The Midwife from His Past
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Julie Danvers
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11
CHAPTER ONE
BRIA THOMAS HAD spotted an impostor.
She and her best friend, Hazel Rees, strolled along the bank of Willamette River, both with a coffee in hand. Portland’s weekly open-air market bustled around them, the voices of hagglers mingling in the early fall air with the strains of music from street performers.
“There,” Bria said, gesturing with her coffee-laden hand. “That woman with the tan coat. She’s definitely a spy.”
“Are you sure?” asked Hazel. “She seems pretty ordinary to me.”
“That’s exactly what a spy would want you to think. She may look plain on the outside, but that handbag of hers probably holds all kinds of State Department secrets.”
There was nothing Bria loved more than getting coffee with Hazel and going to Portland’s Saturday Market. Like Bria, Hazel was a midwife, although her friend was a nurse practitioner, too, and the two of them were cofounders of the Multnomah Falls Women’s Health Center. Pulling double duty as midwives and starting up a nonprofit organization had kept them extremely busy, but now that it was up and running, spending Saturday morning together had come to be a fiercely protected tradition, no matter how much work they had to do. The two of them would spend hours concocting elaborate backstories for people in the crowd. The human statue performing on the corner was actually in the witness protection program, hiding from the Mob in plain sight. The cyclist pausing for a drink on the sidewalk was a world-class athlete, training for glory after tragically losing everything years ago.
The spy moved on to another booth, examining various pieces of jewelry crafted by local artists.
“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right,” Hazel agreed, taking a sip of her coffee. “Ooh! Secret billionaire to the left.” She nodded toward a man in a large hat and cowboy boots.
“Secret billionaire? How can you tell?”
Hazel laughed. “Bria Thomas. You, of all people, should know a secret billionaire when you see one.”
“I guess I’ve lost my touch.” Bria moved to tuck her hair behind her ears, an old habit from before she’d gotten the pixie cut that now framed her large green eyes. She didn’t miss the dark waves that had once fallen around her shoulders—she’d always been petite, and all that hair had only made her look shorter. But she occasionally forgot that it wasn’t there anymore. She’d been through so many changes over the past few years that sometimes it was hard to keep up with them.
Once, Bria might have been as skilled at picking the well-bred and wealthy out of a crowd as she was at spotting a real Prada handbag from a mountain of designer knockoffs. Her family was one of the oldest and wealthiest in Portland. But taking her family’s money had also meant accepting being under their control. She’d stepped down from her family’s trust years ago, deciding that she preferred independence to living in a gilded cage. Her life was drastically different than it used to be, back when her idea of a relaxing Saturday morning involved a trip to the Maldives by private jet, or a few days at an exclusive spa. But it was her life, and while it might not be glamorous, she was proud of what she’d been able to accomplish. She loved her career as a midwife, and she had good friends like Hazel in her life. And as far as her love life was concerned...well, she supposed one couldn’t have everything.
Dating had never been easy for her. It had been years since she’d had anyone serious in her life. Part of that was because of her work. Up until last year, she’d spent two years working for an international aid organization in Haiti. There hadn’t been many dating opportunities while working abroad, and she’d preferred it that way. In her experience, dating led to misunderstandings, hurt feelings and heartbreak, and she’d wanted to focus on her career without the complications that accompanied romance.
But she also wanted to have a family someday. She knew, of course, that it was possible to have a child on her own, but she’d always dreamed of having a family built on the love between herself and someone else. The trouble was, her attempts to find that someone else ranged from bad to completely disastrous.
When she’d returned from Haiti last year, she’d tried to ease herself back into the dating scene. But thus far, her attempts at dating had only led to a string of awful romantic encounters. There’d been the man she’d met online who turned out to be married—fortunately she’d found out after just a few weeks. Another man claimed to be looking for a long-term relationship, but he really just wanted to use Bria as his cat sitter whenever he went out of town, which seemed to be every single weekend. Another had texted frequently but canceled at the last minute every time they’d made plans to meet in person.
Frustrated and discouraged, she’d decided to take a break from dating. But that hadn’t stopped Hazel from trying to nudge her toward men whenever possible. At the moment, Hazel seemed to have set her sights on one target in particular.
“I’m telling you, Bria, he’s a secret billionaire. He probably thinks he’s fooling everyone by walking around in those dusty, worn-out jeans—which are quite flattering to the figure, I must say—but the quality of the boots gives him away. And I don’t see a wedding ring.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Bria.
Bria shook her head. “Nice try. With my luck, Mr. Secret Billionaire over there would probably turn out to be Mr. Secret Serial Killer.” She knew that Hazel meant well, but she also thought that Hazel tended to think about relationships through the biased lens of her own success. Hazel had found her own happiness with Dr. Caleb Norris, who until recently had been chief of obstetrics at St. Raymond’s, the birthing hospital across from the Women’s Health Center. Bria knew that Hazel simply wanted her to find as much happiness as she had. But Bria was starting to doubt that she’d ever have a real chance at love. Her attempts at relationships had at best led to awkwardness and discomfort...and at worst, life-shattering heartbreak. She’d been through that kind of heartbreak once in her life, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.
“How’s Caleb feeling about leaving St. Raymond’s now that he’s finished working out his notice?” she asked Hazel, hoping to change the subject. “Have they found a replacement for him yet?” Caleb had quit his job at the hospital so he could set up his own private practice at the Women’s Health Center as an obstetrician, as he’d developed a desire to do more holistic work with patients. Bria was excited to have a physician of Caleb’s ability available to them, as that would only help the center’s reputation grow. Normally, Hazel’s eyes brightened whenever the subject of Caleb came up. But Bria was surprised to see Hazel’s brow tighten with worry.
“Hazel? Is something wrong?”
“Look... I need to tell you something. And there’s no easy way to say it.”
Bria instantly felt guilty. Here she was obsessing over her own problems with love and dating when Hazel needed to talk about something. “What is it? The center didn’t lose more money, did it?” Although the Multnomah Falls Women’s Health Center was wildly popular among patients, many of their clients couldn’t afford to pay for the entire cost of their care, and the center was dependent on grants and donations. Recently, a major donor had decided to shift their funding to other causes, which had left Bria and Hazel scrambling to find new sources of support.
“No—nothing new has happened in that department. And don’t worry, I know that if we keep working on the problem, we’ll find a solution. I wanted to talk to you about Caleb’s replacement at St. Raymond’s.”
“Why would you need to talk to me about that?”
“Because they’ve found someone who can take over for him. Not permanently, but for a few weeks, so that they have time to conduct a thorough search for the new chief of obstetrics.” Hazel sighed. “I’ve been dreading telling you this all morning, ever since I heard who it was. It’s Eliot. Eliot Wright.”
Bria almost dropped her coffee cup. “Eliot’s coming back?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“He’s the one you used to date, isn’t he?”
They’d been engaged, actually. Six years ago, she’d had a fiancé for less than a week—until her father had ruined everything.
Hazel looked mortified. “I didn’t realize until this morning, or I swear I’d have told you sooner. Caleb never told me the new doctor’s name. He just said it was an obstetrician from Boston, a good friend of his from when he did his residency there. And then this morning over breakfast I told him that you used to date a medical student who’d gone to Boston to finish his residency, and that’s when Caleb told me a bit about the new doctor, and I realized it was the Eliot Wright. I was furious with Caleb for not telling me sooner, but he said—” Hazel abruptly cut herself off, as though she’d suddenly said too much.
“He said what?”
“He...said that Eliot had never mentioned you to him at all.”
Bria tried not to feel hurt. She told herself that she didn’t have any right to feel hurt. She’d broken up with him, after all.
Still. Had Eliot really not mentioned her to his friend at all?
Had he even thought of her again once he’d left for Boston?
She tried to regain her composure, for Hazel’s sake. There was no need for her friend to look so worried. Six years was a long time. She and Eliot were ancient history. True, she was surprised to learn that he was coming back to Portland. But it was only surprise, not devastation, or grief, or any of the other terrible feelings she’d had when Eliot left. It wasn’t as though she still had feelings for him.
When they’d broken up, she’d fallen into a deep well of heartbreak, and she’d spent most of the last six years climbing out of that well. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d done it. She’d done it by focusing on the future, and by refusing to allow herself to dwell on painful memories.
It had been incredibly hard. She’d had to accept that Eliot was gone, and to let go of her dreams of the life they’d planned together. But, painful as it all had been, she’d managed to do it. And if he was back in Portland now, then she could not, would not allow his return to disrupt the hard-won stability she’d finally found here.
She’d had no reason to feel the pang that shot through her heart when Hazel said that Eliot had never mentioned her to Caleb. I was just surprised to hear his name, she thought.
“I’m really sorry,” Hazel continued. “I should have asked Caleb more about his friend from Boston sooner. I should have realized that it might be Eliot.”
“It’s not your fault. Eliot and I dated before you and I met in nursing school. And there are a lot of obstetricians in Boston. There was no reason for you to guess it might be him.” She probably shouldn’t be surprised that Eliot hadn’t talked to Caleb about her, either. Why would he ever bring up an ex-girlfriend to a close friend?
You told Hazel about him. True, but she had none of the difficulty with vulnerability that Eliot had. As she recalled, Eliot had rarely spoken of anything personal to anyone. He was a compassionate man with a deep desire for closeness, but he’d also built heavily fortified emotional walls for himself. His protective outer shell had been the source of so many of their problems. She’d longed to reach the inner warmth that she knew was there within him, but so often, his guardedness made that impossible. She was always left guessing at what he was thinking and feeling because he couldn’t lower his defenses enough to let her know.
If he could, then maybe their breakup wouldn’t have ended in the worst way possible.
They’d met shortly after she’d graduated college, when he was in his final year of medical school. They hadn’t met on campus, but in her home: Eliot’s mother cleaned houses for many of the families in Portland and had worked for Bria’s father for years. Bria had often heard Eliot’s mother speak of her son, who was going to be a doctor, but they’d never actually met until Eliot had appeared on her doorstep to give his mother a ride home. As Bria got to know him, she realized there was an authenticity to him that she hadn’t felt with anyone else in her father’s world, where everyone seemed preoccupied with their own wealth and self-importance.
They began dating, and things quickly became serious. They might have been young, but they both knew what they wanted. When Eliot asked her to come with him to Boston for his residency—as his wife—her response had been a heartfelt yes.
But then her father had interfered, as she should have known he would. The only thing Calvin Thomas loved more than money was control.
In addition to being the head of Portland’s wealthiest family, Bria’s father was also a retired surgeon. His wealth and privilege had given him lofty ideas of the respect due to the Thomas family. Both of Bria’s sisters had lived up to their father’s expectations and married men who came from families with generations of inherited wealth.
But Eliot’s situation was different. He was raised by a single mother with very little money. He’d funded most of his education through scholarships and student loans. Calvin was convinced that Eliot’s only interest in Bria was her family’s fortune. Even if Eliot hadn’t been deep in debt with student loans, there was the insurmountable fact of his background: Eliot simply wasn’t good enough for her.
Bria didn’t believe that for a minute. And when her father realized his threats to cut her off from the family trust wouldn’t work, he changed tactics and threatened Eliot instead. He’d warned her that if she didn’t break off her engagement, he’d do everything he could to ruin Eliot’s career.
Bria knew her father would follow through with his threat. He was a major donor to numerous medical charities and sat on the board of more than one medical philanthropic organization. As a former surgeon, he still had connections in the medical field. If he’d made a concerted effort to hold Eliot back, she knew he would have been successful.
And she could not be an obstacle in Eliot’s career. She knew how hard he’d worked, and how much his mother had sacrificed, to get him through medical school. She could not live with herself if she stood in the way of his success.
She couldn’t tell him what her father had done, because Eliot wasn’t the kind of man who backed down in the face of threats. But Eliot didn’t know Calvin Thomas like she did. He didn’t know what he was up against. Devastated as she was, she knew the safest course of action for him was for her to break things off with him and hope that he would find happiness with someone else.
She’d written him a note, an awful, horrible note, telling him that she’d changed her mind. They were from two different worlds, and they couldn’t possibly be happy together. She’d tried to be convincing, because otherwise he’d find out she was lying to him, and then her father’s threats would come out. But perhaps she’d not been convincing enough, because he’d shown up at her home, demanding to hear from her in person that she meant all that she’d written.
The result was an argument that grew far more heated than she’d expected. He accused her of being utterly selfish. He said he couldn’t believe how shallow and materialistic she was. And even though she knew that, to an extent, his reaction was understandable, his accusations still hurt. She’d spent her life trying to prove that her privilege hadn’t made her selfish, or materialistic, or proud, and now here was Eliot, a man she’d loved and trusted more than anyone, accusing her of being exactly those things. She tried not to fire back at him, because he didn’t know the whole story, but his words had burned. And eventually she did lash out, because he knew where she was sensitive, and just what to say to shock her.
He’d told her that she was a naive, spoiled, out-of-touch princess whose money insulated her from any real-life issues. She’d responded that she’d never realized what he really thought of her, or how cold and uncaring he could be. They’d traded insults for a while, and when they finally parted, it was with far more hurt and anger and pain on both sides than Bria would have ever thought possible.
She’d never known just how sensitive he was about her family’s money and status, because he hadn’t told her how he felt. Nor had she realized that he could see her exactly the way she’d always feared people would: as shallow and privileged, with no understanding of how the real world worked. Their marriage never would have worked with all that resentment locked inside him.
There was one silver lining to the breakup, despite all the misery involved. Breaking the engagement had given her a stark clarity about the amount of control her father and his money had over her life. She was determined that Calvin Thomas would never be able to control her or anyone else she cared about in that way again. And so she’d removed herself from her family’s trust, despite her father’s derisive assurances that she would never be able to survive on her own. She’d gotten a job and used the income from that and her personal savings to pay for a nurse-midwifery program, where she’d met Hazel. She’d managed to build a new life for herself that was very different from the one she’d had before, but she absolutely loved it. It might be a smaller life, but it was all hers, and she was proud of her independence.
She wasn’t the same woman she’d been when Eliot had last seen her. She was far more self-possessed, far less naive and far more knowledgeable of the world. So there was no reason Eliot’s return should disrupt her life. She’d managed to recover from all the hurt they’d caused each other, and she hoped he had, too.
In fact, maybe it was a good thing that Eliot was returning. How else would she be able to prove to herself that she’d made peace with their breakup unless they saw one another again? Now that he was back, she’d have a chance to greet him calmly, one medical professional to another, and to show him all the confidence and independence she’d gained. After six years, she should be able to manage that.
“It’s going to be fine,” she told Hazel with all the certainty she could muster. “Eliot and I have been over for a long time, and I’ve never wished him anything but a happy life of his own.”
Hazel still looked skeptical.
“Really, Hazel. It’ll be all right. Given the amount of work we have at the center, I’m going to be far too busy while he’s here to dwell on the past.”
As if to prove Bria’s point, the emergency on-call phone began to buzz. “See?” Bria said, holding up the phone. “I barely have time to spend with you.”
Hazel still looked unconvinced. “If you need a little time to process all this, Bria, I could take that call for you.”
“Absolutely not,” said Bria. “Duty calls, and anyway, it’s your turn for a day off.” She opened the phone. “Multnomah Falls Midwives,” she said with a firm glance at Hazel that brooked no further negotiation. “How can I help?”
Even though it meant the end of her relaxing Saturday morning, Bria was grateful for the emergency call. Work had always been a refuge for her.
After the breakup with Eliot, she’d realized how desperate she was to escape her father’s control. But she’d also realized how much she wanted to do something meaningful with her life. Calvin had been scornful of her decision to become a midwife. In his mind, midwifery wasn’t as prestigious as becoming a surgeon. But Bria hadn’t wanted prestige. Her mother had passed away when she was in college, and she’d found herself feeling drawn to the bond between mothers and newborns. There was something about the experience of birth that made her feel close to all mothers in general, and to her own mother in particular.
She couldn’t imagine any career as rewarding as midwifery. Birth was a sacred ritual, shared by every human being. It was all the more meaningful if she could help women give birth in their homes, with their loved ones close at hand.
But babies had a way of coming in their own time, rather than when they were expected. And the Schroeder family’s fifth baby was about to make its way into the world nearly a month early.
Bria raced to the Schroeder house, trying to keep her car within the speed limit. She’d asked Hazel to call for an ambulance to St. Raymond’s before she left. She didn’t anticipate any difficulties, as Mrs. Schroeder’s pregnancy had progressed without complication—until now. Still, with a premature baby, it was best not to take any chances.
Mrs. Schroeder was inclined to agree. “It’s too early,” she said, her face worried as she clasped Bria’s hand.
“Don’t be afraid,” Bria replied. “I’ve delivered babies earlier than this. We’re going to be fine. But for now, I need you to start breathing, just as we practiced.” She pulled back the sheets to begin her assessment and asked Mr. Schroeder to bring more towels.
As Bria felt for the baby’s head, she felt a thick loop fall into her hand. Her blood ran cold. A prolapsed umbilical cord. She took in a long, slow breath, trying to steady herself. Thank goodness Hazel had already called the ambulance. Even now, she was relieved to hear sirens in the distance.
“What is it?” asked Mrs. Schroeder, noting Bria’s worried expression. “What’s wrong?”
Adrenaline rushed through Bria’s veins, as it always did during a medical emergency. “The umbilical cord has dropped past the cervix and is coming out before the baby’s head.”
“Is that bad?” said Mr. Schroeder, who had returned.
“It’s something we need to take care of right away,” said Bria. A prolapsed cord was a serious emergency. Mrs. Schroeder needed to be transported to the hospital for a cesarean section as soon as possible.
Bria adopted her calmest demeanor. “Hear those sirens outside? Since Mrs. Schroeder went into labor so early, my colleague Hazel called an ambulance before I left. And that’s a very good thing, as now we do need to get Mrs. Schroeder to the hospital right away. If you’ll be so kind as to head downstairs to let them in, Mr. Schroeder, then I can help Mrs. Schroeder until the paramedics arrive.” Mr. Schroeder nodded and rushed downstairs.
“Now,” said Bria to her patient, “it’s very important that you don’t push. We need to keep the baby’s head from pressing against the umbilical cord. I’m going to hold the baby away from the cord until we can get you to the hospital, where they’ll do a cesarean.”
Mrs. Schroeder looked at her with pleading eyes. “But you’ll stay with me until then?”
Bria smiled. “All the way.”
The ambulance would have Mrs. Schroeder at the hospital within minutes, but until then, her only option was to manually push the baby’s head away from the umbilical cord until they arrived.
She explained this to Mrs. Schroeder, who grimaced. “I hope you’ve got strong arms.”
“I do,” Bria replied, with a wink. “But we’ll both have to be strong now. Your job is to keep doing your breathing, stay relaxed and not push. Meanwhile, I’m just going to hold the baby in position for...for as long as it takes.”
Bria kept her right arm extended, as still and straight as she could make it. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold her arm like that. The answer, she supposed, was for as long as was necessary. No matter how tired her arm was, she wasn’t going to let go of the baby’s head.
Though how the paramedics were going to get her and Mrs. Schroeder down the stairs was a mystery.
One thing at a time, Bria told herself. Focus on holding the baby’s head for now. You can worry about the stairs later.
She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Mrs. Schroeder she had strong arms. She was a midwife; upper-arm strength came with the territory. But as a bead of sweat formed on her forehead, she couldn’t help thinking that the sooner the paramedics reached them, the better.
She could feel the baby’s pulse through the umbilical cord. The steady throb reassured her that the baby wasn’t in distress. If she could keep holding the baby in position until the cesarean was performed, all would be well. Probably.
A clatter on the stairs informed her that help had arrived. “Prolapsed cord,” Bria called as they entered the room. “I’m holding the head away from the cord.”
“Great,” said the first paramedic in the room. “Keep doing that.” She addressed Mrs. Schroeder. “Ma’am, we need to get you down these stairs and out the door. So my colleagues and I are going to lift you onto this stretcher while your midwife keeps making sure the baby is getting enough oxygen.”
“What does that mean?” asked Mrs. Schroeder.
“It means the three of you—mother, baby and midwife—are all about to go for a ride,” the paramedic replied.
Climbing onto the stretcher between the knees of a pregnant woman, while holding a baby in position and keeping her right arm perfectly still, was a gymnastic feat Bria hadn’t known she was capable of. The paramedics helped her find her footing as she focused on holding the baby’s head in place.
“Don’t be afraid, Mrs. Schroeder,” Bria said as the paramedics lifted the stretcher and then tilted it to begin their descent down the stairs. “The good thing about going down these stairs is that it puts you exactly in the position we want. We need to keep your head below your feet to keep the pressure off the cord, right up until we can get baby out.” That part was true enough: with a prolapsed cord, Mrs. Schroeder would need to give birth in Trendelenburg position, with her head tilted below her feet. It was just that the Trendelenburg position didn’t typically involve mother and midwife both being hoisted into the air, the midwife unable to move one arm and clinging to the stretcher with the other for dear life.
Her right arm was aching now, but she didn’t dare move it. By the time they arrived at the landing, both she and Mrs. Schroeder were covered in sweat.
“The hard part’s over now,” she said to Mrs. Schroeder. “Compared to getting down those stairs, driving to the hospital and getting baby out safely will be a breeze.” Her arm was starting to go numb, but Bria barely felt it, bolstered by the adrenaline and the knowledge that they would be at St. Raymond’s within minutes. She could hold this baby’s head for five more minutes. She could hold it forever, if that was what it took to see it delivered safely.
Fortunately, forever wasn’t necessary. The ambulance reached St. Raymond’s in record time. The paramedics placed the stretcher holding Bria and Mrs. Schroeder onto a gurney, and they burst through the doors of the obstetrics department before Bria even had time to take note of her surroundings. She began shouting out the medical history to the obstetrician on duty the moment they entered the room.
“Multigravida in preterm labor, cervix dilated to—” And her voice faltered.
Because the obstetrician on duty was Eliot.
Eliot was already working at St. Raymond’s.
As focused as she’d been on her patient while on the way to hospital, she hadn’t had a moment to consider that she might be about to run into Eliot for the first time in six years. But now he stood in front of her. Just over six feet of tall, dark and handsome. His hair, so dark it was almost black, fell over his forehead, a few wayward strands brushing against familiar brown eyes. His body had always been lithe and graceful, but from the way his white coat outlined his shoulders, he seemed to have put on more muscle than when she’d last known him. His jaw was a firm, contoured line, but his lips were as alluring as she remembered.
Her traitorous heart was performing backflips. She’d tried so hard to convince both herself and Hazel that she was Completely Fine with Eliot working at St. Raymond’s, but now it was obvious that she Completely Wasn’t. Now that he was here, inches away from her, his body towering over her and smelling faintly of cinnamon, just as it always had, and his eyes were glowering at her with an intensity she couldn’t recall ever seeing in them before.
“Well?” he barked. His voice brought her back into the room. “How long has she been having contractions? What’s the fetal heart rate?”
Bria tried to respond, but it was as though the words couldn’t get past her throat. She knew what she wanted to say—and her lips actually formed the words—but somehow, she couldn’t get them out.
“Let’s go,” he said, a note of impatience entering his voice. She couldn’t exactly blame him. She wanted to speak—she’d hadn’t thought, that morning, that she would have any trouble speaking to him—but now, with all six feet two of him in the flesh beside her, she couldn’t seem to find her voice.
He turned away, clearly exasperated. “We’ll begin anesthesia immediately.” Numerous nurses bustled about the room, preparing for surgery, drawing blood and setting up monitors for mother and baby.
Her right arm was very tired. She tried to distract herself from the numbing sensation spreading from her fingers to her elbow by thinking about other things. Clouds. Happy dogs. Coffee with Hazel. Exes that suddenly reappeared without warning.
She would not have moved her hand from the baby’s head under any circumstances, but she would be damned if she failed in her duty as a midwife in front of Eliot Wright. Whatever else he thought of her, she was determined to make him see that she was competent and professional. She gritted her teeth and held her arm stiff and motionless.
She was so focused on keeping still that she didn’t notice that Eliot had returned to her side.
“The baby’s heart tones on the monitor look reassuring,” he said. Bria let out a careful breath of relief at the news.
“Then there’s no fetal distress?” She was pleased that she’d recovered her voice. As long as they kept their focus on the patient, she should be fine.
“So far, so good. You’ve done well. You’ll only need to hold the head for a few minutes more.”
Bria kept her arm straight as Eliot began the cesarean. Just a little more, she told herself. You can make it through this. Just a little bit longer.
Whether she was referring to her rapidly numbing arm, or standing near Eliot, she wasn’t quite sure.
When he finally pulled the baby from Mrs. Schroeder’s womb—a girl, with a healthy set of lungs—Bria felt the surge of tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes with every birth. She eased her arm back, rubbing her elbow to bring back circulation. For just a moment, she was lost in joy and relief as the other nurses patted her on the back and Eliot’s familiar smile turned from the baby toward her.
But then their eyes met, and her heart sank as the smile faded from his face.
“Well,” he said, gruffly. “A fine job done by all.”
“Eliot,” she began, without even the faintest idea of what she could say next.
“Excuse me,” he cut in. “I need to see to other patients.” And without another word, he left the room, leaving Bria with a numb feeling that had nothing to do with the stiffness in her arm.
