by Janice Lynn
Smiling at a visitor coming into the hospital, she exited through the automatic doors. Her heart fluttering, she took off down the sidewalk, not sure where she was headed, just having to get outside the building to process what she’d seen on Adam’s face. Even if just for a few minutes during break while Kelly covered her patients.
Adam had looked…possessive. Silly her, seeing him for the first time since learning of their baby, she’d wanted to blurt out the news. Right then and there, she’d wanted to tell him they were having a baby.
She wanted to share with the world how excited she was that she was going to be a mother.
She wanted to be able to share her excitement with Adam. How crazy was that, given the way he’d acted the last time they’d seen each other?
“Liz?”
Liz did a double-take at the frail-looking woman in the wheelchair. If not for the familiar salt-and-pepper-browed man pushing her along the sidewalk she might not have recognized May at all. “May, it’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” Despite her obvious pain and illness, the woman smiled. “You’re in a hurry?”
Was she? A minute ago she’d had overwhelming claustrophobia, but seeing May so deteriorated in such a short time, Liz didn’t have the heart to rush on. “Not really. I stepped out for fresh air while taking my break.”
May glanced around at the well-tended hospital lawn and Liz followed her gaze, taking in their surroundings. Multicolored Binkas bloomed all along the mulched flower-beds. A few butterflies danced from bloom to bloom, seemingly without a care in the world.
How easy it was in life to forget to stop to enjoy the beauty of the moment, to smell the roses, so to speak. Not that Liz could smell the flowers over the stifling aroma of the nearby fast-food restaurants that were nestled into the lot next to the hospital.
“We passed by your house on our way to a prayer meeting last evening. Your grandfather’s rosebushes are as lovely as ever.”
Had May read her mind?
“Gramps loved those roses,” Liz said wistfully, recalling many a day when her grandfather had tended the demanding flowers. When he’d still been able to. Then he’d tediously instructed her on their care.
“I always was jealous of those gorgeous blooms. Never could get mine to look the way his did. Few can.” Her gaze softened. “You’re very much like him, you know.”
“Thank you.” Liz beamed. She couldn’t have been paid a nicer compliment.
Catching her breath in a sharp gasp, May’s face pinched in pain. Her hands gripped her wheelchair for a few moments before she returned her gaze to Liz.
“We should be going,” May’s husband reminded her from where he stood behind the wheelchair. “Your appointment is in fifteen minutes.”
Liz wanted to ask more, to discover who May was seeing, but her expression was so hollow that she didn’t want to delay her. She’d seen Dr Mills’s notes. He’d recommended May to see a pain specialist to ease her suffering and improve the quality of her remaining days. Perhaps that’s where she was headed.
Knowing what it was like to watch someone suffer as they waited to die, Liz’s heart went out to May and John.
She stooped, kissed May’s cheek. “Thank you for your kind words about Gramps. I always feel closer to him when I speak with you. Take care of yourself, and if there’s anything I can do, anything at all, let me know.”
The couple nodded, then John pushed his wife toward the hospital entrance.
Liz made a mental note to prepare a meal for the Probsts. She’d stop by, visit, offer to help with cleaning or shopping. Even the most mundane things could seem difficult when one was seriously ill.
Yes, she’d definitely stop by to visit with the Probsts and perhaps by then she’d be able to share her wonderful news with the couple.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEVEN hours in the operating room and still going, Adam paused long enough for the nurse to swab his forehead. He was sweating like hell. Tired as hell. Numb as hell.
His fingertips had little feeling left in them, to the point he battled whether or not he should close May up and call it quits.
No, if he and the two other surgeons—one vascular and one nephrologist—didn’t finish the job, May had no hope.
Not to mention the hospital board would possibly suspend him since they’d barely given their approval for him to go ahead.
Never in his career at Robertsville had he had to ask permission to operate on a patient. The board had called him to task the moment he’d scheduled May’s surgery. Called a meeting that had been more about Dr Mills’s arrogance than real concern for the patient. Called a meeting that had delayed May’s surgery longer than Adam liked. With each day that had passed, she’d weakened.
So far she was holding her own. Only once had her blood pressure dropped. They’d administered a vasoconstrictor, increased her fluids, and she’d steadied out. They’d also given her several bags of packed red blood cells because of the amount of blood she’d lost. But she was doing better than anyone could have predicted. That could change in a heartbeat.
In the slip of a numb finger.
“You OK?” the nurse assisting him asked, causing the vascular surgeon to glance toward Adam.
He could do this. For May. If he stopped…
“Fine.” Adam nodded and continued the tedious task of removing the entangled tumor from May while the other surgical teams worked simultaneously. He used sight to guide his way when the sensation in his fingers failed him. Thank God his vision wasn’t as blurred as it was at times.
An hour later, Adam surveyed his work. Not all of the tumor was gone, but the bulk of the mass had been removed, along with numerous branches. Unfortunately May’s right kidney and ureter had also been cut out as they hadn’t been able to save them. The tumor had been too embedded into the tissue.
Amazingly, the surgery was a success. The only thing left was finishing touches.
Touches he wasn’t able to do.
He couldn’t feel his left hand, his head hurt like hell, and he’d started squinting to sharpen his vision. To go further was a risk he couldn’t take.
He turned to the vascular surgeon. “You OK to finish up without me?”
Surprised, Dr Robards nodded and continued what he was doing. Adam stepped away.
His head spun and he swayed.
“Dr Cline?” the nurse said from right beside him. “Dr Cline, are you OK?”
No, Adam wasn’t.
He couldn’t see a damned thing out of his right eye.
From that eye, the world had gone black.
Having arranged for another physician to cover the ER for a few hours until he returned, Adam’s friend Larry drove him to the hospital in Jackson. Fortunately he didn’t ask too many questions. Without Adam having to say a thing, Larry knew.
Of course, it had been his friend who’d first diagnosed his MS. His friend who’d called the neurologist Adam had been seeing and begged him to see Adam that evening as a special favor.
Larry who’d asked if he should call Liz.
If anything, what had happened today proved that he’d done the right thing to push Liz away. What if his sight hadn’t returned? What if both eyes had gone blind and stayed that way? Sure, he would eventually have learned to cope, but Liz would have been stuck with the fallout. Stuck with a man who wasn’t the man she deserved.
He loved her too much to saddle her with that.
“The temporary blindness was from extreme fatigue, Adam. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. I know Dr Winters told you there was no reason you couldn’t continue to work, but taking on a case on like May Probst’s was insane.”
“I have cut back on my hours,” Adam reminded. He’d cut his former workload by a third. His staff and colleagues all thought it had to do with his and Liz’s problems. Just as they must think his haggard appearance was related to his personal problems.
Oh, yeah, he’d cut back. Not that he’d had much rest. Instead, he’d d
ream of Liz, of the days when he’d been healthy, and he’d thought he’d grow old at her side.
“But you still pulled something stupid,” Larry continued. “You know better.”
Doing May’s surgery was stupid according to the hospital board, but letting a woman die without attempting desired treatment, well, that was downright cruel in Adam’s eyes. Particularly at the moment.
What he wouldn’t give for even a slim chance of something healing him, what he’d be willing to risk for that chance—everything.
“And now everyone knows something is wrong with me.” Adam sighed. He’d almost passed out in the OR. Had literally sat down on the OR floor. Which really had been stupid as he’d distracted everyone from May. Thank God she’d done well.
Perhaps part of him had been rebellious, fighting against diseases that robbed life. By taking on May’s case he’d somehow felt empowered, as if he had been striking out at his own body’s ailments.
“They’ll probably write it off as fatigue, stress over May’s surgery, or on your problems with Liz. Perhaps even blame it on a hypoglycemic reaction since you’d been in surgery so long.”
“Perhaps,” Adam agreed. He hated anyone thinking him incapable. Hated the thought that he’d been numb and blind for what had seemed like for ever but in actuality had only been a couple of minutes.
“If Dr Winters doesn’t put you on medical leave, I want you to take a few days off work, Adam. Get some rest.”
Rest. What a joke. “I’ll go crazy if I have to sit at home doing nothing.”
“Then take a vacation. Go play golf. Go on a cruise. Make up with Liz. Please, make up with Liz. Let her help you through this.”
He ignored the making-up-with-Liz suggestion. Ignored the pang that went along with the thought she might be with someone else this very minute, laughing, smiling, sharing dinner, more.
“Fine, I’ll rest.” Today had scared him more than he liked to admit, but not nearly as much as the thought of how he’d react the first time he saw Liz with another man. How would he contain what he had no right to feel? “But not until after I finish this week’s schedule. I’ve already rescheduled appointments too many times over the past month.”
His friend shot him a glance from the driver’s side of the car. “Dr Winters may put you on medical leave, Adam. I hope he does. If he asks my opinion, that’s what I’m going to tell him.”
“Which is why you won’t be invited into the exam room when he examines me.”
Larry glared.
“Actually,” Adam conceded, “my schedule is fairly light. I’d given myself time…in case things didn’t go well with my injections.”
Larry shook his head. “And they say nurses make bad patients. Surgeons are far worse.”
* * *
Late that night Liz paced across her living room and racked her brain for clues as to what she should say to Adam.
She’d exchanged work days with another nurse today and gone for her doctor’s appointment that morning. Not only had Dr Saunders confirmed her pregnancy, she’d listened to the baby’s heartbeat with an ultrasonic Doppler that had allowed her to listen as well.
Their child had a strong, steady heartbeat.
Almost giddy with the confirmation, with the affirmation given by listening to that heartbeat, she’d made a casserole and some goodies and stopped by the Probsts’ home. Once there she’d learned from a neighbor that May wasn’t home, had been in surgery that day.
She’d called the hospital to check on her, but had only been told that May was holding her own.
Adam had operated.
The board had only given its OK grudgingly.
He’d put his career on the line to attempt to save a woman’s life.
Because it was the right thing to do.
That was the Adam she loved.
The Adam who’d stood by her side many a long night caring for her grandfather, who’d stood by her side at his funeral, who’d fathered her baby.
Adam’s baby.
The weather had turned drizzly, but she was too wound up to sit at home.
Not when she wanted to scream her news to the world. She was having Adam’s baby!
Now that she had the lab slip from Dr Saunders there wasn’t any reason to prolong telling him. OK, so the weather was a little foggy, but not too bad.
Her silly heart was racing again. Probably because of worry about Adam’s reaction.
She loved Adam, never wanted to see him hurt, and when she thought back on the last time she’d seen him, he had looked hurt.
He’d looked jealous, but hurt had also shone in his eyes. Tormented hurt almost.
Why would Adam be hurt? She’d reached out repeatedly only to have him push her away time and again.
For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what might have changed. Then again, those first few days following Gramps’s death she’d moved in a fog. Perhaps she’d said something out of line. Something that had hurt Adam and made him step away from the closeness they’d shared.
What of his distraction? The times she’d caught him rubbing his temple? Had that only been a stress reaction? A headache?
She only knew one way to find out. The same way Adam was going to find out about the wonderful blessing they’d been given. She had to tell him.
She glanced at her watch. It was late, after ten. Adam would be home, unless he’d been called into the emergency room or one of his patients had a problem. If he had been called to the hospital, she’d wait for him to return.
Slipping on a pair of sandals, Liz grabbed her purse and car keys.
The heavy fog oppressing the night made the drive even more harried, caused the muscles between her shoulders to tighten.
Twenty tense minutes later she stood outside Adam’s front door, her confidence wavering. What if he refused to let her in? What if he turned her away? What if he said he didn’t care that she was pregnant with his baby?
She placed her palm protectively over her abdomen. She wanted this baby so much. How could he not want a baby he’d help create?
She knocked on the door and waited. And waited some more.
She knocked again. Louder this time.
She heard movement inside the condo, heard footsteps.
When the door opened, she sighed in relief, knowing she’d been right to come.
Adam looked terrible, as if he’d lost his whole world.
Was he dreaming that Liz was standing on his doorstep?
No, there was too much uncertainty in her eyes for this to be a dream. In his dreams he’d be free to take her in his arms and never let her go. His vision wouldn’t be blurred—although blurred was a hell of a lot more preferable to total blackout—and his fingertips wouldn’t feel like they were on fire. His legs wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t feel as if they might go out from under him.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice came out gruffer than he’d meant it to. Mostly because he was so tired, so frustrated with the lot he’d been dealt.
He wasn’t sure he was strong enough tonight to face Liz and not take her in his arms. Hadn’t he already done that on the day he’d had his MS confirmed?
He’d gone, full of liquid courage, and shown up on her doorstep to gallantly tell her it was over. Only he’d wanted to cry in her arms like a little boy, wanted to lose his sorrows in the safety of her arms.
She’d welcomed him, loved him, helped him face that night.
Now she was here, on his doorstep, on a night when he faced demons. Demons of fatigue. Demons of having been blind. Demons of the fear that clawed at his psyche about what the future held for him.
“Go home, Liz.”
Her eyes widening, she took a step back and lost her balance. Automatically he grasped her arm to keep her from falling. Heat sizzled through him at the contact. A heat much hotter than the flame his disease burned his soul with. When she steadied, her gaze dropped to where he held her arm. Did her pulse throb at that contact the way his did?
> She took a deep breath, searched his face for reassurance he couldn’t give. “We need to talk, Adam. You know we do.”
She was right. He’d delayed this conversation too long already.
“You’re right.”
“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” she murmured as she walked past him, entering his condo.
How could he explain how weak he felt?
“Forgive me, but I’m too tired to stand,” she said, sitting on his sofa.
Despite the energy with which she’d stormed into his house, Liz did look tired. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, drawing attention to her puffy eyes. She looked exhausted.
As exhausted as he felt and probably looked, too.
His heart squeezed. “You should be home in bed. Not knocking on my door in the middle of the night.”
“I’ve been patient, Adam, for weeks. Now’s the time to clear the air between us.” She glanced around his living room, letting her gaze settle momentarily to a snapshot of them that rested on his mantel. Why hadn’t he gotten rid of that photo? Why had he been sitting on the sofa blankly staring at it before Liz’s knocking had broken into his reverie?
“We have things that need to be said.” Her gaze didn’t leave the happy couple in the print. They’d been at a hospital picnic celebrating twenty years of business in the community. Kelly had taken the photo and given him and Liz framed prints.
He loved this woman and it showed in that picture. Just as her feelings for him showed. Life had been near wonderful with the exception of Gramps. How had things gotten so out of control?
Shaking inside, Adam sat on the opposite end of the sofa. He didn’t want to hurt Liz.
“We should let things end without getting messy.”
She paled at his “let things end”, but kept her chin high. “Things are already messy, Adam. More so than you realize.”
He wasn’t strong enough, not tonight. He needed her to leave, needed her not to make doing the right thing more difficult. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I care,” she said point blank, not budging an inch.
“You shouldn’t.”