Twin Babies to Reunite Them
Autor
Ann McIntosh
Lecturas
15,6K
Capítulos
20
CHAPTER ONE
DR. SAANA AMIRI CHECKED her watch and suppressed a yawn. While the low-cost women’s clinic only operated from Tuesday to Saturday, from four in the afternoon to nine at night, when coupled with her regular daytime practice, it made for long weeks. Thankfully, this would be the last patient of the night, and with the next day being Sunday, she could look forward to at least one day to recharge her batteries.
As she arrived at the examination-room door, she paused on hearing nurse Amanda Curry’s voice from inside.
“Why on earth didn’t you see a doctor long before this?”
It wasn’t just the words, more so the hectoring tone that made Saana’s hackles rise. The last thing the women coming to the clinic needed was to be berated by the very people they were depending on to help them. The hardships many of them suffered didn’t need to be compounded by unsympathetic behavior on the part of the medical team.
With a quick rap on the door, she stepped into the room and took in the scene with a sweeping glance.
Nurse Curry stood with her hands on her hips, frowning at the patient, Mylie Nelson, who stared back with what could only be called a defensive glare on her pale, narrow face. Seated on the examination table, Mylie had one arm bent behind her back, hiding it from sight; nearby, in a kidney dish, was a small pile of soiled bandages. In the corner of the room lay a large, fully stuffed backpack, a small duffel bag—equally full—and a couple of shopping bags.
Before either of the other women could say anything else, Saana walked over to grab a pair of disposable gloves and interrupted the conversation.
“Hello, Ms. Nelson. I’m Dr. Amiri.” Giving the nurse a cool glance, she continued, “Thank you, Nurse. I’ll take over now.”
Amanda Curry frowned, probably because of Saana’s tone, but after a murmured agreement, she left the examination room. Apparently, though, she couldn’t resist closing the door behind her with an ill-tempered snap.
Putting the nurse out of her mind, Saana turned to her patient and smiled.
“So, what can I do for you this evening?”
And there was no mistaking the reluctance with which the patient revealed the jagged wound on her arm.
As she examined the infected injury, Saana questioned how it had occurred, keeping her tone gentle and sympathetic as the story unfolded. Mylie had caught her arm on a piece of corrugated iron but, afraid to miss work, hadn’t been able to have it tended to. Now, five days later, she hadn’t been able to ignore it anymore.
Although she was sure there was more to the story, Saana took it at face value and was pleased when her patient relaxed.
The small mound of bags told the familiar tale of homelessness Saana had no trouble recognizing, but it was with women like Mylie in mind that she’d opened the clinic. Florida’s mild winters attracted more than just snow birds, as the part-time, retired residents were called. Many transients who originally came south to avoid the northern cold ended up staying year-round.
“I’m going to need to clean the wound and tape it closed. I’ll administer a tetanus shot, and you’ll need to do a course of antibiotics,” she told Mylie. “I can give you a voucher for the pharmacy, if you need one, and you have to take all the antibiotic tablets. Don’t stop, even if your arm seems to be better. Are you allergic to penicillin or any other medications?”
By the time she’d finished with Mylie Nelson, it was almost ten o’clock, and although the clinic officially closed at nine thirty, most of the staff were still on-site. Since it was standard operating procedure for everyone to leave at the same time, under the watchful eyes of the night security guard, Saana did a quick head count.
“We’re one short,” she said. “Who’s missing?”
“Nurse Curry left already,” one of the other nurses replied.
Saana tamped down her instinctive spurt of annoyance.
“Okay, let’s get out of here,” she said, hitching her tote bag a little higher onto her shoulder. “Thanks, everyone. Enjoy what’s left of the weekend, and I’ll see you all on Tuesday afternoon.”
Once in her car, Saana sighed and pushed a strand of hair off her cheek. While she was tired, her muscles aching with fatigue, her brain was still running full steam.
Amanda Curry wasn’t someone she wanted to work with. Over the three weeks the nurse had been at the clinic, Saana had noticed her condescending attitude toward both patients and other staff members, as though she felt them all beneath her. Saana had given the HR team very specific instructions about hiring staff, but although Nurse Curry didn’t fit the bill, it wasn’t their fault. One of the nurses originally hired two months ago when the clinic opened had become ill and took a leave of absence. Nurse Curry was a traveling nurse and had been sent by an agency to fill the temporary vacancy.
As Saana headed south on US 1, she decided to contact the agency to have Nurse Curry replaced. Using the onboard electronic system linked to her phone, she set herself a reminder for Monday morning. Not that she was likely to forget, but being methodical was an ingrained part of her personality.
A vehicle swerved into her lane, making her have to hit the brakes and suppress a curse. As usual on a Saturday night, the thoroughfare, which led into the downtown Melbourne area, was busy and the driving was sometimes erratic.
As the car in front of her slowed almost to a halt although there was nothing in front of it, Saana had the urge to pull out into the oncoming lane and overtake. After all, her sports car would easily zoom past the sedan, and the speed might alleviate some of the restless energy still firing through her system.
But even as her leg muscles tensed to hit the accelerator, she forced them to relax again.
Impulsiveness wasn’t something she gave in to often now, especially after the spectacular mess she’d made the last time she indulged.
Saana shook her head abruptly, annoyed, and as if to prove the wisdom of not overtaking on the double yellow lines, she spotted a police car on the verge. She would have gotten a hefty ticket, for sure.
There. Better safe than sorry wasn’t just a maxim but words to live by, so as to not get into trouble.
Of all kinds.
It was what her father had said when she’d told him her plan to open a low-cost clinic integrated with her already thriving medical practice.
“To be frank, I think it would be a mistake,” he’d said. “What you’re proposing would immediately become a drain on your resources, both professionally and—knowing you—personally too.”
Twirling the stem of her wineglass between her fingers, she’d tried to figure out exactly what he was saying.
“The women of Brevard County need a place to go for testing and treatment when they don’t have insurance,” she’d replied, keeping her voice mild but strong, so he’d have no doubt she was serious about the project. “I have the means to help provide that for at least some of them.”
“I’m not saying not to do it,” Dad had replied, getting up to freshen his own drink. “But be cautious and realistic about what it will cost and how you can sustain such a project without damaging what you already have.”
Saana had known what he was skirting around and bit back her instinctive urge to defend herself. Yes, in the past she’d sometimes jumped into things without thinking them through, but it had been a while since she’d learned not to be so rash.
Two years, ten months and twenty-six days, to be precise. But who was counting?
Clearly, she was.
Of course, she’d taken his advice and consulted lawyers, accountants and other practitioners, especially those who specialized in low-cost care. In the end, she’d taken some of the inheritance from her grandfather and set up a trust. Then she’d hired a firm to both manage the trust and prioritize fundraising so she wouldn’t need to deal with either.
All she was interested in was practicing medicine.
The first major fundraiser was scheduled in a month’s time, at her parent’s house, and Saana was frankly dreading it.
On being told about the fundraising party, Mom had insisted it take place at the Amiris’ Merritt Island estate, where Saana had grown up. Between Mom and the party coordinator, it sounded like a magical scene had been planned, and the guest list of wealthy socialites would hopefully be moved to donate.
Saana couldn’t help twisting her lips at the irony.
Thousands of dollars spent on champagne, canapés and a gourmet meal to entice people to give money to a cause that could have benefited greatly from that initial outlay. Oh, she understood it; after all, she’d grown up in this rarefied existence, where tax write-offs and social visibility trumped genuine generosity. But it still didn’t sit well.
Yet she knew she had to play the game if the clinic was to be a success and outlive her, the way she hoped it would.
It was never too early to think about the legacy you’d leave behind.
She turned off US 1 and, after going over the Melbourne Causeway into Indialantic, drove slowly through the far quieter streets of her neighborhood. Smaller cottages began to give way to larger lots and houses the nearer she got to her home on the Indian River Lagoon. As soon as she was close enough, Saana hit the button to open the security gate, getting to it just as the tall wrought iron wings opened just enough for her car to go through. She was halfway down her curved driveway when she noticed a dark-colored sedan parked, facing out, at the front right-hand side of the house.
Instinctively, she eased off the gas, slowing the vehicle down as she put her finger on the panic button located on the steering wheel.
She wasn’t expecting anyone, and no one had rung at the gate to be let in, because the request would have popped up on her phone.
Who was this, and how had they gained entrance to her property?
Then, before she could call for help, the driver’s-side door of the other car opened, and someone stepped out.
Saana hit the brakes, and her hand dropped down into her lap, boneless.
Kenzie?
The other woman stood, unmoving, behind the car door, watching Saana’s vehicle, too far away for her expression to be visible. Saana was glad for the distance.
Between one breath and the next, all the carefully constructed barriers she’d built around her heart crumbled, and she was falling apart. Battered by a rush of complex and nauseating emotions she couldn’t name and didn’t want Kenzie to see.
Time slowed as Saana began to shake and her brain went into hyperdrive, trying to figure out what to do.
She could hit the gate button again and reverse away through it.
Drive around to the garage and let herself into the house, ignoring and leaving Kenzie where she was.
Or I can brazen it out. Show her I don’t care why she’s here—only that she needs to leave again.
That thought somehow steadied her, easing the band of ice constricting her chest, allowing her to breathe as a rush of heated anger overrode everything else.
How dare she just appear like this, as though no time has passed and nothing has happened?
As if she hadn’t broken Saana’s heart and destroyed her faith in herself and love?
Now Saana could ascribe the trembling of her hands and wild cadence of her heart to rage, and it firmed her determination not to let Kenzie’s appearance get the better of her.
After taking a couple of deep breaths, she eased off the brake and drove forward, parking her car parallel to Kenzie’s. Getting out, she looked over the roof of both vehicles at her estranged wife.
“McKenzie.” Saana wasn’t sure how she kept her voice so cool and steady but was proud of the effect. “How did you get in here?”
Safer than asking why she was there.
Kenzie shook her head slightly, her lush lips kicking up a hint at the corners.
“If you’d changed the security code, I’d still be outside.”
She’d meant to change the code. Just like she’d meant to file for divorce once she’d gotten it into her thick skull that Kenzie Bonham wasn’t coming back.
Neither of those chores had been crossed off her to-do list.
Refusing to even contemplate why that was, and trying not to let the sound of that sweet drawl insinuate itself into her psyche, she shrugged lightly. Closing her car door, she clutched her tote bag so tightly the leather straps dug into her palm.
“If I’d had even an inkling that you’d turn up like this, I would have.”
Was that a flash of pain that shot across Kenzie’s face at her cold pronouncement? If so, Saana felt not a shred of remorse. She hoped the barb had struck home since Kenzie absolutely deserved whatever discomfort she felt.
Silence fell between them for a moment, and Saana found her gaze fixed on Kenzie’s face. Unable to tear it away, she took in what she could see of the other woman, the thundering of her heart giving the moment far too much weight.
Kenzie’s face looked narrower, the satiny, cocoa-hued skin stretched a little tighter than usual, her cheeks not as full as Saana remembered. Her hair was longer, worn in a mass of corkscrew curls that moved gently in the breeze blowing from the ocean, held back by a simple black bandeau. Kenzie had beautiful eyes. Dark brown, gleaming with intelligence and often with ready laughter. Although she was too far away to see the expression in them, Saana’s memory supplied the details—the way looking into them was like drowning in love and desire.
And those lips...
A tidal wave of arousal crashed over Saana as her gaze dropped to that full, wide mouth—unsmiling now, but no less sinfully sexy for that fact.
Against her will, her head suddenly filled with scenes, scents, sensations of being held in Kenzie’s arms. There, her every sensual need had been met, ecstasy lifting her higher and higher, until it became irresistible and she was flung into the stratosphere.
Taken to the stars.
Suddenly weak-kneed once more, Saana knew it was time to bring this surreal encounter to an end. The sustaining anger had waned, leaving her floundering and sad.
But she wouldn’t allow that to show.
The one person she’d ever completely trusted had betrayed her and deserved nothing but cool dismissal.
Getting a grip on both her emotions and her traitorous body, and although her legs still felt weak, she walked around the car to the semicircular staircase leading to her front door.
“Well,” she said, aware of Kenzie’s gaze following her and refusing to meet it again. “This has been delightful, but I’m afraid it’s time for you to leave.”
She was two steps up when Kenzie replied.
“Saana, I need your help.”
Pausing, Saana felt the words echo, shockingly, between them. In fact, it was almost impossible to believe she’d heard them correctly.
Unable to resist, she looked over her shoulder, saying, “As surprising as it is to hear you, Miss Independence, say that, I’m sorry. I’m not interested in offering assistance.”
Then, as she turned to climb to the next step—wanting to hurry now, to get away—she heard Kenzie say, “I’m pregnant with twins. And I really need your help.”
She froze where she stood, trying to process the words, her first impulse to spin around and look at Kenzie to judge whether she was telling the truth or not. To let loose all the questions firing around her brain.
Pregnant? By whom? Had she started a new relationship without telling Saana? Decided she wanted a family with someone other than the wife she’d promised to love and cherish always but had then left behind?
The hand she’d laid on the banister tightened until even the bones hurt. Behind her, a car door slammed, and her already racing heart sped up even more. If she spun around now, Kenzie would be completely visible, and perhaps Saana could figure out how far along she was.
But hadn’t she learned her lesson? Impulsive behavior—which she knew herself to be prone to on occasion—not only often got her in trouble but had, more specifically, gotten her into the present situation.
They were standing, watching the water show outside the Bellagio, Kenzie’s arm around Saana’s shoulders, their heads close together. It came to Saana that she’d never been happier. Never felt more secure, comfortable—loved. She’d only known Kenzie for five days, and these were the last few hours they’d spend together before the other woman went back to Texas.
“Marry me,” she said, unable to stop the words from emerging, though she knew it was crazy to even suggest it. “I can’t imagine my life without you now.”
Those dark, gleaming eyes, wide with surprise, turned to search her gaze, and Saana’s heart beat so hard she felt sick.
Then, shockingly, she said, “Yes...”
But it had all turned out to be a mistake. A mirage.
One she didn’t dare allow herself to be pulled back into, lest she find it impossible to extricate herself.
“No...”
But it came out like a sigh, too quiet to be heard by the woman standing behind her, and even as she said it, Saana knew she’d have to force herself to mean it.
That the emotion Kenzie had awoken in her had never faded but now would have to be ruthlessly suppressed.
