Cassie Miles - Mommy Midwife

“No way,” she said to the phone. What did it take to get through to this man? This had to be the twentieth time that he’d proposed.

When she was four months pregnant, he’d been back in Denver, and she’d told him the news. He had the right to know that he’d fathered a child and that it was her intention to keep the baby and raise it on her own. At age thirty, her biological clock had been clanging like a fire siren. She wanted this baby with all her heart, and she’d made it crystal clear to Troy that she would not require child support and would allow him all the visitation rights he wanted.

His response had been to drop to one knee and propose. She should have known he’d take responsibility. The man was a career marine, and he was all about honor and duty.

Short-sighted was what she called that attitude. Her grandma always said, “Marry in haste and regret it at leisure.” Olivia had thanked Troy for being considerate, but she’d told him no, absolutely not, no.

Her refusal didn’t stop him from proposing again. And again. And again. Every time she saw him or heard from him, he popped the question. He’d sent a dozen roses on her birthday—a date she hadn’t told him but he’d somehow figured out. In the flowers was a card that said, Marry me, Olivia.

Then he’d started sending baby gifts. A tiny Yankees baseball cap, a hand-crocheted blanket, a teddy bear and a three-wheel jogging stroller that was perfect for the mountains. If they’d been in love, she would have been touched. But they weren’t.

She hit the delete button.

The last message from Troy said, “I’m guessing that you’re busy, probably delivering somebody else’s baby. See you soon.”

That sounded like he was giving up. Though she should have been glad to avoid another awkward encounter, she felt a twinge of disappointment. Even if she wasn’t going to marry the man, she had to admit that his attention made her feel special.

The final message on her cell was from her mother. “Your father and I just arrived at your sister’s house in Denver, and we’re exhausted. The flight from Cairo took forever, and then we had a four-hour briefing in D.C., which was dreadfully boring. We’re very much looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Call in the morning, dear.”

Olivia groaned. Her globe-hopping diplomat parents had probably rearranged the schedules of kings, sheiks and ambassadors to be here for the birth of their first grandchild. This was a grand event, and they had certain expectations, ranging from the name of the baby to their insistence that she check into a hospital to give birth—a demand that was totally insulting. Olivia was a midwife, after all. An expert when it came to delivering babies. Hadn’t she just handled the birth of triplets? Still, her mom claimed to know better.

She tucked her phone into her oversize purse and rose from the bench. As she stepped off the curb, she caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. And she heard a sound—a mechanical, clicking noise. A gun being cocked?

Startled, she turned her head and peered into the scraggly stand of pine trees beyond the parking lot lights. No one was there. The lot was deserted. Listening hard, she told herself that she’d imagined the noise. It was only the snap of a twig, nothing to be afraid of.

A group of nurses emerged from the front door of the hospital complex. One of them waved to her and shouted congratulations on the triplets. She waved back as she hurried across the pavement and dived behind the wheel of her SUV.

She locked the doors and sat for a moment, catching her breath. Though she hadn’t actually seen anyone, she still had the sense of being watched. This wasn’t the first time. For the past several days, she’d been on edge. Was paranoia a side effect of raging hormones?

After a struggle with the seat belt, she started her SUV and drove out of the lot. Maybe she was nervous because she felt vulnerable in her pregnant body. If attacked, how would she defend herself? She couldn’t break into a sprint. Nor could she throw a karate chop. A high-flying kick was out of the question. The only way she could fight back was to sit on her attacker and crush him to death with her massive belly.

The headlights of her SUV cut through the thick forest on the way to her house. Nobody is after me. Why would they be? She wasn’t a woman of mystery. Her life was an open book—a fairly dull book, the kind you read to put yourself to sleep. Nothing terrible is going to happen. Her overactive imagination was simply a reflection of her fears about having this baby. Unnecessary fears. She had everything under control.

The couple with the triplets had been the last clients she intended to see for a while. She’d arranged with another midwife to handle her practice for the next three months. After that, Olivia would ease back into a regular schedule. Handling a newborn and working wouldn’t be easy, but she was better prepared than most new mothers and had great connections for child care.

She’d almost talked herself into a state of calm when she pulled into the wide gravel driveway outside her detached garage. On the other side of her withered attempt at an herb garden was her two-bedroom, ranch-style cabin. Before she turned off the engine, she noticed that the light in her bedroom was on. Had she forgotten to turn it off this morning? It didn’t seem likely. When she’d left the house this morning, it was already daylight. Had she remembered to lock the doors? Was somebody inside, waiting for her?

Her fingers tensed on the steering wheel as she considered driving away and getting help. She’d look like a fool if there was nothing wrong, but it was better to be ridiculous than to take risks.

A black SUV drove up beside her and parked. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. Her first impulse was to throw her car into Reverse and zoom away, but she didn’t have time. The instant the SUV parked, a man got out—a tall man with neat-trimmed black hair and a square jaw. It was Troy.

He strolled up to her driver’s side window, and she lowered it. She was glad to see him. If there was an intruder in her house, she could do worse than having a marine to defend her.

“The light in my bedroom window,” she said. “I’m sure I didn’t leave it on this morning.”

“Stay in the car.” His easygoing grin disappeared. “If there’s trouble, I want you to drive away fast. Call 911.”

She didn’t like being chased away from her own house, but she nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Take care of the situation.”

“Wait.” She detached the house key from her key chain and handed it to him. “You need this to get inside.”

“Not really.”

“Please don’t kick my door down.”

He pocketed the key, pushed aside his tan windbreaker and drew an automatic weapon from a belt holster. His approach to the house was quick and stealthy, keeping to the shadows. Why was he carrying a gun?

* * *

A PPROACHING THE CABIN , Troy forgot about pleading his case for marriage to Olivia and went into warrior mode. After fourteen years in special ops and military intelligence, he was always on high alert. The world was full of threats. His job was to neutralize the danger.

First, he needed to clear the perimeter around her house. Being careful not to walk in front of windows and present himself as a target, he held his weapon at the ready as he circled the rectangular log cabin with the shake shingle roof.

He’d been to this house only once before, and that was a brief visit. He knew that Olivia had zero security. Any of the windows could be easily opened, and the door locks could be picked by a third-grader with a paper clip.

When he was satisfied that no one was lurking outside the house, he prepared to enter. This was the tricky part. If the intruders waited inside for an ambush, they’d have weapons trained on the door. Troy would have preferred going through a window but the casements were chest-high and climbing through would require both hands. Remembering her wish that he not destroy her property, he used the key, shoved the front door open and stepped back, using the solid log wall as a shield.