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
DEACONThe screen door behind us screeched as it opened. Gram came out followed by Emma, who was holding an old leather album, grinning at me with a teasing light in her eyes. "You were such an adorable little boy, Deacon." She dropped into the chair next to mine and opened the book. "Look at you in your little overalls!" "Gram," I groaned. "What have we talked about? These pictures were supposed to be burned." "As if I'd ever do that." Gram patted Pop's shoulder. "Move your arms, Jimmy, so I can sit down." He obliged, making room for my grandmother to get settled on his lap. I was used to the easy affection between my grandparents-they were never shy about kissing or appropriate touching in front of me-but it still warmed my heart to know that after almost sixty years of marriage, the two were still in love.Next to me, Emma was flipping through pages. "I love this picture, too." She glanced up at me, compassion and empathy all over her face as she tapped a photo of my
EMMA"Thank you." As he slowly navigated the dirt drive that led from his grandparents' home to the road, Deacon cast me a questioning sideways glance."For . . .?""For bringing me to the farm. For introducing me to your grandparents. They're wonderful." He smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like them. They've been . . ." He paused as though searching for the right words. "Stalwart and steady support as long as I can remember. I never felt a moment of insecurity growing up, even with one parent dead and the other constantly MIA. Gram and Pop had my back, no matter what." "I got that sense from them. As my mom would say, they're good people." He nodded but didn't say anything else as he turned onto the paved road. The car picked up speed, and I let my head fall back against the seat, the wind rushing through my hair and filling my ears. It had been an almost perfect day. I'd loved spending time with Deacon's grandmother, who was funny, irreverent and shrewd. She had made me
EMMAHis lips came down to cover mine, probing and insistent. I opened to him, so ready for his touch, so eager for his kiss. Arching my back, I waited for his hand to wander down my body, dying for him to stroke my breasts and play with my nipples. But he didn't move beyond the kiss, and while I was enjoying the hell out of that, I was impatient for more. Since I'd never been a woman to simply sit back and wait for what I wanted, I decided that being bold was my best bet. Circling his body with my arms, I ran my hands down his back and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his shorts. "Emma." Deacon groaned my name. "Hold on a minute, woman."I tipped my head back to study him. "I'm sorry. Am I moving too fast for you? I thought usually, when a guy brings a girl out to his favorite make-out spot, it implies that there will be some making out. But maybe I misread your intent." "Not exactly." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But I'm damned tired of kissing you
EMMABefore today, I'd had a vague idea of where Deacon lived-somewhere in town, I knew, and for some reason, I'd pictured him in one of those soulless townhouses with beige walls, beige carpet, stainless steel appliances and nondescript furniture. Not that I imagined Deacon in those terms at all-quite the opposite-but he was so much a part of the hospital that it seemed to be his natural landscape. Somehow, I'd thought of his home just as the place where he slept between shifts. But I was wrong, because the house we pulled into was the farthest thing from ordinary. It was small, yes, but in a cozy way. The outside was turquoise, which was utterly unexpected and yet absolutely perfect. I spotted a porch tucked into the front of the house before Deacon eased the car into the garage next to his truck.I was curious about the inside, but I didn't get to see much of it right away, since Deacon dragged me out of the car through the door that led from the garage into the house and the
EMMADeacon dropped me onto his bed. "That's true. You really are quite a temptress, Emma Carson. I mean, I took you to meet my grandparents today. How much more wholesome could anything be? And then I fully intended to drive you back home, like a gentleman should, but instead, you demanded a joyride." He wagged his head, sighing as he let his shorts fall to the ground and kicked them away. As I watched with greedy eyes, he reached back to grab the collar of his shirt to drag it over his head. "And now . . . look where we are." I pushed up on my elbows to watch him, enjoying the view. God, he was built. And perfect. I licked my lips. "Lose the boxers, too, baby. I want my real joyride right now." Sitting up, I unzipped my dress and wriggled it the rest of the way off, tossing both it and my panties onto the floor. "My God, Emma. Just look at you." Deacon stared. He didn't break his gaze for a minute, even when he managed to get his underwear off. "I'd rather you stop look
DEACON"Welcome back to the floor, Donnie." I grinned at Mr. Crew as I strolled into his room. Two weeks after his transfer to ICU, he was back in the oncology ward, dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt as he sat in a chair watching television. He was a little thinner, maybe a bit pale, but overall, he didn't look bad. "Thanks, doc." His smile was open and relaxed, completely different than the expression of hopelessness I'd seen on his face a few weeks ago. "I can't believe I made it through, but here I am." "You're strong, and you fought the good fight." I leaned against a table. "I'm not saying that won't have any more surprises along the way, but recovering from pneumonia and coming out the other side as well as you did is definitely a positive indication." I tapped on the tablet. "We're going to give another week to fully recover, and then we'll start talking about your transplant. How does that sound?" "It sounds like a winner of a plan, Deacon." Donnie nodded. He hesi
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