Wanted: Parents for a Baby!. Laura Iding
in a terse tone. “And I don’t want to go after the mother per se. But what if we find that the baby was addicted to prescription narcotics? Don’t you think that’s something to be concerned about? Shouldn’t we look for her supplier?”
“Your drug tests can’t give that level of detail,” Trammel protested.
He reined in his temper with an effort. “No, but the state lab in Madison could.”
Another long silence. “Dr. Murphy, I told you before that we investigated the prescription-drug angle after your wife’s death. There’s no evidence of a prescription drug ring operating here in Cedar Bluff. Trust me, I’d know if there were.”
Ryan felt his shoulders sag in defeat. He didn’t believe the detective, yet there was nothing he could say that would change his mind, either. Because he didn’t have proof.
Just a gut-level certainty he was right.
“Listen, Dr. Murphy, it’s been almost three years and I know it’s difficult, but you need to move on with your life.”
For an instant the image of Cassie’s heart-shaped face, long chocolate-brown hair and warm brown eyes flashed in his mind. But he impatiently shoved it away.
“Let me know if the mother comes forward for some reason,” he said to Detective Trammel, changing the subject. “Having some sort of medical history would be helpful.”
“I will.”
Ryan hung up the phone and sat back in his chair with a weary sigh. The detective was wrong—he had moved on with his life. He worked, and played softball in the summer and basketball in the winter with several other physicians on staff. So what if he avoided going out with women? He’d tried about a year or so ago, but the entire event had been a disaster. He’d wanted no-strings sex, but apparently that wasn’t what Shana had wanted, despite the fact she’d assured him she did.
Even worse, the debacle had spread throughout Cedar Bluff Hospital. Staff whispering behind his back had only reminded him of that terrible time after Victoria’s death.
No, getting tangled up with a woman wasn’t part of his plan. No matter how tempted he might be, at least when it came to Cassie. And she was doubly off limits, since they worked together.
No, he had to remain focused on the issues at hand. He wished Detective Trammel had found some evidence of a prescription-drug ring in Cedar Bluff.
Because he wouldn’t mind sharing a bit of the guilt that still weighed heavily on his shoulders over the deaths of his wife and unborn son.
CASSIE HOVERED OVER Emma’s warmer, lightly stroking the tip of her finger down the baby’s downy soft cheek, as much as she could around the breathing-tube holder.
Emma F. Safe Haven, the name they’d given her, was doing a great job of hanging in there. No sign of seizures yet, but Cassie was afraid that if she took her eye off the baby for an instant she’d miss the telltale jerky movements.
The good news so far was that Emma’s blood gases had come back well within normal range. She’d placed a page in to Dr. Ryan to share the results. Maybe they could work on weaning the baby off the ventilator. They’d have to go slowly, because removing the tube, only to replace it a few hours later, would be traumatic and possibly cause damage to Emma’s tiny airway. However, getting the baby off the vent was also better for Emma’s lungs in the long run.
Finding the right balance was always tricky.
Cassie lingered a few minutes longer, wishing she could give Emma more of her attention, but then had to leave to care for the other baby assigned to her care. Thankfully Barton was stable. He’d been born four weeks too early, but was gaining weight and coming along nicely. He still had a couple instances of five seconds or longer of apnea, a common problem in preemies, but so far he’d gone twelve hours without any shallow breathing recorded on the monitor. If that trend continued, in another day or two he’d be ready to move up to the level-two nursery. And soon be discharged home.
She quickly changed Barton’s soiled diaper and then disconnected him from the heart monitor for his feeding. She sank into a rocker she’d pulled over near Emma’s warmer so she could keep an eye on Emma while giving Barton his bottle. Normally they encouraged the parents to come in for the feedings, but Barton’s mother had mentioned she might be later than normal today because she had to wait for her husband to get home from being out of town. She’d had an emergency C-section and hadn’t been cleared to drive yet.
“Aren’t you a good boy,” she cooed, as Barton eagerly sucked at his bottle. “You’re going to grow up to be big and strong, just like your daddy.”
She sensed someone’s gaze on her and looked up to find Dr. Ryan standing a few feet away, staring at her. For a second she thought she saw a distinctive longing reflected in his eyes, but in a flash the moment was gone and the polite yet distant expression had returned to his eyes.
“Emma’s blood gases look great, and I’ve entered new orders to drop her ventilator settings,” he said brusquely. “Should I ask the unit clerk to page the respiratory therapist?”
“I’d appreciate that, if you don’t mind. I’ll be here for a while yet.” More proof that Dr. Ryan was a great doctor. He didn’t think menial tasks were beneath him. Or maybe he was simply anxious to get Emma’s vent settings changed. “So far I haven’t seen any evidence of seizures.”
“Good. You’ll probably get a call from Child Protective Services, I put them on notice about Emma.”
“Oh, okay.” Cassie suppressed a flash of disappointment. Of course calling CPS was the right thing to do. “I guess, once she’s stable, Emma will end up in foster care, then,” she murmured, trying to hide the wistfulness in her tone. She had no right to be so emotionally attached to Emma. The baby wasn’t hers to love and to care for. Except here, at work.
Dr. Ryan’s lips tightened in a grim line. “I imagine so.”
She couldn’t say anything past the lump of regret lodged in her throat. Ridiculous to think she could become a foster parent for Emma. For one thing, there was a long process, including classes to take, along with other hoops to jump through, before she’d be granted that privilege. Even then, she knew that a married couple would have a better shot of getting custody of Emma than a single parent such as her.
Barton turned his face away from the bottle, reminding her it was time for a burp. She lifted him up, turned him and placed him against her shoulder, rubbing her hand in soothing circles over his back. She couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against his downy temple, enjoying the scent of baby shampoo that clung to his skin. He squirmed a bit and made gurgling noises before letting out a loud belch.
“Good boy,” she praised him with a wide smile. Gently she turned the baby round so she could try to give him the rest of his bottle. He was still pretty tiny, less than five pounds, so he usually only took a small portion of his bottle at each feeding.
“You’re a natural,” Dr. Ryan said in a low tone.
The longing to have a baby of her own stabbed deeply, but she pushed it away with an effort. Her cheeks warmed and she cursed herself for responding to every little thing Dr. Ryan said. He had no way of knowing that she’d miscarried twice before her marriage had shattered into irreparable pieces. “Thanks.”
Abruptly he turned and walked toward the unit clerk’s desk. She overheard him requesting the respiratory therapist on duty to be paged for vent setting changes.
Little Barton took another ounce before thrusting the nipple out of his mouth, indicating he wasn’t interested in any more. She mentally calculated the total, pleased that he’d taken a half-ounce more at this feeding.
As she returned Barton to his bassinet and cranked on the mobile that hung over his