that horrible ran in Wendy’s family, he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Wendy, how difficult it would be to live with that hanging over your head.
After the patient returned from the restroom, Ned Smith helped his wife get settled on the bed then tenderly held her hand, calming her. From the chart, Tom had also seen this was their first birth and they were doing well. Aiyana’s twins had yet to drop. Between the multiple gestations and the fact that she was a first-time mother, it was going to be a while.
Wendy moved to stand behind her sister-in-law as well, rubbing a tennis ball up and down her lower back. The patient was bent slightly, supported by her husband, her posture stiffening as another contraction hit. They were closer together than Tom had predicted, and he and Carmen exchanged a glance. The midwife tapped her watch and shrugged. He nodded and backed out of the room. If they needed an OB, they’d call him.
Meanwhile, his pulse drummed a steady beat as he studied Wendy more carefully. His respect and admiration for her grew, knowing what she’d dealt with given her family history, while his immediate awareness of her was unsettling for a man who prided himself on being cool, calm and rational. He’d built his life on the known, on facts and science and things that could be measured and tested and applied to provide relief, remedies and comfort.
As Tom rode the elevator back down to the ER, his mind continued to churn—with the case, and with Wendy. Since her father was still alive, according to the chart, he assumed it had been her mother who’d been afflicted with Huntington’s. How scary must that have been for young Wendy, being raised with that kind of uncertainty?
The situations were completely different, but the fact Wendy had lost her mother too had Tom’s thoughts returning to his own daughter as he went downstairs to his stack of charts and scribbled note after note in the files, working on autopilot as he searched for new ways he might get Sam to open up and let him in.
His heart ached, though, every time he thought about it—the distance between him and his daughter, the fact his late ex-wife Nikki had blamed him for all her troubles and had kept him and Sam apart. Regret wasn’t a strong enough word for the thick soup of recriminations that swam inside him when he remembered his short, tumultuous eighteen-month marriage.
After Tom had returned to Alaska, he’d tried to stay in contact with Sam, but Nikki’s less-than-stable lifestyle had made communication difficult. He’d even flown back to Boston a few times, hoping to see Sam in person, but Nikki had gone out of her way to keep them apart.
Then Tom had gotten the crushing news from the Massachusetts Department of Family and Children that Nikki had overdosed. He’d returned to the East Coast in a daze, to find Sam in shock. His daughter had looked different than he’d expected, taller, skinnier, tougher.
After the funeral, he’d brought her back to Anchorage, vowing to give her the kind of fairy-tale childhood she’d never had with her mom. New clothes, new school, new whatever she wanted. But with his busy schedule and the emotional trauma she’d suffered, their reunion had been bumpy, to say the least. Between all the social workers and her counselor here at the hospital, he’d expected to see more improvement, but so far it wasn’t happening.
It was ironic, really. The fact that he couldn’t connect emotionally with his own child, since that was the whole reason he’d gone into obstetrics. That connection that he hadn’t been able to have with his own child, that incredible moment when new life emerged.
He wanted to be that bridge of transition forever.
Obstetrics was his calling.
Speaking of his calling, he soon got a page on another case, a VBAC—vaginal birth after C-section.
Glad to stay busy, he headed back upstairs.
WENDY TRIED TO imagine what the three of them must look like, wandering down the halls of the maternity wing. The walking seemed to help Aiyana. She sipped on a cup of cranberry juice as they strolled at a slow pace. Time and space condensed into this hallway, and the next hallway, then the one after that. Aiyana had her earbuds in, her attention focused on the music as she shuffled along. She smiled, punching Ned playfully on the shoulder.
“What?” he asked.
“You made the playlist.”
“I did,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Thank you, paipiirak.” The fact they called each other pet names from their native language was so sweet. Aiyana was his heart while Ned was her baby. Then another contraction hit and Aiyana’s face crumpled, her voice shaking. “Here comes another one.”
They returned to the room and settled in to wait.
Another hour passed, and Wendy found herself flagging, in desperate need of coffee. She glanced at the clock and found it was nearly four in the morning now. The last time Carmen had checked, Aiyana had been dilated to about six centimeters, but her water still hadn’t broken. Without that step, this could take quite a bit longer.
She shook Ned’s shoulder as he slept curled in the room’s recliner. He mumbled, “Push?”
Wendy snorted. “I’m getting coffee. Want some?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes again, shoving his head against a pillow.
The ride to the basement was eerie this late at night with the place all but deserted. She walked to the cafeteria and grabbed a cup of horrible coffee that would at least buy her a little alert time.
“Hey,” a voice said behind her at the register.
She turned to find Tom, his blue eyes twinkling.
“You got some too.” He raised the cup in his hands. “Liquid energy.”
From what he’d said earlier, he still had a handful of hours left of his shift. He looked as exhausted as she felt. His name tag was askew, hanging from the pocket of his scrubs, and his hair tousled, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. Which made her think of other places he might look so disheveled, say, naked and sleepy between her sheets. And, oh, boy...
Thank goodness he couldn’t read minds or they’d both be in trouble.
Then again, Wendy had a feeling being around Tom too much would mean trouble for her no matter what, seeing as how she was drawn to him for no good reason. They barely knew each other and the last thing she wanted was a distraction from what Aiyana was going through.
And Tom Farber was most assuredly distracting.
“Want to sit a minute?” he asked.
She considered turning him down, but the thought of returning to the room upstairs to stare at the same four walls was not appealing. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. “I suppose I can, since Aiyana’s sleeping right now.”
“Good.”
They strolled toward a spot near the back wall of the room.
Tom took the chair across from her at their table for two and Wendy clasped her cup between her hands like a mini-shield
