of their mom’s cystic fibrosis. On their mother’s bad days—and there were many—care of the household fell to Faith. She was just seven when she first assumed responsibility for her baby sister, since their dad could only afford part-time help. About the time Lacy hit her teens, life became doubly traumatic for Faith, who by then attended nursing school at night. Her sister rebelled and refused to help take care of their mom. In spite of everything, the family had endured—until worse tragedy struck.
Mrs. Hyatt died and shortly after that, Lacy fell ill. Their dad folded inside himself. Only good thing happened that year—Faith met Dr. Michael Cameron, Good Shepherd’s rising star of heart-lung transplant surgery.
As she turned away from the nursing desk and approached her sister’s room, Faith guiltily recalled the secret crush she’d once harbored for the handsome, brilliant surgeon. The man who’d ultimately married her sister. How fortunate that Michael had never had any inkling of how she felt. Before she’d begged him to take Lacy’s case, Faith had rarely drummed up enough courage to even smile at the man. He’d left her tongue-tied and feeling giddy. Nurses didn’t feel giddy. It wasn’t allowed.
Hearing that Dr. Cameron had fallen in love with her more attractive, more outgoing sister really hadn’t come as any big surprise to Faith. The real shocker came when Michael telephoned to say he and Lacy had split up.
Now Faith wished her shyness hadn’t kept her from asking pertinent details. Michael had volunteered nothing—merely mentioned he’d been out of the country and he didn’t know about the birthday gift Faith had sent Lacy until a full month after her twenty-seventh birthday. Michael promised to forward her package to the beach house, which he said Lacy had received in the divorce settlement. He’d signed off, leaving no opening for questions of a more personal nature.
Faith, who’d observed numerous doctors’ infidelities, took for granted that Michael had ended the marriage. She knew from experience that all sorts of attractive women stood ready to trap doctors who were as successful and handsome as her former brother-in-law. Few men had the integrity to walk away from such easy bait. Michael had fallen off the pedestal she’d placed him on, and that disappointed Faith. She wondered if her reaction was a result of being more mother than sister to Lacy; after all, mothers resented people who hurt their kids. Lacy had probably been humiliated by Michael’s defection. That was, Faith had decided, the reason her sister had slunk off in private to lick her wounds. The reason Lacy had never returned any of her calls.
Refusing to dwell on those unhappy circumstances, Faith cracked open the door to Lacy’s room. Her legs refused to step over the threshold. Was that motionless body in the bed her once-vibrant sister? Perhaps this wasn’t Lacy’s room.
Letting go of the door, Faith tiptoed to the bed for a closer look. She gasped as her eyes lit on the patient’s swollen belly. She stumbled backward a step, not wanting to startle a stranger.
But…no. The hair, the features, were Lacy’s. Her sister was pregnant. Faith muffled an involuntary cry as the room spun wildly. It was impossible to stop statistics from running through her head. How many heart-lung transplant patients had successfully delivered babies? She battled the hysteria clogging her throat. Because of Lacy’s condition, Faith regularly sought out articles concerning organ transplants. She remembered reading in a discarded medical journal about one young woman’s successful delivery. One. And that woman’s journey hadn’t been easy.
In spite of her reluctance to disturb Lacy, Faith must have made a noise. The dark lashes that brushed her sister’s pale cheeks lifted slowly, revealing unfocused blue eyes. “Faith?” Lacy’s voice was thin, breathless. Even with a steady infusion of oxygen, it was obviously a struggle to talk and breathe simultaneously.
“Lacy, honey.” Faith dragged a chair to the bed and sat, grasping the cold fingers. She rubbed gently, trying to share her warmth. “Michael told me you were living at the beach, Lace. I tried calling—left quite a few messages—but you were never at home. Or were you too sick to return my calls?”
Pulling free, Lacy groped in a bedside cabinet. “We, ah, haven’t got much time. In my purse…papers for you to sign.” There was no question that she considered her request urgent.
“Hush. Save your strength. Admission forms can wait.” Faith recaptured her sister’s hand. “I understand Dr. Finegold ordered some tests. If you’d prefer, I’ll notify your own obstetrician and the two doctors can consult first.”
“I haven’t seen an obstetrician since I moved to Boston. That was…three months ago. The papers…are from my attorney. Sign them, Faith. K-keep a copy and mail the other. Envelope is attached. I’m giving you full custody of m-my baby, in case…” The icy fingers tightened on Faith’s hand.
“Custody? Oh, hon, I know you feel rotten. It’s tough enough going through pregnancy alone, to say nothing of getting sick.” Tears squeezed from Faith’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Did you think I wouldn’t help? I’ll be the best aunt ever. And you’ll be a wonderful mom.”
Lacy again tried to reach the cabinet. “Sign…papers,” she panted.
Faith knew it could spell disaster to upset a patient in Lacy’s condition. “Okay, if you’ll lie still, I’ll sign the blasted forms.” She hurriedly found Lacy’s purse and retrieved the documents. Without reading a word, Faith dug out a pen and wrote her name beside every X. “There,” she exclaimed, tucking one copy into the pocket of her uniform and the other into a stamped envelope. “All done. Now will you please relax?”
Lacy tossed her head from side to side. “After it’s mailed.”
Faith heaved a sigh. “You always were stubborn. There’s a postal box right outside the entrance. I’ll post this after the doctor examines you.” Faith was no stranger to bartering with Lacy. Once it had been a game with them, everything from coaxing her younger sister into eating oatmeal to doing her homework.
“Now.” Lacy’s demand was punctuated by a siege of choking that turned her lips blue.
“Hey, hey. Breathe slow and easy. See, I’m on my way to the mailbox. I’ll just have the duty nurse page Dr. Finegold. Oh, and Lacy, Finegold may act gruff, but he’s the best OB-GYN in Boston.”
Once Lacy’s choking eased, Faith scurried out. After stopping at the nursing station to ask them to hunt up Dr. Finegold, she completed her mission as fast as humanly possible. Lacy’s condition frightened Faith more than she wanted to admit. She was afraid her sister needed more than an OB-GYN. She needed a pulmonary cardiologist.
Passing a pay phone in the hall, Faith was tempted to call Michael. He, more than any heart-lung specialist, had the expertise to help Lacy. But she dared not contact him, not without Lacy’s consent. Maybe now that those all-important papers were dispatched, her sister could be persuaded to listen to reason.
Inside the room again, Faith met Lacy’s anxious eyes with a smile. “Mail gets picked up from that box at six in the morning. Now let’s discuss you. I think we should call Michael. Whatever happened between you two, Lacy, he’s one of the world’s leading transplant authorities. Plus,” she said around a quick gulp of air, “he’s your baby’s father.”
“No. Well, probably not.” Lacy’s voice rose and fell convulsively. “Sit. Listen.”
Faith found that her legs wouldn’t hold her. She thought she was beyond shock. Obviously not. Recovering marginally, she sank into the chair, gathered Lacy’s clammy fingers and kissed the white knuckles. “I’m here for you no matter what, Lace. I won’t call Michael.
