West Wing to Maternity Wing!(10)

This was where he could make it easy on her and tell her he'd read her  notes. But he didn't want to, he wanted to hear her say the words. 'What  do you mean, you were sick?'

She shook her head, a watery sheen across her eyes. She gave his hand a  little squeeze. Why did she have to tell him here? In this hospital  canteen in the middle of the night? Why couldn't they be sitting  somewhere in private, looking out over that wonderful cove?

She took a deep breath. 'I had breast cancer.' There, she'd said it. The  words that no one liked to say out loud. The words that people normally  whispered around about her.

His face didn't change. And she almost wished she hadn't told him. But  she had to. She had to make him understand why this baby was so  important to her. Why this baby was her only chance.

Then he did it. The one thing he used to do all the time. He rubbed his  thumb lightly along the palm of her hand. The softest of touches. The  most delicate of touches. Like he'd used to do when they'd had a  stressful day on the boat. When there had been too many patients and not  enough staff. When they hadn't been able to treat everyone they'd  wanted to. When patients had got really sick, and some had even died.

His face was serious now. And in amongst all this madness-the press pack  outside, the security staff everywhere, him looking after the First  Daughter-she knew she had made the right decision. Linc was one of the  good guys. He would help her. She could feel it.

He cleared his throat. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

She sighed. 'How could I tell you that, Linc? I went home for a holiday.  I had the first proper shower in months and felt a lump under my  breast. And I'd no idea how long it had been there. Two days later I had  a fine-needle biopsy that told me I had cancer.' Her finger reached up  and twiddled one of her long red strands of hair, her other hand still  intertwined with his. 'I'd only known you six months. You were on a boat  on the Amazon, thousands of miles away. How could I phone and tell you I  had cancer and needed treatment?' She flung her arms in the air in an  act of exasperation. 'Let's face it, Linc, I was your yearly summer  fling.'

He winced at the harshness of her words. So she had heard about his  reputation. He'd always hoped no one had mentioned that fact that each  year he'd had an affair with a colleague on the boat. He wanted to shout  out, Of course you should have told me! But he understood the futility  of the answer. Amy was right. They had only known each other a few  months. And life on the Amazon was all-consuming-you lived in each  other's pockets and had very little time off. Everything was about the  work and the people. Lots of medics had relationships on the Amazon  boats, but when they got back to normal life the relationships tended to  fall apart as they found they had nothing in common any more. What  would he have done if she'd told him? Left the boat? Gone to find her?  Would she even have wanted him there?

His anger from earlier felt misplaced. If the shoe had been on the other  foot and he was one who had been sick, would he have told Amy?

He wasn't sure and he hated to admit that. Would he really have wanted  to put that responsibility onto her? He would have hated it if she'd  felt obliged to help him out of an innate sense of duty, especially when  he didn't know how she felt about him.

His lips tightened and he gave her hand another squeeze. 'So what  happened, Amy?' Although he couldn't help it, his eyes went  automatically to her breasts. The professional in him knew better than  that. But the personal element kept distracting him. He'd had his hands  all over those beautiful breasts. And as for the pink rosy nipples …

He saw her shift uncomfortably, her hands rising to her chest. 'I had a  mastectomy on one side.' The words were simple, but they masked how they  made her feel. What would Linc think of her body shape now if he could  see it? The two of them had danced naked around his little cabin and the  memories of that now could make her cry. She could never do that now.  Never feel that confident in her body.

'Really?' Now he couldn't avert his eyes because, if she'd had a  mastectomy, it wasn't apparent. And he'd only flicked over the treatment  plan-he hadn't read it in detail. 'Did you have a reconstruction?'         

     



 

Her hands self-consciously stayed where they were. And under them she  could feel the long-term results of her disease-full, soft breast on one  side and a gap on the other side, currently filled with a pale pink  silicone breast enhancer. 'I meant to but, no, not yet,' she murmured.

His brow crinkled. 'So what stopped you?' She was a beautiful young  woman. It seemed strange she hadn't completed her treatment and moved on  to the next part of her life. Most young women he'd ever met, and it  was only a few, who'd had breast cancer had had some kind of  reconstruction done at a later date.

Amy ran her hands over her baby bulge. 'I haven't really had time to get around to it. But it's in my plans.'

Lincoln's eyes fell again to her stomach. His brain was working  overtime, trying to remember dates. If she'd had a cancer diagnosis just  after leaving the boat, then undergone surgery and treatment, could she  have had five years cancer-free before falling pregnant?

No. It didn't add up. According to his calculations she just fell short.  Lots of physicians were wary about the effect pregnancy hormones could  have on cancer cells. Was it really wise for her to be pregnant? What  age was Amy? Thirty-two? She could have waited another year before doing  this. Had someone pushed her into it?

He remembered the empty next-of-kin box in her notes and tried to pull  his professional head back into place. 'Do you have a husband? A  boyfriend I can call for you?'

She shook her head. 'It's just me, Linc.'

The enormity of the words hit him. She was alone. And while one part of  his heart wanted to suddenly break into song, he immediately felt angry.  Who had left a woman like this, alone and pregnant, after she'd already  been through breast cancer?

He stood up, his voice rising in pitch, 'What do you mean, you're alone? Where's the baby's father? Why isn't he here with you?'

'It's just me,' she repeated, the words almost whispered. Most days she  was fine with this. Most days she was confident and sure of herself.  Confident in her abilities to be a single parent and to stay on top of  her previous diagnosis. But sometimes, just sometimes, particularly when  someone made a comment around her, she realised the enormity of the  task in front of her. If this baby was born prematurely then she might  have to deal with a whole host of complications. How would she feel  then? Would she still feel confident in her abilities?

Then there was Linc, standing in front of her and right now looking like  her knight in shining armour. But what if he refused to help? What if,  over the last six years, he'd met someone, fallen in love and now had a  whole host of other responsibilities that meant he wouldn't be  comfortable helping her?

She raised her eyes to meet his. 'What about you, Linc? Are you on your  own, or are you playing happy families somewhere with a wife and a  houseful of kids? Is there a real Mrs Adams?'

She held her breath. Why was this answer so important?

Linc looked momentarily thrown by the question. A flickering parade of a  variety of short-term lovers passed in the blink of an eye, ending with  an image of an irate brunette. He hesitated then answered, 'No. There's  no Mrs Adams. It's just me.'

Amy could almost feel the relief flush over her body. Then curiosity got  the better of her. 'So what happened? Did the playboy never meet his  match? Haven't you met Miss Right?'

The words hung in the air. She saw a flash of something in his eyes-was  it annoyance? Linc looked uncomfortable, as if he didn't know how to  answer that question.

'I thought I had. I was engaged a few years ago to girl called Polly, a  pharmaceutical rep. We even had the wedding planned. But in the end it  just didn't feel right. So I had to end it.' He gave a rueful smile.  'And it wasn't pretty.'

Amy sat back in her chair. 'What happened?' She was fighting the  horrible sensation that was creeping across her skin. Lincoln had been  engaged. It made her feel sick.

'I called it off just after we'd paid the deposit for the reception, the  photographer and the cake. I came home to find my apartment cleared out  and samples of wedding cake smeared into my suits.'

Amy's eyes widened. 'Wow. I guess you weren't popular, then. The playboy struck out.'

He paused, stopping his mouth from saying the first words that came into his brain.

Amy Carson had shaken him to the core. He'd been a fool, with a playboy  reputation that he hadn't ever meant to earn. It had only been when  she'd never come back that he'd realised how special she'd been.         

     



 

She was joking, he could tell by her tone, but the playboy jibe had cut  deeper than he liked, leaving him feeling distinctly ill at ease. It was  too late at night for conversations like these. He looked at the  half-eaten plate of food in front of her. 'Do you want anything else?'