Finding Her Forever Family

CHAPTER TWO

WENDY FELT AS if a fireball had exploded in her body. With one brief touch, this guy had turned her insides into a puddle of goo. An electric charge raced upward from where his palm pressed against hers, warming her, making her throb in parts that had no business throbbing.

She doused those flames fast.

Poor Aiyana was upstairs, about to give birth, and here she was drooling over a hot doc—and Sam’s father to boot! Not good. Tom shifted his stance, his arm brushing hers, and fresh sparks fizzed through her body. Trying not to fidget, Wendy studied the metal doors in front of her, doing her best to ignore the hunk beside her and failing miserably.

At last the elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

While Tom talked with one of the delivery nurses, Wendy snuck a closer look at Dr. Tom Farber. Shaggy blond hair—with highlights of wheat and gold. Bright, intelligent blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. Tanned, chiseled face, high cheekbones and a shadow of dark stubble on his jaw. Her gaze moved downward to his broad shoulders and muscled arms. He obviously worked out, his faded green scrubs fitting like a glove, not too tight but not baggy either.

Carmen rushed over, her lilting Trinidadian accent low and calm. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Dr. Farber. I need your opinion on a multiple birth.”

They all went into Aiyana’s room, where she was sitting on a large therapy ball, rocking back and forth. Ned rushed to his wife’s side, his emotions written all over his face—panic, compassion, anticipation and a hint of excitement. The guy might be Wendy’s own tough older brother, but when it came to his wife’s labor, he was a nervous dad-to-be like every other man.

Wendy was there for emotional support, not in a professional capacity. Thankfully, when she’d called Jake earlier he’d told her not to worry about her shift tonight in the ER and to take off all the time she needed to be with her family. Wendy never used her vacation days, so she had plenty saved up.

She and Tom stood at the end of the bed and he reached across her to grab the chart. Golden hair peppered the tanned skin of his muscled forearm, his fingers long and tapered. Surgeon’s hands. God, there was something about a man with sexy arms and hands...

Nope. Wendy shook her head, driving away those errant thoughts. She needed to concentrate on providing comfort and coaching to her sister-in-law. That’s why she was here. Still, Tom’s scent wafted around her—citrus, spice and a hint of soap—smelling better than any man had a right to, darn him.

“Are you okay, uuman?” Ned asked Aiyana, rubbing his wife’s back.

Tom leaned closer to Wendy, his breath tickling her ear. “What does uuman mean?”

She smiled. “It’s Iñupiat. It means heart. An endearment.”

He nodded, his eyes glittering with interest. “Your family’s Native American, then.”

“Yes. Half, anyway. Our mom was white.”

“I see.” He went over Aiyana’s chart again, frowning.

Wendy forced her tense shoulders to relax. “Anything to be worried about?”

“No, not that I see. She can continue with Carmen, but I’ll keep a close eye anyway.” Snapping the file shut, his hand brushed hers and awareness zinged through her once more. Wendy stepped a bit farther away from him, from unwanted temptation.

This was all about birthing the twins, not drooling over Dr. Tall, Blond and Beefcake.

The sooner she got her priorities straight, the better.

* * *

Tom put the chart back in the holder, then fiddled with the papers and notes sticking out the sides, ensuring they were all neat and tidy, grateful for something to do with his hands that didn’t involve brushing up against Wendy again.

Going over the history and physical, he’d noted that the husband, Wendy’s brother, had a family history of Huntington’s disease. It was a rare condition and one that had given him pause for a moment. Not out of fear for the patient and her babies—he’d seen that Ned’s test results for the mutation had been negative, so there was no concern of him passing it on—but out of concern for Wendy.

He didn’t know her that well, neither did he know that much about the disease, only that it was a genetic disorder and that there was no cure. If something that horrible ran in Wendy’s family, he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Wendy, how difficult it would be to live with that hanging over your head.

After the patient returned from the restroom, Ned Smith helped his wife get settled on the bed then tenderly held her hand, calming her. From the chart, Tom had also seen this was their first birth and they were doing well. Aiyana’s twins had yet to drop. Between the multiple gestations and the fact that she was a first-time mother, it was going to be a while.

Wendy moved to stand behind her sister-in-law as well, rubbing a tennis ball up and down her lower back. The patient was bent slightly, supported by her husband, her posture stiffening as another contraction hit. They were closer together than Tom had predicted, and he and Carmen exchanged a glance. The midwife tapped her watch and shrugged. He nodded and backed out of the room. If they needed an OB, they’d call him.

Meanwhile, his pulse drummed a steady beat as he studied Wendy more carefully. His respect and admiration for her grew, knowing what she’d dealt with given her family history, while his immediate awareness of her was unsettling for a man who prided himself on being cool, calm and rational. He’d built his life on the known, on facts and science and things that could be measured and tested and applied to provide relief, remedies and comfort.

As Tom rode the elevator back down to the ER, his mind continued to churn—with the case, and with Wendy. Since her father was still alive, according to the chart, he assumed it had been her mother who’d been afflicted with Huntington’s. How scary must that have been for young Wendy, being raised with that kind of uncertainty?

The situations were completely different, but the fact Wendy had lost her mother too had Tom’s thoughts returning to his own daughter as he went downstairs to his stack of charts and scribbled note after note in the files, working on autopilot as he searched for new ways he might get Sam to open up and let him in.

His heart ached, though, every time he thought about it—the distance between him and his daughter, the fact his late ex-wife Nikki had blamed him for all her troubles and had kept him and Sam apart. Regret wasn’t a strong enough word for the thick soup of recriminations that swam inside him when he remembered his short, tumultuous eighteen-month marriage.

After Tom had returned to Alaska, he’d tried to stay in contact with Sam, but Nikki’s less-than-stable lifestyle had made communication difficult. He’d even flown back to Boston a few times, hoping to see Sam in person, but Nikki had gone out of her way to keep them apart.

Then Tom had gotten the crushing news from the Massachusetts Department of Family and Children that Nikki had overdosed. He’d returned to the East Coast in a daze, to find Sam in shock. His daughter had looked different than he’d expected, taller, skinnier, tougher.

After the funeral, he’d brought her back to Anchorage, vowing to give her the kind of fairy-tale childhood she’d never had with her mom. New clothes, new school, new whatever she wanted. But with his busy schedule and the emotional trauma she’d suffered, their reunion had been bumpy, to say the least. Between all the social workers and her counselor here at the hospital, he’d expected to see more improvement, but so far it wasn’t happening.

It was ironic, really. The fact that he couldn’t connect emotionally with his own child, since that was the whole reason he’d gone into obstetrics. That connection that he hadn’t been able to have with his own child, that incredible moment when new life emerged.

He wanted to be that bridge of transition forever.

Obstetrics was his calling.

Speaking of his calling, he soon got a page on another case, a VBAC—vaginal birth after C-section.

Glad to stay busy, he headed back upstairs.

CHAPTER THREE

WENDY TRIED TO imagine what the three of them must look like, wandering down the halls of the maternity wing. The walking seemed to help Aiyana. She sipped on a cup of cranberry juice as they strolled at a slow pace. Time and space condensed into this hallway, and the next hallway, then the one after that. Aiyana had her earbuds in, her attention focused on the music as she shuffled along. She smiled, punching Ned playfully on the shoulder.

“What?” he asked.

“You made the playlist.”

“I did,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, paipiirak.” The fact they called each other pet names from their native language was so sweet. Aiyana was his heart while Ned was her baby. Then another contraction hit and Aiyana’s face crumpled, her voice shaking. “Here comes another one.”

They returned to the room and settled in to wait.

Another hour passed, and Wendy found herself flagging, in desperate need of coffee. She glanced at the clock and found it was nearly four in the morning now. The last time Carmen had checked, Aiyana had been dilated to about six centimeters, but her water still hadn’t broken. Without that step, this could take quite a bit longer.

She shook Ned’s shoulder as he slept curled in the room’s recliner. He mumbled, “Push?”

Wendy snorted. “I’m getting coffee. Want some?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes again, shoving his head against a pillow.

The ride to the basement was eerie this late at night with the place all but deserted. She walked to the cafeteria and grabbed a cup of horrible coffee that would at least buy her a little alert time.

“Hey,” a voice said behind her at the register.

She turned to find Tom, his blue eyes twinkling.

“You got some too.” He raised the cup in his hands. “Liquid energy.”

From what he’d said earlier, he still had a handful of hours left of his shift. He looked as exhausted as she felt. His name tag was askew, hanging from the pocket of his scrubs, and his hair tousled, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Which made her think of other places he might look so disheveled, say, naked and sleepy between her sheets. And, oh, boy...

Thank goodness he couldn’t read minds or they’d both be in trouble.

Then again, Wendy had a feeling being around Tom too much would mean trouble for her no matter what, seeing as how she was drawn to him for no good reason. They barely knew each other and the last thing she wanted was a distraction from what Aiyana was going through.

And Tom Farber was most assuredly distracting.

“Want to sit a minute?” he asked.

She considered turning him down, but the thought of returning to the room upstairs to stare at the same four walls was not appealing. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. “I suppose I can, since Aiyana’s sleeping right now.”

“Good.”

They strolled toward a spot near the back wall of the room.

Tom took the chair across from her at their table for two and Wendy clasped her cup between her hands like a mini-shield between them.

He exhaled slowly and rubbed his eyes. “Maternity must be a nice change from the ER.”

“Yep.” Wendy watched him closely, noting there was no ring on his finger. No tan line either. Not that she cared. She wasn’t interested in his marital status. “What about you? Anything exciting happening in L&D tonight? Besides the impending arrival of the newest members of the Smith clan?”

Tom flashed her a crooked, endearing smile then shook his head. “Nah, not really. I handled a VBAC that got a bit tricky toward the end, but it’s all good.”

“Cool.” Wendy gulped some more coffee, searching for something to say. “Are you from Anchorage originally?”

“I am. Left to go to med school in Boston, but I’m back now. With my daughter, of course.”

“Oh, Sam’s a great kid.” Wendy smiled.

“I think so too. Even if she doesn’t think the same about me.” He looked at her, his expression a mix of warmth and wariness. “How about you?”

“What? Kids?” Wendy sat back. “Nope. No kids for me.”

He chuckled. “No kids now or no kids ever?”

“Ever.”

“Okay, then.” His smile grew into a grin and the results were dazzling. Warm, friendly, inviting. “I’m sensing some history there. That sounds pretty adamant.”

“It is.” And that was about as close as he was going to get to her truth. Pulse thumping loud, Wendy stood and hiked her thumb toward the exit, needing to get away from this guy before she did something stupid like tell him all about her Huntington’s. She never did that. Ever. Yet there was something about him that made her want to open up. Which was exactly why she had to go. “I, uh, should get back upstairs. Make sure Ned and Aiyana are doing okay.”

“Right. Sure.” He watched her for a long second, his expression unreadable, then pushed to his feet as well, his movements lithe and graceful. “I’ll ride with you. I’ve got other patients I need to check on.”

They walked out into the hallway side by side.

She’d no more than pushed the Up button when the doors opened. He gestured for her to get on first. She did, then fumbled for the right button, feeling awkward and out of sorts. To ease the silence between them, she cracked a joke. “If this was some TV medical drama, we’d be making out between floors.”

Wendy cringed, regretting the words the moment they’d left her mouth. God, what was it about this man that made her want to act like a such an idiot? Sure, he was nice and gorgeous and incredibly intriguing. That was no reason to go all gaga over the guy.

Must be the stress of the night. Yep. That’s what she was going with anyway.

“Is that an offer?” Tom asked, giving her some serious side-eye.

Okay. The wise thing would’ve been to ignore that comment and keep her mouth shut until the elevator ride ended. Too bad Wendy wasn’t feeling all that smart at the moment, her better judgment apparently having drained away in the wee hours of the morning. Plus, she’d been raised in a houseful of competitive guys and wasn’t about to let Dr. McHottiepants get the last word. She arched a brow in his direction, lobbing the ball right back into his court. “Do you want it to be?”

The elevator jolted to a stop, knocking him into her personal space, making heat spark through her nerve endings. His gaze bored into hers, the seconds feeling like minutes.

He took a step back as the doors opened onto the L&D floor again and he held up his hands in defeat, still clutching his coffee. “You win. I’m no good at flirting.”

Her reply came out breathier than she’d intended. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She followed him out into the hallway. They stood there dumbly, in the quiet hush of sleeping patients and beeping monitors. Even Aiyana seemed to still be dozing, the door to her room down the corridor closed, no sounds coming from inside.

Tom walked over to the nurses’ station and Wendy trailed a step or two behind, her gaze inadvertently dropping down to his rear. Taut and firm, he deserved a trophy for Best Butt Ever.

Ugh. Her rational brain said this would be the perfect time to set him straight in no uncertain terms, to tell him this—whatever this was—was nothing.

She was happy with her solitary life, happy without love or commitment or devotion.

Happy not knowing her test results.

Wasn’t she?

A loud shriek filled the air, the sound of a mother in the final stages of labor.

Tom’s blue eyes widened as he looked back at her over his shoulder.

“Aiyana,” they said in unison.

Adrenaline, like a bucket of cold water, splashed over Wendy. She bolted after Tom, running toward her sister-in-law’s room, her heart racing as they entered.

“Her water broke,” Tom said, staring at the wet floor.

“Carmen just did it,” Ned confirmed. He stood beside his wife now, helping her breathe through the pain. Wendy glanced at the monitors—heart rate, oxygen levels, blood pressure—all normal.

“Looks like we’re ready to meet your twins.” Carmen proceeded to palpate Aiyana’s belly to determine where she was in the process. “The babies have definitely dropped.”

A feral growl emerged from Aiyana and with help she stood with her legs wide like a sumo wrestler, her pretty face mottled from her efforts.

“Start pushing,” Carmen said.

“She beat you to it,” Ned said, holding his wife’s upper arm for support.

“I want an epidural!” Aiyana panted after the contraction subsided while Carmen crawled beneath her to place absorbent pads on the linoleum. Given the midwife’s stoic expression, she could just as well have been taking a walk in the park, not dealing with a flood.

“We decided to try natural childbirth, uuman. Remember?” Ned moved behind Aiyana, his arms ready to slide under hers and catch her if need be. “Besides, Carmen said it’s too late.”

“I don’t—” Aiyana moaned, her head lowered as her belly tightened.

“That’s it. That’s it,” Ned soothed.

“I can’t do this!”

“You are doing it,” Carmen interjected. Aiyana gave the midwife a look of exhausted resignation. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

Mother.

Out of the blue, the word conjured sudden images of Wendy’s own mother reduced to a shell of the woman she’d once been, her once-graceful movements devolving into grotesque twists and jerks, her ever-changing moods and behaviors. That’s why Wendy had never gotten her test results, the possibility of dying a horrible, debilitating death and leaving her family behind when they needed her most. That’s why she tried never to dwell too much on the future. That’s why Wendy coped by picking short-term goals, laser-focusing until they were accomplished. Then she moved on to the next goal and the next. Her goals for the first thirty years of life had been to get through them as far and as fast as she could, with her staunch barriers intact.

Her goals for the next thirty, God willing, were to live like there was no tomorrow.

Because, for her, there might not be.

But with that one simple word all Wendy’s yearnings rushed back to the forefront, making her feel as if she’d missed out on a rhythm everyone else could hear.

Suddenly, the world spun, and Wendy grabbed the chair beside her to steady herself. She was a seasoned trauma nurse, had seen more blood and guts than the average soldier, but this was different. Aiyana bore down. Ned supported her. Carmen waited for the emerging baby.

Blackness invaded the edges of Wendy’s vision.

Then a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and guided her into the chair.

“It’s okay. You’re fine,” Tom murmured in Wendy’s ear, his voice comforting and solid. He settled her, then gently pushed her head between her knees. “Be right back.”

He returned with a tiny little cup of water seconds later and pressed it into her hand. “Drink.”

“She okay?” Carmen asked from across the room.

This could not be happening. Wendy could not fall apart when her family needed her most. Everything was all right. Everything was fine. Everything seemed to be happening around her while she was an orbiting moon, alone. Always alone.

“When was the last time you ate?” Tom placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading her tense muscles, easing her away from the brink.

Food. Wendy thought back to their lunch at the Snaggle Tooth. It seemed like eons ago. She’d had a few bites of dessert, a small portion of nachos, that was all. She shook her head, her mind sluggish, confused. “I... I don’t know.”

“Hang on.” He left the room again.

Aiyana screamed through gritted teeth, the sound visceral.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Carmen said. “You’re doing great, Mama.”

Next thing Wendy knew Tom shoved a protein bar in her face.

“No.” She shook her head, her stomach cramping. Those things tasted like sawdust and paste. Besides, she was feeling a little better now. Not so woozy, head clearer.

“Just take a bite. Trust me. It’ll help. You want to be over there with them, right?”

She met his concerned gaze. Embarrassment washed over her again. Yes, she wanted to be over there, wanted to be a part of it all. It was the closest to childbirth she’d likely ever get. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m a nurse.”

“It’s happened to me too,” Tom said, crouching beside her, his hand warm on her knee. “It’s different when it’s someone close to you.”

“Really? You’ve freaked out when one of your friends gave birth?”

“No, I freaked out when my ex-wife died, and I got custody of my daughter. Now, are we going to chitchat or are you going to eat that and get over there?” Tom asked.

His brisk tone was the wake-up call she needed.

The protein bar was as awful as she’d imagined, but Wendy swallowed it down. Eventually, she felt better, drank the water, then stood, her emotions and the past safely tucked away again. The room stayed in place this time as she held Aiyana’s hand, turning back to mouth to Tom, “Thank you.”