Scarlet pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. “He’s not a prince!” she declared loudly.
“Then why is he there?” Sophia pointed. “If he’s not waiting for some princess to come in and kiss him or something?”
Gavin couldn’t help it.
He laughed.
“I’m not a prince,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”
“Did you have a sleepover?” Stephen asked, looking a little suspicious and a lot protective.
The innate male need to protect one’s territory, Gavin thought. And Violet was worth protecting. “I was too tired to drive last night. So I stayed here,” he explained, getting to his feet.
“In the same bed?” Sophia and Scarlet asked in unison.
Thankfully, the flap opened. Violet stood in the wagon entry. “Okay, everybody out.” She motioned for them to go.
She gave him a beseeching look as he neared, seemingly to ask him to play it cool. He quirked his lips, trying hard to keep a straight face as he followed her out onto the steps.
“Mommy, Aunt Violet had a sleepover!” Scarlet announced.
“With a prince. Only, he’s not a prince,” Sophia explained.
“In the same bed!” Stephen declared, folding his arms in front of him.
Rose arched a brow in her direction.
Busted, Violet thought.
“You know what?” Rose said, rounding up her children. “We’re going to be late to school if we don’t get a move on, so say goodbye to Aunt Violet.”
“’Bye!” they shouted in unison.
“Sorry!” Rose mouthed as she shepherded her children out the door.
Before she could shut it, the construction foreman appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Doc—” he looked at Violet “—you mind coming over to McCabe House and okaying a few things for me?”
* * *
BY THE TIME Violet returned, Gavin was gone. There was a note on the coffee table.
Thanks for the hospitality last night. Sorry if I made things awkward for you with the family. See you at the hospital later. Gavin.
It was a nice note. Casual. Polite. So why did it make her feel so oddly bereft?
Violet didn’t know.
She did acknowledge that she had no time to fret about it. Not when she needed to shower, get to the hospital to see Ava and then check to see if the rest of the test results on Carlson Willoughby had come in.
* * *
“OH. WE’VE JUST FED her and put her back in her bed,” Bridgette said when Violet stopped by the Special Care Nursery.
Violet looked at the chart. “She’s no longer being fed by gastric lavage?”
“She’s able to take enough nutrition in on her own.”
“Wow. That’s great news.”
“Isn’t it?” Bridgette beamed. “Listen, why don’t you come back again in two hours, if you can? You could handle the feeding and cuddling then. Who knows? We might even let you do the diaper change, too!”
Violet grinned. “I will.”
As soon as she stepped off the elevator, she ran into the chief of oncology, Dr. Bart Remington. The tall, lanky Texan had an amazing teaching talent and a crusty demeanor that belied his soft heart. He paused, the top of his bald head shining beneath the fluorescent lights. “Our new staff oncologist, Tara Warren, is here.”
Violet moved back against the wall to let an orderly pass. “I thought she wasn’t going to start for a few more days.”
“She’s not. But she wanted a chance to go over the charts and get up to speed on the patients she’ll be seeing. Since you’ve already treated most of them, anything you can do to assist her would be appreciated.”
“I’ll stop by her office as soon as I check in with radiology.”
Remington patted her shoulder. “Thanks. You know, we still have room for you, at least in a part-time capacity, if you’d like to stay on, too.”
Violet nodded.
“Or at least until you finish up the work you’re doing for McCabe House.”
Violet hesitated. She’d thought she needed to be by herself to think. Now she knew being alone might not make that easier. Instead, it might lead her to obsess about Gavin and their one reckless night together...
“Second thoughts about leaving?” the chief asked, hopeful as ever.
Second thoughts about a lot of things, Violet mused.
In the meantime, as she headed into the radiology department to look at films, she had responsibilities to fulfill.
* * *
GAVIN WAS ON his way to track down Violet—and to see if she wanted to take Ava’s next bottle-feeding—when he heard soft sobs from Carlson Willoughby’s hospital room.
Violet’s voice, soothing.
More distress. From Mrs. Willoughby?
The door to the room shut softly.
Silence fell in the hall.
Gavin went on to the nurses’ station. One eye on the hall, he chatted up the son of a patient who had recently come through the ER, until the door finally opened and Violet stepped out. No sooner had she cleared the portal than her composure began to crack.
He said goodbye to the son and hurried to catch up with her. “Everything okay?”
She dragged in a deep breath, nodded.
The moisture glistening in her eyes said otherwise. Hand to her elbow, Gavin steered her into a nearby supply closet and shut the door behind them.
Violet rolled her eyes. “Really?” she choked out. “What are we—sixteen?”
“We wish. What’s going on?”
For a moment he thought she was still too overwrought to tell him. She ran a hand over her eyes and took another deep breath. “I had to give Carlson and Wanda Willoughby test results.”
“His cancer returned?”
She nodded. Head down, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hate giving bad news.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t we all.”
A shudder passed through her chest and she began to cry again.
He held her close, aware that holding her didn’t change the situation. But, in that moment, he felt less alone. As her body softened and molded to his, and she slowly stopped crying, he guessed she did, too.
Another moment passed.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Violet blotted the tears from her face and stepped back. “I’ve got to go see Ava.”
He brought her to him for another quick squeeze before she opened the door, then fell into step beside her. “I’ll go with you.”
Violet had just settled into the chair, Ava in her arms, Gavin beside her, when Mitzy Martin walked in.
The social worker looked at both of them. “We have to talk.”
Chapter Seven
“If Ava continues to improve at the current rate, she is going to be released from the hospital by the end of the week. So we all need to figure out what the next step is,” Mitzy said. “Do you want to put Ava with a foster family?”
“No,” Gavin and Violet said in unison.
Aware they’d sounded a little too emotional, Violet promised, “We said we would care for her until a permanent placement could be found.”
Gavin cast a fond look at her and the baby. “And we’re going to do that,” he said.
“Okay.”
To Violet’s relief, Mitzy did not argue with their decision. She made a note. “Where?”
This time they had no ready answer.
“And don’t tell me the stable-house,” Mitzy told Violet preemptively, lifting her hand. “Because your current setup is a little too primitive for a premature infant. Especially when other, better options are available.”
Gavin
lounged against the visiting room wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “We could use my house.”
Mitzy looked as skeptical about the idea as Violet felt.
Violet turned to Gavin. “It’s awfully small, isn’t it?”
Gavin shrugged as his gaze fell tenderly to the baby in her arms. “Ava won’t mind. And it has all the amenities. Washer and dryer, full kitchen, bedroom, living room and bath.”
One bedroom being a fundamental flaw. Unless she wanted to become his full-time lover. Which she did not. Her emotions were far too confused as it was.
Yet the only other option was for her to move in with one of her family members. And she wasn’t sure how that would work, particularly with Gavin a participant.
Especially after what had happened with Rose’s triplets that very morning.
With a reluctant sigh, Violet conceded, “I suppose I could put my wagon in the backyard at Gavin’s.” That way, she would at least have her own bedroom.
He ran his palm across his jaw. “How would that work if it rained?”
Good point. The canvas top was not exactly weatherproof. “Ah, not sure?”
He continued to study her with his steady blue gaze as if trying to figure something out. “Besides, don’t you think that’s a little silly? I’m going to be working nights. You’ll be at the hospital, as much as you need to, days.”
Violet sat Ava up for her to burp. “Actually, the new staff oncologist is already here. So as soon as Tara Warren is up to speed, I’ll be transferring all my patients to her. And then I can focus exclusively on the construction at McCabe House.”
“Unless you change your mind and decide to stay,” Gavin said. As their eyes met and held, Violet felt a shimmer of tension between them.
Man-woman tension.
“Is that an option?” Mitzy asked, stunned. “Would you really do that?”
No. Maybe. I’m not sure.
Doing her best to maintain a poker face, Violet shrugged. “All I can say for certain is that I’ve been applying and interviewing for other jobs, and plan to be in Laramie through Christmas, helping out at McCabe House. So I’ll be able to help care for baby Ava until then.” She paused. “And I’ll still be able to be a godparent and watch over her from a distance, after that, just the way Tammy wanted.”
“I’m not going anywhere. So I’ll be able to be a godparent, too,” Gavin interjected.
Deciding he should have a turn, Violet stood and handed him the baby.
“Well, not to worry.” Mitzy gathered up her belongings. “Given how many calls we’ve had with people interested in adopting Ava, we’ll have a place for her long before then.”
Violet knew she should feel relieved about that. But somehow, she wasn’t.
* * *
“SO WHEN DO you want to move your stuff to my place?” Gavin asked as they left the nursery half an hour later and walked the short distance to his home.
One of a row of “shotgun houses” that had been built in the early nineties in historic downtown Laramie, Texas, the nine-hundred-square-foot abode was one-room wide. As had all the other homes on the street, Violet knew Gavin’s had been completely updated and remodeled by a local builder. It sported a covered front porch, as well as a small but well-appointed dining and living room combination front room. The middle portion of the house contained a small galley kitchen and laundry closet, while the single bedroom and bath compromised the rear.
Her sister Poppy had done the interior design, in accordance with Gavin’s taste. Hence, the interior walls were a light mocha brown with white trim. The dark brown wide-planked floors coordinated nicely with the man-size leather sofa and armchair, rectangular dining table and ladder-backed chairs. Built-in cabinets and shelves, painted the same white as the trim, added to the storage space.
“Hang on. I’ll get you a key.” Gavin walked through the kitchen and disappeared.
Giving her a relaxed grin upon his return, he pressed the key into her hand. “So, what do you think? Are we going to be able to handle this?”
Were they?
In theory, it had seemed like such a good idea.
But now that she was here, and realized how tiny his abode was, she wasn’t sure. Yet what other choice did they have? They had said they would take on this responsibility. And with Ava set to be released from the hospital soon, they had to go somewhere.
“Yes. Absolutely.” Violet smiled. They were adults. They could handle this. And if they made love again, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
Nor would it be if they didn’t...
So why were her nipples suddenly tingling?
Gavin ambled closer. “When do you want to bring your stuff over?”
It wasn’t as if she was moving in with him. “I’m not going to show up with anything more than a suitcase.”
His eyes glittered with undecipherable emotion. “Famous last words.”
Her cheeks heated at his teasing tone. “With six girls in the family, and parents determined to take us on family trips every chance they got, I had to learn how to pack light from a very early age.”
“Sounds like a good skill to have.”
“It can make life easier.”
Just as being under one roof with Ava would make things easier. So how come she was suddenly nervous about it?
Ignoring the sizzling chemistry arcing between them, Violet glanced at her watch. “Well, listen, I’ve got to get back to the hospital to meet with Tara Warren, and I know you’ve got to rest before your shift tonight, so...” She hurried past him.
“Catch you later?” He walked her as far as the front door.
As he gazed down at her, Violet had the strong sense he was thinking about kissing her again.
But did not.
Which was a good thing. Kissing would lead to touching, and kissing and touching would lead to...well, she didn’t need to think about that. They had made love once with wild abandon. They did not need to do it again.
* * *
DR. TARA WARREN was in her office in the hospital annex when Violet walked in. A petite redhead, she was dressed in jeans, boots and an autumn-gold camp shirt, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows.
“You must be the Violet McCabe I’ve heard so much about.” The other oncologist held out her hand.
Violet couldn’t help but note beneath her freckles the new staff physician looked a little pale.
But maybe that was due to the fairness of her skin.
Violet took the chair offered. “Here to help you transition in any way I can.”
“An offer I plan to take you up on,” Tara said, taking a sip of bottled water.
She picked up the stack of folders that corresponded with the list of patients she was set to see and treat.
One by one, they went over the files, until finally they reached the most pressing case in the stack. Carlson Willoughby.
“I understand he was released from the hospital early this morning,” Tara said.
Violet worked to contain her concern. “He wanted to go home.”
The oncologist took the X-rays and scans and put them up on the screen so they could look at them. “Against medical advice,” she intoned.
Nodding, Violet pointed to the slight mass growing near the small colon. “I think he needs surgery. Otherwise, it won’t be long before he’s unable to eat at all.” Probably a month at most. “But Carlson is adamantly against any further treatment of any kind for his lymphoma.”
Tara rummaged around in her bag and finally plucked out a half-eaten package of gingersnaps. “How does his family feel about that?” she asked, taking a small bite of one.
Violet refused the offer of a cookie with a lift of her palm. “There’s only his wife, and Wanda wants him to keep fighting.”
Tara looked over the rest of the test results. For the next few minutes they talked about possible courses of treatment. Some included surgical removal of the tumor in his abdomen. Others relied on chemotherapy and/or radiation to comfortably prolong the octogenarian’s life.
“I was hoping you could talk to Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby about his options,” Violet said.
“Be glad to.” Tara crumpled up the empty cookie package. Face pale, she walked over to throw it away. “When are they coming back for the consult?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“The head of oncology suggested you be there with me for the first meeting to make for a smoother transition.”
“Of course.” It would be good to hand the case over to a physician not so emotionally involved.
Violet paused on the way out the door. “Are you feeling okay?”
The other woman nodded. “Morning sickness. Or in this case—afternoon.”
Tara was pregnant? Did everyone her age have baby fever? Including, Violet wondered, maybe even her? She smiled and offered her congratulations. “When are you due?”
“February. So I’m going to work full-time till the baby’s born, then cut back to half-time.”
“Does the oncology chief know this?”
Tara nodded. “Dr. Remington’s been frank with me on that. He is hoping you will stay on. Take the part-time position for now, and then the full-time position when I cut back.” Her forehead wrinkled. “No one’s mentioned it to you?”
“Not directly,” Violet admitted as she opened the door to leave. “I’m aware they want me to stay, but I had no idea you were expecting.”
Still feeling a little stunned by the news, Violet headed up to see Ava. To her surprise, the newborn wasn’t there.
Meg Carrigan saw her looking for the bassinet. “Ava’s not here anymore,” she said, taking Violet’s arm and leading her into the adjacent glass-walled room. “We moved her to the regular nursery, in anticipation of her going home on Friday. But she still needs to be fed and rocked and changed. So, if you’re up for it...?”
One look at that sweet baby face and Violet knew she was. “I’m happy to help,” she said. For as long as she could, in any way she could. Even if it meant she was risking her heart.
Lone Star Baby (McCabe Multiples Book 5) Page 8