Scarlet turned away, held herself tightly, fearing for the first time in years she might cry. For Holly who’d died too young. For Joey now alone in the world. For her own infant and not knowing if she’d suffered, if anyone had cuddled her close before she’d died, or if she’d been ruthlessly given away to strangers while Scarlet lay in a drug-induced slumber.
“You okay?” Dr. Jackson asked quietly.
Of course she was. Scarlet wasn’t new to nursing. Holly wasn’t the first of her patients to die. But there was something about her…“What do you think happened?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “Some congenital heart defect that couldn’t withstand labor and delivery. A pulmonary embolism. Any number of pre-existing conditions that could have worsened or arisen during her pregnancy that we didn’t know about. Dr. Gibbons is an excellent doctor. I have total confidence he did all he could do.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
As if to share her agreement, little Joey Doe let out a little cry and they both looked down at their tiny patient. “Her color is improving,” Scarlet noted. “And she’s more alert.”
With skilled, gentle hands, Dr. Jackson examined the increasingly active baby. “Heart rate down to one hundred and twenty. I’d give her a second Apgar score of seven.”
Not a perfect ten, but improved. Scarlet documented it in her notes.
“She’s stable enough for transport up to the NICU,” Dr. Jackson said. Then he helped her get Joey situated in the incubator.
“After I get her settled in I’ll access her ER file and enter my documentation.”
“If you run into any trouble, let me know.” He held out his hand and she shook it. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime.” She went to remove her hand from his grip but he held it there.
“We need to talk about Jessie,” Dr. Jackson said. So serious. Did the man ever smile? According to Jessie, no he did not.
Scarlet took a moment to admire his tall, athletic build and short brown hair mixed with a hint of grey at his temples. He had a look of confidence and prestige she would have found very attractive on someone else. “No,” Scarlet said, looking to where he held her hand. “You need to talk to your daughter.” She looked up at him. “And here’s a helpful hint to improving communication between the two of you.” She yanked her hand back. “Stop comparing her to the perfect little boy you used to be. Just because you loved swimming and boating and all things water when you were a child, doesn’t mean she does.”
Later that night Lewis stood in his designer kitchen, eyeing the modern stainless steel handle on the high-end black cabinet that contained the bottles of wine he’d kept at the ready in case any of his dates wanted a glass, and considered uncorking one. Although he wasn’t in the habit of drinking alone, it’d been the kind of day followed by the kind of night that warranted a little alcohol consumption to facilitate a return to his pre-Jessie level of calm.
But Lewis Jackson had never turned to alcohol to drown his problems before, and he refused to start now. He was a problem solver, a thinker and a fixer. And to do those things he required a clear head.
Since his daughter had taken up permanent residence in the loft guestroom, he tended to avoid the living area below after she went to sleep. So he walked down the hall to his bedroom, the smooth hardwood floors cool beneath his bare feet, the central air maintaining the perfect air temperature, his two bedroom luxury condo decorated to his exact specifications for style, comfort and function. And yet his home no longer brought him the welcoming serenity it once had.
Jessie hadn’t said more than a handful of words—all of them monosyllabic—to him since they’d left the hospital, even after he’d insisted they eat their takeout grilled chicken Caesar salads together in the kitchen for a change. What an uncomfortable meal that’d been. Jessie, staring down at her plate, moving the chicken around with her fork. Lewis, trying to engage her in conversation, to offer reassurance about her trip to Lake George, to find out more about her relationship with Scarlet Miller, and, for the hundredth time, to gain some insight into the functioning of the pre-pubescent female mind. A booby-trapped labyrinth of erratic and illogical thought processes he could not seem to navigate through, despite successful completion of several child psychology classes and licensure as a pediatrician.
After nine arduous months of trying, and failing his daughter at every crisis, Lewis gave in to the cold, hard fact: He could not do it alone.
And yet again, an image of Scarlet Miller popped into his head. A pretty yet unfriendly woman and a skilled professional, who, he’d found out on further inquiry, received high praise and much respect from her peers and upper management. But at the moment, all that mattered to him was her relationship with his daughter.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the slip of paper he’d stashed there earlier, and glanced at his watch. A few minutes after eleven o’clock.
It was too late to call, but his need to talk to her, to get answers and beg for her assistance overrode common phone etiquette. After hours and hours spent considering his options, Lewis had come to the conclusion Scarlet Miller was his key to deciphering Jessie’s passive-aggressive behavior and learning her secrets, to understanding her and starting a productive dialogue between them, so he could help her, so he could, please God, find something about her to love.
Lewis picked up his phone and dialed.
After a few rings a groggy female voice answered, “Hello?”
Great, he’d woke her up. And the last thing he wanted to do was anger his best hope for achieving a healthy, positive relationship with his daughter. He cleared his throat. “Hi. It’s Lewis.”
“I’m sorry. You have the wrong number.”
“Wait. Is this Scarlet Miller?” he rushed to ask before she disconnected the call, and before it registered that if she hung up, she’d never know he was the inconsiderate louse who’d woken her. Well…unless she had caller ID. Then he’d no doubt come off looking even worse.
“Yes,” she answered.
“It’s me. Lewis Jackson. Jessie’s dad.”
“Is she okay?” Scarlet sounded instantly awake. “Did something happen?”
Lewis liked and appreciated her concern for his daughter. “No, she’s fine. Upstairs asleep.” At least as far as he knew. And since he’d learned the hard way never to assume Jessie was where she was supposed to be, Lewis walked to the doorway, poked his head into the hallway to confirm it was indeed eavesdropper-free, then closed and locked his bedroom door, just in case it didn’t stay that way.
“How did you get this number?” Scarlet asked. “I’m sure I didn’t give it to you. And I doubt Jessie would have shared it.”
Okay, time for some fast talking. “I just happened to come across the card you’d given to Jessie,” after searching for it in her backpack and pocketbook while she was in the shower—bad, reprehensible father—“while checking her plethora of pockets before putting her pants in the wash,” he lied. “I took it as a sign I should call you.”
Silence.
“Hello?” he asked.
She let out a decidedly feminine, sultry sounding moan which made him question, “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” She did it again. “I don’t typically talk on the phone when I’m in bed. I’m trying to find a comfortable position.”
And just like that, with the mere mention she was in bed, without-sex-for-nine-long-months-brain overtook concerned-father-brain with an enticing visual of her luscious body. A comfortable position came to mind. Scarlet spread out on top of satin sheets. Naked. Waiting.
His sex-starved body went hard.
“Soooo, you called me,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
A loaded question if ever there was one. Because right this instant he wanted her to talk dirty, to touch herself and tell him all about it, to describe her aroused nipples and slick… Lord help him. Prolonged abstinence had effectively eradicated his ability to engage in casual
nighttime conversation with a woman. From bedroom to bedroom. And if he took a few small steps, from bed to bed. And from out of nowhere, the idea of phone sex popped into his head.
“Hello. Everything okay over there?”
Totally disgusted with himself, Lewis rubbed his hand over his face and let out a breath. “A bad day followed by a bad night combined with a non-existent sex life since my daughter came to live with me and I am conjuring up totally inappropriate visuals of you, a woman I have known for less than twenty-four hours, at the simple mention of you getting comfortable in bed. In my defense, you were making some very sexy noises a moment ago, so I hold you partly responsible. But I assure you, when I picked up the phone to make this call my intentions were purely G-rated.”
“And now what are they?” she teased.
“Let’s just say, the next time you see me you owe me a slap across the face, because I totally deserve it.”
Turned out she had a sexy laugh, too.
He shifted in the recliner to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. Not good. Scarlet Miller was not the woman to slake his lust. He needed her to fix things between him and Jessie and would not risk anything interfering with his top priority. “Please accept my sincerest apologies.”
“Accepted, but not necessary,” she said. “For the record, you could pass for sexy on the phone, too.”
“You are not helping.”
“Do you want to know what I’m wearing?” she taunted him.
“Absolutely not,” he lied.
“I could—”
“Stop it.”
“Fine,” she said. “But you started it.”
“And I’m going to finish it.” Only because someone had to. “I called to talk about Jessie. To try to sweet talk you into sharing some more helpful hints on improving communication between us, because the direct approach is not working.”
“Too bad. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to having phone sex.”
Did he detect a hint of disappointment? “Oddly enough, me, too,” he admitted. And why did he feel so comfortable sharing that tidbit with a woman he hardly knew?
“You know you’re putting me in a tough spot,” Scarlet said, her voice serious. “I can’t betray things Jessie has told me in confidence. She really needs a friend to talk to, and right now I’m it. It took me a long time to get her to open up.”
He wanted to ask how she’d managed that, but decided to start with, “Would you at least tell me how you met?”
She took so long to answer Lewis had started to worry she wouldn’t.
“That I can do.” It sounded like she repositioned herself in bed. Again. “I work late on Tuesdays and Thursdays to spend some time with my night staff. So I take a break at three.”
“Right around when I send Jessie down to get a snack after school.”
“The cafeteria isn’t usually busy at that time so I noticed her, always sitting there by herself with that ‘don’t talk to me’ look.”
Lewis hated that look.
“I saw a lot of my thirteen-year-old self in Jessie. Mad at the world. Too much time alone and unsupervised. Do you honestly think she’s safe wandering around alone in a city hospital for hours waiting for you to get off work?”
Lewis did not appreciate the censure in her tone. She had no idea how hard he’d tried. “That was her doing not mine. I told her what would happen if she made one more babysitter quit. And she’s not supposed to be wandering around alone,” he pointed out maybe a little too forcefully. Calm it down. “She’s supposed to be in my office doing her homework.” Except his little Houdini always managed to sneak out without anyone seeing then show up hours later when it was time to go home. “What do you suggest I do? Let her stay at my condo all alone until I get home, like she’d prefer? Maybe some thirteen-year-olds are ready for that. But in my opinion Jessie isn’t.” And his opinion was the one that mattered.
“I agree,” Scarlet said, surprising him. “But it’s a moot point since I’ve got her spending her afternoons up in the NICU wing now.”
“Where?” Why?
“We have a family lounge. It’s geared towards the siblings of our babies who are often overlooked while their parents focus their attention on their sick infant. So we made them a special place with video games, toys, computers to do their homework, a television and a kid-friendly library that holds everything from picture books to young adult novels. Jessie comes up to read every afternoon.”
Jessie liked to read? They actually had something in common? Yet in the nine months she’d been living with him he’d never seen her with a book.
“I’m sorry. I assumed she told you.”
“Aside from mostly no’s and the occasional yes, she hardly speaks to me. I do get a lot of shrugs, exasperated breaths and eye rolls, though. And when she does surprise me with a full sentence, it’s usually to tell me how much she hates me, that she knows I don’t want her, or that she wishes I’d died instead of her mother.” Then he’d rather she’d just stayed quiet.
“She has a lot of anger.”
Rightly so. But, “It’s been nine months. Shouldn’t it be dissipating a bit by now?”
“If only time was all she needed.”
“Tell me what she needs. I’ll do anything.”
Silence.
“Please,” Lewis said. “If you want me to beg, I will.” He slid to the edge of the recliner, fully prepared to drop to his knees. “I am that desperate.”
Silence.
Lewis started to lose hope that Scarlet would be the panacea he needed.
Then she spoke. “If you can slip up to the NICU family lounge around four o’clock tomorrow you’ll see a different side of Jessie. One that I’m sure will make you proud.”
An opportunity he would not miss. “I’ll be there.”
“She can’t know I told you. Say you came up to check on baby Joey, and my staff told you where to find me.”
“Will do.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity for a positive interaction with your daughter, Lewis. Don’t screw it up.”
CHAPTER THREE
AT THREE-THIRTY on Wednesday afternoon, washed up and gowned, Scarlet opened Joey’s incubator. The baby refused to suck so Dr. Donaldson had placed a naso- gastric tube for feeding. “Hey there, you sweet little girl,” she said softly so as not to startle her. Joey blinked her eyes and stretched in response to Scarlet’s voice.
Good.
Scarlet pressed her index finger against the baby’s tiny palm so she could grab onto it. “I promised your mommy I’d take good care of you.” A promise she intended to keep. She repositioned her many tubes and carefully wrapped her in a baby blanket. “We need to get you drinking from a bottle so you can grow up big and strong.” She lifted her and slowly moved to the rocker two steps away, careful not to pull on the many lines connected to her.
Once situated, she began to rock. Joey made a contented little moan and cuddled into her. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned and picked up the little bottle beside her. “We’ve got some work to do.”
Since taking on a management role, Scarlet missed providing direct care to the NICU’s tiny patients. “Open up.” She rubbed the special nipple along Joey’s bottom lip and squeezed out a drop of formula.
So far the NICU social worker hadn’t been able to come up with any information on Holly. Police were reviewing missing persons reports and Holly’s post mortem picture had been faxed to OB/GYN offices, prenatal clinics and schools within a thirty mile radius of the hospital. Scarlet couldn’t help wondering why Holly didn’t want her family to know about the baby. For fear of their reaction to her pregnancy? Shame? Scarlet could relate. But what if there was more? What if her home environment wasn’t safe for her baby? If her parents were unfit to raise a child, like Scarlet’s had been? Or if someone abusive would have access to the baby?
And what if Holly was never identified and her family never found? What then? Joey would wind up in an over-burd
ened, flawed child welfare system. Helpless and vulnerable.
Promise me she’ll be okay. Promise me you’ll find her a good home. A dead mother’s final plea to Scarlet, who had absolutely no control over Joey’s placement.
Unless she sought to adopt her.
An absurd notion, considering Scarlet didn’t spend enough time at home to keep a pet alive. How could she work the hours she did and effectively care for an infant? The question that’d been weighing on her mind for months as her biological clock beat out the second by second withering of her reproductive organs.
Baby Joey fell asleep in her arms and Scarlet savored a few minutes of peace in the darkened quiet room, loving the feel of Joey in her arms. Like she did every time she held a NICU patient, she tried to convince herself. But no, it was different with Joey, maybe because Joey’s mom had entrusted her daughter to Scarlet. Maybe because Holly reminded her so much of herself, and Joey, now all alone in the world, had wound up like Scarlet’s baby when she’d been purposely chemically incapacitated.
Regardless, Scarlet had a vested interest in Joey and would do whatever she could to assure the child a bright, happy and safe future.
Grandma Sadie, one of their volunteer cuddlers, came in to Joey’s room and whispered, “Linda told me to come relieve you.”
Grandma Sadie had been in Scarlet’s first volunteer cuddler orientation class, back when she’d implemented the program four years ago. Research showed preemies benefited from human touch and interaction. And cuddlers filled the gap when exhausted parents needed a break, or when babies, like Joey, had no family to love them.
She glanced at her watch. “Perfect timing.” Since she had to get over to the family lounge before Lewis arrived.
Scarlet busied herself by re-shelving books and putting away toys. Then she spoke with a few moms sitting at a table in the back of the room, enjoying a rest and some coffee while Jessie held ‘story time’ to occupy their five little girls who ranged in age from two to five. They sat in a circle on the floor, each taking a turn in Jessie’s lap while she read their selection.
NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet Page 3