The Doctors' Baby Miracle Page 14

  Kady wasn’t looking to repeat their experience with Grace. He knew her well enough to know she’d be careful beyond belief either with screening the embryo before implantation, or if she went the IVF route, screening the donor with equal care. So her child wouldn’t have any genetic anomalies if she could help it.

  So what was the real problem? Was it children in general? Or was it that he had never come to terms with Grace’s death?

  Staring at the church across the way, he drew in a deep breath, because he already knew the answer. What he decided in the next few minutes would set the course for the rest of his life.

  Could he live with it?

  Maybe the time had come to find out once and for all.

  He’d looked up support groups, surprised to find one that met less than ten miles from the hospital.

  Whether he could go in or not remained to be seen.

  To stay or leave.

  Kady had left.

  But in his case, leaving would be the coward’s way out. In her case, it had been because she’d seen no hope for the future.

  He could go back to life as it had been—keep sending anonymous flowers to Grace’s grave without actually dealing with the deep pain caused by her loss.

  The three years since her death had been miserable.

  Until Kady had walked back into his life with her eternal optimism and a smile that had turned him inside out. She’d somehow been able to come to grips with what had happened to Grace. At least he thought she had. So why couldn’t he?

  Someone parked beside him and a young couple got out of the car. The woman clutched a book that reminded him of...a photo album. He looked down at his own empty hands.

  He didn’t have one. The only thing he had was a faded mental image of what his child had once looked like. When he’d come to New York, he’d left everything behind, intending to start a new life.

  He hadn’t. Not really. He’d just coasted along, bouncing from patient to patient, until it had all become a big blur.

  The couple walked up the steps to the church. It was then that he realized the woman was pregnant, the wind plastering her shirt to her rounded belly and giving her away. He frowned. Were they going to the same meeting as he was? He glanced at his watch. It was supposed to start in five minutes.

  Stay? Or leave?

  He counted down the minutes. He reached the minute and a half mark before he released the latch on the door and stepped onto the pavement. Then, with a tightness in his chest and a queasy sensation in his gut, he walked up the steps and opened the door.

  There were eight people seated in a circle. Three couples and two people by themselves. At a long table a woman was arranging pamphlets. In a dark skirt and a white blouse, she had an official look to her. That must be the leader of the support group. She turned and caught sight of him and walked over with an extended hand.

  “Hello. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Nadya Rosenberg. Are you here for the Tay-Sachs meeting?”

  She said the word matter-of-factly, no hesitation, as if it was something she said every day. Maybe she did.

  “Tucker Stevenson. And, yes, I’m here for the meeting.”

  “Feel free to pick a seat. We’ll get started in just a minute.”

  He picked a chair as far from the couple with the photo album as he could, not that there were a hundred places to choose from.

  Nadya opened with some announcements about upcoming events and learning opportunities.

  Opportunities? He’d assumed that everyone in this group had lost a child to the disease.

  “So last week we talked a little bit about genetic counseling. Did any of you have a chance to do that or find out more? Or, if you’ve been, can you tell us your experience?”

  A couple of people said they were looking into it. He glanced at the couple who were expecting a baby, wondering what their story was. Maybe they’d lost a nephew or niece and not a child.

  Once that topic of conversation petered out, Nadya redirected the group to something else. Just when he’d decided that this wasn’t going to benefit him at all, she turned to the couple with the album.

  “Heidi, why don’t you share what you told me after the session last week?”

  Fingers gripping the book in her lap, her husband put an arm around her shoulders and gave her an encouraging nod.

  “Well. Most of you know that we’re going to have a baby, and if not...well, it’s pretty obvious.”

  A few chuckles met her words.

  She smiled. “I wanted to share that losing a child to Tay-Sachs doesn’t mean you can never have another baby. I mean, I’m not trying to tell anyone how to...” Her voice faded away.

  “This is your story, Heidi. Yours. There are no judgments here.”

  She smoothed a hand across the book. “We lost Logan—our first child—ten years ago. We were devastated obviously. We still miss him. That will never change.”

  Several people nodded.

  “We don’t regret having him. He brought us so much happiness in the four years he was with us.” She opened to the first page of the album. “I recorded everything I could, especially after the diagnosis. I’m here to say it’s okay to be sad. To be angry. To put life on hold for a while.”

  She took a breath. “But you can’t do it forever. I did, for ten long years. Until I realized that Logan would be horrified at the way I set my whole life orbiting around him, long after he was gone. We went through counseling—and it was the best and hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  “This new baby is going to be a girl. Could she have Tay-Sachs? No. Because we had the embryo tested before implantation. But she could be born with something equally devastating. Or get cancer. Or die in a car accident.” Her glance touched on him and then skipped away.

  “Life has to be lived. With all its happiness. And all its terrifying uncertainty.”

  She might have been speaking directly to Tucker, even though he sensed she wasn’t trying to convince anyone of anything.

  The woman’s chin quivered for a second and her husband whispered something in her ear. She nodded. “If anyone wants to see pictures of Logan, feel free. Just know that you can’t stop living. Educate yourself, yes. But live. For our children’s sakes. Don’t make them the punctuation mark that ends your story. Life goes on. Yes, stop. Take time. As much time as you need. But don’t let it stop you from celebrating life. Theirs. And yours.”

  One of the people next to her asked to see the album and it started to make its way around the circle. Tucker watched as people smiled at whatever was in that book. He hoped he could get out of there before it reached him.

  Nadya glanced his way. “I know you’re new, and if you don’t want to say anything it’s okay. But if you do, we’re here to listen and help each other. Tay-Sachs has touched all our lives in some way. Do you want to tell us how it touched yours?”

  He sat there for a long moment. That moment turned into two. As he looked around at the faces in the room, he saw...understanding. Maybe all that pretending with Kady that day had been his subconscious, telling him it was okay to let the past go. To look to a new future...with a woman he loved. And that having children didn’t mean he loved Grace any less.

  Suddenly he wanted it all. To laugh with Kady as they chose outrageous baby names. And to be willing to deal with the nitty-gritty—and sometimes painful—business of living, in between all that laughter.

  Then the book landed on his lap. A photo of a towheaded little boy graced the cover of it. Probably a year old and still able to smile, he was dressed in a blue and white sailor suit. Tucker stared at the picture, unable to look away. A celebration of life, she’d said. Of her child’s life.

  Maybe he should start celebrating Grace’s life. And beyond that?

  His fingers closed around the album, gripping it so tightly he half expe
cted it to break in two.

  And after that, maybe he should allow himself to be open to the possibility that he might be able to experience the joy he’d once felt with Grace...with another child.

  Kady should be here. He should have called her and asked her to come. They could have gone through this together.

  And maybe they still could.

  If he hadn’t completely destroyed any possibility of that.

  Taking a deep breath, he passed the photo album on to the next person and leaned forward. “I had a daughter. Her name was Grace. She had blond hair. Blue eyes. And the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.”

  * * *

  Kady felt no different than she had a week ago in her doctor’s office. Except now she had two tiny embryos inside her. And a lingering numbness that had nothing to do with the procedure and everything to do with her ex-husband. Every day, she’d wondered the same thing: Had she done the right thing in leaving like she had?

  But how could she have stayed?

  Tucker had made it more than clear that he hadn’t changed his mind. Hadn’t the actual vasectomy warned her of that?

  Evidently not, because she’d allowed her hopes to creep up. Then she’d taken his words about having it reversed as fact, only to have Tucker roll down his steel doors, locking her out. Locking everyone out.

  Just like before.

  She wasn’t willing to go through that kind of pain ever again. Not even for the man she loved. The sex had been great. The emotional cleanup afterward...not so much.

  She dropped into her office chair. Her twelve-hour shift was just ending, and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep. Maybe that was the hormones talking. Or maybe it was just normal physical and emotional exhaustion. The top of her desk looked pretty damn attractive right now. She could just put her head down and take a few hours to recharge before heading home.

  Except it brought back memories of a few hours spent in another office in another city. Where she’d made love to a man she’d once considered her soul mate.

  Her cellphone chirped a text at her, and she groaned aloud. Please, don’t let there be another emergency. So far she’d dealt with one crisis after another. And that didn’t include the ones in her personal life.

  She glanced at the screen. Needed at nursery. Can you come?

  No name was attached to the message, just a phone number. That was weird. Maybe it was the parent of one of her neonates. She often gave parents her cellphone number in case one of them had questions. It relieved their minds to know she was within reach.

  Sighing, she stood and stretched her back and then smiled. If she thought her back ached now, just wait a few more months when those babies started growing. “Please stay put, little ziggies.” The embryos had grown past the zygote stage, but the pet name had stuck. She went down a floor and exited the elevator, turning left only to stop dead in her tracks.

  She swallowed. Okay. Exactly how tired was she?

  Pretty damn tired, unless the hormones were causing her to hallucinate.

  Tucker stood in front of her, holding what looked like a pink balloon in the shape of a heart.

  Neither of them moved. She tilted her head to the side, hoping he would blink into nothingness before she did something stupid. Like rush into his arms. Or start blubbering. Hormones. It had to be.

  He didn’t disappear. But he wasn’t smiling either. Why was he here?

  “Did I leave something in New York?”

  If that wasn’t the dumbest line ever. If she’d left something, the hotel or hospital would have just mailed it. They wouldn’t have sent Tucker. And she was not going to ask about the balloon. Maybe he was visiting someone in the nursery.

  Oh, God, had he fathered a child with someone else?

  You really need to get a grip, Kady. He made it pretty clear he was never getting that procedure reversed.

  “It’s not what you left. It’s what you didn’t leave.”

  She didn’t what? It took her a second to realize he was answering her question. “I don’t understand.”

  “You forgot to leave me a little wiggle room—or a chance to do the right thing.”

  He hadn’t taken a step toward her, and she realized there was more than one person staring at them. Just like at that restaurant. She swallowed.

  “Let’s go to my office.”

  “I’d rather do this here.” He glanced to the side. “But we can go over by the windows if you’d like.”

  “Okay.” He led the way across the room, that ridiculous balloon bouncing with every step he took. She stopped next to him, gazing out over the park for a minute, then she turned back to him. If he was here to talk her out of it, he needed to know he was too late.

  “Before you say anything, I want to let you know that it’s already done.”

  “What is?”

  She clasped her hands in front of her, not because she was embarrassed but because she had to steel herself not to touch him. “I had two embryos implanted last week.”

  “Okay.”

  She tried to read something into his tone. Panic. Anger. Resignation. But there was nothing. Nothing that she could sense, anyway.

  “Okay? Just okay? Is that all you have to say?”

  “No. I have a whole lot to say.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what you could possibly say that would make a difference at this point.”

  “Maybe not, but I need to at least tell you this. I didn’t mean what I said at dinner. I was stupid. And tired.” He took a step closer. “And terrified.”

  “You shut me down the second I tried to talk to you about it. Just like you did when we lost Grace. I’m sorry I misunderstood about the vasectomy thing, but can you at least see how I could have gotten that idea?”

  “I do.”

  Okay, it was a start.

  “I’m not sure they’re both going to take, but I want these babies, Tucker. Not to replace Grace. They could never do that. But I can’t live my life in the shadow of her memory. And you shouldn’t either.”

  “I know that now. And I think I finally understand.”

  She doubted it, but if that’s what he wanted to think, good for him. “You came all this way to tell me that?”

  “No. I came to give you this.” He placed the string of the balloon in one of her hands and closed her fingers around it.

  Had he somehow heard about her pregnancy before he’d come? He only had one balloon so probably not. “What is this for?”

  “You said this was something you were going to do. With my blessing or without it. I know you don’t need it, but I wanted you to know that you have it.” He paused again. “I went to a support group for the families of Tay-Sachs patients.”

  Shock rippled across her belly. “You did?”

  He nodded. “I told them about Grace. About us. About all of it.”

  “You...you...”

  She had a sudden need to sit down, so she dropped into the nearest chair, fighting the urge to put her head between her knees.

  You are not going to faint.

  He’d actually told someone about their daughter? That was...it was...

  Unbelievable.

  She gripped the string of the balloon, afraid to let go. He’d said it was his blessing. For children?

  “What made you want to go?”

  “It was time. It was past time.” His fingers wrapped around hers. “I lost you once. I didn’t want to lose you again. I hope I haven’t.”

  He wasn’t making any sense. “You don’t want children.”

  “I didn’t. The thought scared the hell out of me. So much so that when you talked about it all those years ago, I froze. I couldn’t touch you because I was afraid you would get pregnant. It got to the point that I wouldn’t have physically been able to make love to you, even if I’d
wanted to.”

  “You didn’t want to. That much was obvious.” The pain of those days came rushing back.

  “I did. But my body wasn’t going to cooperate. I simply couldn’t perform. The long and the short of it was that I didn’t deal with Grace’s death the way I should have. I pushed it away and tried to forget it ever happened. And then I pushed you away as well.”

  “Why the vasectomy?”

  “I’d told myself that if I could take away the fear of an accidental pregnancy I could get back to normal. But you were so against my having the procedure that we both said things we shouldn’t have. Things got tangled into a knot that neither of us could untie.”

  “I thought you no longer wanted me. It almost killed me.”

  “I never stopped wanting you. Ever. And I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you about it. I was embarrassed and angry. At the world. At the doctors.” He raised their joined hands and kissed her fingers. “At myself. So am I too late?”

  “I think so, as I’m pregnant.” Those words should tell him all he needed to know. She wouldn’t go back and undo it, even if she could.

  He smiled. “What if I said I’m finally okay with that?”

  “Are you?” Something had gotten lost in translation here. The last time she’d seen him, nothing had changed. He hadn’t wanted children. Had only pretended to want them. Was he still pretending?

  “I once asked you if you could live without it, Kady. What I should have been asking was if I could live with it. I came to the conclusion at the support group that I can. I think maybe my heart knew it, but my thick skull just couldn’t process it.”

  “What?” Okay, maybe her head really was lying on her desk and she was deep in some kind of dream world.

  “I’m still scared as hell, Kady. But I’m here to tell you I’m on board on hundred percent. I want the baby—babies—you’re carrying.”

  “Y-you’re okay with becoming a father again?”

  “The support group was the first step in healing, I think. But yes.” His smile grew. “You really have two of them in there? I guess I should have brought more balloons.”

  She felt she had to warn him. “There are no guarantees that they’ll take.”