Janice Maynard - Triplets For The Texan

Hutch spoke up, for the first time sounding more like a doctor than an interested party. “I’m glad you came by, Naomi. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes. Simone needs to rest now.”

Simone wanted to argue that he was being high-handed, but it was the truth. “I should tell Cecelia the news in person,” she said.

“No worries.” Naomi gathered up her car keys and cell phone. “I’ll take care of it. She’ll understand.”

That wasn’t the problem. No one was going to understand unless Simone’s original motive was revealed. Then she was in big trouble. “Thank you, Naomi.”

“Anything for a friend.” With a wave and a smile, she was gone.

In the silence that followed Naomi’s departure, Simone tried to pretend Hutch had left, as well. Unfortunately, he was impossible to ignore.

Simone loved her bedroom, as a rule. She had always found it soothing with its color scheme of pale lemon yellow and navy. It wasn’t too girly.

Today, though, with Hutch in residence, the charming space felt claustrophobic. “How long do I have to have the IV?”

“Until you can take nourishment of some kind. I’ll show you how to unhook and stop the monitor from beeping when you need to go to the bathroom. You’ll have to promise me, though, that you’ll hold on to something and sit down the moment you feel dizzy. Otherwise, I’m going in there with you.”

“Over my dead body.” Her whole body flushed.

He didn’t bother arguing that one.

“You look tired,” she said impulsively.

Hutch half turned, his striking face in profile. “It’s been a tough day,” he said.

“Surely not as tough as Sudan.”

“Tough in a different way. You need to sleep now, Simone.”

“It’s only seven o’clock. Have you eaten?”

“I’ll get something later.”

“Go now,” she urged. “I swear I won’t move until you get back.”

He shook his head, his expression wry. “I’m not sure I trust you. For the next seventy-two hours, you’re my responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do if I can’t eat or drink or get out of bed?”

“How about a movie?”

“Will you watch it with me?”

His dark gaze made her shiver, despite her weakened state. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders and let them fall, then looked at her with a carefully blank expression. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go make myself a sandwich. Here’s the remote. You pick something out and I’ll be back shortly.”

She channel surfed halfheartedly, feeling almost normal for the moment. The pregnancy didn’t seem entirely real. Was that odd? Shouldn’t she feel a rush of maternal devotion? She did have a connection already. She knew life was growing in her womb even now. But those little blips on the screen didn’t have faces and personalities. What if they grew up to be like her?

Eventually, she found a Tom Hanks romantic comedy from the ’80s in the on-demand section. That would do the trick. She and Hutch could make fun of the sappy dialogue. At least that’s what she told herself. Never in a million years would she let him know how much she loved that story.

When he came back from the kitchen, he had his hands full. He stopped in the doorway as if expecting to find her flouting his orders. She smiled innocently. “I’ve been good as gold.”

“That’ll be the day.”

Her bed was a king, so when Hutch parked himself on the opposite side, there was an entire stretch of mattress protecting her virtue. Not that it mattered. Who was she kidding? She’d seen herself in the mirror.

Hutch got comfortable and began to wolf down his meal. Suddenly he looked at her in dismay. “Will the smell bother you? I can eat in the kitchen.”

“No. I’m fine. If you were eating Thai food, it might be different. That ham sandwich is nausea neutral.”

She started the movie, trying not to notice the way Hutch seemed entirely comfortable in her bed. When they had been a couple, she had lived in an upscale apartment downtown, as had Hutch. They’d split their time between locations, some nights in his bed, some nights in hers.

The sex had been incredible, but even more than that was the feeling of rightness... She didn’t know how else to explain it. In the beginning, they had talked for hours. She learned that Hutch decided to go into medicine after an older cousin had a difficult pregnancy when he was in high school. The mother and baby both died. Thus, maternal-fetal medicine became his focus when it was time to specialize.

Simone had been out of college barely a year when she met Hutch. She’d worked for a high-end clothing store as a buyer. Marketing was her passion, though, and she’d spent many hours telling Hutch about her intent to open an advertising agency of her own.

Aside from that, they had, of course, talked about their families. Simone was an only child. Hutch had a younger brother who was studying abroad and hoped to go into the diplomatic corps.

Hutch’s parents were warm and nurturing, whereas Simone’s were strict and cold. Though it was a sad cliché, her father had wanted a boy. But complications during her mother’s pregnancy meant no more children after Simone. No matter how hard Simone tried, she never seemed to measure up to a list of invisible standards.

Perhaps that was why she reveled in Hutch’s attention. Not that she saw him as a father figure. Far from it. The age difference was too narrow for that. But when she spoke, he took her seriously. It was heady stuff.

In her peripheral vision, she could see that Hutch’s attention was focused on the television. Was he really engrossed in the movie? She doubted it. More likely, he was thinking about important doctor stuff.

Unlike Simone’s endeavors, Hutch’s work actually involved life-and-death situations. She teased him about being a saint, but she had never met another man who impressed her so deeply with his work ethic and his compassion.

If he had stayed, they might have ended up married, and Hutch’s involvement with DWB might never have materialized. In Simone’s twenty-eight years, many people in her life had characterized her as self-centered. Sadly, that had probably been true at one time. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that in this instance she had done the right thing.

She had loved Hutch madly, deeply, desperately...but she had let him go.

When the memories stung too sharply, she hit the mute button on the remote and silenced the TV. “I’ve seen this one a dozen times,” she said. “What I’d really like is for you to tell me about Bethany. And about Sudan.”

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