His Secret Christmas Baby. Rita Herron

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rushed to the nurses’ station and asked for an update.

      The nurse appeared irritated at first, but went to the back to check, then returned five minutes later with a frown on her face. “I’m sorry, miss, but your friend had complications. They’ve taken her to surgery for an emergency C-section.”

      A sense of fear overwhelmed Brianna. “Please let me know when she’s out.”

      The nurse nodded, and Brianna paced the waiting room again. Two other couples hurried in and were sent to birthing rooms, the minutes dragging by. The coffee grew cold, her body more tense as she waited.

      What was taking so long? What were the complications? Was Natalie all right? What about the baby?

      An hour later, a doctor appeared, the grave expression on his face sending a chill down Brianna’s spine. “I’m Dr. Thorpe. You came in with Miss Cummings?”

      Brianna nodded, then swallowed and finally forced her voice to work. “The baby—”

      “Is fine,” the doctor said. “A little boy. Seven pounds, eight ounces. He’s in the nursery.”

      She sucked in a harsh breath and gripped his arm. “And Natalie? Please, I have to see her.”

      “I’m sorry,” he answered quietly. “But your friend died in childbirth.”

      The room swirled around Brianna in a sea of white, and she felt her legs buckling. The doctor coaxed her to a vinyl sofa, and she put her head down between her knees, afraid she would pass out.

      “What happened?” Brianna asked.

      The doctor shifted and looked away. “She started hemorrhaging, then her heart gave out.”

      Her heart? Natalie hadn’t had a heart condition, had she?

      “Miss Honeycutt, I’m sorry. Is there any family I can call?”

      Tears blurred her eyes as she lifted her head to look at him. “No,” she whispered. “Just me. I’m her family.”

      “How about the baby’s father?”

      “He’s not in the picture,” Brianna replied.

      “Do you know his name so we can contact him?”

      “No, she never told me.”

      “Then we’ll need to call social services about the baby.”

      Panic shot through Brianna, grief, fear and shock in its wake. No, she wouldn’t turn the baby over to the system. But Natalie hadn’t signed any papers giving her legal custody.

      What if the baby’s father found out about him? Would he want the baby?

      She had to act fast. She was a social worker for the local adoption agency, and she worked with Magnolia Manor, the local orphanage. Natalie wanted her to raise the baby, and she would push through the adoption immediately and keep her promise even if she had to fudge papers to do so.

      But Natalie’s pleas before she’d gone to delivery taunted her. It was almost as if she’d known that she might not make it.

      Had Natalie been afraid of something—or somebody? Had she been in danger?

       Chapter One

       Six weeks later

      “Why can’t Robert and I adopt Natalie Cummings’s baby?” Dana Phillips asked.

      Brianna tensed at the cold hardness in the young woman’s eyes. Dana and her husband had been trying to get pregnant for three years, had tried fertility treatments and in vitro fertilization but none of it had worked. Worse, they had been on the adoption list for two of those stressful years.

      “You said you’d find us a baby,” Dana screeched, “but you’ve done nothing to help us. And now there’s a baby we could have and you won’t give him to us.”

      Brianna understood their desperation, but Dana’s emotional state worried her. The woman was obsessed with having a child to the point that Brianna worried about placing one with her.

      “I’m sorry, Dana, but Ryan is not up for adoption.”

      Dana crossed her arms, tears glittering in her eyes. “Why not? His mother is dead, and he has no father. And don’t forget, I grew up in this town. I know that Natalie’s family is gone now.”

      Grief for Natalie was still so raw that Brianna’s throat thickened with emotions. The fact that Natalie had been anxious her last few weeks and seemed frightened gnawed at Brianna. Women dying during childbirth were uncommon these days. Had Natalie really had heart failure?

      “You know I’m right,” Dana said, her shrill voice yanking Brianna from the worry that something hadn’t seemed truthful about the doctor’s explanation.

      “I understand that you’ve waited a long time, Dana, but Natalie asked me to be guardian of her child, and I promised her I would.”

      “You would be taking good care of him if you gave him to us,” Dana pleaded.

      “But Natalie wanted me to raise him.” Brianna reached for Dana to calm her, but Dana jumped up and paced across Brianna’s office, her anger palpable.

      “Listen, Dana, I know you’re desperate, but we’ll find you a child. I promised Natalie that I would raise Ryan, though. Natalie was like a sister to me. I have to keep that promise.” Besides, the moment she’d held the newborn, she’d fallen in love with him.

      “That little boy deserves to have a mother and a father, Brianna, and you can’t give him that. You’re not even married.”

      Brianna sucked in a sharp breath. “Dana, I’m not going to argue with you. I’ve already legally adopted Ryan. Believe me, it’s what Natalie wanted.”

      “It’s what you wanted,” Dana said in a high-pitched voice. “You’re selfish. You took him for yourself even though you know he’d be better off with two parents. You act like you care and that you’re some Goody Two-shoes, but you don’t give a damn about Robert and me. You’re only thinking about yourself.”

      “Dana, I will keep looking and find you a child. I promise. Maybe we can find a private adoption—”

      “We can’t pay thousands for a baby and you know it,” Dana cried. “That’s why you have to give us Ryan.”

      Brianna stood, her voice firm. “Dana, Ryan is my child now, and no one is going to take him from me.”

      D ERRICK M C K INNEY SETTLED into the chair at the Guardian Angel Investigations Agency, his mind heavy. Now he was back in Sanctuary, North Carolina, he had to visit Natalie Cummings’s grave and pay his respects.

      But visiting any grave after his last case was going to be a bear. He still couldn’t get the image of the child’s small tombstone out of his mind. If he’d only been sooner, figured out that the mother was lying….

      Footsteps

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