“Don’t even ask.” Above the gauzy blue mask, her eyes were impossibly wide. “Nightmares are weird things.”
They left the lounge and stopped at the sink, where she folded up the too-long sleeves of the gown and thoroughly washed her hands and wrists.
He did the same while she dried off with the towels that popped up from a dispenser on the wall.
And then it was time.
The curtain had been drawn across the window that looked into the room. The heavy wide door was slightly ajar and Adam pushed it open with his elbow, waiting for Laurel to enter first.
Her eyes clung to his for a long moment, then she pressed her hand into his and went inside.
They both went stock-still at the sight of the other man standing next to the crib. Even gowned up the same way they were, he was still recognizable.
At least to Adam.
Eric Johnson’s eyes met his for a brief moment, then dropped to their clasped hands. He looked away. “He’s sleeping,” he said quietly and reached into the crib for a moment. “Angelica said you expected to get here today. I thought I’d be gone by the time—” He broke off and looked at them again. “I know when it’s my cue to leave.”
He passed them out into the hall, hesitating briefly in front of Laurel.
Adam felt her hand trembling in his. He covered her shoulder with his other.
Eric tugged the mask down his chin. His twisted smile was humorless and full of regret.
“It didn’t last very long, but I like to think I was a good father.” He reached under his gown and emerged with an envelope. “Margaret Malloy’s still getting the birth certificate worked out. The social worker,” he added for Laurel’s benefit.
“Her letter’s in here explaining the DNA mess. Turns out there’s a whale of a difference between a 99 percent likelihood of paternity backed up by enough personal statements to convince a judge, and a 99.99 percent likelihood that doesn’t have to be backed by anything at all except the science.” He held out the envelope and Adam took it with fingers that felt numb. “I’d say I’ll see you around, but I figure that’s nothing any one of us wants to hear. So...” He leaned over and brushed a quick kiss against Laurel’s masked cheek. “Goodbye, Laurel.” Then he walked away.
Laurel suddenly pulled away from Adam and went through the doorway after him. “Eric, wait.”
Adam closed his eyes. The last bit of suspicion he’d been holding on to of Laurel having reason to fear Eric circled down the drain.
He’d known it.
Hadn’t he known this would happen all along?
So why did it still feel like he’d been kicked in the kidneys?
A soft whimper from the crib made him open his eyes.
He looked over to see Linus—his son—pushing his padded butt up in the air. He was wearing a stretchy one-piece thing patterned in sailboats that covered him from neck to toes and his brown tufts of hair stood out at all sorts of odd angles.
Adam swallowed hard. His eyes were burning. Whether because of Linus or because of Laurel, he didn’t know.
Didn’t much care right at that particular moment in time.
He dropped the envelope on the counter next to the doorway before slowly lifting the baby from the crib. Instead of fussing, though, Linus just kicked his feet, clearly excited to be escaping.
He was taller than Adam had expected. And far, far lighter. Which just served to remind him how delicate life could be. “Hey there, buddy.”
Linus eyed him curiously, then reached out to hook his fingers on the mask.
“Yeah,” Adam said huskily, “I don’t like it, either.” He held him closer. Linus smelled sweet. Like babies always did. “This is all pretty confusing, isn’t it? Even for us grownups.”
Linus wriggled. He grabbed unsuccessfully at the mask again, showing off a dimple as he grinned.
Adam caught the baby’s fist and kissed it through his mask. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Linus chortled and promptly sank his pink sharpish gums around Adam’s knuckle.
He pressed his lips to the little round head. “You’ve got your mama’s eyes.”
* * *
Outside the room, Eric stopped and stared incredulously at Laurel. “You remember me?”
She pulled off her mask, shaking her head as she studied his face, searching for some smidgeon of familiarity. But the only reason he didn’t look like a total stranger was because she’d watched the news video so many times now. “I’m sorry. I... I don’t.”
He looked pained. “Then why come after me?”
“Because I feel like I need to...to apologize. At least.”
His lips twisted. “For what? Breaking up with me? Having someone else’s baby even though you told me in a letter that I was going to be a father?”
She started. “What letter?”
“It was in your overnight bag. The one you left behind at your folks’ place last year. Maybe they felt sorry for me or something, but they sent it to me before Christmas.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “Maybe things weren’t perfect with us, but you could have told me the truth, Laurel, instead of running off and nearly getting yourself killed. I can’t even tell you what a roller coaster the past few months have been.”
She probed her mind, trying to remember ever writing a letter to Eric. But she couldn’t even remember him.
She spread her hands. “If things weren’t perfect, why did you want to marry me?”
“I’ve asked myself that a hundred times,” he said wearily. “I’m thirty-five years old. It was time to settle down. And we were good together. I had my business. You had the art museum. We had the same tastes. We enjoyed each other’s company. It made sense.” He shook his head. “I thought it made sense, anyway. If you’d told me the truth about the baby, we still could have made things work.”
“The letter.” The base of her head throbbed. “I actually wrote, ‘Dear Eric—’”
He made a sound. “‘My only love,’” he said gruffly. “‘I wish I were braver. I wish I deserved you. I don’t know how to tell you that we made a baby together—’” His lips twisted and he looked over her head toward Linus’s room. “Foolish of me to assume the letter was meant for me. I realize otherwise now. But you had at one time agreed to be my wife.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling helpless.
“Story of my life,” he murmured.
“You deserve more,” she said suddenly. “Everyone should deserve more than a relationship that just makes sense.” She spread her hands. “I hope you find that, Eric. If for no other reason than that you were there for Linus when I wasn’t.”
He sighed heavily. “I was fine before you, you know. I’ll be fine after you. But Linus—” He shook his head. “That’s gonna take longer than I want to think about right now.”
“I know it’s not a perfect solution, but you don’t have to disappear from his life.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Laurel. Maybe one day. But for right now, I’m too old to pretend that I don’t know it’s long past the time to leave the party.”
And with that, he turned and walked away.
She stood there in the hall even after he’d disappeared, trying to put a name to the feeling inside her.
Angelica walked past, carrying a plastic bucket filled with medical supplies. “Everything okay?”
“I have no idea,” Laurel admitted rawly.
Angelica smiled gently. “You don’t have to be afraid. Just go in there and hold your baby,” she advised. “Everything else will either fall into place or won’t. But you’ll have your baby in your arms.”
The nurse was right. Everything else would either fall into place or it wouldn’t. Laurel could either worry about the past or she could start making her future.
She donned the mask once more and rewashed and
dried her hands, and this time when she walked into the hospital room, she held her shoulders straight.
Adam was sitting in the rocking chair she hadn’t even noticed the first time. Linus was on his lap, bouncing and wobbling and garbling sweet, sweet baby sounds.
She was tired of the tears that came so easily and too often, but she could no more stop them now than she could stop the earth from turning.
She held out her arms.
Adam stood and settled Linus into them.
“He’s so perfect.” She pressed her cheek to the baby’s, and let out a bubbling sob. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so...so...sorry. I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”
“I’m very glad to hear that,” a man said from the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt your homecoming. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Adam said abruptly. “Laurel, this is Dr. Patel.”
She quickly swiped her cheeks as he entered, pulling his own mask into place. He was a head shorter than Laurel and slender as a reed, with a handshake that managed to be both comforting and authoritative. “Dr. Rama Patel,” he told her in a slightly British accent.
“Laurel Hudson,” she murmured. It was a wrench to let go of Linus with one arm for even as little time as it took to shake the doctor’s hand and when she did, Linus managed to grasp her mask and pull it aside. “I’m sorry he doesn’t want to cooperate where the masks are concerned.” She hastily straightened it.
“Babies like to see a person’s full face. Can’t blame them for that.” He touched his own mask. “These should soon be unnecessary, too.”
“Thank you for taking care of him.”
“This is my work,” he said, a smile in his eyes. He pressed his hands together, almost prayerlike. “I understand you’ve had a long journey.”
Laurel looked toward Adam. “An incomplete one, still.” She cradled Linus with both arms once more. He’d moved from playing with her mask to yanking on her hair. “Until we know he’s going to be okay.”
“A few more days of testing,” Dr. Patel said. “Then we will be more certain of it.” He patted the baby’s back. “Meanwhile, I’m sure you’re aware that we encourage mom and dad to stay here.” He spread his palms, encompassing the spacious room. “The bench there pulls out into a bed. It’s not a five-star resort, of course, but it serves the purpose fairly well.”
He gave Adam a wry glance. “It may be a few inches too short in your case. We also have a laundry area where you can take care of your personal needs, and a family kitchen. You can bring in your own food. Have meals together if you wish. Linus has no dietary restrictions. In all regards beside the obvious, he should be treated as a typical infant of his age.”
He lifted the chart that had been sitting on the counter and pulled a gold pen from his lapel pocket. “The more normal Linus’s life remains, the better off he’ll be.” His pen scratched across the page as he spoke. “And of course if you aren’t able to stay overnight, we’ll take excellent care of him until the day that you’re finally able to take him home.” He closed the chart with a soft snap. “Do you have any questions?”
She shook her head. “Thank you.”
“The nurses will check on him regularly,” he said. “If his temp stays normal by this evening, I think it’ll be safe for you to discontinue the gowns and mask.” Then he bowed his head slightly and left. He pulled the door closed after him.
Laurel looked over at Adam. “I’m staying.”
“Figured as much.” He pushed off the rocking chair and started for the door.
She felt a quick bolt of panic. “Where are you going?”
“To get your stuff from the truck.”
“Oh, right.” She felt foolish then. “Thanks.”
He pulled open the door and left.
The room felt suddenly very large and very empty without him.
She pressed her cheek against Linus’s forehead and scooped a plastic ball out of the crib before she sat down in the rocking chair.
“That’s your daddy,” she whispered. The ball was really just a brightly colored hollow shell with dozens of holes for inquisitive little fingers to latch onto. She waggled it in front of Linus. He grabbed it and eagerly tried to fit it into his mouth—a hopeless endeavor considering its size. “He’s pretty amazing,” she whispered, “but you’re going to find that out for yourself before long. He’ll never ever let you down.”
Linus smiled toothlessly and pitched the ball at her face.
She caught it with a little laugh.
And then she cradled him to her and cried.
Chapter Fifteen
Laurel was lying on the floor with Linus when Adam returned to the room, and even though he could tell she’d been crying, her eyes were brilliant. “He can roll over!”
“That’s great.” He set her tote on the bench that could turn into a bed. A bed that, for all he knew, she’d be sharing with Eric.
He cordoned off that thought and pulled out his wallet and extracted his credit card and several bills of cash.
She looked confused. “What’s that for?”
“In case you need anything for Linus. I doubt Eric’ll let him go without anything, but he’s my son.” He set it all on the bench next to the tote. “I’ll come back tomorrow when I can.”
She looked even more bewildered. “But you...you’re leaving?”
“Laurel, I can’t stay here with you and him.”
“But we need you!”
“It’s been a long day. On top of several long days. The only thing you need to do is focus on Linus.”
“I...see.” But she clearly didn’t. “What about you? What do you need to focus on?”
Not losing his mind entirely. But that was like closing the coop after the screaming banshees had already escaped. “You want a laundry list?” He held up his hand. “The rental car needs to be turned in. Provisions doesn’t have a manager on site right now with me here and Ashley out sick. I’ve got to figure out the medical insurance mess to make sure everything going on here continues going on here. I need to let Dr. Granger know you’re safe and get a damn book or something so I don’t feel like a complete ass when it comes to knowing when my son is ready to start eating real food!”
Her jaw had dropped. She suddenly reached down and scooped up Linus and plopped him in Adam’s arms. “Shut up, Adam. Just shut up and hold your son. You don’t have to be the one who always fixes everything all the time. Sometimes—like right now—you can just be.” She pushed at him and he was so surprised by her vehemence that he actually let her.
He felt the edge of the chair against his legs and sat.
She propped her hands on her hips and he realized then that she hadn’t rolled down her sleeves after using the sink outside the room and the scars on her inner arm stood out, vivid and pink.
“It’s going to get too crowded in here.”
“This is bigger than the Captain’s Quarters,” she said irritably. “Stop hunting for excuses to leave. Your place is here. With Linus.”
“But not with you.”
She flinched. “Well, at least we have that clear.” She raked her hair from her face and grabbed her tote, clutching it as if it contained her life’s worth. Which, aside from the baby on Adam’s lap, it did.
“This room has its own bathroom,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower and then I’m going to find the laundry facility that Dr. Patel mentioned and wash my clothes. And you and Linus will have this place all to yourselves while I do. And that’s the best I can do right now to give you your space. Once the baby’s well enough to go home, I’ll figure out the next step. Shocking though it might be, I am actually capable of figuring some things out on my own!”
Linus’s face screwed up in an expression very similar to his mother’s and he let out a loud wail.
“Now look what you’ve do
ne!”
“Me?” Adam stood, jiggling the baby, which didn’t do the least bit of good to soothe either one of them. “You’re the one yelling.” He looked to the doorway, expecting to see Eric rushing through it at any moment. “He’s not used to either one of us.”
“Babies are resilient.” She lifted Linus out of Adam’s arms. “He’ll adjust.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know!” She carried Linus around the room in a rocking, swaying sort of way that had as little effect as Adam’s jiggling. “I read it somewhere!”
Listening to the baby cry was almost as hard to bear as Laurel’s tears. “Just go get him,” he said roughly.
“Get who? Dr. Patel? I don’t think he—”
“Eric!” Adam swore when Laurel just stared at him like he’d grown another head. He crossed the room in a couple strides and threw open the door, fully expecting to see the other man in the hallway, waiting.
But the only person in the hall was a white-haired woman pushing an oversize rack of meal trays.
The wail from inside the room was nearly as loud outside the room. Adam reentered and closed the door. Laurel was still walking Linus around the room. “Where is Eric?”
“How would I know? Gone home? Gone to his office?”
Adam propped his fists on his hips. “Why the hell isn’t he here?”
“Why the hell should he be?”
God save him. “Because you went after him!”
Laurel stopped, midstep. “To tell him I was sorry. Not to ask him to stay.”
Linus hiccupped into silence. He’d found his thumb and dropped his head onto Laurel’s shoulder.
“You were going to marry him.”
“And as I’ve had pointed out to me more than once, I backed out!” She exhaled audibly and pressed her cheek against Linus’s head. “I wasn’t in love with Eric. Not the way I should have been.”
“You don’t remember, though.”
“I don’t need to,” she said tiredly. “If I’d been in love with him the way I—” She broke off and carried Linus over to the changing table and laid him atop the padded surface. “I wouldn’t have slept with you if everything had been right between Eric and me. I might not remember everything, but that’s one thing I am absolutely certain about.”
The Texan's Baby Bombshell (The Fortunes 0f Texas: Rambling Rose Book 6) Page 19