“But you’ll have it done before you leave.”
“Absolutely.” July wished she could bring herself to tell him the test wasn’t needed. After all, he was the only one she’d been with in over three years. But every time she tried to bring the words forth, tentacles of fear slipped around her, squeezing out the air.
She would tell David. In her own time. In her own way. But it had to be soon. Before the DNA test. Before he became even more suspicious. Before he found out the truth on his own….
David left July’s room, feeling more unsettled than when he’d walked through the door. Last night, while tossing and turning in bed, he’d considered his options. He could take July at her word that Adam wasn’t his son. But if she was lying, once she left Jackson Hole she’d be taking his flesh-and-blood out of his life forever. Or he could be proactive and find out for sure if that baby in the nursery was his.
He’d told himself her response to his request for a DNA test would reveal the truth. If she refused, it’d confirm his suspicions that she was lying. But she hadn’t refused. At least not directly.
“Can I help you, doctor?”
David looked into the eyes of Rachel Milligan, the emergency room nurse who’d been at July’s side during the delivery. He glanced around the nursery. “What are you doing here? This isn’t the E.R.”
“Very perceptive.” Rachel smiled. “It was slow downstairs so they sent me up here to help out.”
He didn’t know Rachel all that well—she’d only started in the E.R. several months ago—but like everyone in Jackson Hole, he knew of the tragedy that had rocked her world a couple of years earlier. Since she never mentioned the murder of her husband and death of her baby, he hadn’t felt comfortable bringing up the subject.
“What brings you to the nursery?”
David glanced around. He hadn’t consciously planned to make a detour to this part of the hospital but now that he was here he might as well assuage his curiosity. “I stopped by to check on the Greer baby.”
“Of course.” Rachel smiled and he suddenly realized with her honey-blond hair and big blue eyes she was quite pretty. But it didn’t matter. There was no sizzle. Not like there was with July….
While she was retrieving the baby, David scrubbed his hands and put on a gown, wondering why he insisted on tormenting himself. For all he knew this little boy was someone else’s son.
“Here he is.”
David held out his arms and Rachel placed the baby in them. Wrapped securely in a blue blanket and wearing a cap of the same color, the infant didn’t cry, just stared at him with serious eyes.
The rush of emotion took David by surprise as did the powerful connection he felt to this tiny baby. He tightened his arms protectively around the child he’d brought into the world barely twenty-four hours earlier. “He’s so light.”
“He’s small,” Rachel agreed, “but doing really well. Once we get his bilirubin down a bit more, he’ll be able to go home.”
Dave gazed at the tiny face, searching for a family resemblance. Other than the dark hair—now covered—the baby could belong to anyone.
“I only wish the Simpson baby was doing as well.” Although they were alone in this part of the nursery, Rachel spoke in a low tone. “It looks like she’ll have to go home with the feeding tube. Kayla started crying this morning when the doctor told her.”
David had grown up with Kayla Simpson and her husband. This long-awaited pregnancy had been trouble-free, but their little girl had been born with several congenital anomalies. “Has Lexi been up to talk with them?”#p#分页标题#e#
Since joining the hospital staff five years ago, the social worker had proven to be a valuable member of the hospital team.
“She’ll be here once she’s done in the ICU.” A look of sadness swept across the RN’s face. “She’s talking to the Evans family about organ donation.”
The six months David had spent at Hennepin in Minneapolis had made him appreciate just how different it was to practice emergency medicine at a large trauma center versus a community hospital like this one. Here, other than tourists, most of the people he treated were ones he knew. Tim Evans, a gregarious high school baseball coach, belonged to his church. The guy had taken a turn too fast on his cycle and had cracked his un-helmeted head on the concrete.
“A life ends.” David dropped his gaze to the baby and stroked the soft cheek with his finger. “Another begins.”
When he looked up and saw the pain in Rachel’s eyes he realized the simple observation had opened an old wound. But before he could say another word, Rachel’s expression cleared and she lifted a hand in greeting. “Here’s Lexi now.”