Six-Week Marriage Miracle. Jessica Matthews

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СКАЧАТЬ at age thirty-eight; grieving that their marriage had reached an impasse; grieving for the loss of their dreams and missed opportunities. Was it any wonder she needed the fast pace of the hospital, the steady stream of new patients and drama as a life raft she could climb aboard?

      “I hear Maternity is swamped,” Jane rattled on, blithely unaware of Leah’s inattention. “They’re so packed with new moms, they’re overflowing into the med-surg unit.” She unfolded a fresh sheet and began tucking the corners under the mattress.

      Leah pictured a nursery filled with bassinets of sleeping babies wearing pink or blue stocking hats, the hallway crowded with beaming fathers and proud grandparents while new mothers, some having already forgotten the pain of childbirth, looked on benevolently. She didn’t begrudge the new families their happiness, but a familiar pang of disappointment shot through her chest.

      At one time, she’d imagined herself in similar circumstances, with her parents waiting for their first peek at her child while Gabe passed out the bubblegum cigars and strutted as only a new father could. She’d fallen pregnant almost immediately after they’d decided it was time to start their family, making that dream seem like a sure thing and easily within her grasp. In her mind, and Gabe’s, the future couldn’t have been brighter.

      Life, however, had rewritten her beautifully scripted scene.

      Instead of joining the ranks of other new mothers, she’d become one of a small percentage of women who became a gynecological emergency. Shortly after entering her last trimester of an unremarkable pregnancy, her placenta had separated without warning. She’d lost the baby as well as her hopes for future children when profuse and unstoppable bleeding had necessitated a hysterectomy. Afterwards, she’d been whisked away to the surgical floor where babies weren’t seen or heard.

      Her parents had been there for her, of course, but pity, not pride, had shown on their faces. As for Gabe … he’d been on one of his occasional trips for the Montgomery family’s medical foundation. He’d come as soon as her parents had called him, but time zones and flight schedules had prevented his return until the day she was ready to be released.

      “I just love to stop and peek at the newborns,” Jane gushed. “They have such cute little wrinkled faces.” Suddenly, she stopped short. “Oh, Leah. Here I am, babbling on so insensitively about babies after everything you’ve been through. First a miscarriage, then the adoption fiasco—”

      Leah cut off her friend’s reminder of their failed foray into the world of adoption. After her surgery, still hazy from the grief of her loss, Gabe had convinced her to think about adoption and then so many things had fallen into place with amazing speed—Gabe’s lawyer had known a young woman who’d wanted to relinquish her baby. They’d hurriedly filled out the necessary paperwork and completed the required governmental home studies and background checks. The entire time the birth mother had been adamant about her choice—she was making the right decision for both her and her unborn child. Yet when the hour arrived for Leah and Gabe to pick up the baby from the hospital, the young woman had changed her mind and Leah had once again driven home empty-handed.

      Leah couldn’t fault the girl for her change of heart—it had to be difficult to relinquish one’s child, especially after seeing that tiny person for the first time—but understanding didn’t take away her gut-wrenching disappointment.

      “It’s okay,” she lied. “I don’t fall apart just because someone talks about babies or mentions how cute they are.”

      Admittedly, they were, but seeing those adorable little faces was tough, which was why she never, ever, entered the secured area to stare at them through the plate-glass window. Why add insult to injury? she’d rationalized.

      “I know, but—”

      “It’s okay,” Leah repeated, as much for her own benefit as Jane’s. “Honestly.”

      Jane nodded, but the worried wrinkle between her eyes suggested her good-mood bubble had burst. Determined to regain their easy footing, Leah thought it best to gently steer the conversation in another direction, for both their sakes.

      “OB isn’t the only busy department in this place,” she commented as she tucked a fitted sheet around a corner of the mattress. “Our daily patient census is above average across the entire hospital and we both know our ED visit numbers are up, too. The extra business should make the bean counters happy.”

      “Maybe this year we’ll get a Christmas bonus for a job well done,” Jane responded hopefully.

      Word from the last supervisors’ meeting was that the possibility was remote, but Leah wasn’t going to rain on Jane’s picnic. “Maybe, but, bonus or not, more patients means more nursing staff are necessary, which means I work more often.”

      Jane paused from working on her own two bed corners. “Look, hon,” she said kindly. “I know you’re probably feeling guilty because you’d never resolved your differences with Gabe, but killing yourself now that he’s gone, working sixty-plus hours a week, isn’t the way to cope.”

      “I’m not killing myself,” Leah protested mildly, pointedly ignoring Jane’s opinion about her reasons for the pace she’d set for herself. “I’m merely keeping busy. Just like I have for the past year.”

      “Keeping busy is one thing. Doubling your hours is another.”

      “Okay, so I am working a few more hours,” Leah conceded reluctantly, “but I was off duty yesterday and I spent the day puttering around the house. And then I treated myself to dinner and a movie.”

      “Dinner and a movie?” Jane’s eyes brimmed with curiosity. “Did you finally put Jeff out of his misery and go on a date?”

      About six months ago, Dr. Jeff Warren, one of Spring Valley’s ED physicians, had invited her to a concert, then a community theater play. Both times she’d declined, not because she didn’t enjoy his company or didn’t want to attend those particular events. No, she’d gently refused his invitation because in spite of being separated from her husband of ten years, going out with another man while she was still officially married made her feel as if she was cheating.

      Which was why she’d wanted Gabe’s signature on those divorce papers. It was past time to stop expecting a miracle and start thinking about the future—her future—instead of the past. As it had turned out, she didn’t need his signature after all.

      Leah shot her friend a spare-me look. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “I haven’t even buried Gabe and you’re asking if I’m seeing Jeff?”

      “Buried or not, you’ve been separated for over a year,” Jane reminded her. “It’s time to move on.”

      “I will,” Leah promised. “But I can’t until I’ve dotted all my ‘i’s and crossed all the ‘t’s.”

      Jane rolled her eyes. “What’s left to dot and cross? From what you’ve said, his body may never come home.”

      How well she knew that. The Mexican authorities had reported the discovery of the airplane’s charred remains in a ravine. They lacked the resources to recover the bodies and in their bureaucratic minds the burned-out shell of the aircraft made it pointless to do so. Undaunted, and after greasing palms for several weeks, Gabe’s second-in-command Sheldon Redfern had received permission to send in a private recovery team. As of yesterday, they hadn’t reported any more encouraging news than what the authorities had already shared.

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