Tina Beckett - A Christmas Kiss With Her Ex-Army Doc / Second Chance With The Surgeon

This Santa had no place in her life. Not now. And probably not ever.

WHAT THE HELL had possessed him to pull Hollee toward him like that the other day? The thought had rolled round and round his thoughts until he was dizzy.

He’d been trying to help the photographer, he reasoned.

Sure he had. What he’d really tried to do was get his hands on her, like he’d been itching to do all afternoon. Watching her help those kids, her warm smile as each one of them passed by, had worn away at him. Chipping away like a lumberjack preparing to fell a tree.

And sure enough, the second his fingers had cupped the curve of her hip, he could hear the distant shout of Timber! as he’d come crashing to the ground.

He wanted her. Wanted to toss her onto the nearest bed and do what he hadn’t gotten to do ten years ago. He wondered if maybe he should sleep with her to get it out of his system, but that was not going to happen. The last thing he needed was to make a messy history even messier. No one, except he and Hollee, knew what had happened that night, although he sometimes wondered if Ava had somehow guessed, since she was the one who’d pointed out the mistletoe.

He’d been hard-pressed to hide his emotions after telling her the kiss had been a mistake. But, at the time, he’d felt Jacob had been right. So he’d made the break as definite as possible.

He’d have to be just as adept now, although there was no need. Not anymore. She wasn’t interested in him. The way she’d sped out of the room after that photo told him all he needed to know.

He glanced at his watch. He was a few minutes early to his first appointment but decided to see if his patient was in her room. If he immersed himself in work, he could wipe everything else from his mind.

The phone on his hip buzzed, and without stopping what he was doing, he shifted it so he could see the screen. Hollee?

What the hell? It was almost as if she’d known he was thinking about her.

Pulling the phone free, he put it to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I need you down here.”

“What?” His brain stalled for a second, almost missing her next words.

“We have a problem in Maternity. Can you come?”

His thoughts sidestepped back to reality, although he couldn’t imagine why they would need him. But she wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent. “I’ll be there in three.”

Hanging up, he changed his route and headed for the elevator.

He reached the third floor and exited, glancing in both directions before seeing Hollee waving at him from the end of the hallway. She looked pretty upset. “What is it?”

“We have a situation. A newborn with a cleft palate. The mom came in with full-blown eclampsia and gave birth. She won’t believe us when we say it can be fixed. If we can’t get her blood pressure down, we’re in danger of losing her.”

Now that he listened, he did hear a disturbance down the hall. “Is her obstetrician here?”

“He’s in there. But he thought if you came, you could explain the repair procedure to her and it might calm her down.”

“And the baby?”

“She’s in the nursery. Every time she caught sight of her, she just started up again. The husband is in there, but he’s not much help. He almost passed out during the delivery.”

“Okay. Can you bring the baby but stay just outside the door? Let me talk to her, and then we’ll go from there.”

She touched his arm. “Thank you. You’ll understand when you see her.”

Clancy knocked on the door she’d indicated and then pushed it open. Dr. Brouchet waved him over. “Marilyn, I’ve asked our plastic surgeon to talk to you about Sara, okay?”

The wailing he’d heard outside the door decreased in volume, becoming pained whimpers instead. The young woman was curled in on herself but shifted her eyes to look up at him. Her face was wet with tears.

“Hi, Marilyn, I’m Dr. de Oliveira. Congratulations on your new little one.” No answer, but the crying had stopped, so she was listening. “I hear that she might need a little surgery. I haven’t seen her yet, but I assure you I can help her.”

“It’s my fault.” The soft voice was filled with a terrible conviction that tugged at his gut.

“Why do you say that?” He didn’t want to jump to offer platitudes before he knew the situation.

“I… I…”

Her husband, who’d been standing silently beside her, touched her shoulder. “Tell him. It’s okay.” His voice was shaky—hesitant—like he knew something awful was coming.

“I—I was on drugs…heroin…when I got pregnant. Only I was too high to realize I wasn’t having a period.” She glanced at her husband. “We both were. And—Oh, God ! It suddenly hit me, and I took a test. Afterward, we both went to rehab and got clean, but it was too…too late. My baby is paying for what I did. For what we did.” Tears spilled over onto the pillow, but the hysteria wasn’t there, like it had been.

Unfortunately, she was right. Addiction of any type during the first trimester could interfere with fetal development. But the fact that they’d both quit—had gotten help—showed how much they cared about this baby.

“She wasn’t born addicted, because you both did the right thing. That’s huge,” he said. “And from what I’ve been told, she just has a cleft palate. Something very, very repairable.”

Marilyn blinked up at him. “You promise?”

“I’ve asked the nurse to bring her, so I can look at her with you in the room. Is that okay? I’ll give you my honest assessment.”

Her hands started twisting together in a way that said she was about to get agitated again, so Clancy cut her off. “I can help her. Your baby isn’t suffering, and I admire you, both of you…” He glanced up at the man. “…for getting help. You have to promise to keep up with whatever counseling sessions you’ve set up.”

“We will.” Her husband reached down and took one of his wife’s hands and squeezed it. He knelt by the bed and looked into her eyes. “Let him show us. She’s our responsibility now. Our little girl. We need to do right by her.”

Marilyn nodded then looked up again, a sudden frown appearing. “What happened to your face?” As if realizing what she’d said, she quickly apologized, but Clancy waved it away.

“I was injured by a piece of shrapnel in Afghanistan.” He smiled. “And, no, that isn’t my work. I promise she won’t look like me when I’m done.”

She laughed. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Hey, I have to look at this mug every day in the mirror. I know exactly what it looks like.”

Glancing at the monitors behind her, he saw that her blood pressure was coming down. It was still above normal, but not in the danger zone like it’d been when he arrived.

“Can I ask the nurse to bring her in?”

Marilyn nodded, while her obstetrician came forward. “I’m going to check on another patient. You’ll be in good hands with Dr. de Oliveira. I’ll be back in about a half hour to look in on you.”

“Okay.”

He gave her a smile and headed past Clancy. “Call me if you need me.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Can you tell Hollee to come in?”

Dr. Brouchet shot him a quick look before nodding.

Since Clancy had only been at the hospital for a few weeks, the OB/GYN was probably wondering how he already knew one of the nurses well enough to call her by her first name. But it was too late to try to cover the slip.

A minute later, Hollee came in with the baby swaddled in a blanket that was pulled up on the side of her face. Smart move. That way, the family’s second introduction could be done a little more gently.