the blue, she’d shown up at his door and told him they had a child together, a powerful bond that would link them together forever.
A child that perhaps they had no right to claim.
Dillon didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, lost in the past, when he heard Taylor rouse. He turned toward her, feeling the familiar tightening in his gut. She looked so soft and vulnerable, completely feminine with her hair tousled from their lovemaking and the cover slipping just enough to reveal her bare shoulders and a hint of something more.
“I had the most wonderful dream,” she said, smiling.
“What did you dream?”
“I dreamed about you and me…and a little girl. Our little girl. We were all together and we were so happy.”
Dillon turned slowly to face her. “But it was just a dream.”
Taylor’s smile faded. Her gaze took in the fact that he was dressed. At least partially. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”
Dillon shrugged. He had no wish to hurt her, but he could see the soft vulnerability in her eyes, making him dread saying what he knew had to be said.
Taylor sat up, hugging the sheets to her chest as she studied him in the moonlight. “You’re already regretting tonight, aren’t you?”
He took a deep breath. “No. Tonight was wonderful. You were wonderful. It’s just—”
“You still haven’t forgiven me for not telling you about the baby.” Her voice was flat, emotionless, but her eyes…those incredible eyes revealed her pain.
“It’s more complicated than that.” He turned away. “I don’t know if we can trust our emotions right now, Taylor. I’m not sure that what we’re feeling isn’t just…memories.”
“I see.” When he glanced backed at her, she was still hugging her knees, and her eyes looked suspiciously bright in the moonlight.
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’m not sure if any of this is right.”
“What do you mean?”
“The dream you had. Don’t you understand? It’s all part of the fantasy. You, me, our child. It’s not real. We may never be all together—not in the way you want. If our child is still alive…” He blew out a long breath as he gazed out the window. “If our child is still alive, Taylor, then he or she already has a family.”
“We’ve been through this already.”
“I know. But I saw the look in your eyes just now when you talked about the dream you had, about all of us being together. And I guess I’m wondering if, when the time comes and we do find our child, you’ll really be able to walk away.”
Taylor wanted to assure him that her feelings hadn’t changed. That all she wanted was the truth, and to make sure their child was all right. That he or she was happy and healthy. But now…
Now she wasn’t so sure she would be able to walk away. And why should she? The child was hers, taken from her through no fault of her own. Why should she have to give her baby up a second time?
“You’re assuming our child has been with a wonderful, loving family all these years, but what if that isn’t the case?” Taylor asked softly. “What if our child has been badly neglected, maybe even abused? What if he needs us, Dillon?”
“And what if he doesn’t? Will you be able to walk away?” He sat down on the bed and grasped her arms. “Will you?”
Tears filled her eyes as she gazed up at him. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I honestly don’t know.”
His eyes hardened. “You have to think about what this means, Taylor. We both do. Uprooting a child from the only family he’s every known, dragging him through a long, ugly custody battle—”
“Is it wrong to want to hold my child in my arms?” she cried, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Is it wrong to want to have him with me, to watch him grow up, to see him with children of his own someday? I didn’t give my child away, Dillon. He was taken from me. Don’t I have any rights in this?”
“If you’re asking me to help you take our child away from the only family he’s ever known, I won’t do it, Taylor. I won’t help you.”
“Then I guess I know where that leaves us, don’t I?” she said sadly.
Chapter Fifteen
Taylor felt as if her heart were breaking when she drove into work the next morning. She told herself it didn’t matter what Dillon said. She would find her child with or without his help, and she would hold that child in her arms.
And yet a small niggling voice in the back of her mind warned her that maybe Dillon was right. The child’s wellbeing was all that mattered.
But she was the mother. Didn’t she have rights? She hadn’t willingly given up her baby. The child had been taken from her. Nine precious years had been stolen from her. Taylor couldn’t bear the thought of losing even more time.
She’d lost Dillon and her baby once before. Was she doomed to suffer both losses all over again?
THE PHONE WAS RINGING when Taylor walked in the door after work. She flung her purse and keys aside and hurried to answer it.
“Hello?”
“It’s Dillon.”
A long silence followed, during which time Taylor could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, wishing the mere sound of his voice didn’t have such a profound effect on her.
“Taylor? Are you there?”
She moistened her lips with her tongue. “Yes, I’m here. What do you want, Dillon?”
Another pause, as if the bitter edge to her voice had taken him by surprise. Then, “We’ve got another lead. I’m coming by to get you.”
“But what—”
The phone clicked in her ear.
HALF AN HOUR LATER they were pulling into the parking area of the Westcott Clinic. Taylor stared at the pink-brick building, softly lit by the dying sun, and myriad memories stormed through her.
She remembered the day Brad had brought her here, how scared she’d been for her unborn child, how guilty she’d felt for wishing it had been Dillon with her instead of her husband.
And now Dillon was with her. Except…not really. Since last night, there was barrier between them, a gulf Taylor feared might never be bridged.
She glanced at his silent profile. His gaze met hers, his dark eyes reflecting the sadness, the uncertainty, that she herself was feeling. Taylor longed to have him hold her in his arms, whisper to her that everything would be all right, but she knew he wouldn’t. Because things might never be right between them.
Without a word, they both got out of the car and climbed the steps to the clinic. Allison St. James met them in the luxurious lobby and escorted them personally back to her office, where she closed and locked the door behind them. Then she picked up the phone and told the switchboard to hold all her calls.
Having done all that, she folded her arms on top of her desk and gazed at Dillon, who had sat down in one of the two leather chairs opposite the desk.
Taylor saw the look the two of them exchanged, and felt a tiny prick of jealousy. Allison St. James was a very attractive woman with her dark hair, creamy complexion and expressive brown eyes. Eyes she couldn’t seem to take off of Dillon.
Almost reluctantly Taylor sat down beside Dillon, and Allison’s gaze shifted to her. “Mrs. Robinson,” she said. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Allison St. James.”
“Taylor Robinson.” She leaned forward and the two women shook hands.
“I guess you’re wondering why I called you,” she said, sitting back in her chair.
Dillon looked perfectly at ease as he sprawled his long legs in front of him. “You said you had something for me.”
The innuendo in her smile made Taylor’s jealousy strengthen. “I do. Something I think you’ll agree was worth the drive out here.”
She unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out a folder, then handed it to Dillon. “It’s a list of patients who were admitted to the
Westcott Clinic a few days prior and subsequent to the night in question.”
Dillon accepted the file but he didn’t open it. He said instead, “Why? Why are you doing this for us?”
Allison shrugged. She looked as if she were about to make a flippant retort, then her expression changed. Her eyes clouded, her mouth hardened and she suddenly looked ten years older. “I had a baby that died, too,” she said, her eyes glittering with grief. “Only there was no mistake. I was there when he died. I held him in my arms—” She broke off and looked away, struggling with her emotions. “My husband and I split up after that. I’d give anything to have a second chance…with both of them. There’s no hope for me, but you two…”
You two. The words echoed inside Taylor’s head.
Allison straightened, as if physically shoving the memories aside, and said, “According to the records, there were two other women who gave birth at the clinic the same night you did. Melanie Baker and Sara McHenry. Both had healthy boys.”
Dillon finally looked at Taylor. “Do either of those names ring a bell?”
Taylor thought for a moment. “Baker is a pretty common name and McHenry…” She shrugged. “It’s been almost ten years. I’m not sure I’d remember any of the other patients even if I met them in person. But I was kept pretty isolated, primarily because Dr. Westcott said he was worried about my blood pressure. I had to have complete bed rest.”
“The social security numbers of both the women are in the files,” Allison said. “They shouldn’t be too hard to track down. I also checked the personnel files. In addition to Lara Mendoza, there was another labor and delivery nurse assigned to Mrs. Robinson that night. It was Doris Rafferty.”
Dillon looked up in surprise. “I met her the day I was out here before. She escorted me out of your office, as a matter of fact.”
Allison nodded. “That was her.”
“I got the impression she was almost fiercely loyal to Dr. Westcott,” Dillon said. “If he asked her to do something—”
“She’d do it,” Allison agreed. She nodded toward the file. “I checked backward, several days prior to the birth of Mrs. Robinson’s baby, just to make sure I didn’t overlook anything. I came across a name that jumped out at me. Lorraine Westcott was admitted to the clinic on the same day you were, Mrs. Robinson. She had a little girl two days before you went into labor. She was still at the clinic the night you gave birth.”
Stunned, Taylor turned to stare at Dillon.
“Dillon—”
He met her gaze.
“I’m almost afraid to say what I’m thinking.”
“Then don’t,” Dillon said harshly. “We don’t have a shred of proof.”
“I don’t need proof,” Taylor said. With trembling fingers she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve thought about this before, but I pushed it to the back of my mind because I didn’t think it was possible. But you’ve seen us together, Dillon. There’s always been a bond between Alisha and me. I’ve never quite understood it, never been able to explain it. Until now.”
Dillon tore his fingers through his hair as he got up to pace away from her. “I could say the same thing about the little boy who lives down the hall from me. He needs me, too, but that doesn’t mean he’s my son. We have to keep an open mind, Taylor. At this point, we can’t afford to close ourselves off to any possibility.”
“Then don’t,” she said softly. “Don’t close yourself off to the possibility that Alisha Westcott could be our daughter.”
DORIS RAFFERTY LIVED in a section of East Memphis known as Parkway Village, not far from Dillon’s apartment on Perkins. The house was probably at least thirty years old, but the lawn was well-kept and the trim work and shutters looked freshly painted. A basketball hoop had been mounted over the garage door, and a skateboard lay upside down on the sidewalk.
As Taylor and Dillon approached the front door, someone yelled at them from the street. They both turned to see a boy on a bicycle racing up the driveway, missing Dillon’s car by a hair.
He screeched to a halt on the sidewalk beside them, and Taylor stared at him in shock. “Nicholas?”
Nicholas Baker got off his bike and let it drop with a loud clatter to the pavement. “Am I in trouble? Am I being expelled or arrested or something?” He threw Dillon a wary glance, but he squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever might come. Not for the first time, Taylor admired his spunk.
“No, nothing like that,” she assured him. “We want to talk to your grandmother. Is she home?”
His gaze shifted from her to Dillon, then back to her again. A kind of fierce protectiveness came over his features. “She don’t like company on her day off. She needs to rest.”
Taylor knelt and placed her hands on Nicholas’s shoulders. “I understand. Your grandmother works hard, doesn’t she? But we really need to talk to her. Her name’s Doris, isn’t it? Doris Rafferty?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” The wary look on Nicholas’s face turned to fear as he studied Taylor. “Is Gram in trouble?”
Taylor shook her head. “No. Dillon and I just want to ask her some questions. I promise, Nicholas. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your grandmother. You trust me, don’t you?”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go get her.” He opened the front door and motioned for them to enter. “Wait down here,” he ordered.
After a few moments, he came running to the top of the stairs, his eyes bulging with terror. “It’s Gram!” he shouted. “I can’t get her to wake up.”
Dillon took the stairs two at a time with Taylor close behind him. When they pushed into Doris Rafferty’s bedroom, the sight that met Taylor’s eyes sent her heart racing with fear.
Doris Rafferty lay on top of the bed, fully dressed, her right hand curled around her left arm. Her face was colorless, the lines and creases standing out sharply in contrast. Pills lay scattered across the nightstand top while a glass lay overturned on the floor.
Nicholas ran and knelt beside the bed. “Gram,” he whimpered. “Don’t die, Gram.”
Dillon quickly bent over the bed, checking Doris’s vital signs. He listened to her heart, then cleared her mouth and nose to begin CPR. “Call 9-1-1,” he told Taylor.
She did as she was told, then came back to pull Nicholas out of the way. He resisted her, but Taylor said firmly, “Let him do his job, Nicholas. Let him help your grandmother.”
Doris’s eyes were closed and Taylor could see no sign of life. Not so much as a flutter. But Dillon didn’t stop. He worked tirelessly until the sirens sounded outside, and even then he continued until the emergency medical technicians practically shoved him out of the way.
Then EMTs took control, continuing the CPR. As soon as they had a faint heartbeat, they got her onto a stretcher and loaded her into the ambulance, starting an IV drip immediately. Nicholas clung to Taylor, fighting back tears.
“Where are you taking her?” she asked.
“Mercy General,” one of the technicians told them.
“I want to go with her,” Nicholas begged. All the bravado had drained from his face, and now he looked like what he was—a scared, lonely little boy.
Taylor’s heart went out to him. She knelt and gripped his shoulders. “Your grandmother is in good hands, but the technicians have to have room to do their job. We don’t want to get in their way.”
“Then take me to the hospital,” he pleaded.
“In a little while. Come back into the house. Tell me who I can call to come and stay with you.”
“There’s no one.” He turned away, trying to hide the tears running down his pale cheeks. “Just me and Gram.”
Taylor exchanged a look with Dillon. Dillon hesitated, then put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Where are your parents?” he asked gently.
Nicholas wiped his face fiercely. “My mother’s dead. My old man took off before I was born. It’s like I said. There’s no one here but me and Gram.”
“Okay.” Di
llon squeezed his shoulder. “You let me take care of everything, okay? I know someone you can stay with tonight while Taylor and I go to the hospital to check on your grandmother. He’s got a son about your age. You like basketball? Yeah? Well, you two should get along great, then.”
Dillon left them alone in the kitchen while he went to make some phone calls. When he came back in, Taylor glanced up anxiously.
“It’s all set,” he said. “Neal said we could bring him right over.”
“Who’s Neal?” Nicholas asked suspiciously.
“He used to be my partner.”
“He’s a cop?”
Dillon grinned. “Yeah. But he plays a mean game of round ball.”
“Does he—can he do…what you did upstairs?” Nicholas asked hesitantly.
“You mean CPR?”
“I mean the way you saved my gram’s life,” he said. He gazed up at Dillon, his eyes brimming with admiration. “I didn’t think I liked cops, but…you’re not so bad.”
“Thanks.” Dillon held out his hand.
The two solemnly shook hands, and Taylor felt her throat knot with emotion. She could see what a struggle Nicholas was putting up to hide his fear. Suddenly she wanted to take him into her arms and hold him, comfort him, but she also knew he was dangerously close to breaking down. If she made him cry in front of Dillon, someone he’d obviously come to respect a great deal, he might never forgive her.
As if sensing what she might do, Nicholas straightened his shoulders. “When can I go to the hospital?”
“Soon. But for right now, Taylor and I will go stay with your grandmother,” Dillon promised. “And you have my word that we’ll call you just as soon as we know something.”
Nicholas nodded. He stared up at Dillon, and this time he didn’t try to hide his terror. “If Gram dies…” He swallowed hard. Taylor put her arm around his thin little shoulders and felt him tremble. “If Gram dies, what’ll happen to me?”
THE EMERGENCY ROOM at Mercy General was the usual chaos. Taylor and Dillon could find out very little from the nurse at the desk, only that Doris Rafferty was still unconscious and her condition was being carefully monitored in the coronary care unit.
Amanda Stevens Bestseller Collection: Stranger In Paradise/A Baby's Cry Page 39