After asking Jillian about the pain she’d had, the doctor had her lie back on the table while she pressed on her stomach to feel the size of her uterus. Then she reached for a pair of gloves, explaining that she would need to give her an internal exam.
“I’ll be right outside,” Shane said, as he stepped into the hall again, leaned against the wall and waited next to the door.
Being on an obstetrical floor—the smell, the sound of a newborn’s cry, the happy smiles of pregnant women or new mothers walking the halls—caused memories of Marcia’s pregnancy to surface.
Shane had been thrilled to learn he was going to be a father. He’d always adored his many nieces and nephews, and had been glad to know that his child would soon be a part of the happy-go-lucky Hollister brood.
He’d also hoped and prayed that having a baby would make his wife happy and more content to stay married. But by the time Joey had taken his first steps, Marcia again asked for a divorce. At that point, Shane had finally been ready to throw in the marital towel, too. The only thing that had torn him up was the fact he wouldn’t see his son on a daily basis.
To make matters worse, Marcia met another man and moved to Arizona with him, taking their son with her.
Of course, Shane had objected, but she’d argued that a baby needed its mother, and that he had no right to stop her from being happy. So he’d reluctantly let her go and poured himself into his work, seeing Joey as often as he could.
“Code Blue—Neonatal Nursery.”
The overhead announcement of an emergency affecting one of the newborns sent a chill through Shane, along with an unexpected wave of fresh grief.
After Joey’s death, as one day stretched into the next, the only thing that had kept him going had been his family and his job. Then, one day, his temper and his grief had gotten the best of him.
He and Sylvia Dominguez, his partner, had been hunting day and night for Lyle Bailey, a suspected child kidnapper who’d killed his latest victim. Knowing the details of the crime had served to make Shane focus on nothing else but prohibiting the perp from hurting another child, destroying another family.
Following a lead, he and his partner had found him holed up in a woodshed behind a house, and when Lyle had tried to run, Shane had tackled him to the ground. He could have held him there, locking on a pair of handcuffs, but for some reason, Shane had snapped and hit the guy a couple of times, something he’d never done before.
It had been the first—and only—time he’d ever felt so out of control.
Bailey’s attorney had filed police brutality charges against the department, and Shane was suspended from duty with pay. Internal Affairs finally let him off with a warning. But after that incident, his job no longer helped to keep his mind off his troubles and his grief.
So he’d taken a leave of absence, left town and eventually ended up in Brighton Valley, where he found work on Dan Walker’s ranch. “Code Blue—canceled.”
Thank God. He hated to think of any parents having to go through what he’d gone through.
Now here he was, expecting another child and no closer to having the happy family he’d always wanted.
“You can come back now,” the nurse said to him from behind the slightly opened door.
When Shane entered the exam room, Dr. Ramirez explained that there was no sign of labor.
“Sometimes, one of the ligaments that holds the uterus in place is pulled. So that’s probably what happened today.” She turned to Jillian, who was sitting up on the exam table. “Why don’t you go home and take it easy tonight. But give me a call if that pain comes back.”
Jillian seemed to be okay with both the diagnosis and the instructions, so Shane was, too.
Not that he wasn’t still worried about her and the baby.
“There’s just one more thing I’d like to do,” Dr. Ramirez said. “If you’ll lie back on the table, we’ll give you a sonogram and double-check to make sure everything is okay on the inside.”
Shane was about to excuse himself and leave the room, just as he’d done before, but he wanted to see the baby—his baby.
If Jillian had any objections to him staying in the room, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she lay down on the exam table.
As the nurse wheeled in a machine, Dr. Ramirez lifted Jillian’s gown, then squeezed out a dab of gel and smeared it on her rounded belly.
As the sonogram began, the doctor studied the screen. And so did Shane. Just like the time Marcia had the very same test run, he was intrigued by the image of the growing child in the mother’s womb.
“The baby looks good,” Dr. Ramirez said. “Strong heartbeat, healthy umbilical cord.”
“Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl?” Jillian asked.
“It’s…” the doctor said, as she zeroed in on the screen, “…a girl.”
A girl.
As much as Shane had missed Joey, as often as he’d imagined himself coaching a Little League team or taking his son fishing at the lake, the thought of a girl nearly took the breath out of him.
He hadn’t wanted to replace Joey. He’d just hoped to recover those paternal feelings, like pride and love. And with the doctor’s announcement that it appeared as though his daughter was healthy, all those hopes and dreams came rushing back to him.
Without giving it a thought, he bent down, placed his lips near Jillian’s ear and whispered, “Are you okay with us having a girl?”
Jillian looked up at him and smiled. As their gazes met and locked, happy tears overflowed and streamed down her face, convincing him that she wasn’t just cool with it, she was over the moon.
“What about you?” she asked. “Are you up to being the daddy of a little girl?”
He smiled, then brushed a kiss on her brow. “Absolutely. As long as she’s as pretty as you.”
For a moment, everything seemed perfect, and Shane couldn’t help thinking that life would be beautiful this time around.
How could it not be?
At least, as long as Jillian agreed to let Shane be involved in his daughter’s life.
Once Shane had gotten Jillian home and comfortable, he went downstairs to Caroline’s Diner and ordered dinner to go—the pot roast and apple pie that the sign claimed the sheriff had eaten.
Shane had plenty of stuff in the pantry, as well as the refrigerator, to cook for dinner. But he didn’t want Jillian to even think about getting up or helping out. She was reclining on the sofa, with her feet up on a stack of pillows, the television remote in her hands.
Now, as he took a seat at an empty table near the front of the diner, he waited for Margie to bring out his order.
He’d been more than relieved to know that Jillian’s pain hadn’t been an indication of preterm labor and that the baby—a girl, imagine that—appeared to be healthy.
Jillian had mentioned on the way home that she’d really liked Dr. Ramirez. In fact, she thought the Brighton Valley obstetrician had spent more time with her than the doctor she had back in Houston.
Shane wondered if there was any chance she might want to switch obstetricians and stay in town until she delivered. He sure hoped so.
When the front door of the diner opened, he looked up to see Sheriff Jennings enter. He lit up when he spotted Shane, moseyed up to him and reached out his right arm in greeting.
“How’s it going?” Shane asked, as the two men shook hands.
“Not bad.”