His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty

The doctor chuckled. “Man up, dude. I’m just getting started.”

That got an ironic laugh out of Joe. Yeah, sterile dude, man up!

“You won’t be feeling much in a couple of minutes.”

Joe knew the drill, he’d sutured his share of patients in his field training days, but this was the first time in his entire life he’d been the patient in need of stitches. Hell, he’d never even needed a butterfly bandage before.

“So, about the girl with the black eye,” James said, donning sterile gloves while preparing the small sterile minor operations tray. “I wonder if she may have had any prior intracranial injuries that might have contributed to her immediately falling unconscious.”

“I was wondering the same thing, but she hit that pavement really hard. I hope she doesn’t have a subdural hematoma.”

“We’re doing a complete head trauma workup on her.”

“Thanks. I know this probably sounds weird, but I feel personally responsible for her, having seen the whole thing go down, not getting there fast enough, and being the first to treat her and all. Especially since she doesn’t have any ID.”

“You broke a rule, right? Got involved with your patient?”

“Didn’t mean to, but I guess you could say that. I know it’s foolish—”

James turned back toward him. “And this might be foolish too, but when the police come we’ll tell them we’ll be treating and letting our Jane Doe recover right here.”

Touched beyond words, as the cost for staying at this exclusive clinic would be astronomical, Joe wanted to shake the good doctor’s hand but he wore sterile gloves. “Thank you. I really—” He was about to say “appreciate that” but quickly went quiet, not used to being the patient as the first stitch was placed, using a nasty-looking hooked needle, and though he didn’t feel anything, he still didn’t want to move.

“If I stitch this up just so, there’ll hardly be a scar. On the other hand, I could make you look like you’ve got a seven pack.”

As the saying went, it only hurt when he laughed.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the police had taken a thorough report, and also told Joe they hadn’t found anyone matching the description a couple of witnesses had given for the suspect, they also said they hadn’t recovered Jane Doe’s purse.

Joe sighed and shook his head. She’d continue to be Madam X until she came to. Which hopefully would be soon.

“We do have one lead, though.”

He glanced up, hopeful whatever that lead was it might point to Jane’s identity.

“The clinic staff found a bus-ticket stub in her sweater pocket. If she used a credit card to purchase the ticket, we might be able to trace it back and identify her.”

“That’s great. But what if she paid cash?”

“That might imply she didn’t want to be traced.”

“Probably explain those bruises, too.”

The cop nodded. “The most we could possibly find out is the origin of the ticket. Which city she boarded in, but she’s bound to wake up soon, right?”

Joe glanced across the room. Jane was now in one of the clinic’s fancy hospital gowns and hooked up to an IV, still looking as peaceful as a sleeping child. “It’s hard to say with concussion and potential brain swelling. The doctors may determine she needs surgery for a subdural hematoma or something, for all I know.”

The young cop looked grim as he considered that possibility, and Joe was grateful for his concern. “Well, we’ll be in touch.” He gave Joe his card. “If she wakes up, or if there’s anything you remember or want to talk about, give me a call. Likewise, I’ll let you know if we find anything out.”

“Thanks.”

An orderly and RN rolled Jane by Joe. “Where’s she going?”

“To her room in the DOU. She’s in Seventeen A.”

The definitive observation unit was for the patients who needed extra care. Dr. Di Williams ran the unit like a well-oiled machine. Jane would be well looked after, but... He made a snap decision—he wasn’t going home tonight. If James and Di would let him, he’d wait things out right here.

Fifteen minutes later, Sleeping Beauty was tucked into a high-end single bed in a room that looked more like one in a luxury spa hotel than a hospital. The only thing giving it away were the bedside handrails and the stack of monitors camouflaged in the corner with huge vases and flower arrangements. The tasteful beige, white and cream decor was relaxing, but Joe couldn’t sleep. Instead, he sat in the super-comfy bedside chair resting his head in the palm of his right hand, watching her sleep. Wondering what her story was, and pondering why he felt so responsible for her. He decided it was because she was completely vulnerable. He knew the feeling. Someone besides a staff nurse had to look out for her until they found out who she was and could locate her family.

Sporting that black eye and those healing bruises on her arms, it was likely she had been in an abusive relationship. Most likely she’d been beaten up by the man she’d thought she loved.

His left thumb flicked the inside of his vacant ring finger, reminding him, on a much more personal level, how deeply love could hurt.

CHAPTER TWO

A FIRM HAND sent Joe out of a half dreaming, half awake state. He’d been smiling, floating around somewhere, smiling. The grip on his shoulder made a burst of adrenaline mainline straight to his heart, making his pulse ragged and shaky. He sat bolt upright, his eyes popping open. In less than a second he remembered where he was, turned his head toward the claw still grabbing him, and stared up at the elderly night nurse.

Cecelia, was it?

“What’s up?” he said, trying to sound awake, then glancing toward the hospital bed and the patient he’d let down by falling asleep. Some guardian he’d turned out to be. She’d been placed on her side, either sound asleep or still unconscious, with pillows behind her back and between her knees, and he hadn’t even woken up.

“Your services are needed,” Cecelia said with a grainy voice. “We have a helicopter transfer to Santa Barbara.”

“Got it. Take care of her.”

“What I’m paid for,” Cecelia mumbled, fiddling with the blanket covering her patient.

Joe stood, took one last look at Jane, who still looked peaceful, and walked to the nearest men’s room to freshen up, then reported for duty in the patient transitioning room.

Rick, the RN from last night, was at the end of his shift and gave Joe his report. “The fifty-four-year-old patient is status post breast reduction, liposuction and lower face lift. Surgery and overnight recovery were uneventful. She’s being transferred to Santa Barbara Cottage Hotel for the remainder of her recovery. IV in right forearm. Last medicated for pain an hour ago with seventy-five milligrams of Demerol. Dressings and drainage tubes in place, no excess bleeding noted. She’s been released by Dr. R. for transfer.” The male RN, fit and overly tanned, making his blue eyes blaze, gave Joe a deadpan stare. “All systems go. She’s all yours.” Then, when out of earshot of the patient, Rick whispered, “I didn’t vote for her husband.”

Joe accompanied the patient and gurney to the waiting helicopter on the roof and loaded the sleeping patient onto the air ambulance. He did a quick head-to-toe assessment before strapping her down and locking the special hydraulic gurney into place. He then made sure any and all emergency equipment was stocked and ready for use. After he hooked up the patient to the heart and BP monitor, he put headphones on his patient first and then himself and took his seat, buckling in, preparing for the noisy helicopter blades to whir to life then takeoff.

After delivering the patient to the Santa Barbara airport and transferring the politician’s wife, who would not be named, to the awaiting recovery hotel team, he hoped to grab some coffee and maybe a quick breakfast while they waited for the okay to take off for the return trip.

Two hours later, back at the clinic, Joe’s only goal was to check in on Jane Doe. He hoped she’d come to and by now maybe everyone knew her name, and he wondered what it might be. Alexis? Belle? Collette? Excitedly he dashed into her room and found her as he’d left her...unconscious. Disappointment buttoned around him like a too-tight jacket.

The day shift nurse was at her side, preparing to give her a bed bath. A basin of water sat on the bedside table with steam rising from the surface. Several towels and cloths and a new patient gown were neatly stacked beside it. A thick, luxurious patient bath blanket was draped across her chest, Sleeping Beauty obviously naked underneath it. He felt the need to look away until the nurse pulled the privacy curtain around the bed.

“No change?” he asked, already knowing and hating the answer.

“No. But her lab results were a bit of a surprise.”

“Everything okay with her skull?”

“Oh, yeah, the CT cranial scan and MRI were both normal except for the fact she’s got one hell of a concussion with brain swelling. Well, along with still being unconscious and a slow-wave EEG to prove it.”

Joe knew the hospital privacy policy, and this nurse wasn’t about to tell him Jane Doe’s lab results. Theoretically it wasn’t any of his business. Except he’d made a vow last night, and had made it his business to look after her. As he hadn’t signed off on his paramedic admission notes for Jane last night, he suddenly needed to access her computer chart to do so.

He headed to the intake department to find a vacant computer, but not before running into James, who looked rested and ready to take on the day. Joe, on the other hand, had gotten a glimpse of himself in the mirror when he’d made a quick pit stop on arriving back at the clinic a few minutes earlier. Dark circles beneath his eyes, a day’s growth of beard... Yeah, he was a mess.

“What are you still doing here?” James asked.

“Just got back from a helicopter run to Santa Barbara for one of your patients.”

“Cecelia told me you stayed here last night.”

Damn that night nurse. “Yeah, well, I wanted to be around if Jane Doe woke up.”

He didn’t look amused. “This is an order, Joe. Go home and get some sleep. Don’t come back until your usual evening shift. Got it?”

“Got it. Just have to sign off my charting first.”

Several staff members approached James with questions, giving Joe the chance to sneak off to the computer. He logged on and quickly accessed Jane Doe’s folder. First he read her CT scan results and the MRI, which were positive for concussion and brain swelling, but without fractures or bleeding, then he took a look at her labs. So far so good. Her drug panel was negative. Good. Her electrolytes, blood glucose, liver and kidney function tests were all within normal limits. Good. Then his gaze settled on a crazy little test result that nearly knocked him out of the chair.

A positive pregnancy test.

His suddenly dry-as-paper tongue made it difficult to swallow. His pulse thumped harder and his mind took a quick spin, gathering questions as it did. Did the mystery lady know she was pregnant? He wondered if the father had been worried out of his mind about her since she’d gone missing. Or was the guy who beat her up the father...because she was pregnant?

Had she been running away? Most likely.

Shifting thoughts made bittersweet memories roll through his mind over another most important pregnancy test. One that had changed his life. He wanted more than anything to make those thoughts stop, knowing they never led to a good place, but right now he was too tired to fight them off.

He’d once been on that pregnancy roller-coaster ride, one day ecstatic about the prospect of becoming a father. Another day further down the line getting a different lab test irrefutably stating there was no way in hell he could have gotten his wife pregnant. Any hope of becoming a father had been ripped away. The questions. The confrontations. The ugly answers that had finally torn his marriage apart.

Hell.

He needed to leave the clinic. James had been right. He should go home and get some sleep because if he didn’t he might do something he still wanted to do desperately. Give his best—strike that—ex-best friend the beating he deserved.

* * *

On the third day Joe sat in his now favorite chair at the mystery lady’s bedside, thumbing through a fitness magazine. Di Williams, the middle-aged, hard-working head of DOU, had shaken him up earlier when she’d explained Sleeping Beauty’s condition as brain trauma—or, in her case, swelling of the brain—that had disconnected the cerebral cortex circuits, kind of like a car idling but not firing up the engine. She’d also said that if she didn’t come around soon, they’d have to consider her in a coma and would need to move her to a hospital that could best meet her longer-term needs.

The thought of losing track of the woman he’d vowed to look after made his stomach knot. The doctor had also said she’d be getting transferred to a specialist coma unit later that afternoon for an enhanced CT scan that would test for blood flow and metabolic activity and they’d have to go from there, which kept Joe’s stomach feeling tangled and queasy.

Time was running out, and it seemed so unfair for the girl from the bus. What about her baby?

Jane moved and Joe went on alert. It was the first time he’d witnessed what the nurses had said she often did. He’d admitted, when no one had been around, to flicking her cheek with his finger from time to time to get some kind of reaction out of her, but nothing had ever happened. The lady definitely wasn’t faking it. She moved again, this time quicker, as though restless. A dry sound emitted from her throat. He held his breath and felt his heart pump faster as he pushed the call light for the attending nurse.

Jane Doe was waking up.

Tiny sputtering electrical fuses seemed to turn on and off inside him as his anticipation grew. He stood, leaned over the hospital bed and watched the sleeping beauty’s lids flutter. Instinctively, he turned off the overhead lamp to help decrease the shock of harsh light to her vision as her eyes slowly opened.

They were dark green. And beautiful, like her.

But they’d barely opened before they snapped shut again as her features contorted with fear.

* * *

Carey fought for her life, flailing her arms, kicking her feet. Someone wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t Ross. Not this time. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. She tried to scream, but the sound didn’t leave her throat. Fear like she’d never felt before consumed her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to protect herself in order to protect her baby.

Someone shouted and ran toward her. She knew he wanted to help. Broad shoulders, and legs moving in a powerful sprint. “Hey!” His voice cut through the night. That face. Strong. Determined. Filled with anger over the man trying to take her purse. She fought more. She had to break away from the smelly man’s grip.

“Hey!”

Fight. Fight. Get away.

“Hold on, everything’s okay. You’re safe.” Did she recognize the man’s voice? “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her shoulders, kept her still. She held her breath.

More hands smoothed back her hair. “It’s okay, hon.” A woman’s voice. “Calm down. You’re in the hospital.”

Hospital? Had she heard right?

Carey shook her head. It hurt. She was hit by a wave of vertigo that made her quit squirming. She lay still, waiting for the hands to release her. It felt like she was in an extremely comfortable bed. She relaxed her tight, squinting eyes and slowly opened first one then the other. She turned her head to a shadow looming above her. It had features. The face she remembered from her dreams. Strong. Brave. Was this still a dream?

She stared at him, her breathing rapid, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.

“You’re in the hospital and you’re safe,” he said in a low, comforting voice.

She looked beyond him to a gorgeous room. A hospital? It looked more like an expensive hotel with muted colors and modern furniture, chic, classy, a room she’d never been able to afford in her life. Was she still dreaming? Since she’d stopped protesting, it was quiet. Oh, and there was an IV in her arm. Being an RN herself, she recognized that right off. A catheter between her legs? And she wore a hospital gown. But this one was silky and smooth, not one of those worn-out over-starched jobs at the hospital where she worked.

Everything was so strange. Surreal. As she gathered her senses she couldn’t remember where she was other than being in a hospital. She couldn’t figure out why she’d be here. Wait. Someone had attacked her. She’d been pushed down. Oh, no! Her hand flew to her stomach, and she gasped.

“My baby!” Her voice sounded muffled and strange, as if her ears were plugged.

“Your baby’s fine,” the woman said. “So you remember you’re pregnant.”

Her hearing improved. She nodded, and it hurt, but she smiled anyway because her baby was fine.

The attractive young man smiled back at her, and the concern in his eyes was surprising. Did she know him?

“My baby’s fine,” she whispered to him, and a rush of feelings overcame her until she cried.

Then the strangest thing happened. The man that she wasn’t sure if she knew or not, the man with the kind brown eyes...his welled up, too. “Your baby’s fine.” His voice sounded raspy.

She cried softly for a few moments, his eyes misty and glistening as he gave a caring smile, and it felt so good.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, hon,” the nearby nurse said.

“But where am I?”

“Hollywood,” he said. “You’re in California.”

She thought hard, vaguely remembering getting on a bus. Getting off a bus. It was all too much to straighten out right now. She was exhausted.

“What’s your name, honey?” The nurse continued.

“Carey Spencer.” At least she remembered her name. But she needed to rest. To close her eyes and...

“She’s out again.” The kind man’s voice sounded far, far away.

“That’s what happens sometimes with head injuries,” the nurse replied.

* * *

Dr. Williams cancelled the plan to transfer her to a coma unit since it was clear Carey Spencer was waking up. Joe assigned another paramedic to cover his shift and stayed by her bedside, hoping to be there when she woke up again. The next time, hopefully, would be permanently. He had dozed off for a second.

“Where am I?” Her voice.

Had he slept a few minutes?

He forced open his eyes and faced Carey as she sat up in the bed, propped by several pillows. Her hair fell in a tangle of waves over her shoulders. Those dark green eyes flashed at him. She’d already figured out how to use the hand-held bed adjuster. “Where am I?” she asked more forcefully.

He’d told her earlier, but she’d suffered a head trauma, her brain was all jumbled up inside. Because of the concussion she might forget things for a long time to come. She deserved the facts.

“You’re in the hospital in Hollywood, California. You got off a cross-country bus the other night. Do you remember where you came from?”

“I don’t want anyone contacting my family.”

He rang for the nurse. “We won’t contact anyone unless you tell us to.”

“I’m from Montclare, Illinois. It’s on the outskirts of Chicago.”

“Okay. Are you married?”

She shook her head, then looked at him tentatively. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes captured his and he could tell she remembered they’d gotten emotional together earlier when she’d woken up before. “And my baby’s okay.” She gave a gentle smile and odd protective sensations rippled over him. Those green eyes and the dark auburn hair. Wow. Her blackened eye may have been healing, but even with the shiner she was breathtaking. In his opinion anyway.

“Yes. Everything is okay in that department. How far along are you? Do you know?”

“Three months.”

“And you came here on the bus for...?”

She hesitated. “Not for. To get away.” She lifted her arms, covered in fading bruises. “I needed to get away.”

“I understand.” The uncompromising need to protect her welled up full force again. “Are you in trouble?”

She shook her head, then looked like it hurt to do so and immediately stopped.

The nurse came in, and asked Joe to leave so she could assess her patient and attend to her personal needs. He headed toward the door.

“Wait!” she said.

He turned.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Joseph Matthews. I’m the paramedic who brought you here.”

“Thank you, Joseph. I owe you my life. And my baby’s,” she said from behind the privacy curtain.

He stared at his work boots, an uncertain smile creasing his lips. She certainly didn’t owe him her life, but he was awfully glad to have been on scene the night she’d needed him.

The police were notified, and Joe didn’t want to stick around where he had no business, though in his heart he felt he deserved to know the whole story, so he went back to work. Around ten p.m., nearing the end of his shift, James approached. “Did you know she’s a nurse?”

“I didn’t. Interesting.”

“She won’t tell us how she got all banged up, but the fact she doesn’t want us to contact the father of the baby explains that, doesn’t it.”

“Sadly, true.”

“So, since she’s recovering, if all goes well after tonight, I’m going to have to discharge her.”

Startled by the news, Joe wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course she couldn’t live here at the clinic. Her identity had been stolen along with her purse and any money she may have had in it. She was pregnant and alone in a strange city, and he couldn’t very well let her become homeless, too. Hell, tomorrow was Sunday! “I’ve got an extra room. I could put her up until she gets back on her feet.”

Joe almost did a second take, hearing himself make the offer, but when he thought more about it, he’d meant it. Every word. Even hoped she’d take him up on it.

“That’s great,” James said. “Though she may feel more comfortable staying with one of our nurses.”

“True. Dumb idea, I guess.”

“Not dumb. Pretty damn noble if you ask me. I’ll vouch for you being a gentleman.” James cast him a knowing smile and walked away.

Joe fought the urge to rush to Carey’s room. She’d been through a lot today, waking up after a three-day sleep and all, and probably had a lot of thinking and sorting out to do. The social worker would be pestering her about her lost identification and credit cards and helping straighten out that mess. The poor woman’s already bruised brain was probably spinning.

He needed to give her space, not make her worry he was some kind of weird stalker or something. But he wanted to tell her good night so he hiked over to the DOU and room Seventeen A, knocked on the wall outside the door, and when she told him to come in, he poked his head around the corner.

“Just wanted to say good night.”

She seemed much less tense now and her smile came easily. She was so pretty, the smile nearly stopped him in his tracks. “Good night. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Glad to be of service, Carey.”

“They’re going to let me go tomorrow.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“Not yet. Social Services is looking into something.”

He walked closer to her bed and sat on the edge of his favorite chair. “I...uh...I have a two-bedroom house in West Hollywood. It’s on a cul-de-sac, and it’s really safe. Uh, the thing is, if you don’t have any place to go, you can use my spare room. It’s even got a private bathroom.”

“You’ve done so much for me already. I couldn’t—”

“Just until you get back on your feet. Uh, you know. If you want. That is.” Why did he sound like a stammering, yammering teenager asking a girl on a date? That wasn’t what he’d had in mind. He just wanted to help her. That was all.

She was the vision of a woman trying to make up her mind. Judging him on whether she could trust him or not, and from her recent experience Joe could understand why she might doubt herself. “Um, Dr. Rothsberg will vouch for me.”