West Wing to Maternity Wing!(3)

Her hands went back to guarding her stomach. Her precious bundle. Her  one and only chance of motherhood. Was it so wrong to want the best man  in the land to look after her baby? More than that, someone she trusted.  Someone she'd seen battle the odds to help a baby survive. Someone who  refused to take no for an answer.

She wanted that. She wanted that for her baby-her son. Lincoln was the  best neonatologist she'd ever worked with. If anyone could help her with  an early delivery, it was him.

Her eyes drifted upwards. The cop was dealing with someone else now and  looking more and more agitated by the minute. The sun was obviously  getting to him too.

She looked around her. Security was everywhere. And no wonder. If  reports were to be believed, the President, the First Lady and the First  Daughter were currently in the hospital at the top of the hill. So how  was she going to get in there?

Amy took a deep breath. 'Officer, officer!'

The cop scowled at her and walked back along the cordon. 'You again. What do you want?'

'You never let me finish,' she panted as she pushed her stomach out as  far as she could. 'Lincoln Adams-he's my husband. So you have to let me  in to see him.'

Where had that come from?

Amy was starting to feel light-headed. She really needed a seat. Oh,  boy. She was definitely going to be caught out now. The cop squinted at  her, 'You do know I'll radio up and check, don't you?' It was almost as  if he could read her panicking mind and was giving her a last-minute  opportunity to give up the madness, admit that she'd lied and  retreat-never to be seen again.

But Amy was determined. She would see Lincoln, no matter what. She would  get him to look after her son, no matter what. She drew herself up to  her whole five feet five inches and stared him straight in the eye. 'Can  you tell Dr Adams that his wife, Amy Carson, is here?'

'Different names, huh?' The cop eyed her suspiciously as he lifted his  shoulder to speak into the radio attached to the front of his protective  vest.

Amy's hands rested on the steel grating in front of her. Her eyes  drifted across the nearby ocean. It was beautiful here. But the  Californian heat seemed to be suffocating her. She could feel the sun  beating down, making her itchy and scratchy. In fact, her whole body  felt itchy. She pulled her smock top away from her body in an attempt to  get some air circulating.

She blinked. A wave of nausea swept over her. Her head was beginning to  spin. Suddenly watching the boats bobbing up and down in the cove didn't  seem like such a good idea. The momentum of the waves was making her  feel worse, her legs turning to jelly, and little patches of black had  appeared at the edge of her vision …

'Ma'am! Ma'am, are you okay? Quick! Someone get me an ambulance!



'Dr Adams!'

The voice cut across the emergency department like a siren. Lincoln  spluttered his coffee all down the front of his scrubs and onto his open  white coat. He glanced at the cup of lukewarm coffee. His first since  yesterday and he wasn't going to get to drink it. He tossed the cup in  the trash and turned towards the voice.

James Turner. Head of the President's security detail. Not again. This  man was beginning to haunt his dreams-both at night and during the day.

But something was wrong. He had someone-a woman-in his arms. Linc strode  towards him as James Turner unceremoniously dumped the woman on top of a  gurney behind one of the sets of curtains. Beads of sweat dripped down  his forehead and nose. Linc wondered if he'd managed to change out of  his obligatory black suit at all since he'd arrived in Pelican Cove.

'I think I found something belonging to you, Dr Adams.'

'To me? I don't think so.' Lincoln shook his head and moved over to the gurney.

'Really?' James Turner raised an eyebrow. 'You mean you don't recognise your own wife?'

'My what?'

'I knew it. Another scam artist. It's ridiculous the lengths some of  these reporters will go to. Don't worry, I'll get rid of her.'         

     



 

Linc moved nearer the woman on the gurney. Her head and body were turned  away from him but from the back the curly red hair looked like someone  else's. Someone he'd known five years ago. Only then she'd spent most of  the time with it tied up in a ponytail, not spread across her shoulders  and back, like it was now.

He leaned closer, then started. Yip. That definitely was a very pregnant  abdomen. At least six months. His eyes flickered to her face. Pale  skin, flawless, almost translucent, with a faint sprinkling of freckles  across her nose. And she was out cold. And James Turner was trying to  pull her upwards, obviously thinking she was faking.

'Stop!'

This time his voice was every bit as loud as James's had been.

The cold, hard stare he was getting used to met him again.

'Get your hands off her.' Lincoln walked around to the other side of the  gurney. He had to be sure. He had to be sure his eyes were not  deceiving him.

No. They weren't. This was Amy Carson. This was his Amy Carson. The one  he'd spent six hot, sweaty months with on the Amazon aid boat. Spending  the days looking after a range of newborn ailments and spending the  nights lost in the sea of her red hair. And he could absolutely  authenticate it was her natural colour. This was definitely Amy Carson.  The same one that had asked for help only forty-eight hours ago.

A very pregnant Amy Carson.

'What happened?' he asked James, as he spotted the crumpled envelope at  the top of her bag. No one usually carried an envelope that size-not  unless they were carrying their hospital notes.

'I got radioed from the checkpoint. She was apparently making a scene,  saying she had to see you. The cop on duty had her sussed the moment he  saw her. The paparazzi have been trying every angle to get up here.  Never thought they would resort to this, though. It's really taking it a  bit too far. She collapsed down at the checkpoint a few minutes ago.'

Lincoln stuck his head from behind the curtain. 'Nancy, I need some help  in here. Can you get me a foetal monitor, please?' he shouted to one of  the E.R. nurses. He turned back angrily to James, 'And you? Go and get  David Fairgreaves and tell him I need him to see a patient.' He yanked  the cardiac monitor leads and BP cuff from the wall. 'Not every person  you meet is trying to get to the President, Mr Turner.' He touched the  pale face lying on the gurney. 'She-' his voice lowered automatically  '-was trying to get to me.'

He waited for James to depart and pulled the curtain tightly closed.

Amy Carson.

The girl he'd searched for. The only girl to ever get under his guard.  He'd almost resigned himself to the fact he wasn't going to see her  again. But here she was, in the flesh, right before his eyes again.  Except her flesh had expanded considerably, creating a nice neat bump  under her breasts. Nothing like how she'd looked the last night he'd  seen her as she'd danced about their cabin in her underwear, laughing  and teasing him. This time she wasn't laughing at all, she was out cold.  And she'd been looking for him. What on earth was going on?

Nancy came in, clutching the Doppler scanner, and grabbed a nearby  patient gown. She pushed Lincoln aside as he struggled with Amy's long  white smock top. 'Here, let me,' she said, as she deftly manoeuvred the  top out of place, replacing it with a Velcro-fastened green gown. Her  hand slid underneath the gown as she attached the leads from the cardiac  monitor and pressed the button to switch the machine on. Lincoln fixed  the cuff on Amy's arm and watched for a few seconds as it inflated.  Without saying a word, he already knew what it would say.

Nancy pulled a white plastic patient clothing bag from the locker and  folded Amy's white smock. Her eyes fell on the patient notes, still in  their battered envelope, currently lying at the bottom of the bed. 'Have  you read those yet?'

'No. I haven't had a chance. Why?'

'Do you know her?'

He hesitated. But Nancy was as sharp as a tack. 'Do you want me to get someone else to see her?'

Linc shook his head. 'I asked James Turner to go find David Fairgreaves  for me.' He waved his hand over Amy's stomach. 'I'm not an  obstetrician.'

Nancy picked up the notes beside the bed and started to write down her heart rate and BP. 'I need a name, Linc.'

Lincoln picked up the Doppler scanner and put a little gel on Amy's  stomach. He pulled her maternity trousers down slightly, adjusting them  to reach the area that he needed to. He slid the transducer across her  abdomen and after a few seconds he heard it. There. Thump, thump, thump.  Like a little butterfly beating its wings. The baby's heartbeat.  Whatever had happened to Amy, her baby was safe. A smile broke out  across his face.         

     



 

'Linc, I need a name-for the admission notes?'

'It's Amy. Amy Carson.'

'Do you know her date of birth?'

He blinked. 'August 14.'

Then he realised something. He picked up the buff-coloured folder from  the bottom of the gurney. 'You could have got all that from the notes  she brought with her.'

Nancy smiled. 'Yes, I could have. But the fact you know it makes it all  the more interesting why this young lady ran the gauntlet today to see  you. Pelican Cove just got a whole lot more interesting. Something you  want to tell me, Dr Adams?' Her eyes were fixed expectantly on Amy's  stomach-as if Lincoln had a closely guarded secret to tell. She leaned  over and stuck the tympanic thermometer in Amy's ear.