Diana Whitney - Ooh Baby, Baby

Snatching another tissue, Marsha blew her nose again, then fixed Peggy with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m so sorry, dear. I know you were close.”

“People recover from heart attacks all the time. I know it’s serious, but she’ll be all right, won’t she? She has to be all right.”

Marsha gazed back toward the spot where Hal Stuart had been standing. He was gone. She closed her eyes a moment, then faced Peggy. “No, dear, she won’t be all right. Olivia is dead.”

* * *

It was late afternoon before Peggy was moved up to the maternity ward. As promised, the twins were brought to her, whereupon she promptly unwrapped them again to study every appendage on their pink, healthy little bodies. Satisfied and brimming with maternal love, she dressed them carefully, then cuddled her beloved infants until the floor nurse insisted she needed rest and whisked them back to the nursery.

An hour later Peggy was awake, restless. She couldn’t sleep because her stitches hurt and her mind was awash with conflicting emotions—love for her beautiful new babies, mingled with terror at the responsibility of raising them alone, and profound grief at the death of a woman who’d been her friend.

Life was so fragile, so precious.

An image flashed through her mind, a fleeting memory of glowing brown eyes, a tender kiss brushed across her newborn daughter’s brow. The stranger had saved her baby’s life, and she couldn’t even recall if she’d thanked him.

At that moment, her memory of the man became so crisp, so clear, that she could literally see him standing there, hat in his hands, eyes shifting with shy, western charm that was oddly endearing. She smiled at the apparition.

It spoke to her. “I, ah, didn’t mean to disturb you, ma’am.”

She blinked, frowned. “It’s you.”

Looking perplexed, he aimed a quick glance over his shoulder, then eyed Peggy warily. “Yes’m, I guess it is.”

She pushed herself up and wiped a tangle of hair from her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Startled and a bit crestfallen, he backed toward the open door. “I just wanted to, uh, see how you were doing. I’ll be going now—”

“No!” She bolted upright, whipping back the covers as if preparing to chase after him. He froze, his eyes huge. “I’m glad you’re here,” Peggy said, wondering where that peculiar bubbly voice had come from. “I really wanted to see you again.”

That seemed to unnerve him. “You did?”

“Of course. I wanted to thank you.”

“No need, ma’am.”

“You saved my children’s lives, and probably mine, as well. I’d say that deserves at least a modicum of gratitude.” She cocked her head, amused by his obvious discomfort. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say, ‘Aw, shucks, ma’am, it weren’t nothing’?”

He widened his eyes, then narrowed them, but a smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You poking fun at me?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On your promise never to reveal to a living soul anything I did or said in the back of that cab.”

His grin broke free. “Such things are a private matter.”

“You’re a good man, Mr.—” She cocked a brow in question.

“Stockwell, ma’am. Travis John Stockwell.” He stepped forward, extending his hand.

Peggy took it, feeling the abrasion of calluses against her palm. This was a man who did more than drive cabs, she realized. These were work-worn hands, with strong fingers toughened by years of hard labor. Clyde’s hands had been soft.

Clyde had been soft.

“Ma’am?”

“Hmm?” Blinking up, Peggy realized that she still had a grip on the cowboy’s hand and was studying his softly haired knuckles as if they contained universal secrets. She released him reluctantly. “Well, Mr. Stockwell—”

“Call me Travis.” His dark eyes twinkled with good humor. “All things considered, I think we’d best be on a first-name basis.”

She felt herself blush, but couldn’t keep from smiling. “In that case, I’m glad to meet you, Travis. I’m Peggy Saxon.”

“Peggy.” The name slid off his tongue sweetly, with a soft twang that made it sound almost exotic. “That’s real pretty.” He regarded her intensely for a moment, then glanced around the room. “So, the babies are doing okay?”

“They’re wonderful, pink and healthy and full of vigor.” To her horror, a sudden gush of tears stung her eyes. “The doctor said that my daughter probably wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t cleared her airway so quickly. I’m so grateful—” She bit her lip, irritated by the rush of emotion. “Hormones are such a pain. I’m normally not much of a crier.”

The poor man looked stricken. “No, ma’am, you’re sure not. You’re the bravest woman I know.”

That startled her. “You must not know many women.”

He coughed, shifted his hat to his left hand and wiped a well-defined and decidedly muscular forearm over his brow. “Truth is, I don’t have much chance to, uh, socialize. Not that I couldn’t,” he added quickly. “It’s just that the rodeo circuit keeps me traveling so much there’s never enough time to get to know folks.”

Peggy brightened. “You like to travel?”

“Yes’m, I guess I do.”

“That must be so exciting. When I was a little girl, I used to pour over maps and crayon circles around all the places I wanted to visit.” She issued a nostalgic sigh and leaned back against the pillows. “Then I grew up.”

Travis eyed her intently, started to speak, then thought better of it. He studied his boots, then aimed another glance around the room, seeming visibly disappointed that the babies weren’t available. “Guess I should go. You need your rest.”

She waved that away. “I’m too keyed up to rest. Do you want to see the twins?”

His eyes lit like neon. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”

“So do I. I hate sitting here, waiting for some nurse to bring me my own children.” Pivoting carefully, Peggy lowered her feet to the floor.

Instantly, Travis stepped forward to grasp her elbow. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be out of bed?”

“It had better be. I’m going home Monday.”

“You’re still looking peaked and all.”

“The doctors said I’ll be fine, but they want me and the babies stronger before we’re all released.”

“Guess they know best,” he muttered, although clearly he disagreed. He slipped a protective arm around her waist. “Lean on me, ma’am.”

“Peggy, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am, Peggy.”

She chuckled. “Cowboy, you are just too much.”

Travis flopped on his hat to free both hands and helped Peggy down the hall toward the windowed wall of the nursery. They saw the activity from several feet away. Peggy felt Travis stiffen, hesitate. Her heart leapt into her throat.

She pushed away and stumbled forward on her own. A moment later he caught up and braced her as she pressed her hands against the glass. Inside, a team of medical personnel surrounded a Plexiglas incubator, their worried eyes focused above sterile masks. Frantic activity announced a tiny life in peril. Peggy couldn’t see the infant they were working on, but knew it could be one of her own precious babies. She was distraught. She was terrified.

But this time she wasn’t alone.

Travis felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

He tightened his grip on the frantic woman, urging her away from the nursery window. “Let’s go on back now. You ought to be resting.”

Peggy yanked out of his grasp just as a woman emerged from a nearby doorway. There was a stethoscope poking out of her breast pocket, so Peggy latched onto her. “What’s going on in there? Please, is something wrong with one of my babies?”