Lone Star Baby

“It’s a good thing that, unlike me, you don’t fall completely in love with every infant you see.”

Violet bit her lip. Truth was, the pang of longing she’d felt deep inside when she’d gotten her first glimpse of little Ava had caught her completely off guard. And she hadn’t even held her in her arms yet!

But, for obvious reasons, she wasn’t about to admit that to her sister.

Poppy jotted down a final set of numbers. She looked back up, a fleeting sadness in her eyes as the two of them strolled toward the door. “Anyway, back to your current storage problem... I’ll pull a solution together for you and then let you know what we’re going to need.”

“Thanks, Poppy.” Violet gave her big sister a hug and watched as she drove off. She signed off on the delivery of the Dumpster, talked to the construction foreman, then headed into town, the completed questionnaires in tow.

Mitzy was out on a home visit, so she left the paperwork at her office, then went on to the hospital. Carlson Willoughby was undergoing the first of several days of testing. Since the results weren’t yet in, she went up to the nursery to check on their charge and caught her breath at what she saw.

Gavin, sitting beside the incubator, a blanket-wrapped baby Ava cuddled gently in his arms. The tiny infant had a pink cap on her head, a nasal cannula still assisting her breathing, monitors that measured her heartbeat and breathing visible beneath the soft white blanket that surrounded her.

Her eyes were shut and she appeared to be sleeping.

Violet could hardly blame her.

To be held against that strong, warm chest, cradled so tenderly by those brawny arms...

Violet grabbed a sterile gown, put it on over her clothes and slipped into the small, dimly lit visiting room behind the glass window.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Gavin looked up at her. “The nurses wanted me to hold her for a little bit.”

She ambled closer. “I can see that.”

The tenderness in his expression made him all the more handsome. “I have to admit, I never really understood why the parents of premature infants were so loath to leave the nursery and head home to rest.”

She nodded, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. “But you get it now.”

He shot her a knowing grin. “You should give it a try.”

“I don’t want to interrupt...”

He stood and gestured toward the comfortable recliner-rocker he’d been sitting in.

Unable to summon a reason why she shouldn’t start fulfilling her duties as temporary guardian, too, Violet took his place in the seat that still held his warmth. And the enticing soap-and-man scent of his skin.

Gently, he transferred Ava to her arms.

The preemie was incredibly light and fragile, at just a little more than four pounds. As Violet looked down at Ava, a wave of tenderness unlike anything she had ever felt swept through her.

Gavin pulled another chair up to sit beside Violet. Together, they watched the sleeping baby. Neither speaking. Barely moving. Yet united just the same.

Who knew how long they would have stayed that way had Bridgette, the nurse on duty, not come in to reluctantly interrupt. “It’s time to put Ava back in the warmer. But if you’d like to come back later this evening to help us try to get her started on drinking formula from a bottle, that would be great.”

Gavin and Violet exchanged looks. “I’ll be here,” Violet said.

To her surprise Gavin said gruffly, “So will I.”

Bridgette nodded, accepting the news with the same equanimity she accepted the infant. Bridgette looked at her big brother. “Would you mind hanging around for a moment? I really need to talk to you about Nicholas. And, Violet, if you’ve got a moment, I’d like your opinion, too.”

* * *

AS SOON AS Ava was settled, Bridgette told her coworkers she was taking her break.

The three of them headed for the staff lounge, which was blissfully empty. Although not sure what she might have to contribute in what seemed to be a Monroe family matter, Violet was glad to be of assistance in any way that she could.

Violet and Gavin both got coffee, while Bridgette grabbed a bottle of water. “Nicholas rented a car and went back to Austin this morning,” she said.

“That’s good,” Gavin said.

Bridgette took a seat on the sofa. Violet settled opposite her, and Gavin sank down beside her, close enough she was aware of his steady male presence but not close enough to be touching.

His sister looked worried. “I’m not so sure. He hasn’t been the same since the accident.”

Gavin’s brow furrowed. “Medically?”

“Emotionally,” Bridgette corrected. “Swerving to avoid running over that deer changed him. He said he saw his life flash before his eyes. And he didn’t like what he saw. So far, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin chided.

“I don’t know. But I have this uneasy sense that he’s planning something.” Bridgette turned to Violet. “You have a lot of experience with young adult patients coming close to the brink, then recovering and trying to resume a normal life. Does that seem like a common reaction to you?”

Reluctantly, Violet admitted, “If something’s brewing in a person, yes, it usually erupts under the stress.” As it had with Sterling.

Gavin turned to her, his shoulder nudging hers in the process. “What should we do?”

What I didn’t, Violet thought before she answered.

“Listen to whatever your brother has to say. And take Nicholas seriously—even if it seems like he’s coming out of left field.”

Gavin promised Bridgette, “I’ll give him a call later this evening...see if he’ll tell me what’s on his mind.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Bridgette said, standing.

The three of them said goodbye and Bridgette went back to work. Gavin and Violet left the staff lounge.

“So what now?” Gavin said as they walked toward the elevator.

Violet hated to admit just how at loose ends she was. After five years of residency, never having a moment to spare, this barely working at all would get old fast. Even if she was still trying to figure out what the next phase of her life held.

She punched the down button. “As far as work goes, I’m still waiting on the results of Carlson Willoughby’s tests, but otherwise I’m not on call today so—” Violet’s phone vibrated.

When she looked at the screen, there was an email from her sister. Reading it quickly, Violet groaned.

“Problem?” Gavin asked, rocking forward on his toes and hooking his thumbs through the denim loops on either side of his fly.

The elevator arrived and the door opened. It was a little crowded, so they had no choice but to squeeze together to avoid stepping on other passengers.

The warmth of his body sent a new flood of desire through her. “Poppy is going to set me up with a movable wardrobe system, but I’m going to have to drive to a store in San Angelo to pick up the components.”

The elevator opened up on the lobby. “Will you be able to fit it all in your SUV?”

Violet hesitated, unsure.

Gavin gestured gallantly. “My truck is available. As am I.”

Was he hitting on her? Or just being helpful? Hard to tell. “You’d really want to do that on your day off?”

His grin widened. “Sure. If you buy me lunch first.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I take it you have a place in mind.”

He fell into step beside her as they headed outside into the gloomy autumn day. “I do.”

To ensure they would be able to cart everything back to Laramie, they drove separately and ended up at a popular Mexican restaurant in San Angelo. Violet ordered the enchiladas supreme and he followed suit.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of enchiladas,” she teased as they dug in to their combination plate of chicken, cheese, beef and bean enchiladas, accompanied by a side of Mexican rice.

“I’m trying to expand my horizons.”

“Away from steak fajitas?” Which, she knew, from attending the same hospital staff luncheons for the past five years, happened to be his favorite. Not that she had been noticing or anything.

“In a lot of ways.”

His expression was both deadpan and mysterious. So why was she thinking about kissing him again? And why was he suddenly looking a tad uncomfortable, too?

“So, about those questionnaires we filled out last night...” He swallowed and took a long thirsty drink of iced tea. “Do you really think the age cutoff for applicants should be thirty-five instead of forty?”

Back to Ava and their joint responsibility, which was where their attention should be. Violet met his eyes, her mood suddenly introspective. “You think twenty-five to thirty-five is too narrow a range for prospective parents?”

“I don’t want to go any younger, but I don’t think it would hurt to go a little older. There’s something to be said for maturity.”

She nodded tensely.

His blue gaze roved her face. “You don’t look happy.”

Her appetite fading, Violet put her fork down. “It’s a big decision.”

“We’ll find the right family,” Gavin promised as an intimate silence descended between them.

“You sound so sure.”

He quirked a brow. “You doubt that?”

Violet sat back in her chair. “On an intellectual level I know that, statistically, given how many people there are in this county alone who are ready, willing and able to adopt a newborn child, it should be no problem to find a home for Ava.”

“But?” He finished his iced tea in a single draught.

“Knowing that doesn’t make the prospect of selecting parents for Ava any easier.” It was such an overwhelming responsibility! More so since she’d actually met the precious newborn and held her in her arms.

Gavin touched her hand.

Violet swallowed and pushed on around the sudden parched feeling in her throat. “What if we choose the wrong family? What if there are too many potential adoptive parents who fit the criteria perfectly? How will we choose just one set of parents without feeling like we are somehow being unfair to whoever didn’t get chosen?”

He shrugged, let go of her hand and sat back, too. “How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?”

“You’re right. I know that.” She sighed as the waitress delivered their check.

And, as promised, Violet paid it.

Luckily, they now had things to do to keep them busy.

The wardrobe components, which were supposed to be ready for her, had not yet been pulled off the shelf. So she and Gavin went around the store with a flatbed-style cart, selecting the appropriate shelving and hardware.

“How many clothes do you have?” he asked with a bemused smile.

Aware she’d gotten everything she needed, Violet took a place in one of the checkout lines. Gavin stood behind her. “You saw them last night. All those suitcases, plastic storage containers and duffel bags around my bed.”

He stacked the heavy boxes containing the movable closet onto the end of the conveyer belt. “Ah, yes, the feminine mess of it all.”

Violet set the accessories on top, then turned to him as they waited for the customer in front of them to finish. She propped her hands on her waist. “Excuse me?”

He waggled his brows, teasing, “I’ve got three sisters. I know what it looks like when they have a wardrobe crisis.”

Guilty as charged, unfortunately.

Flushing, Violet added more accessories to the conveyer belt. “I wasn’t having one,” she fibbed, unwilling to admit how the crisis she was having had spread to all areas of her life. “I just lugged the stuff up there so I could lay it all out on my bed and sort through it. Which I started to do this morning—”

“Meaning it’s even more cluttered now than it was last night?”

The young male clerk grinned as he finished ringing them up.

Violet gave an indignant sniff. “I couldn’t find what I wanted to wear to the hospital this morning. And I was in a hurry to get there.” She handed over her credit card, then stepped up to sign.

Finished, she took the receipt, smiled and thanked the clerk, then followed Gavin out the automatic doors to the parking lot.

Aware how cozy and right this was all beginning to feel, she stopped at the tail ends of their vehicles and picked up the threads of the conversation as she opened her SUV. “Although I would have rushed even more had I known I was going to have the opportunity to hold Ava for the first time this morning.”

He paused in lowering his tailgate and turned to her, an expression of unbearable tenderness on his handsome face. “It was a moment,” he admitted with surprising reverence.

Violet wasn’t surprised to hear Gavin admit that. He was compassionate, as well as practical and forthright, down to his very soul.

She was surprised, however, to see him look so personally affected. He’d never been one to lust after having kids, the way some guys his age did. Yet in this particular instant, she could almost swear he’d started to want a family as much as she once had with Sterling.

Only, that part of her relationship with him hadn’t worked out, either, she thought as her cell phone vibrated.

She looked at the screen and frowned.

“Problem?”

“I need to go back to the hospital. Carlson Willoughby and his wife are asking to speak to me.”

* * *

“WE NEED MORE information before we’ll be able to say for certain what’s going on,” Violet told the senior couple forty-five minutes later when she joined them in Carlson’s hospital room.

“But some of the results are in, aren’t they?” Wanda asked, wringing her hands. Today’s tracksuit was a daffodil yellow, with white racing stripes running up the sides of the pants and sleeves. “I heard some of the nurses talking...”

Violet glanced over at her patient. He looked tired and washed-out. The stress of the tests had definitely taken a toll on the eighty-two-year-old. “We’re still waiting for the radiologist’s report on the X-rays that were done today, but we do have the blood work.”

“And?” Wanda asked.

Violet consulted the chart. “Some of the numbers—white count and calcium, for instance—are up.”

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