The Heart Doctor and the Baby. Lynne Marshall
could he ever trust?
He’d withdrawn and lived the life of a recluse since then, even going so far as to take up long-distance running, anything to avoid other people. His medical practice and plans for a sabbatical had kept him going when he didn’t think he could go on. That and his relationship with his daughters.
René had asked him to consider this “deed” a special gift to her, and that he wouldn’t be involved beyond the initial donation. He could tell by the solidly sincere look in her eyes that she wanted a chance to have a baby, but would it be a passing whim?
And more importantly, based on his experience with his ex-wife, could he trust that giving his sperm would be the extent of his involvement with René?
That afternoon, the MidCoast Medical staff meeting dragged on. René stealthily tapped her foot under the table and listened to Jason recite the quarterly reports.
Her mind wandered, dying to know if Jon had made his decision yet, but doing her best not to make eye contact with him. She didn’t want to pressure him.
“We’ve balanced our budget, which means we’ll be able to buy that new lab equipment we’ve been wanting,” Jason said, using a laser pen to highlight the slide behind him. “And if things keep up this way, in a few more months we won’t have to send our patients to the local hospital for bronchoscopies. We can do them here.”
“That would be fantastic,” Phil Hansen said. “I’ve been waiting a long time for that.”
The clinic, housed in a renovated Victorian mansion in downtown Santa Barbara, was thriving. The four-doctor practice had taken a risk and prevailed against the odds. They’d built a clientele from nothing and reached out to the community, and their hard work had finally paid off.
Jason gave his signature broad smile—the one he’d been wearing ever since he’d fallen in love with and married Claire, the nurse practitioner. “Who’d have thought that five years ago when we conceived the idea to join forces and build our own clinic, we’d come this far?” he said, glancing toward his partners, then at his pregnant wife.
“Me,” Jon raised his hand. “We did our homework, studied the demographics, discovered the perfect location and need for the clinic. We had your money, Jason,” Jon added with a smirk, “and business expertise. We were bound to succeed.”
He analyzed everything and, genius that he was, always did a fine job. René glanced fondly into his luminous brown eyes, which softened ever so slightly when their gazes met. She nodded and smiled. He smiled back—a masculine take on Mona Lisa. The kind of understated yet proud smile that made René react in her gut whether she wanted to or not.
Was he sending a subtle message? Had he made his decision?
Claire shifted in her chair, her brows knotted together and lips slightly pursed. René had seen that same look hundreds of times on the faces of her third trimester patients. Toward the end of the pregnancy, constantly searching for comfort, all they longed for was to get that baby out of there! René offered a smile of encouragement as she locked gazes with her newest friend in the medical group.
Claire attempted to smile back, then tossed a glance toward the ceiling as if searching for moral support. Though considered a high-risk pregnancy since Claire also had lupus, René had seen her patient through nothing but smooth sailing from the first day she’d examined her.
Claire was expecting her second child—Jason and Claire’s first together—and their newfound love was nothing short of a miracle. It gave René hope that anything was possible. Even for her.
As René listened to the rest of Jason’s report, she stared at her lap, at the hands that had delivered countless babies…and the noticeably empty ring finger. Her thirty-sixth birthday was next month and this year, for the first time in her life, she’d become aware of distant keening. That ticking biological clock had never bothered her before, but now consumed her thoughts, drove her crazy with the desire to be a mother. Even to the point of making a fool of herself by asking Jon to be a sperm donor. Rather than cringe, she glanced longingly at Claire’s very pregnant state.
Claire gasped.
René went on alert. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Claire said, releasing the word with a cleansing breath. “Been having Braxton Hicks all day.”
René quirked a brow. “All day? Why didn’t you say something?”
Claire shrugged. “Second-kid syndrome?”
Since Claire wasn’t due for another few weeks, she’d keep her eye on her as the meeting continued.
Phil shot up, forcing her to crane her neck toward the ceiling. His longish dark blond hair swept back from his face in a cavalier manner. Tanned and too handsome for his own good, he read his obligatory monthly OSHA report, and tortured them with rules running the gamut from what chemicals were acceptable to how to dispose of soiled dressings. She prayed the pulmonary faction of their group wouldn’t tell them it was time for another disaster drill. And if he did, how soon could she schedule a vacation?
Claire let out another gasp, this time grabbing her back. René checked her watch. It had only been one minute since the last one.
Chapter Two
JASON flew to his wife’s side, the one she was holding with both hands. “Sweetheart, is there anything I can do?”
Claire diligently practiced her birthing breathing as René knelt in front of her. She put her palm on Claire’s rigid stomach. The baby had dropped from yesterday’s appointment and, from the feel of the rock-solid mound, was already engaged.
“I have an idea,” René said. “Why don’t we adjourn this meeting, and I’ll take you to my office and examine you?”
“No argument from me,” Claire said.
The confirmed bachelor of the group, Phil, had noticeably paled beneath his Santa Barbara tan. “I guess I’ll take off, then,” he said, looking relieved.
Jason gingerly assisted his wife to stand, and escorted her, like the deliciously doting soon-to-be father he was, to René’s examination room in the clinic.
Jon stood perfectly still, obvious wheels turning in that wondrous mind of his. He glanced at René. “You need any help?”
“Don’t know yet,” she said, as she rushed out of the kitchen-turned-conference room. “Why don’t you stick around just in case?”
Five minutes later, René placed Claire’s feet in the stirrups on the table, gowned up and donned gloves, then started the examination. Holy smokes! Not only was she almost effaced and dilated, but her waters had broken.
“We’re having a baby here,” René called over her shoulder, which had Jason rushing into the room.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Claire said, worry knitting her brows.
“Do we have time to get her to the hospital?” Jason asked, sounding breathless.
“Not at this stage.” René gave Jason an assertive glance, then she saw Claire’s questioning expression. “Don’t worry, Claire. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
“Ask Mrs. Densmore if she can keep Gina tonight,” Claire said to Jason.
He stood at Claire’s side, eyes dilated and wider than René had ever seen them. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, squeezing his wife’s fingers with one hand, fishing out his cell phone and speed-dialing their babysitter with the other.
From outside the door, she heard Jon’s voice. “How can I help?”
“Get a case of the absorbent towels, and warm some baby bath blankets, then start an IV for me,” she said.
A familiar-sounding