Assignment- Baby

by Lynne Marshall

  "Things are different now, Hunter. We can't go back."

  He wanted to yell, Why not? Instead, he tipped his forehead to the door and squinted at the reality that it might be too late for them to reclaim any kind of relationship, let alone casual sex. Nothing about Mandy could ever be completely carefree. They'd both been burned and had the scars to prove it.

  "Good night," came her muffled voice.

  With a heavy sigh, he placed the palm of his hand against the wood. It felt cold. "Good night," he whispered.

  * * *

  Three in the morning and Sophie woke with a vengeance. Hunter jumped out of bed and gathered her up in his arms. She knotted her fists and kicked her legs, crying as if in excruciating pain. He checked and changed her diaper, but she wouldn't quiet down.

  "Shh…shh," he whispered by her ear, cuddling and gently bouncing her. She wailed harder.

  He walked her to the kitchen to prepare a bottle while she continued to howl. "You're okay," he chanted, over and over.

  She kept crying, letting him know she definitely wasn't.

  Trying to console a baby while fixing a bottle was awkward at best, but with Sophie's nonstop squirming, he was worried he'd spill the formula, or drop the bottle—or, worse yet, drop her.

  Hunter fumbled on.

  "Do you need any help?" Mandy asked.

  "Oh," he said, surprised. He'd been so distracted with Sophie, he hadn't heard her come in. "Could you make a bottle for me?" He wrapped his now free hand around Sophie and started pacing and lightly bouncing while he rubbed her back and kissed her head. Her wisps of hair tickled his cheek. When had she come to be so precious to him?

  Elephant-sized tears streaked down her cheeks and it pained him. He felt her head. She was warm from shrieking, but not feverish. Relief washed away his fear that she might be sick.

  "Are you getting another tooth? What's wrong, sugar?" Never in his life had he felt so useless. His heart ached for the squalling baby, but he hadn't a clue what the hell was bothering her. Nearly three weeks as a surrogate caregiver hadn't made him any wiser. He continued on with his failing method to soothe her.

  "Let me have her." Mandy held out her arms, holding the bottle.

  Relieved at the break, Hunter handed Sophie over.

  "You miss your mommy, don't you, sweet pea?" she said with all the compassion in the world. Sophie slapped the bottle away and wrapped her arms around Mandy's neck. She walked her round and round the dining table, humming a nursery rhyme.

  "Mm, mm, mum, mm," Sophie cried, though quieter now. "Mm, mm, mum, mm. Mum-mum-mumm."

  "Is she saying what I think she is?" Hunter asked, picking up the bottle.

  "Honestly? I think it's too early for her to know that word. I think she's just comforting herself."

  "Looks like you've got the magic touch," he said, wiping off the nipple and offering the bottle to Sophie one more time.

  Mandy cuddled her close and kissed her cheek, then wiped Sophie's nose with a tissue she'd miraculously made appear from her robe pocket. Sophie reached for the bottle, and Mandy found a chair and made herself comfortable to feed the baby.

  She'd taken over the job and had been able to do what he couldn't: console a baby who missed her momma. He shoved his fingers through his hair, feeling exasperated and tense.

  Sophie started to fuss again.

  "I think she's picking up on your frustration, Hunter. Calm down. She's okay."

  He took a deep breath, bewildered that he could have such an impact on a baby. "Mandy, I'm so sorry we woke you up. I can usually quiet her down fine, but this time she seemed so…so distraught. Do you really think it's because Jade's gone?"

  Mandy shrugged and cooed to the baby while she sipped at her bottle. "Who can be sure about anything?"

  Sophie's eyes opened and closed, as though she was fighting off sleep. Mandy held her close to her breast and stroked her cheek until finally the heavy lids stayed shut. She looked up and smiled at Hunter. Victory.

  The picture knocked him off balance. She was a natural at mothering. He'd fought her when she'd told him she wanted a baby, even accused her of being incapable of caring for a houseplant let alone a baby. She'd missed her period and had an epiphany. Hunter had thought it was a tidy ending and a stroke of good luck when she'd finally gotten back on her cycle. He'd insisted they'd agreed to never have kids when they'd married. And what about her PhD? He'd tried to distract and bribe her with her next degree. But now she wouldn't settle for anything less than a family. He couldn't let himself open up to the pain a family could bring. He'd learned only too well with his own parents how devastating neglect and indifference could be. He couldn't allow his sexual attraction to Mandy to trip him up into changing his mind about life, love and families.

  "I can't keep disrupting your life," he said, filled with concern. "Tomorrow Sophie and I will move to a hotel."

  "Please don't, Hunter. Not if it's on my account. I love having Sophie here."

  That was what he was concerned about—his niece putting all kinds of silly baby dreams into her thoughts again.

  Mandy kissed the baby's head, then laid her cheek against it. She smiled at him. "And in case you're still thinking about what happened earlier, I loved watching the stars with you tonight. Truth is, no one has been remotely as thoughtful as you for a long time, and it meant a lot to me."

  He forced a smile, but all he wanted to do was hold her. If he could take her into his arms and bury himself inside her, maybe all the confusion would go away. But was it really only about sex?

  "Just no more kissing, okay?"

  What? He tilted his head, weighing the options. The expression on her face was less than convincing. She'd said she loved having Sophie around, but what about him?

  "Hunter?"

  "Okay. We'll stay," he said, purposely avoiding committing to the "no more kissing" part.

  * * *

  Amanda and Hunter maintained a friendly yet cool professionalism over the remainder of the week and into the fourth week. They were cooperative and helpful to each other, but beyond class hours and being with Sophie spent little time together. When she wasn't working the UC to avoid him, Amanda holed up in her room most nights, entering data into the computer and writing her article. Hunter caught up on his medical journal reading, and bringing his patient files up to date.

  They took turns caring for Sophie, and were the picture of domestic partnership—except for the fact that they tiptoed around each other, trying to deny the passion that still existed between them. Hunter wished he could find a way to put an end to their tortured truce, but he'd settle for whatever he could take if it meant spending time with Mandy. He'd missed her that much.

  With Jade set to be released after the coming weekend, he needed to plan and make his next move sooner than Mandy might be ready.

  As the week went on, Hunter received unfortunate results on the thyroid scan for Mrs. Peters. The matter required a face-to-face appointment to discuss the options. Since his patient lived just as close to the Serena Vista Clinic—which was owned by Mercy Hospital—as she did to his home base clinic, on Thursday evening he'd planned to meet her at Serena Vista Urgent Care. He'd arranged to have doctor privileges there at the satellite clinic for one night.

  While he waited, he agreed to see a few walk-in patients.

  One patient, according to his records, had been to the UC every other night for the past two weeks. He was being treated for a lung abscess on home intravenous therapy, but his peripheral heplock IVs kept failing after a day or two of treatment. The last vein had lasted only a day and had developed phlebitis. What he needed was a peripherally inserted central catheter, and Hunter knew the perfect nurse—who'd just happened to take another shift that night—to do it.

  * * *

  "Dr. Phillips has ordered a PICC line and wants you to do the honors," Amanda's friend Marian said.

  "What the heck is he doing here?"

  Hunter had never worked at the Serena Vista Cli
nic before. No sooner had Amanda said it than he appeared at the nurses' station from an exam room.

  Years before, when Marian had already been a nurse practitioner and Amanda had been working at Mercy Hospital on the evening shift, the three of them used to go out for drinks after work. Marian had been the person responsible for convincing Amanda to take the next step in her nursing education.

  "He's just as hot as he used to be," Marian whispered before waving hello to Hunter and sashaying away.

  Amanda rolled her eyes, then composed herself and turned toward Hunter. "You need a PICC line?"

  "Yes. You're still certified, right?"

  "Sure am. Where's Sophie?"

  "I asked Louise if she could watch her for a couple of hours."

  Louise was one of the Mending Hearts Club participants, who flipped out her grandchildren's pictures at the drop of a hat. She'd bonded with Sophie the very first night of class.

  "How nice of her," she said, thinking how the group had quickly changed from being mere subjects in her study to something more. "Okay, then." Amanda scratched her upper lip. "Has the patient been moved to the procedure room?"

  "I'm on it," a nearby medical assistant said. She grabbed a wheelchair and headed toward the exam room, to collect the patient and push him down the hall to the procedure room.

  Amanda searched the clinic for the portable ultrasound machine, and after gathering the items she'd need for the PICC line, headed toward the procedure room.

  "I'll help you," Hunter said, following behind.

  After Mr. Paredes had been placed on a gurney, Amanda introduced herself and explained exactly what she intended to do. While she washed her hands, Hunter set up the ultrasound machine and searched the patient's upper arm for the brachial vein Amanda would need to locate.

  "Thanks," Amanda said.

  "No problem," Hunter said, before turning to Mr. Paredes. "Mandy's an excellent nurse. She'll numb you up and you won't feel a thing."

  Amanda went through all the normal protocol for starting an IV in the bend of a patient's left elbow, the antecubital fossa, and gently injected a small amount of numbing medicine. After inserting a small needle into the large vein, using sterile technique, she inserted an introducer needle and, with the help of the ultrasound, guided the PICC line into the superior vena cava—the vein nearest his heart.

  "Looks good," Hunter said. "Let's get an AP of the chest to make sure."

  Within a few minutes, the portable chest X-ray tech appeared and took the picture. A few minutes later Hunter discerned that the PICC line was properly placed.

  Once she got the nod, Amanda injected more numbing medicine into Mr. Paredes's arm and sutured the line in place, then put a clear sterile dressing and a pressure bandage on top of that.

  "You'll need to come back tomorrow night to have the dressing changed," she said. "But after that we'll teach you how to care for the PICC line yourself, and it should be smooth sailing."

  He nodded gratefully.

  "Dr. Phillips?" an MA called from the doorway. "That patient you're expecting is here."

  "Thanks," he said. "Mandy, I'm probably going to do a thyroid needle biopsy on Mrs. Peters. Will you assist me?"

  A familiar feeling of how it had used to be at Mercy Hospital took Amanda by surprise. Without trying she and Hunter had fallen back into a routine at home, and now the same was happening at the clinic. Truth was, they worked well together, and she enjoyed assisting him.

  "Of course. Call me when you're ready. I'll finish up here and get everything together."

  Fifteen minutes later, after prepping the patient, Amanda watched Hunter skillfully perform a biopsy from the thyroid nodule by inserting a tiny needle into the base of the throat and drawing out a thread-sized core of tissue, almost too small to see. Judging by the patient's reaction, it was relatively painless. Amanda held the specimen container for him to submerge the needle biopsy in. She then carefully labeled the specimen and hand-carried it to the clinic lab for courier shipment to the main Mercy Hospital laboratory for pathologic examination the next day.

  Hunter had requested a STAT report, and she suspected it was to confirm his worst suspicions. The only remaining question would be which type of thyroid cancer it would be.

  As she was on her way in to examine another walk-in patient, Hunter stopped her at the door. "Thanks for all your help tonight."

  "Oh, no problem. It's what I do."

  He nodded. "And you're fantastic at it."

  They gazed wordlessly at each for a few moments, and she wondered what he was thinking. Hunter had always been supportive of her job—that had never been their problem—but when it came to her wanting a family, he'd balked.

  "You know, if you pursue your PhD in nursing, it will relegate you to teaching or research, and you won't have nearly as much patient contact. Are you sure that's what you want?"

  Okay, so she hadn't had to wait long to find out what he'd been thinking. And, damn it, he made a good point. But she was prepared with her answer. She'd thought a lot about it already. "I may not have the same amount of patient contact, but I'll be able to reach a larger scope of patients through my studies. I know you think I'm out to prove my parents and the world wrong about me, but the most important part about the Mending Hearts Club isn't me, it's helping the participants turn their lives around."

  "I know what you're saying, Mandy. But you'll miss the one-on-one contact. I know that much about you."

  She studied her nursing logs and thought how much she enjoyed caring for her patients. He was right.

  "Well, I'm going to pick up Sophie and take her back to your house," he said. "See you later. I might already be in bed when you get home."

  The MA was nearby, and Amanda couldn't help but notice her lifted brows and sudden elevated interest in the conversation. Great. Now a fact they'd been careful to keep hidden for professional reasons—that they were living together—would be all over the clinic by morning.

  But it wasn't like that. Amanda could hear herself doing damage control, explaining over and over to people who would already have made up their minds about them living under the same roof. She didn't really care what anyone thought about her personally, but she didn't want any gossip to detract from the importance of the Mending Hearts Club project.

  We're not sleeping together, she told herself. And yet with the way her feelings for Hunter had been running from warm to boiling hot lately, she wondered how long that was going to be true.

  * * *

  Friday morning, Amanda gathered her joggers and set out for a thirty-minute run. The sun burned hot in typical mid-August fashion.

  "Be sure to drink lots of water," she said, raising her own bottle and taking a swig.

  Sweat beaded quickly on the men, and the women glistened with moisture by the time they hit their third pass around the public track. Across the park, Amanda spotted Hunter and his group of walkers.

  The Mending Hearts Club waved and cheered each other on from the other side of the green, having bonded and formed new friendships over the past few weeks.

  Jack Howling, always good for a laugh, picked up speed with a silly-looking run, and pulled ahead as though showing off for one of the women. Though Jack's cholesterol and blood pressure had been high at the beginning of the study, his EKG was normal and his stress test had been outstanding. And he was a natural athlete. By following the heart-healthy diet, Amanda predicted his next cholesterol test would show marked improvement. This morning his blood pressure and pulse before the run had been well within the normal range, and exercise was the perfect way to help him elevate his good cholesterol—the high-density lipoprotein.

  Now running full stride, he widened the gap between him and the group.

  "Show-off!" she chided with a grin.

  Well ahead of the group, he pretended to trip, and she grinned wider. What a ham. When he stumbled, she thought he was going overboard with the playacting.

  Then he fell.

  She ru
shed to catch up to him. "Get Dr. Phillips!" she called over her shoulder to the group. "Jack!" she yelled. He didn't respond. She leveled her face close to his and watched his chest. It didn't rise, and she couldn't feel any air passing through his nose. A quick shake of his shoulder and a check of the carotid artery proved what she feared most—he was unconscious because his heart had stopped beating.

  She positioned his head to open his airway and breathed for him, then began chest compressions. His skin was already cool and clammy and she suspected the worst—that he'd had a massive heart attack.

  Within a minute, Hunter had skidded to a stop next to her. "Noreen has her cell phone. She's calling 9-1-1." He relieved her of the job of external compressions.

  They worked together as a team, doing two-man CPR, focusing only on the patient, and willing him to survive until the paramedics arrived with their equipment. Come on, Jack, don't give up. Her heart ached for him. A few minutes and several rounds of CPR later, much to her relief she heard a siren in the distance.

  Amanda could only imagine how shocked the others would be at the sight of the fittest participant sprawled out on the park sidewalk. But she couldn't stop what she was doing. Jack's life depended on it.

  She glanced at Hunter after giving two more quick breaths. Expertly he made sure their patient's blood still circulated through his heart by making deep and even compressions. She could feel the artificial pulse under her fingertips placed over Jack's carotid artery.

  The ambulance came to a quick stop at the closest curb, and soon two emergency medical technicians appeared with a portable gurney and a large metal container filled with supplies.

  "What happened?" one of the EMTs asked.

  They relieved Amanda and Hunter, and Hunter didn't waste a second before reporting on what had taken place. "We've got a fifty-year-old male who passed out while jogging. His name is Jack Howling. He went down approximately fifteen minutes ago. Ms. Dunlap started CPR within the first minute. We still don't have a natural pulse."

  Amanda knew the faster CPR began, the higher the chances were of a patient surviving, and in this case Jack Howling's odds were outstanding. Yet he still wasn't responding, and that drove a surge of anxiety straight up her spine.