Baby, Baby

In spite of her reluctance to disturb Lacy, Faith must have made a noise. The dark lashes that brushed her sister’s pale cheeks lifted slowly, revealing unfocused blue eyes. “Faith?” Lacy’s voice was thin, breathless. Even with a steady infusion of oxygen, it was obviously a struggle to talk and breathe simultaneously.

“Lacy, honey.” Faith dragged a chair to the bed and sat, grasping the cold fingers. She rubbed gently, trying to share her warmth. “Michael told me you were living at the beach, Lace. I tried calling—left quite a few messages—but you were never at home. Or were you too sick to return my calls?”

Pulling free, Lacy groped in a bedside cabinet. “We, ah, haven’t got much time. In my purse…papers for you to sign.” There was no question that she considered her request urgent.

“Hush. Save your strength. Admission forms can wait.” Faith recaptured her sister’s hand. “I understand Dr. Finegold ordered some tests. If you’d prefer, I’ll notify your own obstetrician and the two doctors can consult first.”

“I haven’t seen an obstetrician since I moved to Boston. That was…three months ago. The papers…are from my attorney. Sign them, Faith. K-keep a copy and mail the other. Envelope is attached. I’m giving you full custody of m-my baby, in case…” The icy fingers tightened on Faith’s hand.

“Custody? Oh, hon, I know you feel rotten. It’s tough enough going through pregnancy alone, to say nothing of getting sick.” Tears squeezed from Faith’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Did you think I wouldn’t help? I’ll be the best aunt ever. And you’ll be a wonderful mom.”

Lacy again tried to reach the cabinet. “Sign…papers,” she panted.

Faith knew it could spell disaster to upset a patient in Lacy’s condition. “Okay, if you’ll lie still, I’ll sign the blasted forms.” She hurriedly found Lacy’s purse and retrieved the documents. Without reading a word, Faith dug out a pen and wrote her name beside every X. “There,” she exclaimed, tucking one copy into the pocket of her uniform and the other into a stamped envelope. “All done. Now will you please relax?”

Lacy tossed her head from side to side. “After it’s mailed.”

Faith heaved a sigh. “You always were stubborn. There’s a postal box right outside the entrance. I’ll post this after the doctor examines you.” Faith was no stranger to bartering with Lacy. Once it had been a game with them, everything from coaxing her younger sister into eating oatmeal to doing her homework.

“Now.” Lacy’s demand was punctuated by a siege of choking that turned her lips blue.

“Hey, hey. Breathe slow and easy. See, I’m on my way to the mailbox. I’ll just have the duty nurse page Dr. Finegold. Oh, and Lacy, Finegold may act gruff, but he’s the best OB-GYN in Boston.”

Once Lacy’s choking eased, Faith scurried out. After stopping at the nursing station to ask them to hunt up Dr. Finegold, she completed her mission as fast as humanly possible. Lacy’s condition frightened Faith more than she wanted to admit. She was afraid her sister needed more than an OB-GYN. She needed a pulmonary cardiologist.

Passing a pay phone in the hall, Faith was tempted to call Michael. He, more than any heart-lung specialist, had the expertise to help Lacy. But she dared not contact him, not without Lacy’s consent. Maybe now that those all-important papers were dispatched, her sister could be persuaded to listen to reason.

Inside the room again, Faith met Lacy’s anxious eyes with a smile. “Mail gets picked up from that box at six in the morning. Now let’s discuss you. I think we should call Michael. Whatever happened between you two, Lacy, he’s one of the world’s leading transplant authorities. Plus,” she said around a quick gulp of air, “he’s your baby’s father.”

“No. Well, probably not.” Lacy’s voice rose and fell convulsively. “Sit. Listen.”

Faith found that her legs wouldn’t hold her. She thought she was beyond shock. Obviously not. Recovering marginally, she sank into the chair, gathered Lacy’s clammy fingers and kissed the white knuckles. “I’m here for you no matter what, Lace. I won’t call Michael. But don’t ask me not to hate him for booting you out.”

“Michael, ah, didn’t boot me out.” Lacy’s fingers fluttered. “He…we—he was so rarely home. He loved his work. M-more than he loved me.”

“That’s doctors, Lacy. Surgeons, especially. I thought Michael was different. The times I visited you, he seemed so devoted. I thought you had everything, honey.”

“Isolation. Drawers full of pills. Endless poking and prodding by my follow-up team.” Lacy ran a restless hand over her swollen stomach. “I quit taking everything when I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh, Lace! You shouldn’t have stopped the anti-rejection pills. Your body needs them to function properly.”

“Yes, but I…” After struggling to catch a breath, Lacy whispered, “I…want her to be perfect. N…or…mal.”

“You know it’s a girl?”

Lacy shook her head and cradled her abdomen again. “No. I haven’t consulted a doctor. I just call my baby Abby. You remember my best friend in high school? Abi…gail?”

Faith’s flicker of a smile was soon replaced by a frown. “So, if you’re not having Michael’s baby—then whose?” She bit her lip and glanced away. “I’m sorry to be nosy. But it occurred to me that if you cared for a man enough to make love with him, he ought to be here seeing you through this.”

Lacy grew fretful again. “I…I—K-Kipp’s on the U.S. sailing team. We, ah, met the day I left Michael. After I fi-filed for divorce, I…I stopped at the club. Kipp…well,” she explained haltingly, “he was lonely, too. The next day he took me sailing and we, ah, made love on the boat. In the weeks after, we danced, sailed, combed the beach. He brought me flowers. Kipp never treated me like a…a…an invalid.” Lacy took a long time to finish her sentence.

“Sounds…wonderful.” Faith didn’t want to hear more, and Lacy should rest and save her strength. “Dr. Finegold ought to be out of surgery by now. I’ll go see what’s keeping him.” She rose and started away.

Lacy plucked at Faith’s arm. “Let me fin…ish. Kipp’s team went to Florida for a race. H-he phoned every day.” A weak smile lifted her blue-tinted lips. “I expected him to visit when the team returned. He didn’t. A few days before he was due back, I got sick. Flu, I thought. I went to the clinic for antibiotics.” She labored to catch her breath. “And…learned I was pregnant.”

Again the room fell silent except for the muted puff of oxygen combined with Lacy’s raspy breath.

“Shh. We can talk after you’ve recovered.” Lacy’s breathing had changed. Her respiration had become so shallow and erratic it frightened Faith. “It’s obvious the guy didn’t stick around. But don’t you worry. I make enough to hire a nanny to help with the baby. Lie quiet now, please,” Faith begged.

Lacy wouldn’t be denied. “I’d never been to Kipp’s house. He always came to mine.” Color splashed her ashen cheeks. “I…found his address and dr…ove there.” Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes.

Wanting to save her sister pain, Faith wiped the tears away with her thumbs. “Please don’t do this, Lacy. Some men are just jerks. Forget him.”

“I…I…parked and was admiring his house. His…his wife came out to…see if I was lost. I didn’t know he was m-m-married.” Tears rolled over Faith’s thumbs and onto Lacy’s pillow.

“The bastard!” Faith couldn’t help herself. She wished she could have five minutes alone with the man responsible for causing her sister this agony.

“The…irony, Faith. Kipp and his wife separated because she couldn’t conceive. They ar…gued over adopting. His dad, a bigwig on Wall Street, wants a grandson to carry on the family name. Kipp…dropped by later. To apologize. Seems his wife heard of a new fertility treatment. He felt obligated to l-let her try it.” Lacy’s thin body was racked with sobs. “I…he…doesn’t know about the baby. I don’t want him to.”

Straightening, Faith adjusted the oxygen hoses. “Oh, sweetie, don’t do this to yourself. You’re getting all worked up and it’s sapping what little capacity you have to breathe. I’m going to get a doctor.” Increasingly worried because Lacy’s skin felt clammy and her face now had a waxy cast, Faith sprang up and hurried across the room.

She yanked open the door and bumped into someone coming in. “Dr. Finegold!” she said, tugging him inside. “Faith Hyatt, sir. I’ve assisted you on post-op rounds. This is my sister.” Letting go of his sleeve, Faith waved toward the bed. “Lacy is a post heart-lung transplant patient,” Faith whispered. “At the onset of pregnancy, she quit taking her anti-rejection meds. Please, she needs help.”

The doctor walked to the bedside and swiftly began an exam. Each time he paused to write in the chart, his scowl deepened. “Who did her transplant?”

“Dr. Cameron. Michael Cameron,” Faith added, darting a guilty glance at Lacy.

“I only know him by reputation. Get him on the phone. Stat! Meanwhile, see if our staff cardiologist has ever assisted with a post-transplant delivery. And while you’re at the desk, Hyatt, order a sonogram.”

At each barked order, Faith nodded. Everyone on staff knew Finegold expected blind obedience. Still she dragged him aside. “You wouldn’t know, but Lacy is Dr. Cameron’s ex-wife,” she murmured. “She won’t authorize calling him.”

“She’s been assigned to my care, Nurse. I’m making the decisions.”

“Yes, sir.” As Faith turned and grasped the door handle, Finegold swore ripely. She felt the flap of his lab coat as he hurtled past her and bellowed into the hall. “Code blue. Get me a crash cart, on the double.” Racing back to the bed, he tore away blankets, sheets and the flimsy oxygen lines and started CPR.

Faith’s senses shut down totally until a cart slammed through the door accompanied by a trained team whose purpose it was to restore a patient’s vital signs. For the first time since she’d become a nurse, Faith didn’t see a patient lying there. She saw her baby sister. Pictures swam behind her eyes. Lacy as a newborn. Taking her first steps. Starting school. Going on her first date. A hospital-room wedding that had somehow led to this debacle. If Michael Cameron had been more of a husband, Lacy would be well and happy and living in New York. Lacy might not blame him, but Faith did. He’d promised to care for her sister in sickness and in health—until death parted them. Panic filled her as Finegold ordered the paddles applied to Lacy’s thin chest.

Lacy’s body jumped and so did Faith’s. She didn’t breathe again until a technician gave a thumbs-up sign, meaning Lacy’s heartbeat had resumed.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit,” Finegold cursed, yanking the stethoscope out of his ears to let it flop around his neck. “We have a pulse but it’s thready. Clear me for an O.R. This woman doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in the tropics if we don’t take the baby. How the hell far along is she? What kind of prenatal care has she had? Get Epstein, Carlson and Wainwright to scrub. Round up an anesthesiologist.” Finegold all but foamed at the mouth.

As he barked orders, Faith grabbed his arm. “My sister hasn’t had any prenatal care, but I’m familiar with her heart problems. Let me scrub with you.”

The doctor shook her off, never slowing his steps toward the door. “I know you’re qualified to assist, Hyatt, but you aren’t in any shape. Take a seat in the OB waiting room. I’ll find you when I’m finished.”

“But I want to help!”

“Pray,” he said, spinning on a heel. With that, he flew down the hall.

The hardest thing Faith had ever done, outside of burying her mother or maybe waiting anxiously through Lacy’s long and tedious heart-lung transplant, was to step aside while they wheeled her out of the room. Even though Faith heartily disliked clingy relatives who impeded the progress of staff readying a patient for surgery, she doggedly kept pace with the squeaky cart. At the elevator, she elbowed aside a technician and kissed Lacy’s cheek.

Weighted eyelids slowly opened. Oxygen tubes from a portable tank pinched Lacy’s nose. IVs ran in both arms. “Take c-care of my b-baby. L…li-like you did me.” The dark pupils of her eyes swallowed all but a narrow ring of blue. It took every ounce of her energy to breathe. Still, she reached feebly for Faith’s hand.

Faith closed the icy fingers between her palms. “We’ll take care of your baby together.” Hardly aware that the elevator door had slid open and someone on the team had roughly disengaged their hands, Faith’s wavering promise bounced off a rapidly closing door. “You fight, Lacy. Hang in there,” she cried in a fractured voice.

THE WAIT SEEMED INTERMINABLE. At about five in the morning, Faith walked to the phone to call her father, just to hear his voice. He and she were all that was left of Lacy’s family. But Dwight Hyatt had escaped into a dreamworld when his beloved wife died. Though only fifty-six, he resided in an assisted-living facility. He played checkers with other residents, watched TV and occasionally went on supervised outings. He recognized Faith at her weekly visits, but he rarely asked about Lacy unless prompted. More times than not, he didn’t know Faith when she telephoned.

Fighting a sense of disorientation, Faith did as Dr. Finegold ordered. She prayed—until she ran out of words and tears. Three hours had passed when she wandered over to the waiting room coffeepot and poured a third cup of sludge. Through the window, she noticed that pale golden threads had begun to erase a solemn gray dawn. The promise of a sunny day lifted Faith’s spirits and gave her hope, the first she’d had throughout her long, lonely vigil.

Muffled footsteps intruded on her optimistic moment. Glancing up, she experienced another rush of relief at seeing Dr. Finegold striding toward her. He untied his mask and dropped it wearily as he drew closer, still wearing full blue scrubs. The cup of muddy coffee slipped from Faith’s fingers and splashed across her feet.

Even at a distance, she recognized the look on Fine-gold’s face. “No, no, no!” The scalding coffee seeped through her socks, but Faith felt nothing until a crushing pain descended and great, gulping sobs racked her body. She stumbled and fell heavily into the nearest chair. She wasn’t aware that tears obscured her view of the approaching man or that they dripped off her cheeks when she stared mutely up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “We did everything we could. Her heart and lungs had been overtaxed for too long. Without anti-rejection drugs…” The doctor shut his eyes and massaged the closed lids. “God, I’m sorry,” he repeated, as he continued to loom over Faith’s shuddering frame. “This part never gets easier,” he said quietly, shifting from one foot to the other.

“And the baby?” she finally asked in a wooden voice.

“Babies,” he corrected, pulling out an adjacent chair and sinking into it. “A boy and a girl. Both under-weight, but scrappy as hell. My best guess is that your sister was seven to eight months along. The male baby weighed in at four-two. The female, an even four. I put in a call to Hal Sampson. If you want a different pediatrician, I’ll cancel him.”

“Two?” Hysteria tinged Faith’s tearful voice. “Twins?”

“Yeah. None of us were prepared. With no history, we were flying by the seat of our pants.” Leaning forward, the doctor clasped his hands between his knees. “You’ve got a lot to deal with. I suggest visiting your niece and nephew before you tackle the unpleasant chores that face you. I think they’ll give you the will to do what needs to be done.” He stood then, and gripped her shoulder briefly. “Well, I have to go complete the paperwork.”

“I, uh, thanks for all you did.” Dazed, Faith rose. Automatically blotting her eyes, she stood and held on to a chair back. Order and organization had always been her greatest strengths. Dependability ran a close second. In an isolated portion of her brain, Faith knew she could get through this ordeal by focusing on one task at a time.

Task one: Mop up the coffee she’d spilled.

Task two: Welcome Lacy’s babies into this harsh, cruel world.

Task three: See her sister properly laid to rest.

Only after she’d done those things would Faith allow herself to think about the future. Struggling with a fresh surge of tears, she groped in her pockets for a tissue to wipe up the coffee. In doing so, she encountered her copy of the custody agreement. In sad hindsight, Lacy’s urgency became all too clear. Lacy must have sensed how badly off she was if she’d had custody papers prepared. Oh, why couldn’t she have had the care to preserve her own health?

She hadn’t. And Faith had promised to be the babies’ guardian. She would do a good job of it, even if right now her loss seemed too great to bear.

Once she’d mopped up the spill—but before she notified the mortuary who’d handled her mother’s funeral—Faith took Dr. Finegold’s suggestion. She made her way to the nursery. With her first glance into the isolettes, she lost her heart to these two tiny scraps of humanity. The baby swaddled in blue screwed up his red face and bellowed, letting the world know he was a force to be reckoned with. His sister pursed a rosebud mouth and slept on, the barest hint of a sigh raising her chest.

A pediatric nurse placed a bolstering hand on Faith’s shoulder. “I’ll get you a mask, gown and gloves if you’d like to hold them.”

“May I?” Faith’s heart fluttered with both joy and sorrow. Joy for herself. Sorrow for the sister who’d never comfort these little ones with her touch.

She made an effort to curb her sadness and concentrated on counting the babies’ fingers and toes. “Oh, aren’t you sweethearts? It takes both of you together to weigh what your mama did at birth.” Lacy had been a solid eight pounds. Faith rocked them and talked on in a low murmur, determined that they should start life hearing about the good, fun-loving side of their mother. “Your mama loved you,” she whispered. “She gave up her own life for you. I’m going to make sure I bring you up the way she would have wanted….”

Soon after, Faith fed both babies with special tubes the nurses prepared, tubes designed to teach the babies to suck properly.

By staying, rocking the dear little bodies and holding them close, Faith was able to delay dealing with her loss. Dr. Finegold was right, she decided, staring at the babies who were now curled up, sleeping peacefully.

Lacy’s twins gave her the strength to go on. To take the next step, complete the next task.

CHAPTER TWO

THE TELEPHONE WAS RINGING when Faith walked into her apartment the next afternoon. She’d spent most of the morning attending to the numerous details associated with Lacy’s funeral. The cloying scent of funeral-home flowers remained in her nostrils. Although she’d walked home in the late-summer sunshine, she still couldn’t warm up.

Physically and mentally drained, Faith considered letting her machine take a message. The red light already blinked, so there were others. News traveled fast in a hospital. It was probably someone from the staff wanting to express condolences. But what if it was the funeral home? The director had said he’d be in touch if any problem arose. Maybe she’d neglected something important.

She snatched up the receiver on the fifth ring. After an initial exchange of hellos, it was a minute or two before Faith realized the caller was the hospital’s chief administrator.

At first all she heard was his mention of the twins, and she panicked. Her heart flew over high hurdles, while her ears recoiled in fear. She could only think that something had happened to Lacy’s babies, even though they’d been fine when she stopped by at ten. The nurses had assured her the babies were healthy, small as they were.

Little by little, Faith’s training kicked in, and she relaxed enough to make sense of what Dr. Peterson was saying.

“I don’t understand,” she ventured shakily when she thought she finally had his message straight. “Two men are at the nursery asking to see the twins? Both claim to be the father? Who are they? How do they…” Her voice trailed off, but before Dr. Peterson could say another word, Faith drowned him out. “It doesn’t matter. Allow no one near Lacy’s babies. No one but me. I’ll be there in five minutes. Tell the nursery staff to have the men wait in the room at the end of the hall.”

The taste of fear grew stronger after she dropped the receiver and bolted for the door. The how, the why, the who all whirled in a muddle through Faith’s sleep-deprived brain. She’d hardly closed her eyes since Lacy had reappeared so abruptly in her life…and then vanished for good. Had it really only been last night?

The how fell into place before Faith reached the sidewalk. Local newspapers had built a headline story out of the death of Michael Cameron’s first multiple-organ transplant patient. Faith had briefly glimpsed today’s front page. At the time, she’d only registered pain—to think Lacy wasn’t to be allowed dignity in death. Her sister had despised the condition she thought had stolen her independence. Lacy had been terrified of becoming a burden to others. She would have hated having her weaknesses exposed to the world.

As she hailed a cab, it struck Faith that the who—the two men making demands at the hospital—wasn’t really any great mystery. One of them would be the great Dr. Cameron himself. The other, probably the married playboy. Kipp, the sailor with no last name.

It wouldn’t be long before Faith ferreted out the why, she thought grimly as she paid the driver, and quickly entered the hospital by a side door. Not that anything either man had to say would change the facts. Lacy’s last request had been for Faith to keep her baby safe from the likes of those two. She had papers saying so.

For good measure, Faith stopped by the admitting office and ran off two copies of the custody document. If, by the time she reached the nursery, she still felt as hostile toward the men as she did now, she’d rub their noses in the truth. Neither one of them had loved Lacy enough to stick by her during her pregnancy. As far as Faith was concerned, the jerks didn’t deserve to set eyes on the twins—and that went for the actual birth father, as well as Michael, who must suffer delusions of being the dad. Why else would Dr. Cameron be here throwing his weight around?

Staff members glanced at Faith curiously as she hurried along the corridor and took the back stairs two at a time. Obviously the grapevine had spread the word. An interested crowd would be lurking behind the potted plants in the expectant fathers’ waiting room.

Thanks to one of the larger rubber plants, Faith was afforded a good view inside the room before anyone noted her approach. Her breath did a half hitch that she couldn’t control. Michael Cameron stood near the window. His brown hair, still dark and thick, was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it several times. The inscrutable Dr. Cameron, who rarely, if ever, had a hair out of place.

No matter how hard Faith tried to control her feelings, her heart always did a slow somersault when she came across Michael unexpectedly. It irritated her that she never seemed to have that reaction to other men—eligible men.

Today Faith commanded her heart to be still. She wanted to study these two analytically—the men who’d been her sister’s lovers. Cameron’s summer khaki suit looked new. He wore a pale cream shirt and a tie that matched the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. He appeared more gaunt than when she’d last seen him more than a year ago, the previous May, at Lacy’s twenty-sixth birthday.

Good. Faith hoped his new leanness had something to do with the breakup of his marriage and wasn’t because he’d joined a fancy health club. She couldn’t tell if he was suffering. His smoldering regard centered on the room’s other occupant. But the man at whom Michael glared appeared oblivious of the daggers coming his way.

Sun-bleached hair fell in a perfect cut above the second man’s well-tanned brow. An expensive navy blazer hung loose over pristine white pants. Faith couldn’t determine the color of the stranger’s eyes. They were trained on a magazine with a sailboat on the cover.