by Lyz Kelley
The acceptance and confidence that spread across his face made her want to tap into some of his all-the-dude attitude. He must have sensed her struggle because his eyes seemed to caress her face. “I’ll make sure someone gives you an update. You’ll be the first to know.”
“I’ll be in the trauma waiting room downstairs. It’s quieter.”
He nodded and then passed Ellie to the waiting nurse before disappearing to prep for surgery. Moments later the prep nurse wheeled Ellie from the room.
A quiet yet relentless desperation gripped McKenzie by the throat. Not wanting anyone to see the apprehensive tears, she hurried toward the elevators, avoiding direct eye contact. During the six-floor descent, she pushed the worst possible scenarios out of her mind. Entering the waiting room, she veered to a quiet corner and clutched a sliver of hope to her heart, but all the things that could go wrong continued to circle like vultures.
Too nervous to concentrate on a book or the hundreds of magazines fanned out on the tables, she slipped her feet out of her shoes and stared out the garden window.
Time crawled by, inch by frustrating inch. When the waiting room door opened, she looked up with hope.
“I thought I might find you here.” Beth folded into a chair beside her. Her purple duck scrubs stretched across her ample form when she tucked one leg under the other.
“Have you heard anything?”
“It’ll be a couple more hours yet. Pediatric heart surgery is rather exacting.”
McKenzie turned away to hide her helplessness. The wind swirled among the branches of the giant oaks, setting the leaves to dancing in a chaotic, mesmerizing pattern, reminding her how little control any person had over what happened in their lives. She sent a silent prayer into the world for Ellie but doubted the simple plea would do any good. She hadn’t prayed in a long time, and the murmured words seemed hollow, lacking the conviction they’d once had years ago.
Beth tapped her arm. “Did you see the papers this morning? There was a beautiful write-up about the surgical suite’s grand opening and your mural.”
The operating room, the painting, the charity ball, all seemed so insignificant when a life held on by the most fragile of threads.
“No, I haven’t. Mom mentioned there was an article and that Dad was disappointed with the opening turnout when she called this morning. I don’t blame the media for not rolling out the red carpet with three date changes. Without your help, I doubt anyone would have attended. Thank you.”
“Are you kidding me? Positive publicity, I’ll take it any day of the week. And, Ms. Artist, the kids loved the mural challenge. Every one of those kids wants to be the first to find all thirty-seven creatures. I can’t take it when kids watch TV or play games on their whatcha-ma-jigits all day.” The nurse rolled her eyes.
Loathing for anything with an electrical cord seemed somewhat strange since Beth was excited about the wall-to-wall robot that had taken up residence in the operating room. She wondered if the dislike had more to do with anxiety about learning the new technology than disapproval.
“Mom asked me to paint something to auction off at the charity ball. Donations are low this year.” A swirling of insecurity dried her mouth.
“Your stuff belongs in museums and art galleries, not necessarily on hospital walls where grubby fingers can touch. I bet your painting will fetch thousands. I can’t wait to see the look on your parents’ faces when the bidding ends. What are you going to paint?”
The image of Garrett holding Ellie popped into her mind. “Not sure yet,” she said with enough doubt to encourage Beth to drop the subject, even though the vivid image screamed to be recreated on canvas. “So who started the betting pool on the mural?” she asked on a hunch.
“One of the nurses in the ER. The Trauma team boasted they could name all the animals before the NICU staff. You wouldn’t be willing to help a friend?”
“Nurse Bernard! Now that would be cheating.”
“I figured you, being a straight-skirt type, would remain tight-lipped.”
The moray eel because of his camouflage, and the sea anemone, hiding in plain sight, were the ones McKenzie figured would be the last two critters found. A little girl tethered to an IV pole spotted the hermit crab climbing on a piece of coral. It helped that the little fella was at the six-year-old’s eye level.
“I’ll give you one hint. One of the creatures is not a friend of the sea.”
“Now what type of clue is that?”
“A darn good one.” The play on sea anemone and enemy tickled her and lifted her mood.
Beth checked her watch. “I’ve only got a few more minutes before I need to get back. We have an internal audit next week. I want our unit’s boots and buckles shined.”
Unexpected laughter bubbled in her chest over Beth’s choice of words. “Do you miss your farm?”
“Naw. It’s not the same without Gus. After he died, I couldn’t stay there anymore. We met, got married, had babies, grew ‘em up. It’s better for the boys to run the place. Fifty-six acres is a lot to manage with a full-time nursing job.”
The last picture she’d seen of Beth’s husband, Gus, was after she and Beth shared a pitcher of margaritas and a heaping plate of nachos. The photograph captured two people still in love, even after a long life together—a rare find. The kind of find she’d hoped for but knew didn’t exist, at least not for her. “I loved the snapshots you sent of your grandkids riding sheep. The little riding chaps and cowboy hats were adorable.”
“The farm’s a safe place to grow kids. It has a way of teaching children about life.”
McKenzie pictured Ellie running through Beth’s horse pasture, little mud boots covering her ankles, a pink dress with a grass-stained hem, and contagious laughter drifting on the soft summer wind.
“You’re thinking of that little girl. You love her, don’t you?”
Beth had a way of making a statement out of a question. She got to the root of an issue, no matter how uncomfortable.
McKenzie squirmed under her scrutiny. “I love all the children here. You know that.”
“But you love this one in a special way. A kind of love that could last a lifetime if you would let it.”
“I’ve been down that adoption road.”
A protective anger flashed in Beth’s eyes. “You should forget what that pig-butted caseworker said. She doesn’t know you. You’d make a great mom.”
“Yeah, but she has a bias toward single parents.” Doubt paper-punched holes into that theory. “In vitro seems my best option.”
“In vitro. Is the good doctor shooting blanks?”
She cringed. Oh yeah, the engagement. It’s hard to remember you have a fiancé when you aren’t really engaged. She hated lying to her friends. If anyone would understand her reasoning for agreeing to help the doctor it would be Beth. Only a couple of weeks more and she could come clean.
“No, it’s me,” she said with a boldness she didn’t feel. “I told you my pipes are broken. In vitro may be the only way to motherhood.”
“You have such a big heart. It would be a shame if you couldn’t find a way to share it.”
She reached for her friend’s hand. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?
“It’s me who appreciates you. After what your family has done for me and my kids? This hospital. This city. This job saved my life. If anyone knew how generous you are…”
“And you know that’s the last thing I want. Let’s keep those little things between us girls.” McKenzie squeezed and released Beth’s hand. “Shouldn’t you go do some paperwork?”
Beth groaned. “And here I thought I was doing a good job of procrastinating. I have a crew coming in tomorrow to do the inventory.”
“Better you than me.”
“Can I get you anything?”
A functional uterus, and possibly some lucky Chinese calendar birthdates for my babies.
“No, nothing. I want to be here in case Dr. Branston sends someone
to give me an update.”
“Your fiancé has your number. He can call you, you know. You don’t have to stay. It might be awhile. Heart surgery is tricky.”
“I’ll stay for Ellie.” She didn’t like the unspoken admit you love that little girl look in her friend’s eyes, and turned toward the window, adding, “She deserves to have someone waiting for her.”
“I understand. If you need anything have a nurse page me.” Beth patted her knee and stood up.
“Have fun counting things.” She shot her friend a sly grin.
Beth gave her a squished-faced, over-the-shoulder response before disappearing through the door.
The blue upholstered chair absorbed McKenzie’s body weight. Scared about what she might hear, she folded the negative thoughts and put them away, instead of watching people come and go, and the sun drift across the sky. Eventually, the lack of caffeine and sleep crushed her will to remain vigilant. Her eyelids drifted closed like the maple seed helicoptering to the ground. Silence held her suspended, and exhaustion yanked her into deep slumber. Seconds, and then minutes, and then hours passed until her inner alert system set off alarms.
Her eyes snapped open.
A large hand withdrew from her face and dreams faded. Garrett crouched before her.
“How’s Ellie?” Hope and concern twisted together to form a question.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He shifted and straightened the blanket that had appeared, covering her from shoulders to feet. “Ellie’s stable and in recovery. I did the best I could. Now it’s up to her.”
“You look exhausted. Can I get you something? Give you a ride home?” she asked, rotating into a more vertical position.
The shake of his head came slowly, and then repeated. “I’ll stay here until Ellie’s out of recovery. I’m more worried about you. Why did you get so angry upstairs?” His glare would have knocked a man unconscious without the anesthetic.
She rubbed a spot on her palm to remove paint that wasn’t there. “I’m scared Ellie will die strapped to a bed and connected to machines with no one to comfort her. She needs to know there’s hope. She needs to know she’s not alone.”
Then the corners of his eyes softened, and the sparkle returned. “I had a feeling that might be the case. I’ve ordered a sleeping chair for Ellie’s room so you can stay with her. Your lullabies will be better than any medications I can prescribe. She’s waiting for you.” He tugged on the stethoscope around his neck. “Have you ever considered adopting? I’ve seen the way you are with Ellie. You love that child.”
Not you too. A longing swamped her, so strong it created a lifelike image of Baby Ellie in her arms, giggling, looking at her with trust—but hope and longing wouldn’t be enough. “Adoption isn’t a choice.”
“Why not? Or is it that you don’t want the complications that come with drug addiction and cardiac babies?”
“You’re being a jerk.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Exhaustion lowered his eyelids.
“No, you’re not. You meant every word,” she said, trying to get him to open up without going on the offensive.
“Right again.” He rubbed the top of his short, spiked hair before his eyes engaged hers. “You want a child, and I have one in the nursery who needs a good home. Statistics tell me next month two to three babies will replace her.” There was no longer a challenge in his voice, and he seemed almost melancholy. “The way you sing to her, hold her, everything tells me you love that baby—I thought you loved her enough to give her a permanent home. Was I wrong?”
“Yes and no.” Her voice sounded almost desperate, hated the vulnerability. “For starters, I’m already on the state’s adoption register.” She held up a hand against his excitement. “Working, single mothers are not high on their preference list. Plus, the decision-makers lean toward couples who already have a child or two.” She took a long inhale of air and let it out slowly. “You make adoption sound like I can put a quarter in a machine and out pops a baby. Surprise. It’s not that simple. Love and commitment sometimes aren’t enough.” Frustration made her slump back into her chair.
“I’m new here, but I can make a few calls.”
She pressed her fingertips to swollen eyelids. Garrett’s arguments made sense, and instinct told her he only wanted the best for the state’s ward. She placed her hand on her stomach. A new wave of sorrow threatened to drag her under. She dropped her hands to her sides. Worried eyes met hers.
“Don’t bother.”
“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow when we’re not so tired.”
“Garrett, you need to drop this,” she said with more emphasis than she’d meant to convey. “When you try to help, you challenge, you question, you demand. You’re adamant that your solution is right. Whether you’re right or wrong, your approach is intimidating. I can’t go there again. The adoption process almost broke me the last time.”
“Last time.” His jaw ticked and his intense gaze battered her shields. “Okay. Okay. I hear what you’re saying. Sometimes my passions make me too pushy. The first time we met, I told you those special-care babies were my responsibility. Those weren’t just words. I know what it’s like to have a mother walk away, leave a kid feeling helpless, abandoned. Ellie may be too young to realize it now, but she needs someone to care for her, love her, and help her through life. I got lucky.” He paused, his eyes swimming. “You’ll make a great mother, and I have no doubt someday you’ll have a child of your own to love. You can call me obstinate, but I had hoped to find a special and loving home for one of my kids.”
The sincerity in his eyes, the way he leaned in, shouted an unfiltered affection for the children in his care. Those tender feelings in such a strong man stirred her.
“Thank you for caring so much.” She placed a hand over his heart to feel the steady, driving confidence. An understanding silence extended between them, bridging the gap, creating a common cause. She wiped away her liquid emotions. “Ellie is one lucky girl. An exceptional doctor cared for her. If she could thank you, she would.”
He swiped the surgical cap off his head, fisted the cloth in his hand, and gave her a look that suggested he could leap buildings in a single bound. “Helping, and hopefully saving, children is my job…my life. It’s who I am. And I don’t expect thanks. It’s what I do.”
“You’re an outstanding surgeon, a pretty good administrator, and a not-so-bad pretend fiancé either,” she said with a conspiratorial wink aimed to lighten the mood.
“You didn’t think so a few weeks ago. I take it you’re undergoing a change of mind.”
“A few weeks ago I might not have had all the facts.”
His eyes transitioned, pooling with a foreboding darkness. “What makes you think you have all the facts now? In LA…” He glanced at the gray-haired, hunchbacked woman entering the waiting room, and then back to McKenzie. “Never mind. Go see Ellie, Mac. I’ll try to stop by later. I have to check on a few more patients.”
“Can I at least get you something to eat?”
“There’s food in the doctor’s lounge.” He placed a hand on the back of his neck, closing his eyes and rolling his head popping unaligned vertebrae back into place. “I know you’re anxious to see Ellie. If you get too cold, ask for one of the heated blankets.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not usually this emotional,” she muttered.
An odd expression crossed his face. “Trying to keep emotions caged can eat at a person.” He hovered a few seconds before standing and taking a step back. “I need to change and then do my rounds.”
The small specks of blood smeared on his scrubs had escaped her immediate attention. He hadn’t stopped to change or wash. He came to her the moment he was free. The gesture touched her heart.
Since he’d already retreated, asking him what he started to say about LA would have to wait.
Los Angeles. A place he seemed to love and hate. She wondered who or what in his hometown had forced him to ru
n. He’d had a good job, great reputation, and he obviously missed his family. So what made him move from LA to New York, a city with a culture as different as Realism and Abstract paintings?
Constantly on the move, she understood. Trying to escape a past—a past he possibly didn’t want to remember? She sensed his avoidance like the soft, subtle changes of seasons.
At some point, he’d have to stop.
At some point, he’d have to decide.
And, when he did, she hoped he’d share. Because of all people, she understood.
Chapter 7
McKenzie’s lullaby filled the air with a soothing sweetness the NICU monitors couldn’t diminish. Garrett closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. Today the melody seemed more intimate, more personal. Passion wrapped around the music and gave the song power. Others close enough to hear moved in slow motion and listened to the impromptu concert.
He watched her through the observation window. She was oblivious to his presence, holding Ellie to her breast, rocking back and forth. The surrounding medical machines didn’t exist in her world. She invested every spare gram of affection catering to Ellie’s needs. His heart ached for that kind of human connection, a need he’d ignored for a long time. Minutes passed. When she emerged from her reverie and noticed him, she wiggled fingers to wave hello.
The desire for something, something he couldn’t have, wouldn’t allow himself to have, dragged him down that alley of regret.
His mind wandered back in time. Back to a time he hadn’t been in control, and another when he’d lost control—both times had shredded his life into tiny bits. His body tensed and he wrestled with the unwanted memories.
“Garrett? I thought you went home.”
“Don’t you know? You’re a siren who draws hapless passersby to your side.” Her green eyes with a touch of gold searched his. An emotional suppleness he didn’t see very often gentled her face, and his chest tightened.
She gave a little shrug. “The song seems to appease the babies.”