The Christmas Baby Bump (2 page)

“You’ll do it?” He looked stunned, as if he’d just witnessed a miracle.

Well, he had. Never in a million years would she have volunteered to do this, but as he was in such a bind…

She nodded, and her throat closed up.

“Thank you!” He grabbed her arms and kissed her cheek, releasing her before she had a chance to react. “You’re the best.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Just watch him. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be a good boy for Stephanie, Robbie,” he said before he disappeared out the door.

Why couldn’t she have left earlier, like everyone else in the clinic? Dread trickled from the crown of her head all the way down to her toes. Her heart knocked against her ribs. She’d made a knee-jerk decision without thinking it through. She couldn’t handle this. There went that swirl of panic again, making her knees weak and her hands tremble.

The boy looked at her with innocent eyes, licking his lips. “I’m hungwee.”

She couldn’t very well ignore the poor kid. “So am I, but I don’t have a car seat for you, so we can’t go anywhere.”

She’d spoken too fast. Obviously, the boy didn’t get her point.

He held his tummy and rocked back and forth. “Hungweeeeee.”

Oh, God, what should she do now? She scratched her
head, aware that a fine line of perspiration had formed above her lip. He was hungry and she was petrified.

Think, Stephanie, think.

She snapped her fingers. The tour. Jason had taken her on a tour of the clinic that morning, and it had included the employee lounge. “Come on, let’s check out the refrigerator.”

Robbie reached up for her hand. Avoiding his gesture, she quickened her step and started for the hallway. “It’s down here,” she said, as he toddled behind, bouncing off his toes, trying to catch up.

She switched on lights as they made their way to the kitchen in the mansion-turned-clinic. “Let’s see what we can dig up,” she said, heading for the refrigerator, avoiding his eyes at all cost and focusing on the task. She had every intention of writing IOU notes for each and everything she found to share with Robbie.

Some impression she’d make on her first day, stealing food.

Heck, the fridge was nearly bare. Someone had trained the employees well about leaving food around to spoil and stink up the place. Fortunately there was a jar of peanut butter. She pulled out drawer after drawer, hoping to find some leftover restaurant-packaged crackers. If the kid got impatient and cried, she’d freak out. Drawer three produced two packs of crackers and a third that was broken into fine pieces. Hopefully, Robbie wouldn’t mind crumbs.

“You like peanut butter?”

“Yup,” he said, already climbing up on the bench by the table. “I wike milk, too.”

Stephanie lifted her brows. “Sorry, can’t help you there.” But, as all clinics must, they did keep small
cartons of juice on hand for their diabetic patients. “Hey, how about some cranberry or orange juice?”

“’Kay.”

“Which kind?”

“Boaff.”

“Okay. Whatever.” Anything to keep the boy busy and happy. Anything to keep him from crying. She glanced at her watch. How long had Phil been gone? Ten minutes? She blew air through her lips. How would she survive an hour?

After their snack, she led him back to the waiting room, careful not to make physical contact, where a small flat-screen TV was wedged in the corner near the ceiling. She didn’t have a clue what channels were available in this part of the state, but she needed to keep the boy distracted.

“What do you like to watch?”

“Cartoons!” he said, spinning in a circle of excitement.

She scrolled through the channels and found a cartoon that was nowhere near appropriate for a child.

“That! That!” Robbie called out.

“Uh, that one isn’t funny. Let’s look for another one.” She prayed she could find something that wouldn’t shock the boy or teach him bad words. Her hand shook as she continued to flip through the channels. Ah, there it was, just what she’d hoped for, a show with brightly colored puppets with smiling faces and silly voices. Maybe the fist-size knot in her gut would let up now.

She sat on one of the waiting-room chairs, and Robbie invited himself onto her lap. Every muscle in her body stiffened. She couldn’t do this. Where was Phil?

His warm little back snuggled against her and when he laughed she could feel it rumble through his chest.
She inhaled and smelled the familiar fragrance of children’s shampoo, almost bringing her to tears. Someone took good care of this little one. Was it Phil?

She couldn’t handle this. Before she jumped out of her skin, she lifted him with outstretched arms and carried him to another chair, closer to the TV.

“Here. This seat is better. You sit here.”

Fortunately, engrossed in the show, he didn’t pick up on her tension and sat contentedly staring at the TV.

It had been a long day. She was exhausted, and didn’t dare let her guard down. Robbie rubbed his eyes, yawning and soon falling asleep. She paced the waiting room, checked her watch every few seconds, and glanced at the boy as if he were a ticking time bomb. Her throat was so tight, she could barely swallow.

Several minutes passed in this manner. Robbie rested his head on the arm of the chair, sound asleep. Stephanie hoped he’d stay that way until Phil returned.

A few minutes later, one of the puppets on the TV howled, and another joined in. It jolted her. Robbie stirred. His face screwed up. The noise had scared him.

Oh, God, what should she do now?

After a protracted silence, he let out a wail, the kind that used up his breath and left him quiet only long enough to inhale again. Then he let out an even louder wail.

“It’s okay, Robbie. It was just the TV,” she said from across the room, trying to console him without getting too close. She patted the air. “It was the show. That’s all.” She couldn’t dare hold him. The thought of holding a child sent lightning bolts of fear through her. She never wanted to do it again.

Flashes of her baby crying, screaming, while she
paced the floor, rooted her to the spot. Robbie cried until mucus ran from his nose, and he coughed and sputtered for air, but still she couldn’t move.

It took every ounce of strength she had not to bolt out of the clinic.

Phil’s patient had been set up and ready for him when he’d arrived in the nearby E.R. The dental crown had been easy to locate in the trachea at the opening of the right bronchus. He’d dislodged it using a rigid scope and forceps, and done a quick check to make sure it hadn’t damaged any lung tissue. He’d finished the procedure within ten minutes, leaving the patient to recover with the E.R. nurse.

He barreled through the clinic door, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Robbie screaming and Stephanie wild-eyed and pale across the room.

“What’s going on?” he said.

She blinked and inhaled, as if coming to life from her statue state. “Thank God, you’re back,” she whispered.

“What happened?” He rushed to Robbie, picked him up and wiped his nose.

“I was ‘cared,” Robbie said, starting to cry again.

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy, I’m here.” Phil hugged his brother as anger overtook him. “What’d you do to him?” he asked, turning as Stephanie ran out the door. What the hell had happened? Confused, he glanced at Robbie. “Did she hurt you?”

“The cartoon monster ‘cared me,” he whimpered, before crying again.

Phil hugged him, relieved. “Are you hungry, buddy? You want to eat?”

The little guy nodded through his tears. “’Kay,” he said with a quiver.

What kind of woman would stand by and let a little kid cry like that? Had she been born without a heart? Phil didn’t know what was up with the new doc, but he sure as hell planned to find out first thing tomorrow.

S
TEPHANIE
snuck in early the next day and lost herself in her patients all morning. She gave a routine physical gynecological examination and ordered labs on the first patient. With her first pregnant client, she measured fundal height and listened to fetal heart tones, discussed nutrition and recommended birthing classes. According to the chart measurements, the third patient’s fibroid tumors had actually shrunk in size since her last visit. Stephanie received a high five when she gave the news.

Maybe, if she kept extra-busy, she wouldn’t have to confront Phil.

Later, as she performed an initial obstetric examination, she noticed something unusual on the patient’s cervix. A plush red and granular-looking area bled easily at her touch. “Have you been having any spotting?”

“No. Is something wrong?” the patient asked.

To be safe, and with concern for the pregnancy, she prepared to take a sample of cells for cytology. “There’s a little area on your cervix I want to follow up on. It may be what we call an ectropion, which is an erosion of sorts and is perfectly benign.” She left out the part about not wanting to take any chances. “The lab should get results for us within a week.”

“What then?”

“If it’s negative, which it will most likely be, nothing, unless you have bleeding after sex or if you get frequent infections. Then we’d do something similar to cauterizing it. On the other hand, if the specimen shows abnormal cells, I’ll do a biopsy and follow up from there.”

“Will it hurt my baby?”

“An ectropion is nothing more than extra vascular tissue. You may have had it a long time, and the pregnancy has changed the shape of your cervix, making it visible.”

“But what if you have to do a biopsy?”

How must it feel to have a total stranger deliver such worrisome news? Stephanie inhaled and willed the expertise, professionalism and composure she’d need to help get her through the rest of the appointment. Maybe she shouldn’t have said a thing, but what if the test result came back abnormal and she had to drop a bomb? That wouldn’t be fair to the patient without a warning. She second-guessed herself and didn’t like the repercussions. All the excitement of being pregnant might become overshadowed with fear if she didn’t end the appointment on a positive note.

“This small area will most likely just be an irritation. It’s quite common. I’m being extra-careful because you’re pregnant, and a simple cervical sampling is safe during pregnancy. I’ll call with the results as soon as I get them. I promise.” She maintained steady eye contact and smiled, then chose a few pamphlets from the wall rack on what to expect when pregnant. “These are filled with great information about your pregnancy. Read them carefully, and afterward, if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me.”

The woman’s furrowed brow eased just enough for Stephanie to notice. She wanted to hug her and promise everything would be all right, but that was out of her realm as a professional.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you your expected due date.” She gave the woman the date and saw a huge shift on her face from concern to sheer joy. Her smile felt like a hug, and Stephanie beamed back at her.

“This is a very exciting time, Mrs. Conroy. Enjoy each day,” she said, patting the patient’s hand.

The young woman accepted the pamphlets, nodded, and prepared to get down from the exam table, her face once again a mixture of expressions. “You’ll call as soon as you know anything, right?”

“I promise. You’re in great shape, and this pregnancy should go smoothly. A positive attitude is also important.”

Stephanie felt like a hypocrite reciting the words. Her spirits had plunged so low over the past three years she could barely remember what a positive attitude was. If she was going to expect this first-time mother to be upbeat, she should at least try it, too.

After the patient left, she gave herself a little pep talk as she washed her hands.
Just try to have a good time. Do something out of the ordinary. Start living again.

A figure blocked the exam-room doorway, casting a shadow over the mirror. “You mind telling me what happened last night?” Phil’s words were brusque without a hint of yesterday’s charm.

Adrenaline surged through her, and she went on the defensive. “I don’t do kids.” She turned slowly to hide her nerves, and grabbed a paper towel. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”

“How hard is it to console a crying kid?”

Stephanie held up her hand and looked at Phil’s chin rather than into his eyes. “Harder than you could ever understand.” She tossed the paper towel into the trash bin and walked around him toward her office. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before she closed the door.

Phil scraped his jaw as he walked to his office. What in the hell was her problem? Last night, he’d found her practically huddled in the corner as if in a cage with a lion. It had taken half an hour to console Robbie. A bowl of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles had finally done the trick. Colorful sprinkles, as Robbie called them. For some dumb reason, Phil got a kick out of that.

What was up with Stephanie Bennett?

He didn’t have time to figure out the new doctor when he had more pressing things to do. Like make a schedule! He’d put so much energy into distracting Robbie last night, horsing around with him and watching TV, that he’d lost track of time, forgotten to bathe him and missed his usual bedtime medicine. A kid could survive a day without a bath, right?

His beeper went off. He checked the number. It was the preschool. Hell, what had he forgotten now?

Stephanie arrived at work extra-early again the next morning, surprised to see someone had already made coffee in the clinic kitchen. She was about to pour herself a cup and sneak back to her office when Phil swept into the room. Her shoulders tensed as she hoped he didn’t hold a grudge. Wishing she could disappear, she stayed on task.

“Good morning,” he said, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed, hair left however it had dried after his shower.

“Hi,” she said. She didn’t want to spend the next two months avoiding one of the clinic partners. Phil had been very nice at first, it seemed to come naturally to him, and, well, she needed him to forgive her. “Look, I’m sorry about the other night.”

“Forget about it. Like you said, I didn’t leave you much choice.” He scrubbed his face as if trying to wake up. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with kids.” He glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes, but he left all his questions unspoken.

She had no intention of opening up to him, and hoped he’d let things lie. Maybe if she changed the topic?

She lifted the pot. “Can I pour you a cup, too?”

“Definitely. Robbie kept me up half the night with his coughing.”

“Anything wrong?” She leaned against the counter.

“No virus. Just an annoying cough. He’s had it since he was a baby.” He accepted the proffered mug and took a quick swig. “Ahh.”

“So what do you think it is, then?” Discussing medicine was always easy…and safe.

“I’ve been wondering if he might have tracheobronchomalacia, but Roma, his mom, doesn’t want him put through a bunch of tests to find out.”

“Is that your wife?”

He laughed. “No, my stepmother. Robbie’s my half brother.”

“Ahh.” She’d heard the scuttlebutt about him being quite the playboy, and she couldn’t tolerate a married guy flirting with the help.

A smile crossed his face. “Did you think he was my kid?”

She shrugged. What else was she supposed to think?

“I’m just watching Robbie while my dad and Roma are in Maui.” He stared at his coffee mug and ran his hand over his hair, deep in thought. “Yeah, so I want to do a bronchoscopy, but Roma is taking some persuading.”

“You think like a typical pulmonologist,” she said, spooning some sugar into her coffee. “Always the worst-case scenario.”

“And you don’t assume the worst for your patients?”

She shook her head. “I’m an obstetrician, remember? Good stuff.”
Except in her personal life.

“You’ve got a point. But I’m not imagining this. He gets recurrent chest infections, he’s got a single-note wheeze, and at night he has this constant stridorous cough. I’ve just never had to sleep with him before.”

“You’re sleeping with him?” The thought of the gorgeous guy with the sexy reputation sleeping with his little brother almost brought a smile to her lips.

“Yeah, well…” Did Phil look sheepish? “He was in a new house and a strange bed. You know the drill.”

She couldn’t hide her smile any longer. “That’s very sweet.”

He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter, a more macho pose. “More like survival. The kid cried until I promised to sleep with him.”

Heat worked up her neck. “That was probably my fault.”

He looked at her, and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was a real human being behind that ruggedly handsome face. Perhaps someone worth knowing.

“Let’s drop it. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened,” he said.

Maybe she shouldn’t try so hard to avoid him. Maybe he was a great guy she could enjoy. But insecurity, like well-worn shoes you just couldn’t part with, kept her from giving him a second thought.

“It’s not asthma,” he said, breaking her concentration. “If I knew for sure what it was, I could treat it. He may grow out of it, but he’s suffering right now. You think I look tired, you should see him. The thing is, he might only need something as simple as extra oxygen or, if necessary, CPAP.” He rubbed his chin.

All the talk about Robbie’s respiratory condition made her worry about him. Especially after she’d made the poor little guy cry until he was hoarse the other night. She sipped her coffee. “Is there any less invasive procedure that can give the same diagnosis?” Keeping things technical made it easier to talk about the boy.

“Bronchography, but he’s allergic to iodine, and I wouldn’t want to expose him to the radiation at this age. And all I’d have to do is sedate him and slip a scope in his lungs to check things out. Five minutes, tops. I’ll see how things go.”

“So where is he?”

“He’s in day care with his new best friend, Claire’s daughter. Thankfully she took pity on me and chauffeured him today.”

No sooner had he said it than Claire breezed through the door. The tall, slender, honey blonde had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s called carpooling.”

“Ah, right.” Phil said, then glanced at Stephanie. “Learning curve.”

“Morning,” Claire said.

Stephanie nodded. She’d met the clinic nurse practitioner the other day in a bright, welcoming office that came complete with aromatherapy and candles. She was
Jason’s wife, and seemed nice enough, but Stephanie hadn’t let herself warm to anyone yet.

“So, Robbie didn’t want to go with his group after driving to the preschool with Gina talking his ear off,” Claire said. “Gina’s my daughter,” she said for Stephanie’s benefit. “He looks so cute in his glasses. When did he get them?”

Phil grinned. “Beats me, but I found them in his things, so I talked him into wearing them.”

“See, you’re a natural.”

He refilled half of his mug. “That’ll be the day. Two nights, and I’m already planning to scope him for that cough of his. How does Roma manage?”

“Like all mothers. We follow our instincts. Give it a try.” Claire winked at Stephanie, as if they belonged to the same secret sorority. If Claire only knew how wrong she was.

Stephanie took another swallow of coffee, wishing she could fade into the woodwork.

“Do you have any kids?” Claire asked.

“No.” Stephanie couldn’t say it fast enough. She stared deeply into her coffee, trying her best to compose herself. Phil watched her. “Well, I’d better prepare for my first patient. I have a lot to live up to, filling René’s shoes.” She reheated her coffee and started for the door, needing to get far away from all the talk of children. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here, but she’d committed herself for the next two months, and she’d live up to her promise.

“You’ll do fine,” Phil said with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got to take off, too. Need to make a run to the hospital this morning.”

She peeked over her shoulder. He stopped and poured the rest of his coffee into the sink, then glanced at
Stephanie. Eye contact with Phil was the last thing she wanted, so she flicked her gaze toward her shoes. What must he think of her and her crazy behavior? But, more importantly, why did she care?

On her way out the door she passed the cardiologist, Jon Becker, and nodded. He gave a stately nod then headed for the counter and the nearly empty coffee pot.

“Hey,” he said. “I made the coffee and now all I get is half a cup?”

Hunching her shoulders, Stephanie took a surreptitious sip from her mug and slunk down the hall. How many more bad first impressions was she going to make?

“Make a full pot next time,” she heard Claire say. “Quit being so task oriented,” she chided, more as if to a family member than a business colleague. “If you’re going to be a stay-at-home dad, you need to think like a nurturer.”

“Claire, all I wanted was a cup of coffee, not a feminist lecture on thinking for the group.”

Stephanie couldn’t resist it. A smile stretched across her lips, the first one in two days. Jon looked at least forty, and he was going to be a stay-at-home dad?

She’d been so isolated over the past three years, and had no idea how to have a simple conversation with coworkers. Maybe it was time to make an effort to be friendly, like every other normal human being.

A familiar negative tidal wave moved swiftly and blanketed her with doubt.

You don’t deserve to be alive.
She could practically hear her ex-husband’s voice repeating the cutting words.

On her way back to the extended-stay hotel that night, Stephanie realized how famished she was. On a whim, she stopped at a decent-looking Japanese restaurant for some takeout.

After placing her order, she sat primly on the edge of one of the sushi bar stools. She sipped green tea, and glanced around. Down the aisle, there was Robbie, grains of rice stuck to his beaming face like 3-D freckles. Across from the boy, with his back to her, sat Phil. A jolt of nerves cut through her as she hoped Robbie wouldn’t recognize her. He might start crying again. How soon could she get her order and sneak out? Just as she thought it, as if sending a mental tap to his shoulder, Phil turned and saw her, flashed a look of surprise, then waved her over.