Babies in the Bargain (23 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Had she made the biggest mistake of her life? Had she closed the door on happiness with a capital
H
?

Holly ventured a curious look at Marc, taking in his hard profile and high forehead crossed by a dark curly strand. His sensual lips that had excelled at dispensing pleasure all over her flesh last night remained tightly sealed as he drove to the hospital.

Holly wrung her hands in her lap, struggling to prevent her knees from clapping against each other.

With Paulito fastened in his car seat and happily cooing, Marc drove at a reasonable speed. While the Jeep meandered through the traffic,
he withdrew into his thoughts. He’d made it clear that he’d closed the subject of marriage.

Was he having s
econd thoughts about their lovemaking and his proposal?

In that case, Holly’s self-respect demanded she be as cool and composed as he was. “Marc, thank you for last night.”

“What do you mean? Why should you thank me?” The traffic was dense. Was that enough to explain his sudden frown?

“I was worried about today’s surgery. You gave me the comfort I needed. Made me feel better.” What a blatant lie.

The car jerked to the right as a truck passed them on the left. Marc mumbled in Spanish. A curse probably. He glanced at her, the furrows between his eyebrows deepening. “Comfort? That’s all?”

She couldn’t suppress a smile as heat infused her cheeks and a nice tingling danced in her belly. Last night had been so unexpected, so special. Cuddling in Marc’s arms had been heaven. “Marc, the chemistry was incredible.”

He smiled. “I know.” Then the smile faded. He glanced at her, a shadow of melancholy darkening his eyes.

What if he truly loved her and she just blew her chances of a future with him? What if she’d hurt him with her lack of trust and blunt refusal?

She licked her lips, recalling the passion of his kisses. Damn it. She’d reveled in their lovemaking and yearned for more. Could they ever go back to living that fantasy night again?

Maybe they’d go back to their status quo of before last night. As if nothing happened. Oh, no, please. She didn’t want him to stay away for days, sticking by his rules of correct, indifferent houseguest.

Maybe she should take the first step to erase the awkwardness that had built between them. “When you come back from Puerto Rico, I’d like to take you out,” she said, raising her chin with all the confidence she could muster at the moment. Which wasn’t much, unfortunately. “I mean I’d like to reciprocate your invitation to the opera.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t give her the smug smile she’d expected. Tenderness pooled in his chocolate eyes. “You’re a wonderful woman, Holly.”

She threw him a puzzled look. When he came back from his trip was too far away, too loaded with probability.

What if Abuelita had her way because Marc had such a strong sense of family loyalty?

What if Reina was as beautiful and aggressive as Jenna or even more determined? She’d already mentioned coming here to help.

“Marc, I assume this Reina is pretty.” She couldn’t believe she blurted out such stupid nonsense.

“Yeah, not bad. She’s a brunette with dark brown eyes.”

Holly lowered her head, wishing he could have lied for a change.

“But you know me. I’m partial to tall honey-blonde neonatologists with turquoise eyes.” He chuckled. “And I know only one woman who matches my very specific taste.”

She threw him a lopsided glance. Was he making fun of her? Or being his usual charming self? She wanted so much to believe he cared about her. That he loved her as much as she loved him.

Marc concentrated on driving, then dropped Paulito at his daycare and reached the hospital in silence.  

Her head swirled with one depressing thought after another. Now was not the right time to start a conversation about feelings or lack of them, but she vowed to get back to the subject before he left for San Juan. There was too much at stake to play with fire and risk losing Marc—and Paulito—to a Puerto Rican beauty.

As soon as Marc parked the car, she ran to her office. After she listened to her messages, she rushed to the OR, donned her surgical gown, and scrubbed. A nurse wheeled in Baby Brendon’s isolette.

Faced with her medical responsibilities, Holly emerged from her internal rumination.

Focus on the surgery. The rest can wait.

Suddenly, the room bustled with doctors and nurses, Dr. Morey, Dr. Carmichael, and Dr. Barnes, the local cardiologist, and several senior residents. “Let’s get ready,” Dr. Morey said, in command of the medical team.

Although intubated, Brendon squirmed and cried. Holly held him and exchanged glances with Marc. The cry meant the baby’s ET tube had slipped out. More complications for her tiny patient. Marc delivered the anesthetic and a muscle paralyzer through an intravenous line. As usual, he was a bundle of effectiveness and can-do energy.

When Brendon fell asleep, Holly laid him on the surgical table and removed his wrapping blanket. She took a deep breath to tame her accelerated pulse.

Marc was beside her, confident and calm. A tower of strength.

My turn. Quick and easy.

The baby’s lungs were paralyzed, and he had no way to get oxygen until she had the tube in. With steady hands, she tipped his tiny head back.

Go, Holly. You’ve done it hundreds of times
.

She glanced at Marc.

He winked and nodded.
Go, Holly
.

She placed the silver intubating blade into the infant’s mouth and slipped the endotracheal tube down his throat as she watched to make sure she was past the vocal cords and into the trachea.

“Done.” She released the breath she’d been holding.

Marc gave her an approving glance. Dr. Morey took over. They worked on Brendon for what seemed like an eternity. Marc’s soothing presence eased her stress. She performed her delicate tasks with more calm than she’d ever known.

No one talked but Dr. Morey, who gave orders in a polite voice. At the end of the procedure, he rested a sharp gaze on each one of them. “Good job.” He turned toward Brendon’s father and grandfather. “If he survives the next few days and stabilizes, I’ll come back to do the arterial switch.”

While her brain struggled with Dr. Morey’s words, Holly’s gaze snapped toward Spencer Barnes. He stood pop-eyed and frozen, hit by the uncertain fate of his newborn son. His broad shoulders hunched as his eyes focused on the radiant warmer where his baby teetered between life and death.

His job done, Dr. Morey left the room. Brendon’s father and grandfather slipped their masks off and prepared to follow him.

“He’s arrested.” Marc’s voice paralyzed them in place. “Code blue.”

Both father and grandfather plunked their masks back on their faces with shaky hands and approached the warmer bed. “Dr. Collier,” the grandfather called.

Holly glanced at the monitor, her breath stuck in her throat. The baby’s heartbeat oscillated, shrank, and tapered.

Holly bent over the warmer.

What happened?

Her stomach clenched with the first hint of panic. She looked at Marc, at Brendon, the monitor, and back at Marc. The infant was already intubated.

She was going to lose him.

Her worst nightmare came back to haunt her.

A baby dying at my hands. For the second time
.

Her mind blanked as she gazed at the heart line flattening on the monitor.

“Holly.” Marc scooted next to her and squeezed her hand hard. Painfully. “It could be Paulito. Do it.”

Do it. Do it
.

The words reverberated in her brain like echoes in a rock cavern.

“Resuscitation.” She snatched the self-inflating bag the nurse presented her and secured its mask on the baby’s face. The monitor line vibrated and undulated. The infant’s heart was picking up. But it could stop again any time.

Paulito’s cheerful face filled her mind.

It could be Paulito
.

She was the senior neonatologist. Dr. Morey was gone. She had to save this baby.

 “Dopamine stat,” she ordered, a hiccup scratching her throat. She continued the resuscitation process until the preemie’s heart resumed a steady rate, and then she injected the powerful medicine to keep the blood pumping.

Her gaze met Marc’s, gratitude filling her heart. He’d shaken her out of lethargic panic at the right moment. She was back in control. “Echo, stat.”

 The echogram showed that the left ventricle was scarcely moving, pushing out a slight percentage of the blood it contained. She pointed to the screen. “The blood from the rest of the body is backing up in his lungs and stagnating everywhere else. The dopamine should help. And we’ll keep him on a ventilator.”  

“Thank you, Dr. Collier,” Spencer Barnes said in a hoarse voice.

Don’t thank me. I almost let your son die
.

Holly nodded, but her lips pursed behind her mask as she ordered the nurse to wheel the warmer bed to the NICU.

When the baby’s relatives and medical staff left the OR, Holly pressed her back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. She sat there, her knees bent up, her forehead tucked in her hands.

“Holly?” Marc’s voice reached through her daze.

“I almost killed him.” She couldn’t control her shaking. “
Incompetent doctor
. That’s what I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Marc crouched in front of her and pushed her hands away from her face. “Look at me, Holly. You saved that baby.”

Holly raised her arms and stared at her open palms. “He was in my hands and I panicked. I was going to let him die. I’d have lost him without you. Like the other baby.”

“You’re the one who resuscitated him.” Marc gently squeezed her shoulders. “Stop blaming yourself. You panicked for a sec. I don’t know a single doctor who hasn’t faced a similar situation at one point or another.”

 “Have you?” She sniffled, unable to believe that Marc had ever been nervous in surgery.

“Of course. I’ve been scared stiff. And I’ve endangered a patient because of my fear. But like you, I took control and overcame my panic.”

His smile warmed her heart. “Thank you, Marc.”

“You saved him, Holly. Now, you know you can do it.” His gaze scanned her face. “Feel better?”

She nodded. “Thanks. Much better.”

Gradually she wound down, flexed her shoulders, relaxed. Straightening, she rubbed her forehead in relief. “I’ll take a fifteen-minute break, then I’ll settle in the NICU to watch him.” She tossed her surgical garb in a trash basket and walked to the pre-op room to wash her hands. “Would you come with me for a coffee?”

He’d just helped her through a nightmarish situation. She needed to be with him, to talk to him.

Please, Marc. Come with me.

Marc averted his gaze as he snatched off his cap. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time. I’m scheduled for two more surgeries. You go ahead.” He followed her to the sink while she digested his reasons.

His words made sense, although his voice sounded different, now. Flat and controlled.

“Will I see you before you fly home?” Her pulse raced as she controlled the impulse to throw her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. God, she was pathetic.

But seriously he couldn’t leave, go to Puerto Rico and meet Reina, before Holly cleared the air between them. But when? She was still on call for the next twenty-four hours.

He raised his arms, palms open. “I’ll call my sister again tonight before I make a decision.”

She stifled a sigh. “Give me a buzz. Let me know how your grandmother is doing.”

“Of course. But you’ll be very busy with the Barnes case. Bye.” He grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes rounded hoping for...anything that could bring them close again.

He gave her a kiss on the forehead, turned, and headed toward his office.

A restrained kiss on the forehead? After the magical lovemaking they shared a few hours ago?

Rooted in place, Holly stared at his back, hating his aloof attitude and the uneasiness that had crept between them. She hadn’t imagined his sudden reserve, the way they walked on eggshells around each other. Now, she was terrified of losing Marc again. By her own doing.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A few minutes later, Holly sat at a corner table in the cafeteria with an open Neonatology book and an untouched plate of salad in front of her. She absently played with her fork. Her mind drifted over the blurred lines of the book as desperation swelled in her throat, but she suppressed the urge to cry and feel sorry for herself.

“Hi, beautiful.” Chris slid into the chair across from her and looked closely. “What a deep scowl. Something wrong?”