DEACON"Do you think Angela was ready to go home?" Emma had developed a habit over the past couple of months of appearing at my office door, usually toward the end of the day, and launching into a topic with little to no preamble. She'd loiter there in the doorway, alternately arguing with me, agreeing or listening, until I'd roll my eyes and say, "For God's sake, Emma, come in and sit down." Now, I glanced up at her from my computer screen. "Yes, I do. That's why I signed the orders releasing her. It's kind of my process. I try to do everything medically possible for my patients, and then I let them go home. Apparently, if you try to keep them, it's something called kidnapping."She huffed out a sigh. "You know what I mean, Deacon." "Hmmm." I lifted one shoulder. "I'm not sure I do. Why don't you come sit down and explain?" She wandered in as though she was in no particular hurry to do as I'd suggested. "What are you working on?" "Sending a report to the board ahead
EMMA"Oh, God, Jenny, I think I made a mistake." "What are you talking about?" On the screen of my phone, Jenny's face registered dismay and surprise. "You've been dying for Deacon to make his move for months. How in the hell can saying yes to him once he did be a mistake?" "Not the date, you dweeb." I twisted in front of the mirror. "The dress.""Oh, no, babe." Jenny shook her head. "The dress is smokin' hot, just like you. Own it, baby. Strut your stuff." "But the dress has no back to it, Jenny. What was I high on at lunch today that I listened to you when you said it would be perfect?""You were high on life and love, sweetie. You'd just spent ten minutes telling me how on fire you are for Dr. Foxy's rockin' bod, and describing to me just what you wanted to do once you got him alone-""This is what comes from taking the afternoon off, having martinis at lunch and then shopping with you in Lakeland," I groaned. I turned again. The dress was a pretty color, a deep aqu
EMMAMy heart skipped a beat. "How do you know?" "C'mon." He rolled his eyes. "I hired you. You don't think we did a background check? As a matter of fact, you signed a form consenting to the check. And Mira's sister Maybelle, who is head of our human resources department, is very thorough. When she picked up the change in your name between your undergrad and your post-grad work, she looked things up and figured it out." I chewed the side of my lip. "I wasn't really trying to hide anything. Nothing bad. But when people in the medical field see the name Baldwin, they always asked if I'm related to Frazier Baldwin. And when I say I'm his daughter, they either assume I got where I did by using his clout and think less of me, or they want to use me as a way to get to him. Neither is a very good feeling.""I understand that. Maybelle actually suggested that might be the case, which is why we didn't bring it up during your hiring process." "And you never asked me. All this time
EMMAWe stopped on the edge of the sand to take off our shoes. Deacon tucked his socks into his loafers, rolled up his pant legs, and gallantly insisted on carrying my heels as well as his own shoes. The sand was incredibly soft beneath my feet and still warm from the sun's heat. I noticed we weren't the only two people strolling along the water's edge, and that made me feel better. Deacon caught my hand in his free one, lifting my knuckles to his lips before he threaded our fingers together. His thumb drew lazy circles over the back of my hand as we walked. "I'm glad you enjoyed dinner." "I did. Thank you for asking me." I paused. "Why did you? I mean, I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong. But . . ." I struggled to phrase it the way I meant. "I mean, I wasn't sure you . . . saw me like that." "Why would you think that?" He swung our joined arms slightly, sounding genuinely curious. "Because we've been working together for months now, and you haven't given me any i
DEACON"Hey, Donnie. I heard you're feeling a little rough." I paused at the doorway to Mr. Crew's room, remembering something Emma had told me about giving patients a modicum of control by not entering before I asked permission. "Is it okay to come in and talk with you right now?" The man in the bed turned his head slightly, wincing as though even that slight movement cost him strength. "Sure, doc. Come on . . . in. Join . . . the party." I strolled in, carefully schooling my face to hide my dismay. Donnie Crew had been kicking ass in this second phase of his treatment for multiple myeloma. We'd harvested his stem cells, and then we'd blasted him with heavy-duty chemo to kill off as many of the cancerous cells as possible. He had tolerated all of that well. I had thought that we were on schedule for his transplant this week. And then suddenly, as all too often happened, he went downhill fast. I'd spent a day watching his numbers and hoping like hell that this was just a wei
DEACON"So, you brought in the reinforcements, huh?" Donnie managed a smile in Emma's direction. "You gonna help me convince Deacon here that sometimes, enough is enough?" "Mr. Crew." Emma slipped past me and sat down next to Donnie, right on his bed. I didn't miss the way the older man's expression softened as his eyes tracked her movements. "Call me Donnie . . . sweetheart. We're all . . . friends here." She picked up his hand, holding it between her own. "Donnie. Let's be clear that neither Dr. Girard nor I are trying to talk you into anything. We just want you to have all the information possible. Sometimes when people are sick, our perspective can be skewed. A fever can impact our way of thinking."Donnie frowned, blinking rapidly. "So you're saying I could make a decision . . . that could lead to me checking out . . . and it could be just the fever talking?" "I'm saying we can't ignore the possibility." She hesitated. "If we really felt that there wasn't a good ch
DEACONSunday was one of those rare Florida early fall days when I remembered that being outside could actually be enjoyable. When I stepped out onto my patio with the morning's second cup of coffee, I smiled. A cool breeze wafted over me, carrying with it the scent of oranges, thanks to the small tree I'd transplanted from the farm into my yard. The sky was a vivid, endless blue, and the sun was shining bright. As I showered, I thought about Emma and what the day might hold. As if by tacit agreement, we hadn't seen each other since Friday night when we'd left the hospital. We'd both worked on Saturday, but while I'd gone in early to round on my patients and catch up on charting, Emma had come in later, covering the evening rounds. She'd sent me a text on her way in to St. Agnes.Emma: What's the update on Donnie? Deacon: They isolated the type of pneumonia and focused the meds. He's holding his own, but even so, I think they'll have to vent him either tonight or tomorrow. Hi
DEACON"Deacon Girard, what are you doing pestering that woman out here in the car, when you could be inside, acting like a gentleman and introducing her to us? Stop messing around, boy, and get yourself in here." I chuckled, resting my forehead against Emma's. "She always did have impeccable timing." Reaching for the door handle, I adjusted myself discreetly and climbed out of the car. "Hey, Gram! Are those your apple buns I smell?" "They might be, but you'll never know if you don't get a move on." "Yes, ma'am." I skirted the rear of the car and came around to open Emma's door, gripping her fingers as I helped her out. I kept hold of her hand as we climbed the steps to the porch. "Gram, this is Emma Carson. Emma, this is my grandmother, Anna Girard." Emma extended her free hand. "I'm so happy to meet you, Mrs. Girard. Thank you for having me out to visit today." "Honey, if you call me Mrs. Girard, I'm going to keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see my mothe
NOAHNoahIt was a beautiful day for a wedding. We gathered at mid-morning under the covenant oak on Jimmy and Anna Girard's farm. Alison and I had decided that since Emma and Deacon's wedding had been the start of our love story, we should say our vows under the canopied branches of that same steadfast tree. We hadn't wanted anything grand or involved, but it was important to us that the special people in our lives were present. So when Alison and I joined hands and made our vows, among those surrounding us were Emma and Deacon, Darcy and Jackson, Jenny and Nico, Mira Hoskins, and all of the people who worked with Alison in her practice. Maggie Corning, the midwife, and Brooke Slater, Alison's therapist, were there, too. My family had flown down en mass from Wisconsin and other key points around the country. My mother couldn't stop smiling, and my dad looked proud. Even my brothers and sisters and their families were behaving themselves. And then of course, there was the Tam
ALISONA human being can accomplish almost any task while sobbing her eyes out. I'd known this from experience in my past life, but after Noah left that afternoon, I went about proving it all over again.I cried as I wiped the table and counters. I wept as I took out a frozen macaroni and cheese to eat for dinner. I sobbed as I climbed the steps and listened at the baby's door-she was still asleep in the crib. I sniffled as I switched a load of newborn clothes from the washer to the dryer.He was gone, and I was alone. Again. Naturally.The hell of it was that even as he'd pleaded his case to me, even as he'd told me that he loved me, I'd known he was telling the truth. I believed him. But I couldn't trust what he thought he felt, not when people changed their minds about being in love all the damn time. People claimed to love a friend or a child or a lover, and then they changed their minds. It happened. I knew it first-hand. I'd experienced it over and over again before I was t
NOAH"Where's the baby?" Alison walked into the kitchen, her face etched with fatigue. We'd had a long and trying few days as Evangeline had apparently been going through a growth spurt: she nursed almost constantly and was difficult to console the rest of the time. She'd fought sleep, and she'd cried piteously no matter what we'd tried to do. The pediatrician had assured us that this was normal and we'd get through it, but privately, I thought he was a heartless imbecile who clearly didn't understand that our daughter was advanced and needed more attention than the typical newborn. But finally, today we'd caught a break. Alison had gone upstairs to take a shower-her first in three days-and somehow, I'd managed to get the baby to sleep without the benefit of a boob. More than that, I'd actually laid her in the crib without waking her up. I was pretty satisfied with myself, all in all. I was also crossing my fingers that she'd stay asleep long enough that her mother and I could d
NOAHParenthood was amazing, fulfilling, beautiful, awesome . . . and exhausting. The first few weeks of baby Evangeline's life at home were a blur, a constant, never-ending whirlwind of feeding, and changing, and washing, and catching whatever small bites of sleep we could whenever she slept. People came to visit and brought gifts and food, and I was pathetically grateful for that, because I didn't have the energy to cook, and both Alison and I were tired of takeout. The one factor that made everything survivable was the baby herself. God, I hadn't known how much I was going to love this ten-pounds of tiny, perfect human. I'd never anticipated that staring at her sleep for an hour was better than four quarters of football. Or that catching what might have been a smile could make me feel as though I'd just witnessed greatness. What was some missing sleep compared with noting how well my two-week-old daughter could lift up her head?Even so, as much as I was ga-ga over my baby gir
ALISON"Congratulations, mama! You're at six. I think it's time to break your water and get things really going." It sounded like a great idea to me, but I saw Noah's lips go white. "Are you okay?" I asked, rubbing my fingers over the back of his hand. "You look a little green." He swallowed, his throat convulsing. "This is the only part I'm a little, uh, squeamish about. I watched that birth online, and breaking the water looked-intense." Maggie chuckled. "Stay up there by Alison and keep your eyes on her face. We don't need papa hitting the floor and suing the hospital." Noah did as he was told, watching me intently as if waiting for me to show some sign of distress. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly. "The water part, I mean." I shook my head. "It feels a little weird, but not-oooooh!" I gasped as I felt the gush hit my inner thighs. "Okay, then. Eyes here, Noah. Come on. We're in this together." After that, it felt as though everything got a lot more serious. The con
ALISON Spoiler alert: having sex with Noah did not start my labor.But it sure was worth the effort. Two days after that monumental night-and after we'd given it the good old college try several more times-we went to Maggie's office. I was in a rotten mood-being a million years pregnant can do that to a person-and poor Noah looked a little haggard. He'd been sleeping with me in my bed (we both clung to the excuse that if I went into labor, I'd want him closer than across the hall), which meant that he woke up whenever I had to climb out of that bed to pee. He thought I'd been exaggerating about how often I had to go. He was quickly disabused of that notion. After a quick exam, Maggie made some notes on her tablet and then turned to the both of us. "So listen," she began. "Do you want to have this baby?" I stared at her as though she'd lost her mind. "What the hell do you think I've been trying to do for over three weeks now, Maggie?" I bellowed. "Of course, I want to have th
NOAHNow I got it. The night we'd first had sex-the night after Emma and Deacon's wedding-we'd challenged each other to come up with the sexiest, most outrageous names for cocktails. Alison was playing the game again."Ohhhhh." I grinned. "I still don't believe that last one is legit.""It totally is. The bartender confirmed it." With a smile that was deceptively seductive for an extremely pregnant woman, she reached down to grasp the bottom of her oversized T-shirt-which was not so oversized just now-and lifted it over her head. I helped just to make sure she didn't topple over in the process. It was the first time I'd really seen her without a shirt in many months. My first few impressions were awe at the size of her swollen middle. I knew she was huge, but damn. The skin was stretched as tight as a drum, and her belly button looked like a cork just about to give way. And her boobs-they were incredible. Within the utilitarian maternity bra, they were still the sexiest breasts
NOAH"What's the world record for the longest pregnancy ever?" I glanced up at Alison from the book I was reading. We were both lying on her bed while a movie that neither of us was very invested in played on the TV. The couch downstairs had become too uncomfortable for her over the past week or so, so we'd begun hanging out here in her room. It was strictly for comfort, though; we stayed on top of the covers, with Alison on one side while I stuck to the other. It was a king-sized bed with plenty of room for us. But while we hadn't hesitated to cuddle and kiss on the sofa, something about being on the bed made us more cautious. I didn't know why, exactly; Alison was so tired of being pregnant that she wasn't up for much of anything other than television lately. She'd stopped going into the office after her due date since she'd already arranged with Dr. Johanson to cover her hours. So we were both at home now all the time . . . just waiting.She really was huge. While the ultraso
ALISON"Read me that last part again?" Noah and I were sitting in the nursery, surrounded by boxes, gift bags, and about a million pieces of a pine crib. He had spent the last two weeks focusing on the nursery. He'd painted the room a lovely pale yellow color, insisting that I stay with Emma and Deacon at the cabin for the two nights after he'd completed the first and second coats so that I didn't have to inhale the paint fumes. Together, we had selected the crib and the dressing table. Noah's mother had sent us the cradle that all of her children had slept in, and that was already set up in my bedroom.Now, with my due date less than ten days away, we were finally tackling the project of building all of the furniture that hadn't come pre-assembled. I squinted at the paper in my hand, trying to decipher the words."I'm pretty sure that this was translated directly from Swedish by someone who didn't speak English," I commented. "It doesn't seem to make sense.""Does it say at wh