“I don’t know how. I talk about it all the time.” But never to Lark.
“I guess I’m so focused on the patients.” Lark realized even as she uttered the excuse that it was the wrong thing to say. “I haven’t heard you mention it.”
“And speaking of patients,” Marsha said, shooting looks at both Jessa and Chelsea. “We’d better get in and check on them.”
All three of her coworkers walked away, abandoning Lark at the desk with her cake and her disappointment. Her efforts to make friends with the other nurses these last few months had all been a bust. Marsha was top of the social order in the ICU and she didn’t like Lark.
Not knowing what to do with the birthday cake that Marsha couldn’t eat, Lark took it down to the surgical floor. She knew her former coworkers would appreciate the treat. Leaving the cake box on the desk of her friend Julie with a brief note explaining what had happened, Lark headed to the stairs.
One floor down from the surgery floor was the maternity ward. Lark had worked at the hospital for three years without ever setting foot on the floor where children were born until a fateful night three months ago when her niece was born. Estranged from her sister these last four years Lark hadn’t been able to tell the medical staff when Skye was due, but they’d been able to surmise she was about twenty-eight or twenty-nine weeks along.
Reaching the third-floor landing, Lark headed to the door that would take her into the maternity ward. She put her hand on the door and pushed it open an inch, finding her way blocked by a broad shoulder clad in a navy blue cotton shirt. Dark brown hair in desperate need of a cut curled upward against the shirt’s collar.
The tall, ruggedly built man on the other side of the door was Keaton Holt, brother of the man Lark’s sister had run off. She seldom encountered him around Royal. He spent most of his time at the family ranch and only made occasional visits into town. She usually heard about those from her father, who complained every time Keaton showed up at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
All that had changed after the tornado ripped through town and a pregnant Skye had been discovered in her overturned rental car.
Keaton was talking on his cell, fully engaged in conversation, and hadn’t noticed her presence. Lark would have to interrupt in order to get past. It would mean she’d catch Keaton’s attention and have to brave the intensity of his sharp blue gaze that seemed to see straight through her.
As Lark debated retreating back down the stairs and avoiding Keaton altogether, his words floated through the narrow crack between the door and frame.
“That’s why I demanded we get the DNA test run. You’re Grace’s grandmother. You shouldn’t be limited to staring at her through the NICU window.”
“Of course Grace is his daughter. He and Skye were madly in love when they left Royal.” Keaton’s voice rang with arrogant confidence that chafed Lark’s already frayed nerves. “He chose her over his family. And yeah, he’s a stubborn jerk, but if things had ended between them, we’d know.”
Lark leaned as far forward as she dared, her curiosity getting the better of her. Day after day she’d sat beside her sister’s unconscious body, desperate to know what Skye had been doing in the years since she left town. Did Keaton have the answers?
“I don’t know where Jake is.” And Keaton sounded far from happy about that. For the last few months, Lark had rebelled against the possibility that Jake was Grace’s father. He’d made no attempt to get in contact with Skye in the three months since she was hurt by the tornado that had devastated Royal. That was why Lark had resisted the DNA test as long as she had. What sort of man abandons his child and the woman he loves? A no-good Holt, that’s who.
“I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’ve called his company several times, but his assistant has given me the runaround. From some of his other staff I was able to find out that he’s out of the country, but they refused to give me any more information, so I have no idea where he’s gone.”
Until this moment Lark hadn’t realized that Jake didn’t know about Skye. She’d just assumed that he hadn’t rushed to Skye’s side because their relationship was over. Skye wore neither an engagement nor a wedding ring, and her fingers hadn’t borne any telltale band of paleness that indicated a ring had recently been removed. Given how passionate their love had been when they first left Royal, Lark couldn’t believe Jake and Skye had been together four years without making some legal commitment to each other. Especially after Skye became pregnant.