The Baby Jackpot (5 page)

“About my schedule?” Scrub nurses were shifted around as
needed, Stacy in particular, who assisted several surgeons and had no family
obligations to limit her flexibility. Betsy could have made her life tough, but
the nursing director had been fair despite the divorce.

“Is that the only thing we ever talk about?” Betsy sounded
apologetic. “We used to have such interesting discussions.”

“We did, didn’t we?” During her marriage, Stacy had been
thankful for their friendship. Later, she’d felt betrayed, realizing that Betsy
must have been aware of her son’s renewed relationship with his high school
sweetheart before Andrew had informed Stacy of it. Perhaps Betsy also had a
lingering fondness for Zora, who—to add insult to injury—worked as an ultrasound
technician for some of the hospital’s doctors.

“I admire what you’ve done for the Barkers,” Betsy told her.
“You always give so much of yourself.”

“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure what to make of that remark.

“You look hungry.”

“Famished.”

“I’ll let you go eat.” As the older woman moved on, Stacy
sneaked a look at Cole. Dr. Tartikoff had claimed his attention. She was safe,
for the moment.

She hurried to get in line at the refreshment table. If those
two tall women ahead of her would finish heaping their plates, she could finally
eat.

One of them shifted position. It was, she realized, Harper, who
noticed her at the same instant. “Stacy!” As if it were impossible to talk and
serve oneself at the same time, she stood with a ladle of fruit salad in the
air. “There you are!”

Nora Franco peered around her. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, both of you.”

Please keep moving.

“I’m so excited!” Harper said.

“Really? Why?”

Her roommate gestured at the throng of staff members
surrounding Una. “Until now, your donation seemed kind of theoretical. It’s
finally sinking in that there’s actually going to be a baby, or several.”

“So there are.”

Maybe more than you think.

Stacy took a deep breath to tame her protesting stomach. How
long could her roommate stand with a ladle in midair?

“I’d like to be a donor.”

Harper couldn’t be thinking straight. “It’s a rigorous
procedure and you have Mia to take care of,” she pointed out.

“I’m sure she’d understand.” Her friend was getting wound up in
her enthusiasm. Although sensible, Harper could also be impulsive. “I have no
desire to remarry and I certainly don’t want a second child on my own. But I
dream about having a little boy, and it would be such a gift to give to a
childless family. Well, I don’t have to tell you! And then there’s the money.
I’d put it toward Mia’s college savings.”

“Five thousand dollars isn’t that much, and you don’t get it
until they harvest the eggs.” Stacy’s stomach gave a lurch. It was about to
embarrass her in public.

Setting down her empty plate, she made a dash for the exit.
Thank goodness Dr. Tartikoff chose that moment to take the microphone and begin
his welcome speech, drawing everyone’s attention.

“This is a significant occasion for all of us....” His words
boomed after her into the corridor.

From the corner of her eye she saw someone follow her. Cole. He
waited in the corridor as she flew into the ladies’ room.

He’d implied that he meant to stand by her. That resolve, she
feared, was about to be put to the test.

Chapter Five

Don’t wreck this by
overreacting.

In medical school, Cole had paid close attention to the
Standardized Patient Encounter, in which medical students were taught to build
rapport and show empathy while taking a medical history and performing a
physical. He’d gained further experience in his practice, and usually
established good relationships with his patients.

He wished there’d been a similar course in male-female
relationships. Never having witnessed any interaction between his parents put
him at a disadvantage. So, he was discovering, did a lack of romantic instincts,
no matter how many Hugh Grant movies he watched.

For the past two weeks, he’d been reassured by Stacy’s
calmness. Working together felt comfortable. She didn’t seem angry or
emotionally fragile. He’d begun to think that her period must have started and
she’d considered it too indelicate a matter to mention, although surely she knew
better, given what they’d shared.

Then, a few minutes ago, she’d turned deathly pale and rushed
from the party, clutching her stomach. Now, Cole struggled to maintain a
composed air as he stood in the corridor outside the restrooms, just around the
corner from the front lobby and information desk. Not that there were many
people milling around, and not that he much cared what they thought. Still, as
head of the men’s fertility program, he owed the hospital a certain level of
decorum. And he had to be careful to respect Stacy’s feelings, whatever they
might be.

It upset him to see her in such distress. If only he could find
the right words to reassure her, and avoid any words that might hurt or alienate
her.

The door to the ladies’ room opened. Stacy appeared, looking
very pretty in a flowered dress that reminded him of a watercolor painting. But
worrisome smudges underscored her amber eyes.

Cole started forward. “Are you all right?”

“I threw up.” She stared at him miserably.

“Does this mean you’re...” He hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

This, at least, was a question he could answer. “Let’s go to my
office.”

“Forget that!” she said. “You are
not
going to examine me.”

“I just meant to give you a test.” That statement didn’t go
over well. He could tell from the way she glowered at him.

“Let me handle this on my own.” She pressed her lips
together.

Cole took her hands. “I only want to help.”

Her expression softened. “It felt like you were bossing me
around.”

“It did?”

Her short laugh ended in a sniffle. “Don’t try to control
me.”

“I won’t.” He made a mental note to let her take the lead, even
though he
was
the doctor.

“It’s nice that you care about me.” She moved closer, her hands
small and warm in his.

“Of course I care,” Cole said. “I’m the one who got you
pregnant.”

“What did you say?” The sharp-edged female’s voice reminded him
that they stood in full view of any passersby. He placed the speaker, a
fair-haired woman in a no-nonsense suit, as Dr. Adrienne Cavill, an obstetrician
who worked the overnight shift in the maternity ward and saw private patients a
couple of evenings a week. Due to her schedule, their paths rarely crossed.

“Oh, Adrienne.” Stacy slipped her hands free of Cole’s and
practically fell into Dr. Cavill’s arms. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“I warned you to be careful, this month especially.” The female
doctor took Stacy’s arm. “We’re going to my office right now.”

“She’s your patient?” Cole asked.

“And friend.” Dr. Cavill cast him a piercing frown. “I take it
you’re the other half of this equation.”

“It’s not his fault,” Stacy said.

“Fault?” Adrienne didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s not stand
here debating.”

“Agreed.” Cole needed answers, and so did Stacy.

They walked together to the building next door, which housed
medical office suites. Cole had joined a urology practice on the fourth floor.
Dr. Cavill, he discovered, shared a second-floor suite with two other
obstetricians, Dr. Rayburn and Dr. Sargent.

The waiting room was empty, as was the hall to the examining
rooms. Cole was beginning to think they could contain this situation among the
three of them when a short woman wearing thick glasses and a blue uniform peered
from a break room. “Oh, Dr. Cavill. You’re early.”

“Finish your dinner, Eva,” the obstetrician told the nurse.
“I’ll take care of Stacy.”

“Hi.” Eva gave Stacy a polite, puzzled smile. “Room three is
prepped, Dr. Cavill. What supplies do you need?”

Stacy wrapped her arms around herself. Dr. Cavill paused as if
unsure how to respond. Finally, she said, “A pregnancy kit.”

Eva’s gaze darted between Cole and Stacy, and a noise squeaked
out of her. It might have been “Oh,” or possibly “Huh?” Followed by, “Yes,
Doctor.”

Cole addressed the nurse in his best physician voice. “We can
rely on your discretion, I trust.”

“Certainly, Dr. Rattigan. I always respect patient
confidentiality.”

“I’ll come with you,” Stacy told Eva. To the other doctor she
added, “I’ll change in room three.” The two nurses disappeared around a
corner.

Dr. Cavill folded her arms. Although only of average height and
most likely a few years younger than Cole, she had a commanding air that
reminded him of his mother. Not the most welcome association, at the moment.

“So you’re Stacy’s friend as well as her doctor,” he said.

The woman twisted an errant strand of hair into her bun. “She
and my sister, Vicki, were close all through school, along with Harper
Anthony.”

Cole had no idea who Harper was, but felt as if he ought
to.

“I see,” he said lamely.

The obstetrician released what sounded to Cole like an
exasperated sigh. “It’s not my place to lecture you on ethics, but I have to ask
what the hell you thought you were doing with an egg donor who was still in her
fertile cycle. Not to mention that she’s your scrub nurse.”

“I’m glad you decided not to lecture me,” he returned
mildly.

Some of the anger melted from her expression. “Point taken.
It’s just that I’ve watched Stacy claw her way back from a wrenching divorce to
a man who didn’t deserve her. She has the kindest heart in the world. Look at
what she’s done for the Barkers. She’s generous and she’s vulnerable.”

“And you think I took advantage of her.”

“Something like that.”

Cole saw no reason to explain the odd circumstances under which
he and Stacy had made love. “Would it help if I mentioned that my intentions are
honorable?”

His colleague’s mouth quirked as if fighting a smile. “That’s
an old-fashioned expression.”

“Perhaps it should stage a comeback,” Cole said.

Dr. Cavill glanced around the bend in the hall. Apparently the
light over the examining room hadn’t switched from red to green, because she
returned her attention to him. “You’re quite an enigma around here.”

“In what sense?” he asked.

“We’ve heard how distinguished you are, how many papers you’ve
published and how eager Dr. Tartikoff was to hire you,” she said. “But you’ve
maintained such a low profile, I had no idea you and Stacy were dating.”

He decided not to disabuse her of that notion. “Some things are
best kept private.”

“This won’t be private for long.” She glanced at the examining
room. “She’s ready. Stay here.”

He trailed after her. “This concerns me, too.”

“I prefer to talk to my patient alone first. If she wants you
in the room, I’ll come get you.” With a quelling look, the doctor whisked
off.

Cole clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay put. Stacy
had
warned him against controlling behavior, and
he meant to respect her wishes.

On the other hand, it was beginning to seep in that she might
really be carrying a baby.
His
baby. Cole had never
given much thought to that prospect, and wasn’t sure how to react. Certainly not
like a Neanderthal, crashing about and bludgeoning whoever got in his way.

But also not like his own father, who’d finished his term as
guest curator at a Minneapolis art museum and flown back to Paris before his son
was born. By making a pact with Cole’s mother that required him to sire a child
without further involvement, Cole’s father hadn’t considered how it would feel
for his son to grow up with the painful awareness that his dad took no interest
in him.

By middle school, Cole had insisted on his mother hiring a
French tutor, and by high school he’d saved enough money for a flight to France.
Jean-Paul Duval had greeted his son politely, escorted him about Paris as one
might a guest, and talked at length about an exhibition of contemporary ceramics
that he was curating. They’d spoken exclusively in English, and if he’d
overheard Cole speaking with others in French, he hadn’t remarked on it.

A week later, Cole had flown home with a chasm in his heart
where warm memories of his father ought to be. He had, however, gained an
appreciation for the inventive forms and ideas expressed by modern ceramic
artists, and his tutor had remarked that his French was much improved.

Down the hall, the nurse was signaling. “You can go in now, Dr.
Rattigan.”

Cole tried to breathe normally, but he couldn’t remember how he
normally breathed.
“Merci,”
he said, and followed
her.

* * *

“B
ECAUSE
OF
THE
RISK
of multiples, let’s schedule an early ultrasound,” Adrienne was saying when Cole
entered. She paused, her brow creasing with the disapproval she usually reserved
for Reggie when he performed gymnastics on the sofa or tried to hide broccoli in
his pockets.

On the examining table, Stacy tugged the skimpy hospital gown
into place. This was going to be a difficult pregnancy to manage, yet the
possibility of twins or triplets made her decision to give up the babies easier,
because there was no way she could raise multiples alone.

“I gather the test was positive.” Cole gazed at her with
concern. He didn’t seem upset. Not elated, either, she observed sadly.

“Her hCG levels are nearly off the charts,” Adrienne
responded.

“An ultrasound’s a good idea.” Cole turned to Stacy. “How do
you feel?”

Like the universe just caved
in.

“Queasy.” Not as bad as earlier, though, since Eva had provided
her with a container of apple juice.

“I’ll take you out for dinner,” he said. “Or bring you some
crackers, if you’d rather.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got food at home and I’m kind of tired.” With
her emotions in turmoil, Stacy preferred to be alone.

“I’d better go set up for the next patient.” Giving her a
sympathetic nod, Eva slipped out of the room.

That left Stacy with the two doctors, whose tense body language
appeared to be directed at each other. She didn’t like seeing her friends at
odds.

“You can stop fretting,” she told them. “I’ll be placing it, or
them, for adoption.”

Cole gave a start. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t pressure her!” Adrienne snapped.

“I wasn’t,” he replied sharply. “You should learn to
distinguish compassion from control.”

Great. They’d gone from glaring at each other to fighting.
Stacy hated to think how the rest of the Safe Harbor staff—already overly
invested in the belief that one person’s business was everyone’s business—might
react to the situation.

“Listen, both of you,” she ordered. “This is my decision, and I
don’t want the entire world weighing in. Let’s be clear on that.”

“
I’m
perfectly clear on it,” Cole
said. “However, this pregnancy is my responsibility, too.”

“I’m aware that fathers have legal rights,” she said, all the
more irritable for her unwanted prickle of tears. “What are you planning to do?
Sue for custody and raise a houseful of kids on your own?”

His mouth opened in astonishment. Finally, he said, “That’s not
even close to what I meant.”

“Are you sure? I’d be happy to provide diapering lessons,”
Adrienne remarked drily.

“Very funny,” Cole muttered.

Stacy ignored the exchange. If, in spite of her efforts, the
doctors insisted on baiting each other, let them go at it. “There’s no reason to
broadcast my condition. It’ll just cause embarrassment for the egg donor
program, among other things.”

Adrienne’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t considered that. Oh, my.
What will Dr. Tartikoff say?”

“If he blows his top, I’ll tell him to suck it up,” Cole
said.

Stacy laughed. It felt good to have him on her side when it
came to the powers that be. “We’re not telling anyone anything until I’m ready,”
she told Adrienne. “That includes Harper.”

“I’ll be sure to watch my tongue when I pick up Reggie
tomorrow,” her friend replied. The little boy was spending the night again.
Although he stayed at a child care provider’s home on the weeknights Adrienne
worked, the sitter sometimes had family obligations on Fridays. “Eva will give
you prenatal vitamins and schedule the ultrasound in a couple of weeks. That’s
the earliest we’re likely to detect anything.”

“Thanks, Adrienne.”

When Cole helped Stacy down from the examining table, his touch
felt cool and steady. “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.

Stacy nodded. As soon as the pair had left, she began changing
into her clothes.

Now that the reality of the pregnancy had begun to sink in, she
wasn’t as distressed as she might have expected. Giving life to more babies was
a gift, not a tragedy.

Stacy recalled how, when she’d received Una’s text saying
We’re mommies!
a
profound emptiness had swept over her. Another woman was carrying her baby. Now
she had her own baby to carry.

And give to someone else.