The Heart Doctor and the Baby. Lynne Marshall

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СКАЧАТЬ like you could make the right guy very happy, but after you have a baby—” my baby; the quick thought took him by surprise and not unpleasantly “—it may be more difficult to find him.”

      “Who?” she asked.

      “Him. The right guy.”

      “Having a baby on my own may not seem like the perfect solution, but it’s what I want. I don’t need a man to validate me. And if the consequences are being a single mother, I’ll deal with them like a big girl.”

      For the third time in as many days she placed her hand on top of his. Her warmth enveloped his and on reflex he responded and twined his fingers through hers. This handholding business was starting to feel normal. His eyes latched on to her almost-caramel gaze and held it, unwavering.

      She squeezed his hand. “You’re giving me the most important gift I’ve ever wanted. How will I ever be able to thank you?”

      He thought long and hard about the right response. He thought about the greatest gift in his life—his daughters—and though his answer might come off as being lame, he meant it. “You can thank me by being a good mother.”

      

      René had pulled the lucky straw when it came to choosing offices. Hers was in the front of the American version of the Queen Anne Victorian house. The three-story, creamcolored structure proudly bore the official Santa Barbara historical site emblem. Her corner office was nestled in the polygonal-shaped tower, which came complete with ceiling-to-floor bay windows. She’d covered them in sheer white lace, and loved how the sun danced in patterns across the walls in the afternoons.

      She’d splurged on a Chinese-inspired walnut desk with cabriole legs, and one huge Oriental rug over the wood floor. The office seemed more befitting of a princess than a middle-class girl from Tustin, California.

      Her parents had cashed in early on her brains, and scholarships flowed throughout her high school and college years. She’d never relied on anything but hard work and innovative thinking to get her through, though many attributed her success to her looks rather than sweat and elbow grease. It didn’t seem worth the effort to hold a grudge for their uncharitable assumptions.

      She’d tried her best to be the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend—that one had never paid off—and the perfect medical practice partner and doctor. The last required long hours and dedication to the clinic, and left little room for a normal social life. Now, thanks to Jon’s decision, she could skip over all of the preliminaries and have her shot at motherhood.

      His one request? To be a good mother. He hadn’t said perfect mother, no, just a good one. A good-enough mother. And that’s what she’d try with all of her heart to be.

      A rap at her door, followed by her nurse escorting her next patient into the office for a consultation, forced her out of the all-consuming thoughts.

      After greetings, René engaged the tension-filled eyes of her last patient of the day. The woman sat across from her desk wringing her hands. Her husband sat waiting beside her, straight as a giraffe, eyes more like a hawk.

      “I’ll get right to it,” René said and smiled, fingering a printout report. “I received your endometrial biopsy results this morning, and they were benign.” She smiled again, and noticed that relief hadn’t washed away the couple’s furrowed brows and apprehensive eyes. “That means it was negative. You’re clean. No more cancer.”

      The middle-aged patient and her husband shared a sigh, smiled and hugged. The scene made René wish all her medical “news” could be as good.

      After they stood and shook hands, and René had instructed the patient to stop by Gaby’s desk and make a follow-up appointment, she folded her arms and paced the room. She was at her prime, in excellent physical condition, and good health should never be taken for granted. Now was the perfect time…for…

      Her eyes drifted to the one wall reserved for every baby she’d ever delivered. The ever-growing collage of pictures—big and small, ornate and plain—called out to her. She scanned the gallery and thought again about becoming a mother. Chills tickled her neck.

      She sat at her desk, stared at the detailed crown molding along the ceiling and tapped a light rhythm with her pen. More exciting thoughts about parenthood whispered through her mind. Her dream really could come true. She could barely wait.

      With her restless gaze wandering the expanse of the office, she nibbled a fingernail, while her crossed leg pumped a breakneck beat. On the opposite wall was a framed photograph of the four MidCoast Medical partners the day the clinic had opened. She meandered over and took the picture in her hands. They all smiled. She was flanked by Jon on one side and Philip on the other, and next to Jon stood Jason, the owner of the building. The day was one of the happiest of her life. She remembered hugging each of them, and sharing a bottle of champagne. She thought about the hope they all had, and the desire to serve the local Santa Barbara community, back before Jason’s wife and daughter had died and Jon was still happily married.

      She’d expected to marry, too, but life had surprised them all. Only Philip, the happy bachelor, seemed to make it through the past five years unscathed.

      Well, it was her chance now. The sperm bank had called to tell her Jon had made an appointment for today—Valentine’s Day! He had skipped part of his morning clinic for an appointment, and she’d quietly chuckled over the reason—to donate his sperm, designated for her. But when it hit her between the eyes that her dream was about to come true, the gesture touched her so deeply she’d flat-out cried. Now she grinned and shook her head. Jon was right about two things: he was full of surprises, and no matter what happened after this, their relationship would never be the same.

      Who knows how long she stared at the photograph. Jon’s image made her smile. His lanky frame, angular features, friendly demeanor and over-the-top intelligence gave her confidence she’d chosen the right man, and right now, she owed him another gigantic thank-you. And maybe another home-cooked meal?

      

      Jon stared down Antonin Grosso. The stocky man sat across from his desk with arms folded, and a stubborn glint in his eyes.

      “Your thallium treadmill showed an abnormality suggestive of arterial blockage.”

      The man scrubbed his face with a beefy hand. “Please, doctor, I’m a butcher—speak the English!”

      Jon grimaced. True, layman’s terms were his downfall. “You may have a blocked artery in your heart. I can’t stress enough the need for an angiogram. Oh, uh, that’s a study that will tell me if any of your heart arteries are blocked.” He fished through his patient education pamphlets and found the right one, then handed it to him.

      “I no need this test. I feel fine.”

      “Feeling fine and being fine are two different things, Mr. Grosso.” Jon ran his hand over his stiff spiky hair and reconsidered the explanation in butcher’s vernacular. “Take your prime beef. It may look fine, but until the U.S. government checks it out and approves it, you won’t know if it’s diseased or not.” He stared at the man while the analogy computed. “You look good. You feel good. But your heart isn’t so good. This study says so. We may need to unplug the arteries so your heart gets more blood and feels better.”

      Something clicked. The man’s expression brightened. “You mean like that plumbing guy? My pipes need cleaning?”

      Jon СКАЧАТЬ