The Texas Soldier's Son. Karen Whiddon

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СКАЧАТЬ be the two of them—Kyle and Nicole. Anyone who’d known them prior to one year ago would understand this. And might suspect that underneath the thin veneer of civility, strong emotions swirled and seethed.

      It wouldn’t be too great of a leap of faith to wonder if he had returned home to Anniversary to find his woman married to another man, whom he’d killed in a fit of jealously. Kyle supposed he ought to thank his lucky stars that the timing was all wrong. The day Bill Mabry had died, Kyle had been in Mississippi. He had motel receipts to prove it. And Nicole had still believed him to be dead.

      The sheriff had his deputies barking up the wrong tree.

      His cell phone rang. “Kyle, it’s Bret. I’m at the hospital ER with Heather. She’s fine—it was false labor so we’re heading back home. I thought you might want to know I saw Nicole come in with her baby.” He paused. “If I’m bothering you, I’m sorry. I don’t know how things are between the two of you. But from what I can tell, Nicole is all alone. If you’re truly friends, I think she could use your help. Especially if something happens to the baby.”

      The baby. Possibly his son. Though his gut clenched, Kyle forced himself to breathe deeply and calmly. “What happened? Was there some sort of an accident?”

      “No idea. But judging from the way they rushed her and little Jacob into the back, he’s in bad shape.”

      “Thanks for letting me know,” Kyle said, and ended the call. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure why exactly Bret had decided to call him, but figured his old friend would guess Kyle still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about Nicole.

      And the baby. Who might or might not really be his son.

      Snatching up his car keys, Kyle headed to the hospital. He didn’t bother analyzing why. He just knew he had to go. Whether or not Nicole wanted him there.

      * * *

      By the time Nicole had pulled up in front of the emergency room, Jacob had begun wheezing, as if he couldn’t suck in air.

      Forcing down the panic, she’d managed to unbuckle him from his infant carrier, snatch him up and run into the ER, shouting for help. The triage nurse had taken one look at Jacob and paged for help.

      She’d hustled Nicole through the double doors into the actual ER and a nurse came running. Nicole had handed over her precious baby and the nurse hustled him into a room, Nicole right on her heels.

      Now someone came and asked for her insurance card, which she handed over. The doctor appeared, helping the nurse get Jacob’s clothing off, including his diaper. “Nurse,” the doctor ordered. “Use Broselow Tape to quickly get his weight and dose out epi based on that.”

      As the nurse hurriedly complied, Jacob wheezed, his eyes huge, his face red with welts. He alternated between trying to breathe and attempting to cry. Frantic to help him any way she could, she watched the doctor as he accepted the syringe and injected it into Jacob’s thigh. “It’s epinephrine,” he told Nicole. “The nurse will start him on an IV with Benadryl and steroids.”

      Terrified, Nicole nodded. While the nurse bustled around, carefully inserting an IV in Jacob’s wrist, the doctor turned his attention back to the infant, who squirmed and still appeared to be having a hard time breathing. His struggle broke Nicole’s heart. She realized she’d never truly known abject terror until this moment.

      “Help him, please,” she implored the doctor.

      “We’re doing everything we can,” he responded. “Look. He’s breathing better. And those hives will subside, too.”

      Relieved, she clutched the side of the hospital bed to keep her knees from giving out.

      “It’s already working, ma’am,” the nurse said, her tone soothing. “Look at him. We’ll have him back to normal soon.”

      “Thank goodness,” Nicole said, swaying with relief.

      “Was he bitten by something?” the doctor asked Nicole, his voice curt, all of his focus still on Jacob. “Or did you give him something different—formula or juice? This is definitely an allergic reaction.”

      “There’s been no change in his diet. As for a bite, I don’t know,” she answered. “One minute, he cried out, then the hives appeared.”

      “Sounds like a bee sting,” the doctor said. “Let me see if I can find the stinger.” He began a thorough search of Jacob’s skin, which was still covered in welts.

      Careful to keep out of both the doctor’s and the nurse’s way, Nicole moved as close as she could to her baby. To her immense relief, Jacob’s wheezing disappeared. Once he could breathe again, he began crying, a confused and hurt wail that tore at her heart. She ached to gather him up and hold him close to her, but the ER doctor was busy inspecting him, searching for a sting or bite mark.

      While he did this, the nurse finished hooking Jacob up to the machines. Gradually, his wailing turned into sniffles, and then little snuffling sounds. He latched his little hand on to her finger, holding on tightly. Chest tight with love, she gazed at her baby boy, aware she’d never survive losing him.

      “Here it is,” the doctor pronounced, glancing up at her and adjusting his glasses with one finger. “This looks like either a wasp or a bee sting. I’ve removed the stinger. The meds are working and I think he’s going to be just fine.”

      “Oh, thank you so much,” Nicole said. She wanted to hug the man. And the nurse too. “Can I take him home now?”

      “Not yet. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him for several hours.”

      Puzzled, she frowned. “Why?”

      “We need to monitor his heart due to the epinephrine. We also need to make sure he doesn’t have a rebound reaction once the epi wears off. Then, if all looks good, you can both go home.”

      Grateful, she nodded. “I understand.”

      “Good.” The doctor wrote something in the chart, handed it to the nurse and left the room.

      “You can hold him now,” the nurse told her. “Just be careful of the IV and the other wires. Press the call button if you need anything. We’ll be checking on you periodically.”

      Once the nurse had gone, Nicole carefully reached for Jacob. As soon as she had him in her arms, she felt the last bit of tension leave his tiny body. She climbed up to sit on his hospital bed, careful of all the apparatus, and held him close. Singing soft, she rocked him to sleep.

      When the door swung open again about twenty minutes later, she looked up with a smile, assuming either the nurse or doctor had returned. Instead, Kyle stood framed in the doorway, his gaze locking on hers.

      She froze, not sure what to think or say. He came into the room, closed the door carefully and quietly behind him.

      “Is he all right?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

      Slowly, she nodded. “I think so. Right now, they want us to stay so they can monitor him.”

      “What happened?”

      Instead of answering his question, she frowned at him. “Why are you here?”

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