After ending the call, Wendy went back out and paid the check then helped Aiyana stand. Her sister-in-law’s face was even redder now, color creeping down her neck and upper chest, the edges of her hairline damp with sweat. Doing her best to keep her tone light, Wendy asked, “Did you have another contraction while I was in the bathroom?”
“I had a twinge.”
“A twinge?”
“More like a surge.”
Twinge and surge were used in the natural childbirth community to reference contractions, a way to train their minds to think differently about the pain. Wendy wasn’t fooled.
“All right,” Aiyana admitted. “Technically, it was a searing, ripping pain, like somebody reached into my belly, twisted it, then wrung it out like a wet shirt.”
“And how long did the feeling last?”
“I’m not in labor,” Aiyana said, clearly still in denial.
Wendy led her outside and steered her toward the car, parked about half a block away. “Let’s walk nice and slowly. It’ll help you feel better.”
Passersby shot them nervous looks, especially when her sister-in-law cradled her enormous abdomen, teeth gritted as she breathed in and out. Three minutes this time. Wendy counted the seconds, hitting thirty, then forty, then fifty. If they didn’t get to Anchorage Mercy soon, the twins would be delivered here on the sidewalk. Wendy shifted into her best take-charge trauma nurse persona. “Aiyana.”
“Yes?” her sister-in-law gasped.
“It’s time.” Despite her bravado, Wendy’s voice cracked.
“You’re right,” her sister-in-law admitted, fear and anticipation sparkling in her deep brown eyes. “Babies are coming.”
They stopped talking as another contraction hit, continuing step by painstaking step toward the car. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
As far as shifts went, this one was shaping up okay so far, but then, Dr. Thomas Farber still had another nineteen hours to go. He was reserving final judgment until after he got home.
Home. He snorted. His modest two-bedroom apartment in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Anchorage was more like a war zone these days, since his daughter, Samantha, had come to live with him. Not that he didn’t love having her there. He did. It was just that he’d expected things between them to be...different.
The counselor here at the hospital had told him to be patient, but it was hard when all Tom wanted was to see his daughter smile, laugh, feel comfortable with him and his parents, who lived up in Fairbanks. He wanted her to feel cherished. He wanted to erase that flicker of pain and grief in her green eyes.
A twelve-year-old shouldn’t look so world-weary...
His cellphone buzzed in the pocket of his scrubs, distracting him. He pulled it out to see a text from the nanny he’d hired to pick up Sam at the hospital and take her home on the days he worked long shifts. The nanny was running late, but it was fine. Sam could stay in his office and do her homework. He wished he could spend more time with her but keeping a roof over both their heads had to be his top priority right now. Sam understood.
Didn’t she?
Tom exhaled slowly and clicked off his phone, guilt squeezing his chest. He sighed and frowned down at his messy handwritten notes in the chart. Honestly, being a single dad was not what he’d expected at all. He wouldn’t change it for the world, though. Even if Sam had yelled at him again that morning and told him she hated him.
It was the grief talking. Had to be, right?
The automatic doors at the ambulance entrance to the ER whooshed open and Tom looked up to see a small group of people causing quite a commotion. A heavily pregnant woman, flanked by Dr. Jake Ryder, the head of Emergency Medicine, and a tall man with short, dark hair and a denim work shirt with “Smith’s Body Shop and Repair” embroidered on the back.
A nurse walked in behind them. Wendy Smith. She and Tom had said hello in passing a few times after he’d first moved back to Anchorage. In fact, she was the woman who was meeting with Sam for a few weeks in the counselor’s absence. He’d meant to introduce himself properly to Wendy, but his workload had kept him too busy.
Following them all was one of the local certified nurse midwives, Carmen Sanchez, and his budding excitement over the prospect of a new case dimmed. He was the OB on call tonight, but unless there were complications severe enough to warrant bringing him in, he probably wouldn’t be involved.
They all raced by the nurses’ station where he stood. Wendy glanced his way and he couldn’t help but notice her long black hair and gorgeous dark eyes. She was curvy and petite, maybe half a foot shorter than his own six-one height.
He had more than enough on his plate at the moment, but couldn’t squelch his curiosity about the new case, and found himself tracking the quartet’s progress across the busy ER. They loaded onto an elevator, most likely headed for the maternity ward upstairs.
Tom glanced at the dour-faced nurse sitting at the desk before him. “Uh, I think I’ll head up to L&D to see if they need help.”
“What about the rest of these charts?” the nurse called, her scowl imposing as she pointed at the neat stack of abandoned files he’d left behind.
“I’ll get to them later.” He backed toward the elevator. “Duty calls.”
The doors opened, and he turned to find Wendy blocking his way.
She stared up at him. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
He ignored the skip of his pulse and the odd tingle in his bloodstream. It had been so long since anyone had been glad to see him, that had to be it. He swallowed hard and stepped on board the elevator. “What’s up?”
“Carmen Sanchez asked for you in Labor and Delivery.” Her tone was crisp and clear, like any normal professional nurse-doctor communication, yet it still sent a shiver up Tom’s spine.
“Oh. Okay.” He did his best to concentrate on the situation and not the woman beside him. Flirting shouldn’t even enter into this scenario, no matter how lonely he was. It wasn’t the time, and this certainly wasn’t the place. “For a consult?”
“Yep.” Fear and concern flickered in her dark eyes, mixed with fierce determination. With a curt nod, she pressed the button for L&D and the doors hissed closed, blocking out the chaos of the ER. “My sister-in-law’s having twins.”
The elevator jolted upward.
“Right. I meant to introduce myself before this, since you’re chatting with my daughter, Sam.” He extended his hand, feeling awkward. “Tom Farber.”
She shook it, her grip strong and sure, her skin soft and warm against his.
Not that he noticed. Nope.
“Of course. Wendy Smith,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
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