The Millionaire and the M.D.

by Teresa Southwick

  “It’s helped a lot,” Amy confirmed.

  “It’s a breakthrough,” Rebecca countered. “But emotional recovery is ongoing.” If anyone knew that it was her. “I would strongly urge you to find someone at home that you can talk to and continue the process.”

  “I’ve already looked into it,” Carleton said.

  “Good.” When she looked at the two of them and the sleeping infant who was as sweet and innocent as he could be, Rebecca felt a lump in her throat. She’d grown so fond of this family. It would be hard to say goodbye. To all of them. “I’d like to keep you one more night.”

  “All right. Whatever you think best.” Carleton smiled at his daughter. “Then we’ll spend a little time with your brother while you recuperate before we go home.”

  Rebecca planned to spend some quality time with Gabe Thorne, too. She was sorry he’d had such a rough go of it, but that didn’t automatically give him a pass to hurt people.

  She was going to talk to Gabe and tell him exactly what she thought.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rebecca had never been to where Gabe worked, a portable on the Mercy Medical campus that could be moved anywhere at a moment’s notice. And apparently it was a metaphor for his life. He only let people in temporarily, then he was gone when someone didn’t meet his expectations. She’d thought he was different and hadn’t known being wrong could hurt so much.

  She climbed the three steps of the portable stairway and didn’t bother knocking before opening the door. Frankly, she didn’t actually give a damn if she interrupted something. She walked into what looked like a reception area. There was no one at the desk, which made sense. It was after six o’clock. But she’d seen light in one of the back offices. It was probably Gabe, since his father had said he was working all the time.

  She took a deep breath and moved to the open doorway, then looked inside. When she saw him behind his desk, head bent as he read something, her heart did that funny little skip it always did. This time it was more painful than exciting. This time would be the last time, and the realization cut clear to her soul.

  He glanced up and looked surprised. “Rebecca.”

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “No. I—” He leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “When the door opened I—We usually get FedEx pickup about this time. I thought you were the delivery guy.”

  Nope, but he was probably going to wish she was. She pulled her sweater tighter. The chilly desert wind whipped across the valley outside, but it felt colder in here. That was probably more about how she felt on the inside than anything else.

  “It’s just me.”

  “What’s up?” He frowned and sat up straight, his muscles tensing. “Is it Amy? Did she have a setback?”

  Rebecca noticed he didn’t ask about the baby. Now that she thought about it, he’d never really discussed his nephew.

  “Amy’s fine. No thanks to you,” she added.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You haven’t been to see your sister for a couple of days.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said. “Work has piled up…”

  “So your father said.”

  He held out his hand, indicating the chair in front of his desk. “Would you like to sit down?”

  No. Yes. She couldn’t decide if it would be easier to say what she had to say from a sitting position. Finally the trembling in her legs made the decision for her.

  “Thanks,” she said, and sat.

  “You’ve seen my father?”

  “He’s at the hospital with his daughter and grandson all day every day.” And you have his eyes, she wanted to say as she stared into the bottomless dark blue.

  “He’s retired,” Gabe informed her, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. “He has the time.”

  “I’m not going to split hairs with you, Gabe. I’ll get straight to the point.”

  “Which is?”

  She folded her hands together so tightly that there was a real possibility of cutting off circulation. “Amy turned to you in her time of need.”

  “And I was there when she needed me.”

  “She still needs you.”

  He shook his head. “Dad’s with her.”

  “She needs all her family now.”

  “I’m not sure what more I can do. Dad’s taking her back to Texas.”

  That comment reeked of passing the buck. As if Amy was too much trouble now that he knew what she was dealing with. “So the fact that she’ll be in a different state somehow absolves you of involvement?”

  “I thought you were getting to the point,” he said.

  “Okay.” She met his gaze without flinching. “You have issues with me. Why are you punishing your sister?”

  “I’m working. That has nothing to do with my sister.”

  “And you can’t walk the short distance to see her? You can even drop by after visiting hours because you have an official Mercy Medical badge with the handy-dandy magnetic strip that allows you in whenever you want.”

  If only she had a badge to swipe that could keep him out of her heart.

  “It’s complicated,” he said, pain and guilt mixing together on his face.

  “It’s not complicated. You’re reacting to the information that I was sexually assaulted.”

  Anger flashed through his eyes. “You should have told me what happened to you.”

  “I don’t see why.” That was a defensive lie. She knew now.

  “I had a right to know.” His expression was full of accusation.

  “What difference would it have made?”

  “When we were intimate—You should have—” He blew out a long breath.

  “The man who raped me took my virginity, Gabe. He took something beautiful, something that I wanted to give to the man I fell in love with. He took that and left me with nothing but an ugly memory. It was mine to do with as I pleased and it pleased me to keep it to myself.”

  Comprehension dawned in his expression. “That’s what broke up your engagement.”

  She nodded and was angry and mortified when her mouth trembled. Crying was not an option. When she could trust her voice, she said, “Things changed between us after I told him. He looked at me differently and wouldn’t touch me. I’d worked hard to put it behind me and not feel like damaged goods and all that work was a waste because telling him put me right back to square one. In his eyes I was dirty. Then he said I was too much for him to deal with.”

  “You could have trusted me,” Gabe said quietly.

  “Yeah. Right. The way you’re acting with your sister certainly inspires trust.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone and didn’t have the strength to be sorry.

  “It’s not the same—”

  She held up her hand. “The point is it was my past. It’s not something you just blurt out to anyone. You were my patient’s brother. I didn’t think it would matter whether or not you knew. Then it mattered too much.”

  “Why?”

  Because I love you, she wanted to say. She might have trusted him with that information once, but not now. “Forget it. The thing is, I’m here to find out why you’re avoiding your sister. Do us both a favor and don’t blame it on work again.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Then what is it? Amy is a single teenage mother. She has a little boy who is your nephew. You have to help her—”

  “No.” He stood suddenly and the angles of his face seemed sharper with intensity. “I’ve helped her with all I can. I can’t do anything for her now.”

  “Of course you can—The baby needs—”

  “How can I do anything for the baby when I don’t even want to see it?”

  “What?” She couldn’t believe she’d heard right.

  “I don’t want to see the baby,” he repeated. He closed his eyes for a moment and released a shuddering breath. “And if that’s not bad enough, I’m jealous of my sister.”

  “I
don’t understand.”

  “She didn’t want her child, Rebecca. I know why now. It’s not her fault. What happened to her bites, and I’d like nothing better than five minutes alone with the creep. I’m angry about what he did. And angry for myself. I can’t help it. She has what I wanted more than anything in the world, and fate snatched it right out of my hands.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Hannah and I were going to have a baby.”

  She couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d slapped her. Going to have a baby. Past tense. Oh, God. She whispered the question. “What happened, Gabe?”

  “She was pregnant when that car plowed into her. Did you know that a baby can only live four to five minutes inside its dead mother?” His eyes were dark with the awful memories. “Of course you do. You’re a doctor. You’re a smart lady.”

  “They had to take the baby early,” she guessed.

  “Right in one,” he confirmed. He smiled, but it wasn’t the least bit comforting. It was a dark and frightening expression. Then his gaze lost focus, as if he were somewhere else entirely. “She was a fighter.” He met her gaze. “I named her Lillian, after my mother.”

  “Oh, Gabe—” She stood and reached out a hand, then curled her fingers into her palm and put her fist on his desk.

  “Lilly lived for a week in the neonatal intensive care unit. She was a little bit bigger than the palm of my hand and had tubes everywhere. Her cry—” He stopped and shook his head. “It was so tiny. I didn’t know if she was in pain, and that tore me apart because I was willing her to survive and that could have been torture. But I needed her to live. I’d just lost her mother and I wanted to keep a part of Hannah with me. I was there the whole time, watching Lilly’s little chest rise and fall, listening for the beep of whatever piece of equipment was keeping her alive. Then she started to fail and there was nothing more they could do. And all I had left was silence.”

  “Gabe, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Pathetic, inadequate words.

  “I know.” The intensity drained out of him and he just looked tired. “I’m sorry, too.”

  Rebecca was sorry for him and herself. He’d lost the will to care when his child died. She only knew about him losing Hannah and thought she understood him, but she realized she wasn’t even close. She hadn’t truly known hope was grasping for purchase inside her until it slipped away. The power of the pain surprised her even more, and there was no treatment that could ease the ache of being right that he could never love her. There was no comfort in the fact that it had nothing to do with her past and everything to do with his.

  “Gabe, what happened to you was horrible. Worse than horrible. I can’t even put it into words.”

  “There’s a but coming,” he said.

  “No one knows better than a doctor that tragedy happens. It’s part of life and if there’s any positive at all, it’s that people are determined to get more out of whatever time they have. Hold on to the feeling of how short our existence is, how fragile, how unfair when it’s taken too soon. Some are inspired by loss.”

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s too bad.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know Hannah, but she must have been extraordinarily special if you and Amy loved her so much. Something tells me she’d be really ticked off at you for hiding from life.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me I have to go on,” he said angrily. “You have no idea what it was like.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know. But you can’t run away from life because of the bad stuff.”

  “Watch me.” The words were clipped and cold.

  She pulled her sweater tight around her and hated how much she wished it was his arms. “It does explain why you hate hospitals. I’m deeply sorry you didn’t get your miracle, but I can’t regret that Amy did.”

  “Now you know what a self-centered bastard I am.”

  “Not yet. But you’re close.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “Hannah and your daughter, Lilly, had no choice about abandoning you. You’re right about fate being responsible for that.”

  “Your point?”

  “What you’re doing to your sister is different. Your behavior is a conscious choice to abandon her and her child, your nephew. Your family. If you turn your back, it’s unforgivable.” She started out of his office and hesitated, then looked at him again. “I heard a saying once that stuck with me. We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.” She stared at him, memorizing every line, angle and shadow of his face while pain cut through her. When tears burned the back of her eyes, she willed them not to fall. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep her voice steady. “I never really understood what that meant until I met you.”

  After a night spent alternately remembering Rebecca telling him off and missing her, Gabe was tired. The walk down the hospital corridor toward his sister’s room had never seemed so long before. He didn’t necessarily agree with everything the doc had said, but one barb had hit home and stuck. He’d lost too many people he cared about. If he didn’t see Amy now, the damage might be insurmountable. The rift between them was just closing, and this could tear them apart forever.

  It was lunchtime and he’d called to make sure his sister hadn’t been discharged. In the hallway outside her room, he stopped and steeled himself. He caught a glimpse of his father putting stuffed animals and baby clothes into bags that he set by the chair. Then he gathered balloon and flower arrangements together into a group.

  Carleton’s back was to the door. “I think that’s everything, Amy. We just need the doctor’s okay and we can go.”

  “Then I guess I’m just in time.” Gabe took a step inside the room and looked at his sister, sitting on the bed and holding the baby.

  “Gabe!”

  His sister’s smile lit up her face for just a moment, then disappeared. For a split second she’d looked radiant. Now hostile Amy was back, and he couldn’t really blame her.

  “Hi, kiddo. How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  His father came forward and shook his hand, urging him farther into the room. “It’s good of you to come by.”

  There was no judgment in the words, but Gabe still felt guilty. He looked at his sister. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you sooner.”

  She shrugged. “No big deal.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “You’ve been busy. I understand.” She clutched the bundle in her arms tighter to her chest.

  They’d grown close since she’d insinuated herself into his life. He hated this distance and wanted back what they’d started to build.

  “It wasn’t because of work. It’s me. I’ve been going through some stuff—” He stopped when he saw movement from the blanket in her arms. Suddenly he saw an impossibly small fist waving in the air. Then there was a series of squeaks and grunts followed by a newborn cry.

  The pitifully weak wails of his daughter were carved forever into his mind and heart and he knew the difference. This child was healthy and strong, full of life.

  “It’s because of Lilly, isn’t it?” Amy asked.

  He met her gaze and nodded because he didn’t think he could get words past the lump in his throat.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabe,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories for you.”

  “I know you didn’t,” he said quickly. “It’s not your fault. It’s just—” he remembered Rebecca’s words “—fate.”

  His father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Fate has not been kind to you, son.”

  He glanced from the sympathy on his father’s face to the guilt on his sister’s. “It hasn’t been kind to any of us Thornes.”

  “It pretty much sucks,” she admitted. “But thanks to Rebecca I’ve been talking to a crisis counselor here at Mercy Medical and things feel a little better.” She g
lanced at their father. “Dad has made arrangements for me to see someone at home, too.”

  Gabe stood at the foot of her bed and folded his arms over his chest. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “I’m also going to get my GED and apply to colleges. Dad’s going to help me,” she added.

  It was almost as if she was telling him she didn’t need him any longer. Telling him she was sorry she’d inconvenienced him. And he felt like the world’s biggest jerk.

  “Look, Amy, I know you came to me because you didn’t believe you had anywhere else to go. I wish you’d never felt that way. I wish I could go back and have a do over. I wish I could have gotten it right the first time.”

  “It’s okay, Gabe—”

  “No, it’s not.” He moved beside the bed and looked down at her. He watched her take the tiny waving hand tenderly into her own and saw the love in her eyes for this baby that she hadn’t wanted. He knew Rebecca was right about miracles. His family had finally gotten one within the walls of Mercy Medical Center.

  “I’ve been a complete ass.”

  “Not complete,” she said, one corner of her mouth curving up. “Only half.”

  “Okay.” He laughed. “From now on, we talk things over that are bothering us. Deal?”

  She nodded. “That’s what I’m learning. Rebecca said she’s still learning, too.”

  Hearing her name made his chest go tight. He remembered the disappointment in her eyes when she’d left his office last night. He’d let her down and despised himself for that.

  “Learning is good.” He glanced down at the infant and finally let himself really look at the baby’s face. “I think he’s got your chin.”

  Amy beamed down at her baby. “That’s what Rebecca said.”

  Gabe remembered. Just before she’d insisted Amy hold the little guy—He didn’t even know what she was going to call the child. “Have you picked out a name?”

  “Matthew Gabriel.” When his gaze locked with hers, doubt crept in. “I hope that’s okay.”

  “Better than okay,” he said, and heard his voice crack.

  “Do you want to hold him?” she asked hesitantly.