did he?”
Pain flashed in his dark eyes. “No. I was due for some leave next week, but I hadn’t planned to come here.”
Sydney didn’t know what to say. She knew the brothers weren’t close. And knowing her husband as well as she did now, she suspected more than age and distance had separated the men.
“Sydney, I know the timing is off, but we need to talk.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m afraid I’m muzzy. What—”
“So, you’re awake at last! You aren’t supposed to be in here at this hour, Mr. Inglewood. Official visiting hours don’t start until ten.”
The anemic-looking nurse bustled inside. She frowned at Noah, and came forward so she could stand officiously over the bed. “How are you feeling?”
Sydney didn’t know how to answer the question. Mostly, she felt confused. Her gaze sought Noah. She sensed him willing her to remain in control and she swallowed hard.
“I’d like to move my hands,” she managed.
“I’ll check with the doctor. Do you know who you are?”
“Of course I know who I am.”
The nurse waited.
“Sydney Edwards.” She saw Noah’s frown. “Inglewood,” she added.
“Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital.”
“Do you know why?”
Her irritation mounted along with her headache. Sydney glared at the nurse. “I was shot. Now, I’d like to speak to the doctor, please.”
“He’ll be by to see you shortly.” The nurse planted a thermometer in her mouth.
Sydney thrust the offending object aside with her tongue. “Now!”
“Mrs. Inglewood, you really mustn’t get excited.”
Sydney stopped listening. “Will you get him for me?” she asked Noah, avoiding the thermometer.
He nodded. “I’ll be back.”
Sydney waited, but he didn’t return. And by afternoon, she knew everything.
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to determine if you’ll regain the full use of all the fingers until after the swelling goes down,” the self-important surgeon told her. “The nerve and muscle damage was extensive.”
Staring at her completely bandaged right hand, Sydney was barely able to control the fearful anxiety the doctor’s words created. Her career as a jeweler might be over. With only one usable hand, could she do the intricate work required? Her heart pounded. Her throat went dry.
Then he dropped his bombshell.
“Fortunately, the baby is fine. Your concussion had us worried at first, naturally, but it appears there’s no permanent damage done there either. You may experience some headaches and a little dizziness from the concussion….”
Baby?
He might as well have spoken in Chinese.
“I’m pregnant?” Sydney could only stare at the man. Jerome’s friend, the fertility doctor, had told them the procedure hadn’t worked! “Are you certain?”
Thrown off stride by the interruption, the doctor rubbed the pen tip against the side of his face as if bewildered. “Quite certain, Mrs. Inglewood. You appear to be about three months pregnant. When was…?”
That incompetent twit! Hadn’t she guessed she couldn’t trust Jerome’s friend? His entire clinic had done little to inspire confidence. She should have known he’d get the test results wrong.
“I got pregnant three months and nine days ago,” she told the surgeon. That date was engraved on her mind for all time.
Like a delayed electric charge, the impact of his revelation suddenly slammed home. She was going to have a baby! Jerome’s baby.
But Jerome was dead!
She’d been in the process of filing for a divorce.
She could not be pregnant! Not now! Not when this officious surgeon was implying that her hand might never function properly again and her whole career could be in jeopardy.
Panic clogged her throat while the surgeon stood beside her, calmly, arrogantly sure of himself as he continued to list her health concerns. The soft-spoken man hadn’t a clue that his words were doing more to shock her than the bullet had done.
Sydney glanced at her stomach and shook her head in denial. She didn’t look pregnant. She didn’t feel pregnant. She did not want to be pregnant. Not now. She wanted this doctor to be wrong.
A vision of a tall man in a military uniform made her close her eyes in despair. Noah. She was pregnant with his brother’s baby.
A shiver racked her entire body. This wasn’t happening. She wanted to grab her pounding head and close her eyes until the nightmare ended.
“Mrs. Inglewood, I assure you,” the surgeon continued, “the baby is fine. There’s no cause for alarm.”
Wanting to laugh, she also wanted to cry. No wonder she’d been thrashing around when she’d started to wake up. She wanted to thrash around again right now. Her entire world had just shifted one hundred eighty degrees.
She was relieved when the doctor finally left. Staring out the window, she tried to calm the insidious threat of panic welling in her chest. Pregnant! What was she going to do?
She hadn’t liked the small fertility clinic or the hyper doctor who ran it, but Jerome had insisted on using both. The man was a former schoolmate. A friend. And his brand-new clinic needed patients. Small wonder. The creep also needed to go back to medical school.
Despite his assurance that the procedure hadn’t worked, she was pregnant. She clutched the sheet covering her, wadding the material into a destructive ball. Whether the timing suited her or not, Sydney was going to have the child she’d always wanted.
The police and FBI arrived before she had time to think past the shock. Despite their effusive apologies for disturbing her, Sydney spent the bulk of the afternoon answering questions until her voice was hoarse and her head felt as if it were going to come apart in her hands.
The thieves had made off with more than three quarters of a million dollars. They hadn’t left a trace of evidence behind. They’d even been smart enough to locate and take the bank’s surveillance tapes. All the authorities had was Sydney, the only eyewitness to what had happened. Not that she was much help. Despite her best efforts, Sydney couldn’t give them anything to work with. Exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as they left.
Dreams fragmented her sleep. Real events blended with menacing nightmares that brought her to the edge of waking. She knew she was dreaming, but she couldn’t seem to force her heavy eyes open.
Fear
