The Baby Track (15 page)

Courtney swallowed hard. “And Sarah? As you know, Mrs. Mason is taking care of her now but—” she paused and took a deep breath “—I don’t know how to say this, I hope it doesn’t sound overblown and melodramatic, but I love her already. I don’t want to lose her.”

“My dear, you’re not going to. That paperwork will be processed as planned. You and Connor are keeping your baby.”

Dr. Standish returned to the room with the nurse and two orderlies. “We’re taking him down to the MRI for the brain scan now,” he announced.

Connor’s head ached; he was nauseated from the movement of being transferred from the bed to the gurney. He felt depressed and alone. Having no memory had plunged him into a dark abyss where nobody or nothing else existed but himself, and it was the most terrible feeling in the world. He glanced bleakly at Courtney, who was watching him through tear-filled eyes.

Their gazes held.

Suddenly Courtney slipped between the orderlies to stand beside the gumey. “Connor, everything is going to be all right,” she said fervently, reaching for his hand. She carried it to her Ups and pressed her mouth against his palm.

“I love you,” she said impulsively. The words tumbled out, unrehearsed and unplanned. Was she so caught up in playing the role of loving wife that she’d ad-libbed what such a character would most surely say at such a moment? she wondered.

Connor managed a slight smile. Her words were a soothing balm, warming him and banishing the deep despair that threatened to engulf him. He wasn’t so alone, after all, he consoled himself. He had a wife who loved him, they had a child.

“Will you be here when I get back?” he murmured. He realized at that moment how lucky he was to have someone who loved him, someone who really cared. What if he’d had to face this ordeal alone and unloved, lying here in the hospital with no knowledge of his past or present, and his future a terrifying blank?

“Of course I’ll be here,” Courtney said. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Connor put his hand on her head and stroked her soft, dark hair. “I’m glad.” He felt buoyed, reassured and sought to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Courtney. Everything really is going to be all right.”

Courtney held herself together until he was wheeled out of the room. Then she buried her face in her hands and wept.

Eight

The elevator doors snapped open, and Courtney, carrying Sarah strapped in her bulky car seat, stepped into the hospital corridor. A big plastic shopping bag and a canvas diaper bag dangled from her wrists, hitting her legs as she walked. Connor’s room was halfway down the hall, and when she looked up, she saw him walking toward her.

He was wearing the blue pajamas she’d found in his suitcase and brought in for him and the belted navy silk robe that Wilson Nollier had given him. lie looked virile and fit, certainly not anybody’s idea of a patient. He waved to her, his face wreathed in smiles.

Courtney’s breath caught in her throat. When he smiled at her in that particular way, she went all soft and weak inside. He was so handsome, so sexy, so irresistibly appealing. The intensity of her feelings staggered her. She felt lightheaded, torn between laughter and tears.

The week since Connor’s accident had been the strangest she’d ever spent. She was living a lie, and deception had always repulsed her; she was taking risks, and she had always gone for safety and control. Her life was a complete paradox, yet this past week had been nothing short of—of
wonderful.

Connor thought she was his wife, and he wanted her with him all the time. His face lit up at the sight of her; he was loving and thoughtful and considerate toward her and the baby. They took advantage of the hospital’s liberal visiting hours to spend all day and most of the evening together. Baby Sarah stayed with them the entire time, and they took turns holding and feeding her. Courtney was convinced he enjoyed taking care of the baby as much as she did. He proudly showed her off to the nurses, calling her his daughter.

The cause of his amnesia remained a mystery. After days of extensive testing and observation, the doctors could find no physical reason for it. Although he had suffered a concussion, there had been no discernible damage to his brain. His general memory was fine; he’d retained his social and intellectual skills and could function independently as an adult in the world. His overall health was excellent. Even his headaches had faded.

Since brain damage had been ruled out, Dr. Ammon, the neuropsychiatrist who’d examined him, had another theory. He believed that Connor was experiencing selective amnesia, a disassociative state brought on by the blow to his head, in which unrecognized, unexpressed feelings and needs had temporarily short-circuited an overloaded consciousness.

Courtney and Wilson Nollier had exchanged glances, their eyes glazing as Dr. Ammon continued his lengthy, jargon-filled lecture.

“Cut the psycho-babble and explain it in English,” Nollier snapped.

“In a disassociative state, the conscious mind goes blank,” the doctor explained, directing his remark to Courtney and ignoring Nollier’s exclamation of disdain.

“It’s involuntary, a temporary psychological escape from an extremely stressful situation. In this case, I believe that finally adopting a child was the trigger. After five years of trying and failing to give his wife a baby, the dream was finally realized, but not through his own sexual potency. I find it extremely significant that upon regaining consciousness and being reminded of the child, Mr. McKay asked his wife if she had given birth.”

Courtney and Nollier stared skeptically at the doctor but made no comment.

But Dr. Ammon didn’t seem to mind their lack of input.
“Given birth!”
he continued enthusiastically. “Why, it’s practically a textbook case. His mind blocked out the infertility problems of the past along with all the pain and failure. In this new reality, he was able to achieve fecundity! And as he has no physical brain damage preventing it, conscious memory will return when the subconscious finally comes to terms with the painful reality.”

“What a lot of mumbo jumbo!” Nollier hooted. “How come you headshrinkers are always so hung up on sex?”

It wasn’t a bad theory, Courtney thought, except it was completely untrue. She had another guilt attack for allowing the doctors to believe what Nollier had told them about their alleged marriage. Yet the more she pondered the doctor’s explanation, she realized that the disassociative state of amnesia theory could fit in another context. Before the accident, Nollier and Connor bad talked about Richard Tremaine—stirring up potentially explosive feelings? Now Connor remembered nothing about either of his fathers.

She thought he seemed happier, his cynical and bitter edge had disappeared. Could she possibly be right?

As for Connor, he was eager to leave the hospital. He told the doctors that he was convinced his memory would return when he was living full-time with his wife and child. Every evening when visiting hours were over and he walked Courtney to the elevator, carrying the baby in his arms, he would kiss them both goodbye and say how much he wanted to go with them.

And each night Courtney lay alone in her bed in Mrs. Mason’s house, tossing and turning restlessly, worrying about what would happen when his memory returned. With Wilson Nollier a daily visitor—the attorney continued to faithfully make the drive from D.C.—she didn’t dare reveal the truth to Connor.

Last night, staring out the window during those long, lonely hours, Courtney forced herself to face the shameful truth. She didn’t want to tell Connor the truth and end their “marriage.” The threat of Nollier had become less a danger and more of an excuse she was using to prolong the fantasy.

And if Connor’s memory never returned? She tried to stifle the spark of hope she felt at that prospect. It was wrong, she scolded herself, it was selfish and unfair. Connor deserved the right to decide his own fate and live his own life. But when his memory returned, she knew he would leave her and Sarah and go off on his own, back to his stupid job and his affairs with no strings. And there was no way she could stifle the sadness she felt at that prospect.

“You’ve been shopping this morning, I see.” Connor greeted her in the hall with a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. He took the baby and the cumbersome car seat from her, leaning down to brush his lips across Sarah’s small forehead.

Courtney delved into the bags as they walked into his room. “There’s a cute children’s clothing shop in town. I bought a few things for Sarah.” She pulled out a dainty flowered sunsuit and matching bonnet, a yellow pinafore with duck appliques and an adorable lavender dress she’d been unable to resist. “I bought them all two sizes larger than what she’s wearing now so they’ll fit her this summer.”

This summer. Courtney’s heart turned over. Would Connor be around this summer to see Sarah wear them?

Probably not. She swallowed back the lump that sprang to her throat.

Connor unwrapped the baby from the blankets and quilted snowsuit, which Courtney had bundled her in. “Don’t you think she’s a bit overdressed? She could survive an Arctic blizzard in this gear,” he remarked dryly. “It’s April, Courtney, not January. One thing I know is the correct date. The doctors and nurses mention it every time they come into the room to
orient
me to time.”

The carefully recited dates had become a private joke with them. Courtney smiled. “I know
it’s April 13
,
but there was a chill in the air this morning when I left the house. I didn’t want Sarah to catch cold.”

Connor hoisted Sarah into his arms, smiling into the baby’s blue-eyed gaze. “You feel ten pounds lighter now, don’t you, Cookie?”

The baby made a gurgling noise and Connor laughed. “She says, ‘Thanks, Dad.’ ”

Courtney smiled. She loved watching Connor play with Sarah. He’d nicknamed her Cookie because he claimed she was sweet and soft like one. He had a propensity for nicknames, she thought, remembering how he’d called her Gypsy almost from the moment they’d met. Though she had claimed it annoyed her, she realized that she missed hearing it.

“You look sad.” Holding the baby in the crook of one arm, Connor slipped his other hand around the nape of Courtney’s neck. “What’s the matter, Courtney?”

She was going to have to be more careful, more on guard, Courtney admonished herself. When they were together, Connor watched her intently, seldom taking his eyes off her. He was quick to pick up the tiniest nuance in her facial expressions and inflections of her voice.

He began to massage her nape. “I know how hard this has been on you, sweetheart. Spending all day and all evening here at the hospital with me and then getting up at night with the baby.”

“I don’t mind, Connor,” she protested. “I’m fine, really.”

But she wasn’t fine; she felt dangerously overemotional. And his caressing fingers were causing ripples of fire to spread from her belly to her breasts and then shoot lower, deeper. She knew she should move away from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. What he was doing felt entirely too good.

“You’re very brave and very strong, Courtney,” Connor said huskily. “I don’t know how I could’ve gotten through this past week without you. But it’s time to let me take over, to let me take care of you and the baby. Time to let me be a husband and father instead of a patient.”

“Oh, Connor,” she whispered. If only it could be true! With a small, shuddery moan, she let her head rest against his strong, broad shoulder, giving into the fantasy, if only for a little while.

He slid his hand down the length of her spine, kneaded the curve of her waist for several long, sensuous moments, then spread his hand flat across her belly. She was wearing a cherry-red rayon skirt, and the warm imprint of his palm permeated the soft material. A sharp, searing pleasure licked through her.

“I think about you all the time,” he said softly, his mouth feathering her temple, her hair, with soft, light kisses. “I want you—to hold you and kiss you and touch you. Lying in bed here alone at night—” He laughed deeply, his voice warm and sexy, and added, “There’s one part of me that doesn’t seem to be having any trouble... remembering.”

He suggestively pressed her against him and she gasped, feeling deliciously sandwiched between the warm pressure of his hand on her abdomen and his virile hardness behind her. Automatically she laid her hand over his.

“I’m aching for you, gypsy eyes,” he groaned, taking her earlobe between his teeth in a teasing, sensual bite.

She felt dizzy, disoriented, as if she’d just staggered off the Tilt-a-Whirl at the amusement park. “W-What?”

“You have the biggest, darkest, most beautiful eyes,” he said softly, mesmerizingly, slowly moving his hand higher, gliding closer, closer to her breasts. He stopped, resting his hand just below them.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” he said wryly. “That I know gypsies have dark eyes but I have no knowledge of my own parents. That I know the president’s name but had to be told my own.”

‘ ‘The doctors said—”

“I don’t want to talk about the doctors. I’m tired of doctors and I’m tired of this hospital. I want to get out of this place today. I want my life back.” His hand moved those crucial inches and closed over her breast. “I want my wife back.”

Her gaze dropped to see his big hand cupping her through the cherry-red rayon blouse, and the sight was as stimulating as the feel of his fingers fondling her. With unerring accuracy, his thumb found her nipple and began to rub sensually, bringing it to a throbbing peak. Courtney squirmed against him and a whimper escaped from her lips.

Sarah chose that moment to remind them of her presence, opening her small mouth and letting out a distinct wail. Reluctantly Connor dropped his hand. “It seems we have a little chaperone,” he said, turning his full attention to the infant. “Hmm, a damp one.”

“I’ll change her,” Courtney said quickly, stumbling away from him to pick up the canvas diaper bag filled with baby supplies. Her hands were trembling; her knees, too.

“Let’s take her for a walk in the hall,” she suggested after the baby was diapered and dry again. She felt too nervous and high-strung to be alone with Connor. Her whole body was aflame with longing, and her instantaneous response to him left her feeling exposed and vulnerable.