Vital Signs Page 16

  Shannon’s eyes grew big and she held up a hand, palm front, but Hailey wasn’t about to stop now.

  “He was brought into emerg after being alone for three days. Your son was too little to even reach a water tap and get a drink, much less find any food. He had blisters on his bottom from feces, and he’d cried until he had no voice left to cry with. He was unconscious when they brought him in, and in another few hours, maybe a day, he would have died. When he came to, you were the person he asked for, over and over.” She kept her gaze on Shannon’s face. Her sallow skin had turned greenish white, and tears swam in her eyes.

  Angry as she’d ever been, Hailey felt only satisfaction at confronting Shannon. “As if it wasn’t enough to desert him, you waltzed back in here yesterday, after he’d adjusted to us, to being here, and when you left, he screamed for hours. He kept an all-night vigil at the door to the ward, Ms. Riggs. He grew hysterical when we tried to move him, and he developed a fever and that rash and wouldn’t eat. The doctor can find no physical reason for it, so we can only assume it’s emotional.”

  Shannon was crying now, mouth open, sniffling like a child. She rubbed her shirtsleeve over her eyes and runny nose.

  “I love David.” Hailey knew she sounded fierce now. “I’ve been approved to foster him, and I want to take him home and take care of him the way he deserves, the way you didn’t care enough to do. But before that can happen, he needs to rest and relax and get well again, and he can’t do that unless you stay here with him. He’s only two—he doesn’t understand why you’d desert him.” She added in an icy voice, “Frankly, neither do I, but you’re the one who has to live with what you’ve done to him.”

  “You…you shouldn’t talk to me this way,” Shannon whined. “I took good care of him. That was the only time—”

  “Once is all it takes, isn’t it?” The impotent rage Hailey felt toward this girl spilled out in sarcasm. “Do you think you can possibly manage to give him your attention for maybe a couple days and nights, so he has a chance to get out of here?”

  Shannon’s face was stricken. “You want him—that’s what this is about. You want my baby.”

  Savage now, Hailey said, “Someone has to want him and love him and care for him, don’t you think?”

  Crying in earnest now, Shannon turned and ran from the waiting room, and for a few moments Hailey felt vindicated. She’d said what she’d been feeling and thinking, and she told herself that Shannon deserved to hear it. But then she began to regret her outburst.

  Shannon was right—she did want Davie. But was her own need interfering with her role as a caring professional? She was an adult, and Shannon Riggs was only a teenager, a sad, skinny kid far too young to have a child. The words Hailey had used were harsh and judgmental. Would she have been more understanding if she weren’t so personally involved?

  “Damn.” Hailey walked up and down the corridor, trying to shake the guilt and shame that clung to her like a bad odor. She wasn’t thinking straight. She was still pacing when she heard her name called.

  “Hailey Bergstrom.” Margaret came sailing toward her like a heat-seeking projectile, nostrils flaring, breath huffing in and out. “I know you feel you’re above reproach, but this time you’ve gone too far.”

  Margaret was in a rage, and the dislike she felt for Hailey was evident in her scathing look. “How dare you take it upon yourself to upset that child’s mother in such a fashion? I won’t have such unprofessional behavior from a nurse on my ward.”

  Hailey’s instinctive reaction was to turn her back and walk away. She didn’t need this on top of everything else. But a tiny, nagging voice was telling her that this time, however galling she might find it, Margaret was right.

  “You will apologize to her,” the head nurse ordered. “She’s in the child’s room.”

  Didn’t Margaret ever ask, instead of ordering?

  “Okay. I’ll apologize. What I did was wrong.”

  It was almost worth humbling herself just to see the shock on Margaret’s face. She’d obviously expected an argument or a flat-out refusal.

  “I’ll go do it right now.”

  Hailey walked down the hall to David’s room. She opened the door to find Shannon huddled on the chair, knees up, forehead resting on them. When the girl looked up and saw Hailey, she lifted her chin defiantly, but her face was still wet with tears.

  Hailey gestured for her to come out into the hall so David wouldn’t be disturbed. Shannon did so, but with visible reluctance.

  “Look, I’m sorry for what I said,” Hailey began. This was hard to do, but she knew it was the right thing. “I was way out of line. He needs you badly right now, and I was wrong to upset you.”

  Shannon went on the offensive. “Yeah, well, he’s my kid, just remember that, Bergstrom. And nobody’s gonna take him away from me.” There was a manic tone to her voice. “Maybe you’ll have him for a few weeks. I can’t do anything about that until I go through rehab and stuff. I can visit him, though, the lawyer said so. And I’ll get him back because I’m his real mother. He’ll remember me.”

  She shot Hailey one last burning look, then spun on her heel and went back into David’s room.

  That was what she got for trying to do the right thing, Hailey fumed as she hurried out of the hospital, found her truck and headed home. The girl’s words bothered her. How likely was it that Shannon would get custody of David again? Not very, Hailey consoled herself. She had both Shannon’s track record and Roy’s support on her side. There was no way a judge would hand David back.

  With all that had happened, she’d forgotten about Laura and the kids. It was a shock all over again to see the red van in front of her house, hear the kids laughing in the backyard. She felt mean, but this was one day when she really wanted the house to herself.

  Well, she was having a run on not getting what she wanted, wasn’t she?

  Sam and Christopher, wearing perfectly coordinated shorts and tops, were outside playing with Skippy. They came and greeted her with hugs and questions about where the baby was.

  Weary and depressed, Hailey explained.

  Laura was in the kitchen, boiling pasta and sautéing onions and fresh tomatoes for the lasagna. She had a dish towel pinned around her middle to protect her narrow, green twill skirt and matching sleeveless blouse, and her hair and makeup were flawless.

  How did anybody manage to look like that before ten in the morning?

  She glanced at Hailey. “You look wrecked—you mustn’t have slept at all. And where’s your little boy?”

  “You look your usual gorgeous self, and he’s with his useless birth mother at St. Joe’s.” Sick to death of explaining, Hailey did so once again.

  “Well, sounds like you did the best you could,” Laura said. “And he’ll be coming here soon, so why don’t you use the time to get some sleep? You won’t get much afterward. That bed of yours is actually quite comfortable.”

  “Thanks, I’ve noticed.” Hailey collapsed in a chair. Every bone in her body ached right along with her head. “I’m going to have to sleep awhile, all right. I’m suicidal when I’m this tired.”

  Laura added spices to the tomato sauce. “It’ll be quiet here—we’re going out. The kids have soccer camp and then swimming lessons, and I have errands and an appointment with the hairdresser. I have to leave in a few minutes and we probably won’t be back until after five today. Could you put the lasagna in the oven at four? I made a chocolate cake—it just needs to be iced. It’s on top of the bread bin. And the salad greens are washed and in the fridge.”

  In spite of the cooking, the kitchen was cleaner than it had probably ever been.

  Hailey said, “You are amazing. You wanna stick around for a couple of years? I’ve always wanted a wife.”

  “I’d rather have one than be one.” Laura dumped tomato paste into the sauce. “I’m thinking of calling that lawyer.”

  “So do it.”

  “There’s just one little problem.”

&nb
sp; “You mean besides having to sleep on my floor until you win the house away from Frank?”

  “There’s that, and also the fact that I’m pregnant.”

  “Omigod. How far along?” Hailey sat up and gaped at her sister.

  “Six weeks.”

  “Does Frank…?”

  Laura shook her head. “Nope.” She blushed and paid more attention to assembling the lasagna than was necessary. “The thing is, I don’t think it’s Frank’s.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HAILEY’S WORLD was turning bottom side up.

  “Then whose baby is it?”

  “Michael Bjorn’s. The kids’ soccer coach.”

  Hailey’s head was spinning. “Married?”

  “Divorced.”

  “So…are you in love with him?”

  Laura nodded, but she looked miserable.

  “Does he know? About the…” Hailey gestured at Laura’s flat belly.

  “Nope. And I’m not going to tell him.”

  Hailey closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I hate to break this to you, but it’s not something you can hide for very long.”

  “If he knows it’s his, he’ll insist I divorce Frank and marry him. I don’t know whether I want to be married to anybody. And I don’t want to have to get married a second time, either. Besides, if Frank finds out this baby isn’t his, it’ll give him all the ammunition he needs to crucify me in court.”

  “Does Michael have kids?”

  Laura shook her head. “They couldn’t have any. He wanted them.”

  So this would be his first. Hailey whistled. “You’re in a major mess, big sister.”

  “Yup. That’s why I don’t want Mom to know.” Laura glanced at the clock and covered the lasagna pan with aluminum foil. “I’m also gonna be late. Don’t forget to put this in. See you at dinner.”

  When she left, Hailey sat for a while, too stunned and weary and overwhelmed to go up to bed. Her world, her life had been predictable for so long—the job she loved at St. Joe’s, visits with Ingrid and Sam, much rarer ones with her sister and mother, work on her house.

  Now, in the space of a couple of weeks, a bomb had gone off and everything had changed. She’d gone head-to-head with Margaret, she’d found out her sister wasn’t at all what she’d believed her to be, and she’d fallen in love, not just with a baby, but also with a man. Most astounding of all, the man actually seemed to have feelings for her, as well. For the time being, at least.

  It was too much for her overtaxed brain to process. She got up and, one step at a time, climbed the stairs, stripped off her clothes and fell into bed.

  SHE AWOKE to the telephone ringing. She fumbled for the phone beside the bed.

  “It’s me,” Laura said. “I’m calling because I won’t be coming back for dinner tonight. The kids are having sleepovers with their friends, and, um, I’m…well, I’m with Michael.”

  “Okay.” Hailey’s groggy brain worked its way slowly around all that.

  “You sound half-asleep. Have you put the lasagna in yet?” Trust Laura to remember the lasagna.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Not yet. I just woke up.”

  “Well, you should. It needs to cook for an hour.”

  The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time.

  “Okay. Look, I have to go. Someone’s at the door.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  So Laura was planning a sleepover of her own. Hailey pulled on the gray shorts and blue T-shirt that were flung on the chair and staggered downstairs.

  “Did I get the wrong day?” Roy was standing at the door smiling at her. In one hand he held two bottles of wine in a plastic bag and in the other a bouquet of pink roses.

  ROY COULD SEE she’d been asleep. Her cheek was creased from the pillow, and her eyes were still heavy-lidded. Her hair was flat on one side, and she obviously wasn’t wearing a bra under her rumpled shirt. Her legs were long and brown and enticing. She looked sexy and disheveled, blinking at him with those sleepy tiger eyes.

  “Nope, it’s okay. It’s the right day. I just… Darn, I fell asleep. What time is it, anyhow?”

  “Six. The exact time you said to come for dinner.”

  “Oh, yoiks.” She wrinkled her nose and then yawned. “Come on in. Laura and the kids aren’t going to be here, and I haven’t put the lasagna in the oven yet.” She took the wine when he handed it to her. One bottle was white, the other red. “Could you put those roses in something and then open one of these and pour yourself a glass while I go to the bathroom?” She handed the wine back to him and pointed. “The glasses are up in that cupboard.”

  “Why don’t I put the lasagna in, as well?”

  “Sarcasm, sir?” She grinned, which was what he’d aimed for.

  “No, absolutely not. Would you believe starvation?”

  “I should have guessed. In that case, go right ahead, knock yourself out. There’s probably an apron in one of those drawers. Oven’s supposed to be at 350. Salad greens are washed and in the fridge. Garlic bread just needs heating.”

  He did everything, because she was gone a long time. He was setting the table when she came back, and he could see she’d had a shower. Her face was shiny clean and her hair curled in damp red ringlets around her ears.

  “Sorry I was so long. I called St. Joe’s to find out how David is.”

  “And?”

  “He’s feeling better. He’s asleep. His— Shannon is still there. She’s staying the night.”

  “For his sake, that’s a good thing.”

  She nodded, but he could see how much the situation troubled her.

  “You look wonderful.”

  “Thank you.” She’d put on a loose green summer dress that left her arms and shoulders bare and stopped well above her knees. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, and he was pretty certain she wasn’t wearing a bra, which he thought was a great idea.

  “You’re really good.” She looked around, taking in the lasagna in the oven, the salad on the counter, the two wineglasses he’d filled. He’d stuck the roses in an empty glass jar from the top of her cupboard and placed them in the middle of the table, along with a candle he’d found on the windowsill.

  “I’ve flipped through a couple of women’s magazines in my time. I know how these things go.” He handed her a glass of red wine.

  She sipped and made an appreciative sound in her throat. “That lasagna won’t be done for an hour.” Was that a seductive look she was giving him, or was he hallucinating? “What should we do in the meantime?”

  He knew what he wanted to do. “We could work on the bathroom.” And that wasn’t it.

  “I thought of that, but I don’t feel like it.”

  What he did feel like doing wasn’t something he wanted to verbalize. Show, don’t tell, Zedyck. Reaching out, he took the wineglass from her and set it on the counter. The easy way she came into his arms told him that their minds just might be on the same wavelength.

  She tasted of wine and toothpaste. The sound she made in her throat was of pleasure and greed, and when he deepened the kiss, she pressed herself against him, from breasts to eager hips. The blood left his head and pooled in his groin in a flood of wanting.

  “I like how you kiss.” This time she was the one who tilted her head, found his lips, traced them with her tongue. “Do it some more.”

  “I need to touch you.” He had to feel her skin, hot and bare against his hands, or die. He gripped and lifted the hem of the short dress, moving his palms slowly up the back of her thighs. Delicious surprise made him pause an instant and catch his breath when he realized she wasn’t wearing panties. Her rounded bottom was firm and silky bare against his hands.

  The implicit invitation sent a sexual rush through him, and the way her body trembled made him want to take her right then and there, on the kitchen counter, on the floor, on the table.

  “Hailey, I want you.”

  “I want you, too.” Her voice was s
haking. “Right now. Let’s go upstairs.”

  “Can’t wait that long.” Much closer was the couch in the living room. Or the rug. Or the tile on the hall floor—he was beyond caring.

  Holding her against him, kissing her every step of the way, he walked her backward through the hall, and when the backs of her knees hit the sofa, she tumbled down, taking him with her.

  The dress slid off over her head, and there was enough light to see that her breasts were perfect, small, rounded, pink-tipped. Her body was long, golden, inviting, and she was shivering. The temperature had to be in the high eighties, so it wasn’t ego that made him think she was as hungry for him as he was for her.

  She looked at him and whispered, “Take your clothes off. Hurry.”

  It took all of ten seconds for him to get naked, grateful for the condoms he’d optimistically slid into his pants pocket.

  He kissed her, greedy for mouth and breasts, throat and earlobes, belly and beyond—every part of her his lips could reach. They were too tall for the sofa, so he maneuvered them down to the rug, dragging along the cushions to pillow their heads.

  The phone rang, and they both ignored it.

  He told himself to go slowly, but the way she moved and moaned when he kissed and stroked her drove him way beyond slowing down.

  She arched against him, and his fingers slipped into liquid, throbbing heat. And she climaxed like that, so quick and hard he couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

  “Hailey. God, you’re so hot.” He wound his fingers into her hair and slid into her, and the convulsions that rocked her seconds before began all over again, only this time he was right there with her.

  THE CARPET WAS ROUGH against her back, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about a darned thing, and it was the best feeling in the world.

  Stretching, she drew the musky, delicious smell of their lovemaking deep into her lungs, then snuggled more deeply into Roy’s arms. Her head was on his shoulder, their legs intertwined.

  He had great shoulders. He had great everything. She loved the hair on his chest, the roughness of his beard scraping against her in places where her skin was soft. Her body was limp and warm, and sensitive nerves were still sending aftershocks of pleasure shooting through her.