by Rebecca York
Cradle and All [070-4.5]
By: Rebecca York
Synopsis:
Romance, Silhouette intrigue.
Other novels by Rebecca York
Silhouette Intrigue
Life Line Shattered Vows Whispers in the Night Only Skin Deep Trial by
Fire Hopscotch
Chapter One
You weren't supposed to go into labor eight weeks before the baby was
due.
So Dr. Abby Franklin ignored the worsening pain in her back while she
sat through her 10:00 and 11:00 a.
m.
appointments.
Repressing a grimace, she ushered Mr. Pasternak into the waiting room
and assured him his agoraphobia was very treatable.
When he'd left, Abby stretched out an arm, steadying her rounded body
against the door.
Thank goodness she didn't have another appointment until two.
She had started back toward the inner office when a sudden gush of
warnf liquid between her legs changed her lethargic discomfort to
heartpounding panic.
God, no!
It was much too soon for the baby.
She hadn't even planned to go on leave from her private psychology
practice for another month.
On shaky legs, she wobbled to the phone, dropped into her chair, and
called Dr. Goodman.
When she reached him, she started babbling hoarsely about being in
labor two months early.
"Are you having contractions?" he asked, his voice a mirror of the
soothing tone she so often used with hysterical patients.
"No, but my water broke."
That got his attention.
The bottom line was that he wanted her at Freeman Memorial Hospital as
soon as she could get there.
She'd managed to stay reasonably coherent through the conversation.
The moment she hung up, she choked back a frightened sob.
Then the first real contraction hit her, and she forgot everything
she'd learned in childbirth class about relaxation techniques.
All she could do was sag in the chair and wait for the wave of pain to
pass.
Perspiration plastered her dark hair to her forehead and the back of
her neck.
When she was able to breath normally again, she dialed her husband's
number.
If he drove fast, he could get here in twenty minutes from
Baltimore-Washington International Airport, where his company,
Claiborne Carriers, was located.
Jan Monroe, his secretary, caught the tension in Abby's voice.
"Is something wrong?"
"Can I speak to Steve?"
"He isn't in right now, and there's a shipment he wanted to inspect
before it went out."
The young woman sounded both apologetic and perplexed "I'm in labor.
And it's so early. Please, I Jan sucked in a startled breath." Gee,
I'm sorry.
He got a phone call this morning and just took off.
"When?"
I 'At eleven.
"Oh," was all Abby could manage.
"If he checks back, what should I tell him?"
What could she say?
That she needed her husband.
With her.
Now.
And if he couldn't be here with his arms around her, she craved the
reassurance of his deep voice on the phone telling her everything was
going to be all right.
t'Abby?
"I guess he can't drive me to the hospital."
"Abby, I'm so sorry."
"Tell Steve to meet me at Freeman Memorial. As soon as he can."
Abby dropped the phone back in the cradle as another contraction
gripped her middle.
Grabbing the arms of the chair, she clutched the leather-covered wood
for dear life.
Somehow, she was going to have to get through this by herself.
When she could speak again, she phoned downstairs to Laura Roswell's
law office.
Noel Zacharias, who was now working there part-time while she finished
up her law degree, answered.
"Noel, I've got a problem."
4 1How can I help?
"My water broke."
"But you're not due-" Noel stopped abruptly.
"I need a ride to the hospital."
"You've got it."
Two minutes later, Laura and Detective Jo O'Malley burst through her
door.
Both were part of the closeknit group of women who worked at 43 light
Street.
Not only did they help each other_professionally, they were all-good
friends.
"Noel's getting the car. We'll go downstairs with you," Jo said.
"Can you walk?"
Laura asked.
Seeing the concern on her friends' faces, Abby dug down into her own
inner strength.
"I'm fine. Just let me lock up."
She pulled her key ring out of her purse and led the group out into the
hall.
Then she stopped short.
"Oh, no. I've got three patients this afterDoon."
"Don't worry about that. I'll clear your calendar for the next. .
."
Jo's voice trailed off.
"The next two months, at least."
Abby fumbled in her purse and thrust her appointment book into Jo's
hand.
In the lobby, she looked anxiously out the window.
What was taking so long?
Finally the car zipped around the corner, and she started for the door
several paces ahead of her trailing friends.
With a sigh of relief she sank into the car's seat and pulled the door
closed.
"I'll take care of her and call you when it's over," Noel told Jo and
Laura.
She guided the car into the midday traffic.
"We'll be there in a few minutes, Abby."
Abby reached up to touch her friend's arm.
"Thanks."
Beside her, Noel began talking nervously.
"Abby, you helped me out of a tight spot a few months ago.
Now everything's going to be just fine for you, too.
Abby hung on to those words.
Not so long ago Noel had been through a frightening ordeal that had
begun when she'd witnessed a robbery and murder.
But she'd also been reunited with the man she loved.
If Noel could come up lucky, so could she.
Noel was still speaking.
"Your being pregnant has made me think a lot about me and Jason. A
baby has to make a change in your relationship."
Abby didn't answer.
She couldn't tell her friend that impending parenthood had put her
marriage under a lot of stress.
Steve's parents had been pretty rough on their kids, and he had been
afraid he'd do the same thing to a child of his own.
As a result, they hadn't planned this pregnancy.
For months Abby had been walking a fine line between feeling
deliriously happy and guilty.
She'd thought she had time to help Steve get ready.
NowA giant fist gripped Abby's belly, and she tried to concentrate on
the breathing techniques she'd barely practiced.
But this time the pain was worse.
"Was it bad?"
>
Noel asked.
"Stronger than I expected. And longer."
"Maybe you should time the pains. I mean, the contractions."
"Pains," Abby whispered, looking at her watch.
Instead of the numbers and hands on the round disk, she saw her baby's
face.
She'd pictured her and Steve's child so many times over the past few
months.
When she hadn't known the gender, she'd seen a miniature copy of Stevea
little boy with blue eyes, sun-streaked hair and a strong chin.
Although she'd never figured out how a baby could be born with
sun-streaked locks.
Then the ultrasonogram had told her it was a girl, and she'd switched
the image to one with her own green eyes-and Steve's hair.
She hadn't been willing to give up the hair.
"Oh, Shannon, honey," Abby murmured the name she'd picked out weeks
ago, her hand flattening over her abdomen and unconsciously caressing
the fabric of her dress.
"You,re goingto be all right."
4 9
What?
" Noel asked.
Abby flushed.
"Sorry. I was talking to myself."
Another contraction seized her, making it impossible to think.
The pains were getting closer.
Too close.
She swallowed around the lump blocking her windpipe.
"Do you think you can go any faster?"
"YOU'RE WASTING MY TIME-and yours," Steve Claiborne ground out as he
whirled from the window to face the two men who'd been questioning him
about Oliver Gibbs for the past hour.
They'd said his expartner was in trouble and needed his help, so he'd
shown up at Room 152 in the Quality Inn Motel and found two "special
investigators" waiting for him.
The one with the linebacker shoulders was McGuire.
The one who looked like a Doberman who'd sat on a lighted match was
Driscoll.
Their IDs had said they worked for the U.
S.
government.
Now Steve was beginning to wonder.
The longer they talked, the more convinced he was that they were about
as interested in helping his ex-partner as the devil was in Sunday
school.
Neither one had answered any of his questions.
Instead they'd just been pumping him for information.
"Now don't jump to conclusions," McGuire cautioned.
"Your buddy's in hot water, and you'd be doing him a big favor to
cooperate with us."
"What kind of hot water?"
"We're not at liberty to say."
Steve scowled.
He hadn't heard from his friend in months-which was unusual, come to
think of it.
What had ol' Ollie gotten himself in to this time?
They'd been partners in a Far Eastern air cargo business for three
years before he'd come home to marry Abby.
And Steve still owned a small piece of the business, since Gibbs had
never come up with the cash to buy him out.
That had been a sore point between them, because being in debt had
bruised Ollie's ego.
When he was drinking, Gibbs could be an irresponsible jerk.
But when he was sober, Ollie was a damn good man to have in your corner
and a top-notch pilot.
However, his enthusiasm for making a quick deal had landed him in
trouble more than once-like the time he'd signed on to deliver a
shipment of rare Thai artwork to a private collector.
He'd probably suspected it was too good to be anything but black market
stuff.
Unfortunately, he hadn't found out until he'd been arrested that the
items were stolen from Thailand's national museum.
What was it this time?
Did he have something the Feds wanted back?
Steve kept the speculation to himself.
Twice Ollie Gibbs had saved his life, and he owed it to his ex-partner
to find out what was going on.
Steve's gaze bore into McGuire's.
"Who are you really working for? The State Department? The CIA?
The Mafia?
"Oh, we're legit. But National Security's involved.
Just tell us where Gibbs is and we'll leave you alone.
"National Security?"
He laughed.
"Can't you think of a more original line?"
"It's the truth."
"Yeah? Well, it doesn't matter who you are, I still don't have any
information."
He was skating along the edge of the truth.
Although he didn't know for sure where to find Ollie, he could make a
couple of good guesses.
But he wasn't going to tell these jokers anything until he knew what
game they were playing.
"Claiborne, you better not be lying to us."
Steve didn't like the unspoken threat.
"Or what?"
Driscoll's Doberman face sharpened.
"You've got a wife to think about now. And a baby on the way."
"You son of a bitch."
Steve took several menacing steps toward the man, his fists clenched.
McGuire jumped up.
"Now cool down. He just meant you wouldn't want to put anyone else in
danger by not cooperating."
Steve stared from Driscoll to McGuire, but he stopped himself from
belting anyone.
McGuire was right.
Abby didn't need any more problems-like a husband in jail for
assaulting a federal agent.
THE CAR CAME to a bouncing halt in front of the emergency room
entrance.
Abby fumbled for her seat belt, but she was too sick and shaky to make
her fingers work.
"Better get. .. wheelchair. . ." she barely managed.
Noel looked at her in panic.
Then she ran toward the building.
Abby closed her eyes, whimpering now as she tried to deal with pain and
fear.
When the iron grip on her middle loosened, she started to sigh with
relief.
But almost at once, another contraction started and began building to
an almost unendurable peak.
A wheelchair appeared beside the car.
A nurse helped Abby into the seat and whisked her toward the
building.
God, it wasn't supposed to be this way.
None of the books had described this kind of labor.
Not so early.
Not so fast and hard.
"I think she's in transition," the nurse called out as they cleared the
automatic doors.
"Better hurry."
She leaned down toward Abby.
"When did your labor start, honey?"
Abby shook her head.
She was trembling all over now, her teeth chattering as she sped along
in the chair.
Hoping against hope, she craned her head, looking for Steve.
But he wasn't,there.
"Call ahead to the delivery suite. I'm taking her right up," the woman
shouted to the desk clerk before turning back to Abby.
" Who's your 0. B.?"
"Goodman."
Moments later, Abby heard him being paged on the P.
A.
system.
They were in an elevator, then a dimly lit hall.