Saving Dr. Ryan

“A girl. Amy Rose.”

Ivy grinned. “Amy. Beloved.”

“That’s right.”

But Ivy had already turned her attention to other matters, massaging Maddie’s abdomen to facilitate the expulsion of the placenta, all the while cooing to the new baby and praising her mama.

Ryan left them to it. Ivy Gardner had delivered more than five hundred babies in the last twenty-five years, had never lost a one. Or a mother, either. And right now, he figured his patient could use some mothering herself.

His heart did a slow, painful turn in his chest as he peeled off his gloves, staring out the window. The rain had stopped, he realized, the sky pinking up some in the east.

And Ryan found himself beset with the strangest feeling that his life had just changed somehow.

He glanced over at the two children, stirring from sleep on the chair. It plumb tore him up, seeing those three—now four—in the condition they were in. What had brought Maddie here, with two small children and as pregnant as she was? She didn’t look like she was much more than a kid herself, although he supposed she was at least twenty or so. Except for the mud on the bottoms of their jeans, the kids’ clothes had been clean enough, but they were worn, probably secondhand, the little girl wearing her brother’s hand-me-downs, he guessed.

His gaze drifted back to Maddie. Scraps of light brown hair, the color unremarkable, grazed her cheeks and neck, the shoulders of her faded nightgown. Paper-thin, freckled skin stretched across prominent cheekbones, a high forehead, a straight nose. When she spoke or laughed, her voice was rusty. When she gave a person one of her direct looks, it was like staring into a bank of storm clouds.

And those storm-cloud eyes clearly said, “I’m more than life has ever given me a chance to be.”

Right now, those eyes were fastened on her newborn child, the harsh angles of her too-thin face aglow with the rush of new-mother love. Born too soon, the infant wasn’t quite “done” yet, but he was sure Maddie didn’t see the wrinkled, ruddy skin, the bit of hair plastered to the head with vernix, the little face all smushed up like a dried apple. The infant yawned, and Maddie giggled.

“You’re a funny-looking little thing,” she whispered, and Ryan almost laughed out loud.

“Mama?”

Ryan turned in time to catch another sleepy yawn. Noah’s hair had pretty much dried by now, sticking up all over his head in a mass of little horns. Ryan could relate.

“Hey, grasshopper,” he said, scooping the child off the chair, blanket and all. “Come meet your new sister.”

For an instant, the child cuddled against his chest. Too sleepy to protest, probably. He smelled sweet. Clean. Whatever was going on in Maddie Kincaid’s life, she’d given her children baths last night. An effort which had probably brought on the premature labor.

Ryan set the child, still huddled under his blanket, on the bed at Maddie’s knees. The boy rubbed his eyes, yawned again. Then frowned. “Another girl?”

“Oh, now, hush up,” Maddie said over a weary, but relieved, laugh, as Ryan deposited an owl-eyed, silent Katie next to her brother. “There’s nothing wrong with girls, silly billy—”

“Good Lord!” Ivy peeled the back of the blanket from the boy’s shoulder. “What on earth do you have on?”

“Their clothes were all wet,” Ryan said, “so I stuck ’em in the dryer. Figured they’d be okay in my shirts for a little bit.” Ivy lifted eyebrows at him. Ryan shook his head—don’t ask.

But Noah was busy angling his head at his sister, his brow beetled. “You positive she’s a girl? ’Cause she sure don’t look like one.”

Maddie reached up and ruffled his hair. “Yes, baby, I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, you just go on ahead and ask the doctor.”

“You think maybe Daddy might’ve liked her better’n Katie Grace an’ me?”

The room went so silent, you could hear the muted thumping of the dryer, clear out in the pantry. Standing at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed, Ryan didn’t move, not reacting when Ivy’s gaze shot to his. But he saw the flush leap into Maddie’s translucent, speckled cheeks, and anger suddenly knifed through him as he remembered the scars he’d seen on the child’s back. They’d been old, healed up for some months, but they hadn’t been the result of any accident.

Maddie blinked several times, then swallowed, obviously trying to figure out what to say. With her free hand, she reached up, drew her firstborn down onto her chest to place a fierce kiss in all those spikes. “Doesn’t matter now, baby. Only thing you have to remember now is how much I like you and Katie. And I love all three of you with all my heart, forever and ever and ever. You hear me?”

Ryan’s eyes burned. How many times had his own mother, gone now nearly twenty years, said the same thing to one or the other of her three sons? Except then Noah, as kids will, switched the conversation to more practical matters by announcing he was hungry.

Ivy beamed. Feedin’ and birthin’—the woman was in her element now. “Well, I just bet you are, sweetie. And Mama, too.” She turned questioning brown eyes on Ryan. “I didn’t figure you’d have anything decent in that kitchen of yours to make breakfast, so I brought my own fixin’s, if that’s all right.”

He feigned a hurt expression. “I’m not a barbarian, Ivy. There’s eggs. I think. And coffee.”

“Oh, well, then,” Ivy said on a huff. “As if you could give a nursing mother coffee, for goodness’ sake. Not to mention children.” Elbows pumping, full skirt flapping around her calves—this one had mirrors and embroidery all over the bottom tier—Ivy sailed toward the bedroom door, turning back when she hit the doorframe.

“Noah and…Katie, right?” The kids turned to her with synchronized nods. Ivy held out her hand. “Let’s go see if your clothes are dry yet before you trip in those T-shirts. Then you can help me make pancakes.”

Two pairs of questioning eyes turned to their mother. Katie’s thumb popped into her mouth.

“It’s okay,” Maddie said with a smile. “You go on, now.”

They went. Maddie at once sank back into the pillows, letting out a sigh as her eyes drifted shut. Worn out from the strain of pretending, would be his guess. As if reading his mind, she said quietly, “It’s been a long time since they’ve had pancakes.” She opened her eyes, but didn’t move. “I’m very grateful to you. And Ivy. But we best be on our way as soon as I can move, before they get spoiled.”

Ryan grabbed the footboard, a scowl digging into his forehead. “Giving the kids a good breakfast is hardly spoiling them. And unless you can assure me you’ve got someone to help you out for the next few days, you’re not going anywhere until I say it’s okay.”

A pointed little chin, only marginally bigger than her son’s, reared up. “It was an easy birth. And I was up after the other two in a few hours.”

“By choice?”

He was actually startled to see tears well up in those gray eyes. She looked away, busying herself with unbuttoning her gown to put the baby to breast. A flush of self-consciousness stung Ryan’s cheeks as he watched Maddie help her new daughter find the nipple. Why he should be reacting at all made no sense. He’d watched dozens of mothers nurse their babies. Hell, how long had it been since nakedness had meant anything more to him than anatomy?

The alert, hungry infant hit pay dirt almost at once; Maddie’s soft laughter glittered with love and momentary surcease from her worries, and something inside Ryan warmed a little more…and made him feel as if he needed to justify his presence in the room.

“Tired?” he asked.

Maddie shook her head. The fingers of her left hand—graceful, short-nailed—stroked her baby’s cheek. “No.”

“It’s not a sign of weakness to admit you’re tired after having just given birth, Maddie.”

Her mouth stretched thin. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, you’re fine. Feel like talking, then?”

After a moment, she said, “Answering questions, you mean?”

“A stranger gives birth in my house, you might say I’m curious. And concerned.”

Pride flashed in those silvery eyes. “I’ll pay you for delivering the baby.”

“I’d bet my life on it. But that’s not what I want to know.”

Again, he saw the tears, figured she’d do just about anything to keep them from falling. “I could say it’s none of your business.”

Ryan tried real hard to squelch the exasperation this woman seemed determined to stir to life inside him. “You made it my business when you showed up here in labor. You’re at least twenty pounds underweight. So forgive me for taking my job seriously, but I want to know why. You’re blamed lucky the baby’s as fit as she is, but it won’t do you or her any good to neglect yourself any more than you already have. Did you even have any prenatal care?”

Maddie stared hard at the baby, her mouth set. With her free hand, she swept a hank of straggly hair off her face; it fell right back. “This is my third child. I know how to take care of myself.” She looked up at Ryan. “I don’t smoke or drink, if that’s what you’re thinking, and I ate as well as I could. I never have weighed more than a hundred ten pounds, even when—”

She stopped, cleared her throat, fingering the baby’s cheek.

Ryan let out a ragged sigh, deciding a cup of coffee sounded real good, right about now. “I’m not judging you, Maddie,” he said, and she snorted her disbelief. “I’m not. I just wonder how you’re going to take care of yourself. And your children.”

After a moment, she said, “I’ll get by.”

He folded his arms. “You know, why didn’t you just go ahead and have the baby in the car?”

Her mouth twisted. “There wasn’t room.” A beat or two passed before she added, “I don’t like being beholden to people.”

“I gathered that much,” he said, then waited until she looked at him. “But it looks to me like you haven’t got a whole lotta choice in the matter right now. All I want you to worry about for the next few days is feeding that new daughter of yours and getting your strength back.”

The eyes sparked, like the flash of sword-steel. “I don’t need—”

He stared her down. She got quiet, but her embarrassment pricked his heart when she palmed away a tear. “We’re strangers to you. Why should you feel obligated to take care of us?”

Ryan suddenly felt hard pressed not to strangle the woman. Moving as cautiously as his brother Cal might with an unbroken colt, he eased around the bed and sat on its edge, leaning over so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Let’s get one thing clear, right now. Obligation doesn’t have a blamed thing to do with this. Like it or not, you and your daughter are now my patients, because I took an oath a long time ago that won’t allow me to see the situation any other way. Got that?” She hitched one shoulder, her mouth quirked. “Good. At least we got that settled.” He leaned over, grabbed a clipboard and blank chart off the nightstand. “So let’s make it official. Full name?”

“Madelyn Mae Kincaid.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Is that the truth?”

She blew out a breath. “You can check my driver’s license if you don’t believe me. Which is in my coat pocket with my change purse.”

So she was a few years older than he’d thought. Still awfully damn young to be a mother three times over, though.

“Address?”

Her resultant silence gave him no choice but to look over. She was frowning down at the baby. “Maddie?”

After a moment, she met his gaze. “I guess I don’t have one, just at the moment. Well, unless you count the Double Arrow.”

The Double Arrow. His brother Hank’s place. Wasn’t the Hilton—hell, it wasn’t even a Motel 6—but she’d been safe there, at least. However, even cheap motels ate up money at a good clip. Money he suspected she didn’t have. “Where were you before?”

“Arkansas. Little Rock.” She made a face. “We moved there from Fayetteville after Noah was born…” Something in her expression led Ryan to believe there was more, but then she said, “I came here to find my husband’s great-uncle. Maybe you know him? Ned McAllister?”

“Ned? You’re kidding? He’s kin to you?”

“Like I said, by marriage. I…we’ve never actually met.” Then she paled even more, if that was possible. “Oh, no…he didn’t die or anything, did he?”

Ryan let out a soft laugh. “Ned? I imagine that old buzzard’ll outlive me. But his bones aren’t as strong as they used to be. Broke his hip last week, so he’s in the hospital over in Claremore. Which is where he’ll be for some time, at least until he’s finished up his physical therapy.”

“Oh!” With that one word, Ryan could see Maddie’s last shred of hope vaporize. She looked down at the baby, her hand trembling when she stroked the infant’s cheek. “He never had a phone—well, I suppose you know that—and all I had was a P.O. box for an address. I knew I was taking a chance, just coming on out here like this, but there was absolutely nobody else….”

Pride and panic were a helluva combination, weren’t they?

The baby had fallen asleep. Ryan leaned over and gently removed her from Maddie’s arms, making sure to keep the infant well swaddled in the double receiving blankets Ivy had brought, even though the heat had taken the chill off the house by now. She was diapered, too—Ryan always kept packages of disposables in his office to accommodate his littler patients. And their sometimes forgetful mothers.

He sure did have a soft spot for the babies, he admitted to himself as he smiled at little Amy Rose, giving Mama a chance to regain control. Shoot, giving himself a chance to quash a feeling akin to hitting a patch of black ice.

Lucky thing for him he was real good at steering out of the skids.

“I’ve got some clothes for her, back at the motel,” Maddie said on a shaky breath. He glanced over at her, imagining how ticked she’d be if she had any idea how worn out she looked, lying there against the pillows. “I guess I kinda forgot them, once the pains hit.”

Ryan felt one side of his mouth lift. “Understandable.”

Maddie stayed quiet for a moment, her attention fixed on the baby, then let out a sigh. “Before you ask…my husband’s dead.”

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I, but not for the usual reasons.”

He couldn’t quite decide if that was regret or anger flickering at the edges of her words. Maybe a bit of both.

“He leave you broke?”

Her laugh was humorless. And her lack of verbal response told him this was not a topic currently open for discussion.

What kind of man left his wife and children this bad off?

If Maddie Kincaid had started having babies at nineteen, it was highly doubtful she had much in the way of education or skills. What she did have was three little kids. And more courage than most men he knew. But here she was, in a strange town, the only person she knew in it medically incarcerated for the foreseeable future. And even so, what on earth good would Ned McCallister do her? Not only was the ornery old man the least likely candidate to take on a woman with three small children, but there was no way Maddie and her kids could live in that shack of his.

What they had here was a crisis situation, no doubt about it. And Ryan had the sinking feeling that somehow, he had been the one appointed to handle said crisis.

From the kitchen emanated the aroma of pancakes and coffee, Ivy’s commanding voice chattering to the children. A few hardy birds, oblivious to the fact that summer was over, chirped and twittered outside the window as the sun burned off what was left of the storm. Needing to move, to be doing something, Ryan laid the baby down in the bassinet he’d retrieved from his office before the delivery. There had to be an answer here. One that wouldn’t make his head hurt.

“Your folks still around?”

After a moment, she said, “I already told you. There’s nobody.”

Don’t get overly involved with your patients. How many times had Ryan’s instructors drummed those words into his head? But if he didn’t believe healing was less about procedures and medicines and biological function, and more about giving a damn about the human beings who put themselves in his care, then those pieces of paper up on his wall in the other room meant squat.

Of course, not many people understood that, any more than they understood that personal sacrifice came with the territory.

Nor did Ryan understand quite what was happening here. Yes, he cared about his patients. All of them. Even old Miss Hightower, whose contrariness Ryan had long since attributed to a simple fear of growing old, of being alone. But this was different. Something about this one struck a personal chord way down deep, way past the day-to-day caring he dispensed, along with the occasional antibiotic and common sense advice, to his other patients.

It had been a long, long time since anything had shaken him up the way this situation was threatening to. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it—about Maddie—but he sure as hell knew he didn’t like it, not one little bit.

He patted the edge of the bassinet, twice, then started backing toward the doorway. “I think I’ll just go see what’s keeping Ivy in the kitchen, then go get myself cleaned up,” he said, wondering why the hell he felt so skittish in his own house.

Chapter 2

Maddie frowned at the doorway for some time after Dr. Logan’s departure. Despite his going on about her not leaving until he said it was okay, she was getting a real strong feeling he wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea. Although she guessed his reaction had less to do with her personally than it did with his just not being real used to having houseguests.

That’s what she was going to go with, anyway.

Crossing her arms over her wobbly belly, she surveyed her surroundings for the first time. Which provoked another strong feeling—that Dr. Logan was not someone overly concerned with his environment. Oh, she supposed the faded floral wallpaper, the coordinating murky drapes and dark-stained wood trim bordering the windows might’ve been okay, forty or fifty years ago. But if it hadn’t been for the sunlight glittering and dancing across the room, it would be downright depressing in here. And wasn’t that a shame? Far as she was concerned, everybody deserved a home that was cheerful and inviting. Especially someone as nice as Dr. Logan.

Not that it was any of her business.

On a sigh, Maddie carefully snuggled down on her side, watching her new daughter snoozing in the bassinet by the bed. She ached some from the couple of stitches she’d had to have, but not badly. Although she could feel the adrenaline that had been keeping her going the past couple of days quickly draining away. The baby scrunched up her tiny face in her sleep, pooching out her mouth, then giving one of those fluttery little gas smiles. Maddie smiled, too, skimming one finger over the itty-bitty furrowed brow. Maybe after a bath, Amy Rose would start looking more like a human baby—

Just like that, a fresh wave of worry washed over her. Maddie rolled onto her back, her hands pressed to her eyes, wishing like heck she could just let her mind go blank for a little while, even though she knew full well that things weren’t going to change simply because she didn’t want to think about them.

All right, so she supposed necessity sometimes made a person confuse hope with reality, but still, it had been silly counting on being able to stay with Jimmy’s Uncle Ned. But what on earth was she going to do? She had fifty dollars to her name, twenty-four of which would go for the motel room. There was little point in going back to Arkansas, since she no longer had a home or knew anybody who could help her there. Which meant she had to stay here in Haven.

If she did that, she could apply for assistance in Oklahoma…but who knew how long that would take to kick in? Or how much it would be?

Or, if she got a job, which she wouldn’t be able to do for a few weeks at least, what was she going to do with the kids? How could she possibly afford full-time day care for the two younger ones, part-time for Noah while he was in school, on the kind of salary she was likely to get?

She could maybe sell the car, get a few hundred bucks for it…but if she did that, how would she get around? Where were they going to live?

What if they tried to take her children away?

Maddie’s chest got all tight, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs: no matter how hard she tried to fit the pieces of what was left of her life together, they simply refused to go. For all intents and purposes, she and her babies were homeless.

Homeless.

Her hand flew to her mouth, but not fast enough to block the small cry of despair that escaped. It just seemed so blamed unfair. She wasn’t stupid. Or helpless. And heaven knew, she wasn’t lazy. Yet here she was, so far up the creek, she couldn’t even remember the feel of the paddle in her hands.

Everything that could be sold had been, to pay bills, to pay off Jimmy’s debts. All they had were the few things in the trunk of the car—some household items, a couple of the kids’ favorite toys, some odds and ends she couldn’t even recall at the moment—and the two mangy looking suitcases filled with clothes so worn, Goodwill probably wouldn’t even take them. Take them back.

A silent tear, then another, raced down her cheek: you know you’ve reached rock-bottom when you can’t even afford Wal-Mart.

Approaching footsteps and whispered conversation galvanized her into hurriedly wiping her eyes on the hem of the Downy-scented sheet, then gingerly pulling herself upright. Even when her hormones weren’t all goofy, Maddie was a person who cried at the drop of a hat, feeling things deeply as she did. Jimmy had hated it with a purple passion, but that’s just the way she was. A second or two later, Ivy ushered in the children, Noah grinning over a bedtray heaped with pancakes, sausage, eggs, milk, juice.

“Look what we brung you, Mama!”

Maddie’s vision went fuzzy all over again when she caught sight of her son’s great big old grin, how bright his eyes were. Up until a few months ago, he’d been as likely to get into mischief as the next little boy—too smart for his own good, she’d been inclined to think on those days when he’d seemed hell-bent on driving her completely up the wall. She hadn’t fully realized until this moment how much she’d give to have a reason to fuss at him again, for him to feel confident enough to test his limits. And hers.

And look at Katie Grace! The polar opposite of her rambunctious brother, who’d play quietly by herself for hours and hardly ever complained about anything, even Maddie’s quiet little baby doll was smiling.

Some color had leeched back into their cheeks, too. Noah’s, especially. He’d always been fair-skinned, like she was, but he’d gotten so pale these past few months she was afraid people would start asking her if he was sick.

“Ivy says you gotta eat it all,” Noah pronounced, the whole lot nearly spilling in his zeal to get it settled over her lap.

Oh, my. It was more food than they’d seen since they left Little Rock two days ago. More than she’d seen at one time in months.

“We’ll share,” she said to Noah, who had settled on the bed to study his baby sister, butt in the air, chin resting in his palms. Katie crawled up beside Maddie, snuggling against her side.

“Oh, they already ate,” Ivy said, helping to arrange pillows behind Maddie’s back. She grinned down at Noah. “For such a little thing, he can sure pack it away. Five pancakes, two pieces of sausage, and two glasses of juice. And sweetie pie here got down a whole pancake and a piece of sausage.”

The first bite of pancake stuck in Maddie’s throat: she’d been doing well to be sure they got peanut butter sandwiches every morning.

And every night.

A strong, comforting hand landed on her shoulder. “You’re here now,” Ivy said gently. “You and your babies are safe, you hear?”

She nodded, swallowed. But the tears came anyway.

A second later, she was engulfed by warmth and kindness like she hadn’t known since her foster mother’s house. In fact, Ivy reminded Maddie a bit of Grace Idlewild, who’d done her level best to give Maddie some stability in her life, who’d made her believe you could accomplish just about anything with hard work and determination.