The grumble of voices from the lobby reached Jennifer even before she peeked in from the corridor. Nearly a dozen reporters and photographers milled in a corner, watched by a guard who clearly took his duties very seriously. From this angle, she recognized Pierre but saw no sign of Ian.
She didn’t kid herself that he’d simply left. He was no doubt in the building and up to mischief.
From the cafeteria, Mark scooted toward her, also keeping out of view of the media. “Got a call right after yours, from Ms. Yashimoto in Louisville,” he said quietly. “Word spreads fast. She seems to think we ought to try to quash this whole business.”
“That would be a mistake,” Jennifer advised. “The best we can do is spin it to our advantage.”
“Agreed.” The administrator studied her sympathetically. “Where’s the baby, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Samantha’s watching her so I could work.” Jennifer hoped he didn’t notice the heat spreading to her cheeks. She’d hated having to call her friend and ask whether she’d been the source of the leak.
Anyone else might have taken offense, but Samantha had explained calmly that she respected the young women’s privacy too much to blab to reporters, and was glad Jennifer had prevented her from saying too much to Ian yesterday. Then she’d offered to watch Rosalie for a few hours.
Jennifer had never had a girlfriend that generous. She wasn’t even sure she deserved one, after she’d practically accused Samantha of…well, indiscretion.
“I’m glad she’s staying home. I hope this means Sam’s going to give us a break,” Mark said. “Her heart’s in the right place, but we can’t afford to operate as a charitable institution.”
“I’m sure she understands the issues.”
“She’s passionate and idealistic.” The obstetrician shook his head admiringly. “Like I used to be before I grew up. Oh, never mind that. You’re the expert in this situation. What’s our next step?”
“Finding the leak,” Jennifer said. And catching Ian before he turns the leak into a flood.
“Do you suppose some publicity-happy mother called it in herself?” Mark suggested.
If so, the woman would probably be preening in front of the media, and Jennifer hadn’t seen anyone doing that. “I’m betting on the staff. We should start with the nursery—diplomatically, of course. I’d be happy to handle it.”
“Thanks.” His dark eyebrows formed a thick line. “I’d rather not hurt morale by interrogating the staff myself. Now, what can I do?”
“You could talk to the reporters. They need information about exactly how many babies we’ve taken in, how they’re being cared for and what’s next for them. If you like, I’ll help you prepare a statement.”
“Excellent. You look for the leak while I pull the data together.”
What a pleasure to work with a boss who acted like a colleague rather than a taskmaster. “That would be great. We should be ready to issue a statement within an hour.”
“Gotcha.”
At the third-floor nursery level, Jennifer stepped out, while Mark continued up to his office. As the doors closed behind her, she saw Ian.
Her breath caught in her chest. That rumpled hair, the familiar planes of his face. She fought back the urge to reach out to him.
When he spotted her, he broke off his earnest conversation with a red-haired girl in a volunteer’s smock. “Ms. Serra. Glad you could join us.” His mouth quirked in a wry welcome.
She noted the name on the girl’s clip-on bar. “Judi, you shouldn’t be talking to Mr. Martin. He’s a member of the media.”
Freckles stood out as the volunteer flushed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”
“Do what?”
“When I saw the new babies coming in this morning, I called my cousin at the L.A. Times. I was just trying to do him a favor. Then I got to talking with Ian—Mr. Martin—a few minutes ago, and he said I…I breached the patients’ rights or something.” Tears glistened on Judi’s cheeks. “I never thought about that.”
Jennifer wondered how much information Ian had extracted before he chose to take the high road. Still, she appreciated his assistance. Now she had to decide how to proceed.
“I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm, but our patients deserve protection, not exploitation. How would you feel if you had to give up a baby and someone spread it all over the news?” she scolded.
The girl hugged herself, misery plain on her face. “Please don’t kick me out. I want to be a physical therapist and I need this volunteer job for my college résumé. I’ll scrub floors or change bedpans or anything.”
How could she not sympathize? “I’ll recommend that you be reassigned to the cafeteria for the rest of this school year,” Jennifer told her. “Right now, though, you should go home. By the rear exit, please.”
“Thank you!” Judi’s mouth trembled. “I feel so stupid.”
“We all make mistakes.” I made a much bigger one when I was your age.
“I’ll go get my stuff. No more big mouth. I promise.” The girl broke into a trot down the hallway.
Beyond her, through the large window, row after row of bassinets caught Jennifer’s attention. Most of the infants, of course, belonged to patients, but some of them must have been relinquished. Babies just like Rosalie.
Her heart squeezed. Tomorrow, she had to come back here and hand her child to a social worker. How was it possible never to see Rosalie again, perhaps never even to learn where she’d been placed or whether she was happy?
“You look like you’re about to cry.” Although Ian moved closer, he stopped short of touching her. No doubt aware, as she was, that they stood in full view of a passing orderly, the duty nurses and any patients or visitors who might wander by.
“I’m fine.”
“You were kind to that girl,” he said.
She forced herself to regard Ian straight on, and nearly got lost in his deep blue gaze. “I’m not heartless.”
“I can attest to that.”
A foolish urge swept over her, to take his hand and lead him out of this place. To spend the rest of the day alone with him and Rosalie, living in a fantasy.
Instead, she replied, “Now that you’ve found my loose cannon, I have to help Dr. Rayburn prepare a press release. By the way, did Judi tell you anything that ought to be confidential?”
“Just a few quotes about how cute the babies are and how healthy they seem,” he assured her.
She wondered how he’d accomplished so easily a task that might have taken hours. “How did you discover she was the leak?”
“She practically bragged about it. Kids today seem to think anything that happens is fair game to broadcast.” Ian had the grace to look abashed. “I can’t imagine what gave them that idea.”
“People like you?” she joked.
He pretended to duck. “Ouch. By the way, I’m glad I was wrong about Dr. Forrest being the source. Hope that didn’t create problems for you.”
“Quite the contrary. She volunteered to babysit.” That didn’t mean the incident might not bother Samantha later, but there was nothing to be done about that. “I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you to the lobby, Mr. Flash News/Global.”
“I understand.” A familiar ring tone sounded. “Excuse me.” He took out his cell. “Ian Martin.”
Jennifer bit back an instinctive objection. No sense scolding him for using it inside the hospital, since she was ousting him from the treatment floors, anyway.
“Who? Oh! Sunny,” he said into the phone. “Thanks for returning my call. Did you see the article I wrote about your daughter yesterday? Good. Any chance I could interview you? There’s a lot of interest internationally.”
Everything else flew out of Jennifer’s mind. He’d gotten hold of Rosalie’s mother. What if Sunny had changed her mind about keeping her daughter?
You intended to give her up, anyway. Somehow, that thought failed to provide comfort.
“Sure, I could fill
you in about how she’s doing. In fact, I just saw her this morning,” Ian went on. “I’d be glad to come to your place…. You sure you can’t do it today? No, no, tomorrow will be fine. You want to see her? Well, I don’t know…Sure, if you insist. You still have legal rights, I gather.”
The lights seemed to dim. Sunny had decided to reenter the picture. That might turn out to be best for Rosalie, but a blow for Jennifer.
Because no matter how hard she tried to lie to herself, she’d just come face-to-face with the agonizing truth that she’d given her heart to this baby, and handing her to someone else meant losing a child she loved all over again.
Chapter Eleven
On Monday morning, as he waited for Sunny in the hospital conference room, Ian was keenly aware of all those who weren’t present.
Pierre, for instance. His subject had refused to permit cameras.
More importantly, Jennifer. She’d called a few minutes ago to say Rosalie had required a last-minute diaper change, so they’d be late. She’d sounded way beyond tense, as if perched on the edge of a cliff, straining to keep from falling.
He’d seen the anguish in her expression yesterday when she heard him talking to Sunny. Despite her professional air, he’d instantly caught the message.
She loved that little girl. Maybe she’d already decided to seek an adoption. Now, thanks to Ian’s interference, the mother might change her mind and keep the baby.
Regret clouded his gaze as he stared through the window, over the four-story medical building next door and the geometric layout of offices and apartments beyond. Seemed like he couldn’t help hurting Jennifer, despite his best intentions. In his years of reporting, he’d slept with a few women he’d met through stories, but he’d never had reason to worry about them afterward.
Jennifer had declared flat out that she didn’t want any ties, yet he felt a responsibility toward her. Maybe it was the sense he kept getting of her vulnerability, bordering on fragility. Did it stem from her long-ago miscarriage? Or was there more that she hadn’t told him?
Well, she had a right to her secrets. And he had an obligation to do his job.
He’d found Sunny’s last name on the Internet, where an acquaintance had identified her in a blog, and called her listed phone number. He’d left a message, probably one of zillions. She’d returned it, she’d explained, because she’d seen his interview with Jennifer.
Why had she insisted that Jennifer, as well as Rosalie, be present for the interview? Well, he was about to find out.
Through the open doorway drifted low voices. Then Tony glanced inside and gave Ian a nod of recognition. “I gather Jennifer and Mark approved this interview.” His tone implied that he didn’t agree. “Miss Baron, if you need any help, I’m at your service.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” The young woman who slipped past him had tied back her hair and replaced her smock with jeans and a tank top. Standing to shake hands, Ian registered the redness around her eyes.
At close range, Sunny appeared older than the sixteen or seventeen he’d first assumed. “Mind if I ask your age?”
The question appeared to startle her. “Twenty. Why?”
“Just assembling the vital statistics.” Since she was surveying the room with a frown, he added, “Miss Serra’s on the way. Seems there was a diaper emergency.”
“So she kept the baby all weekend, like she promised?” Clutching her oversize purse, the girl remained standing.
“She did.”
“How are they getting along?”
He decided to be frank since, once Jennifer arrived, he could hardly talk freely about her. “In my opinion, they’ve bonded. Just as you hoped.” When she didn’t respond, he decided to drop the subject. It was hardly his place to pressure her one way or another about keeping the baby. “Have a seat and we’ll get started. No sense wasting time.”
The girl edged into a chair. “I want her to hear my story, too.”
Ian took a seat around the corner of the conference table. “You saw her for a few seconds in a video. What made you decide she was the right person to raise your child?”
The young woman’s chin came up and she regarded him squarely. In this sudden show of self-possession, Ian glimpsed a strong-mindedness beneath the shy exterior. “She seemed kind. A lot of people are quick to judge me.”
“Which people?”
“At the jazz club where I work. They think I’m selfish to give up my baby.”
Although he’d quietly switched on his digital recorder, Ian jotted notes as backup. “You figured Jennifer wouldn’t judge?”
“She looked like she understands how it feels to get hurt.”
“You figured that out from the video?” Amazing.
“I’ve watched it over and over on my laptop.” Sunny stared down at her hands. “You remember what she said? ‘Every day I walk past our nursery and wish I could hold them all in my arms.’ Then she started to cry. Yeah, I think at some level she’s like me.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly.
Sunny blinked. “How well do you know her, anyway?”
This was dangerous ground. “She gave me a lot of access while I was working on the follow-up story.”
A smile broke through the solemnity, and for the first time the name Sunny seemed to fit her. “Is that what you call it? Access?”
He chuckled. “You’re pretty perceptive.”
“People don’t expect that from me.”
“Spruce up your image and you’ll knock ’em dead,” he suggested.
“I might try that.”
From the hallway, Ian heard the creak of the baby carriage. Sunny’s brightness faded, and she clutched her purse harder.
She was nervous, he realized, and uncertain how she’d react to seeing her baby. A dramatic moment, noted the observant part of Ian’s brain. Great stuff for his article. Only he had a hard time enjoying the opportunity. Not that he’d ever been entirely indifferent to his subjects’ feelings, but this time, he cared more than he should.
A lot more.
A TWINGE OF FEAR shivered through Jennifer as she faced this young woman who held the future in her hands. Only last Friday, Sunny had been a defenseless stranger and Jennifer the confident professional. Now everything had changed.
At the same time, she couldn’t help noting that despite the differences in coloring—Rosalie was blonde and blue-eyed, Sunny had light brown hair and hazel eyes—the pair had the same small ears and generous mouths.
“Hi, Sunny, Ian. Sorry I’m late.” Despite her best effort, her voice trembled. Struggling to regain control, Jennifer bent to lift Rosalie from the stroller.
“Wow, what a cute outfit!” Sunny fingered the red sleeper covered with white hearts. “She looks like she’s grown already. Is that possible?”
“She’s gained four ounces.” Samantha had insisted on weighing her. “And that was as of yesterday.” Cradling the baby against her shoulder, Jennifer forced herself to ask, “Would you like to hold her?”
Sunny took a deep breath. Behind her, Ian watched them both with an unreadable expression. In reporter mode, Jennifer presumed. She’d have to be careful what she said in front of him.
Yesterday afternoon, after she and Mark finished answering the press’s questions, she’d experienced a completely irrational urge to pack up and take Rosalie somewhere, anywhere, that no one could find them. Such a place didn’t exist, of course, and besides, Jennifer wouldn’t deprive Sunny of her child if the young mother truly wanted her back. Still, the force of her own emotions had shocked her.
And now here she was, prepared to say goodbye. Or, at least, she hoped she could.
Even if it broke her heart.
To her surprise, Sunny folded her arms. “I can’t. If I do, I might…well, act stupid, and I’ve already done more than enough of that already.”
Jennifer was flooded with relief. Yet she knew this wasn’t over yet. “Would you like me to leave so you can conduct the interview?”
“I asked for you to be here.” Sunny plopped into a chair. “Please stay.”
Ian shrugged. Apparently, he didn’t understand the young woman’s motives, either.
“Hold on a minute.” After resettling Rosalie in the carriage, Jennifer wheeled it around the table and sat close to Ian so Sunny wouldn’t have to keep swiveling her head between them.
His clean male scent teased at her nostrils, and he plucked a receiving blanket from Jennifer’s shoulder. “I doubt you meant to wear this all day.”
Embarrassed at having overlooked it, and even more by the way she enjoyed his touch, she tucked it in the diaper bag. “Guess I’m a little distracted.” She folded her hands on the table and focused on Sunny.
Ian picked up his pad. “Okay. So you’re a singer.”
“No, just a waitress girl. I’m working my way through community college,” Sunny said.
“Any particular field in mind?”
“Accounting. I like numbers.” She grimaced. “I got pretty good at counting to nine months. Boy, was I an idiot. You can write that. Go ahead. You won’t hurt my feelings. I was really, really dumb.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jennifer told her.
Sunny shot Ian an almost gleeful look. “I told you she wouldn’t judge!”
“Judge you for what?” Jennifer asked.
“For being selfish about my future. I grew up in foster homes, and since I turned eighteen, I’ve been on my own. Broke and struggling. I don’t want that kind of life for my kid.”
“That isn’t selfish,” Jennifer protested.
“Thank you!”
“What about the father?” Ian asked. “What’s his view of all this?”
Jennifer almost wished he hadn’t brought that up. But fathers had a lot of legal rights these days. Better to find out the situation now than later.
“You mean Daddy Hit and Run?” Sunny scoffed. “He’s married. That’s another thing people judge me about, but I honestly didn’t know. He didn’t wear a ring.”
Ian looked up from his notes. “How did you meet him?”
“He drove a tow truck. My car broke down and I didn’t know how I was going to pay for repairs. He said he’d fix it free on his own time.”
The Would-Be Mommy Page 10