by Anne Fraser
Or maybe it had already been torn?
Oh, hell. How could he have been so irresponsible as to start a baby when he stood a chance of passing on a horrible disease to an innocent child? Liz’s child.
His gaze met Liz’s and he saw the horrendous hurt in her glassy eyes.
“You bastard.” She slid her fingers until she connected with the wheels. Moving back to the door, she leaned forward. Although it took a couple of tries, she maneuvered the wheelchair to where she opened the door and rolled out.
Stunned, Adam watched her disappear from his office.
Emotions he couldn’t begin to identify swelled in his chest and pushed him into motion. He ran after her, catching up just as she thanked one of his patients for opening the door to let her out to the main hospital hallway. Kelly waited impatiently, tapping her foot and glaring at Adam.
“Liz?” He grabbed hold of the handle of her chair, stopping her progress because she either hadn’t seen him or hadn’t cared to stop if she had.
She didn’t speak, didn’t even look up at him, just stared straight ahead.
“What does this mean?” he asked.
Her forehead wrinkled and her gaze lifted. “What do you mean, what does this mean?”
What did he mean?
“For us?”
“Did you forget?” Her eyes turned cold, colder than he’d ever seen Liz, colder than he would have thought possible from Liz. She rolled free of his stunned grasp. “There is no us.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANY hope or belief in Adam shriveled up and died the moment he suggested an abortion.
The look on his face when she’d told him about their baby would haunt Liz all the days of her life.
He’d looked horrified.
Like he might throw up. Or pass out. Or just keel over with disgust.
He wanted her to have an abortion!
She wasn’t able to prevent the whimper that escaped. Not in any of the scenarios she’d considered had she imagined Adam would want her to not have their baby.
Sure, abortion might be right for some, but not for her. Not when she so desperately wanted this baby.
Damn him for saying that. She’d thought she could forgive him anything. She’d just discovered that wasn’t true.
“I can’t believe him,” Kelly huffed from where she walked next to the wheelchair.
Her friend had wanted to push her, but Liz needed to expend the energy, work off the torrent coursing through her weakened body, feel in control of at least something in her life.
“He’s done a total turn-around,” Kelly continued. “Do you think he’s on drugs?”
“Drugs? Adam?” Startled, Liz blinked up at her friend. “Adam doesn’t do drugs.”
“Well, he sure is acting weird. Up until Gramps died, the man was perfect. Every woman in the hospital was jealous of you. He adored you, and it was plain for everyone to see. Now he’s just like every other man. A jerk.”
At the moment she wouldn’t argue with Kelly’s assessment. Only a jerk would go green while being told he was going to be a father. Adam had gone a pale, putrid green.
“He is a jerk,” Liz agreed.
“I could punch him in the face for you,” Kelly offered.
“No.” Liz shook her head. Admittedly, she’d felt like smacking him, but even if she’d been on her own two feet and capable, she doubted she would have. She wasn’t a physically violent kind of person.
Although when he’d asked if their baby was his she had wanted to kick him. Hard.
How could he have asked her that?
Even now her fists clenched at his having done so.
Fourteen weeks. That’s not too late for an abortion.
How dared he? Maybe she was more physically violent than she’d thought. Liz dry-heaved so violently she was unable to hide it from her friend.
Kelly placed her hand on Liz’s shoulder. “Oh, Liz. Let’s get you back to your room.”
Liz covered her mouth, fighting another wave of disgust. Adam wanted her to destroy the life they’d made.
How could he not want their baby?
Not wanting her was one thing, but their baby?
Their baby.
Anger gurgled inside her.
Anger at the insensitive way he’d shut her out of his life.
Anger at her own stupidity for allowing it to happen.
Anger that he’d be so callous, so cold as to not want a baby he’d fathered.
Their baby was a miracle. A blessing. A gift.
How dared he?
Even if he got over the initial shock, accustomed himself to the idea of their baby, she’d never forget the look on his face. Never forgive that look. That show of true emotion.
She’d always know.
If Adam had his way, their baby would never enter the world.
“That’s it,” Kelly swore when she saw Liz’s angry tears and misinterpreted them. “I’m going to punch him whether you want me to or not.”
Kelly made a ka-pow motion that drew a strangled sound from Liz’s throat.
“If that would solve anything, I’d say go for it.”
“Hitting him would make me feel better,” Kelly pointed out.
Liz actually considered it a moment, then wiped her eyes. Life was short and regardless of Adam she had a lot to live for, a lot to be happy about. No longer would she give him control over her emotions, over her heart. She and Adam were finished. Not because of him shutting her out, but finished because she was done with him.
“Don’t bother,” she advised her friend, and meant it. “He’s not worth the effort.”
Adam had numbly seen the rest of his afternoon patients. Despite his reduced schedule, he’d even performed an emergency appendectomy. But only because he could go through the motions without thought. Without acknowledging that he was stunned. Horrified. Ashamed.
Finished for the day, he rested his elbows on his desk and dropped his face into his tingling hands.
Liz was going to have a baby.
His baby.
Liz, who was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met, who was the woman he loved, was going to have his baby.
Elation battled horror.
From the moment he’d been diagnosed with MS, he’d known he’d never father any children. He’d planned to have a vasectomy soon after finishing his MS treatments to ensure he wouldn’t.
How the hell could he have known he’d already fathered a baby?
How could he have a child when he’d only be condemning a child to battle with a disease that had the power to demand everything?
To have loved her, never wanted to hurt her, to keep from being a burden to her, he sure was doing a great job on Liz.
First his withdrawal following his diagnosis.
And now this.
He’d given her baby his genetically screwed-up genes.
Had she known about her pregnancy before the crash?
Of course she had. She’d said she had come to his condo to tell him that night. She had even mentioned a family, but he’d thought she’d meant a future family. Not one they’d already started.
He’d told her he didn’t love her on the night she’d intended to tell him about their baby.
No wonder Liz had called him names. He was a bastard.
Fourteen weeks. That meant in twenty-six weeks he and Liz were going to be parents because from the way she’d looked at him he knew she wouldn’t consider an abortion.
Liz was going to be a single mother, raising a baby on her own. A baby who could come down with MS, could require Liz to provide twenty-four-hour assistance, just like Gramps.
Any guilt he’d felt up to that point was as nothing in comparison to what flowed through him at the thought of what he’d done.
In his mind he’d had a clear idea of what the right thing was—for him to set Liz free.
Seeing her unconscious, having battled the thoughts that her life might be snuffed out, he’d realized he had to
tell her about his MS, had to tell her he loved her, wanted her in his life. Like Larry had suggested, he’d planned to let Liz decide if she wanted to take that risk rather than him making all the decisions based on some misguided selflessness. Selflessness. He’d failed miserably.
Her pregnancy changed everything.
He should have told her about his MS before blurting out that it wasn’t too late for an abortion.
He’d been in such shock, he hadn’t been able to think straight. Had only known that he’d fouled up Liz’s life in yet another way and he wanted to start getting things right.
Liz was pregnant with a baby who carried the potential to have MS. She was in a wheelchair. She probably hated him. All of it was his fault. If not for him, she’d be free for the first time in her life. Instead, she was going to go from caring for her grandfather to recovering from her own injuries to caring for a baby. A baby that she might be caring for for an entire lifetime.
She’d need him more than ever. To help her recover from her injuries and then to take care of her following the baby’s arrival, to help her financially, to help her if their son or daughter came down with MS. If he stayed healthy himself.
Oh, hell.
What had he done?
It was only eight-thirty, but Liz lay in her hospital bed with her eyes closed.
All evening she’d put on a smile for her friends, given Dr Graviss and Dr Bell all the right answers when they’d checked on her. The only time her smile wavered was when Nannie’s transfer papers came through and the older woman was relocated to a skilled nursing home. After Nannie’s departure she’d feigned tiredness because the pretense had been too much.
The tiredness really hadn’t been feigned so much as exaggerated. She was tired. Not that she could go to sleep. No, her mind was too wound up for that, her heart too twisted.
Just as she’d been able to tell, without turning, when Adam had entered his office, she became aware of him in her room without opening her eyes. He didn’t make a sound, but all the same she knew he was there.
She could feel him. His strong presence sucked all the oxygen out of the room and left her light-headed.
What was he doing there?
Hadn’t he done a good enough job ripping her heart out earlier in his office?
Fourteen weeks. That’s not too late for an abortion.
He stood beside her bed, presumably watching her, and although it was wrong, she just lay there.
“Are you so upset with me you refuse to look at me?”
He had no idea. If she had to look at him she might spit in his handsome face. Or scratch his eyeballs out. Angry heat infused her face, but she still didn’t open her eyes.
“Not that I blame you,” he added, sounding just as tired as she’d felt moments before he’d entered her room. “But what you told me this afternoon shocked me, and I reacted badly. Everything I said came out wrong.”
Reluctantly she opened her eyes, but she didn’t speak. What could she say? Everything he’d said had come out wrong.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
She snorted. “Can you tell me a reason why I should?”
“Not a single one,” he said solemnly.
“Finally something we agree on.”
“You’re pregnant, Liz.”
She stared blankly at him, waiting for him to elaborate since he wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t already known.
“I had no intention of fathering a child. Ever.”
Ouch. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m not disappointed.” He stopped, raked his hand through his hair. “Or I wouldn’t be if things were different.”
Meaning if he loved her, if he’d wanted a future with her.
“Well, tough, because I’m not having an abortion and you’ll just have to deal with it.” She sucked in a deep breath, wincing from the stretching of her sore rib muscles. “I don’t want anything from you, Adam. Go away.”
“You need my help.”
She gritted her teeth. Did he think her helpless? “I’ve got a good job. I’ll get by.”
“You’re in a wheelchair.”
“So? Until I get on my feet, I’ll work a desk job. Lots of people are in wheelchairs and they get by just fine.”
“A desk job?” He shook his head. “You aren’t thinking straight, Liz. Yet another thing that’s my fault. How could you when you don’t have all the facts?”
Adam’s look of torment did little to endear him to her. He truly found the idea of her being pregnant with his baby horrific. “All the facts? What facts?”
He paced across the small stretch separating her bed and the one Nannie had occupied. “Liz, a week or two before Gramps died, I started having…problems.”
“Problems?” Dear Lord, had Kelly been right? Was Adam on drugs? She couldn’t wrap herself around the notion no matter how hard she tried.
“Headaches. Mostly in my right temple. My vision got blurry on and off. Still does.”
Liz’s anger melted away in a single heartbeat, to be replaced with fear. Hadn’t she thought something was wrong with Adam?
“I kept ignoring it, thinking I was just tired, stressed, had a virus. I can’t even remember all the excuses I gave myself. The truth was, in my heart I knew something more was going on.”
Liz’s fear escalated. She stared at him, waiting for him to continue with what was sure to be a horror story.
“When my hands went numb I couldn’t ignore what was going on any longer and I saw Larry, uh, Dr Graviss.”
Liz’s gaze dropped to where Adam clenched his fingers. He released them in a slow, exaggerated movement.
“I expected him to write a prescription for migraines. Tell me I’d been under too much stress. Maybe check me for diabetes. Imagine my surprise when he said he was referring me to a neurologist.”
Liz bit the inside of her lip.
He slid his fingers into his pants pockets and looked directly into her eyes. “I have MS, Liz.”
“No,” Liz gasped. Adam had MS? It couldn’t be true, but there was no denying the truth written on his face. “Oh, Adam.”
He’d been dealing with all this and hadn’t told her?
“You missed out on so much by caring for Gramps all that time, Liz.” He made taking care of her grandfather sound like a prison sentence. “I just couldn’t see continuing our relationship when it meant possibly putting you back in that position.”
“That’s insane. You sound like I had to be with Gramps, that caring for him wasn’t my choice.” She scooted up in her bed, biting back the need to wince at the pain the movement caused. “It was my choice, Adam. At all times I chose to care for Gramps, to keep him at home, because it’s what he wanted and it was the right thing. But if you want to know the truth, it was mostly because I wanted every second with him. The time I had with Gramps meant more to me than anything.”
“I know that now, Liz, but when this started I was grieving just as much as you. Grieving for my health, for the future I’d wanted for us, grieving because of what I believed was the right thing—ending our relationship because I knew you’d never walk away from me if you knew I was ill.”
“I can’t believe you were going through all this and didn’t tell me. That you’d let me think I’d done something wrong after Gramps’s funeral.” She closed her eyes, counted to ten. She’d believed they loved each other, trusted each other. She’d been so wrong. He hadn’t believed in her, hadn’t trusted her. He’d kept the knowledge he had MS from her. “How could you be so selfish?”
“Selfish?” he asked, his brows drawing together. “I was trying to be selfless, Liz. To give you up so you wouldn’t have to go through this hell with me.”
“This hell? You look just fine to me.”
“I went blind in my right eye on the day I performed May Probst’s surgery,” he blurted out.
“Blind?” Liz said in horror.
“Completely black. I collapsed on
to the OR floor. The hospital board slapped my hands for my unprofessional conduct, threatened me with probation if anything of the kind ever happens again.” He snorted. “Just wait until they find out about my MS.”
“They don’t know? You’ve been operating on people with numb hands, blind, and the board doesn’t know?”
“The numbness comes and goes,” he said defensively. “And there’s only been the one episode of blindness and I’d finished my portion of May’s surgery.”
The enormity of what he was saying hit her. Adam could lose his career as a surgeon.
“Now you see why you have to have an abortion.”
Liz stared at him in confusion. “What? I don’t see that at all.”
“I have MS, Liz. That means any child I have has a three to five percent increased chance of developing MS.”
“I’m not having an abortion.” If he’d said the odds were one hundred percent, she wouldn’t abort his baby.
“Liz, once again you’re not thinking straight. You can go and be artificially inseminated. There’s no reason to take this chance.”
“Do you realize what you’re saying, Adam?” Despite her aching muscles, she shook her head. “By your own standards, you wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t have been born.”
His jaw clenched. “You’d be a lot better off if that were the case.”
“I’m not the one who’s not thinking straight. Adam, MS isn’t a death sentence. I’ve cared for patients with MS. Most lead wonderfully normal lives.”
“What about the ones who don’t?”
“How did I miss what an optimist you are?” she asked sarcastically.
“The same way you missed all my symptoms,” he shot back.
“I…”
He shook his head, visibly remorseful. “Don’t bother, Liz. That was a low blow on my part. I know the reasons why. They were the same reasons why I didn’t tell you what was going on. Why I did my best to hide what was going on from you.”
“I thought I told you to stay away from my patient because I didn’t want her upset.”
Liz and Adam both glanced toward the door. Dr Graviss stood in the doorway with a grim expression.