The Holiday Triplets Page 8

  Reassured that Tony could manage the press under Jennifer’s watchful eye, Mark slipped away to join Sam, who was shepherding Candy and the babies into the hospital.

  He took her aside. “Everything under control?”

  She pushed back a flyaway twist of blond hair. “I checked, and the center’s day care has space for them. They’ll stay in the isolation room today while I’m at work.” That was where employees’ children were housed when ill. “In a few days, they should be fine in the regular infant section.”

  “What about after hours?” Mark asked. “They’ll need attention at night, and you have to sleep.”

  Her gaze bored into his. “Are you lecturing me about my health, Doctor?”

  “I’m lecturing you about your common sense, Doctor,” he answered in the same half-joking tone.

  Wrong tactic, he realized as she drew herself up. “My common sense is fine, Mark. It’s my nerve you’re doubting, isn’t it?”

  “Your nerve is the one thing I’ve never doubted.”

  She chuckled. “I’ll choose a better word. My resolve.”

  “I’ve never doubted that, either.”

  “Good.” She flashed him a grin that was too contagious for his own good. “Connie, Courtney and Colin were meant to be my children. Don’t you see how everything’s come together?”

  Her early menopause, the delivery of the babies and Candy’s very public decision to relinquish them… “What I see is a series of coincidences,” he warned.

  “One man’s coincidence is another man’s destiny,” she returned. “Or woman’s, in this case. By the way, you’ve heard of night nurses, right?”

  “Yes, but I’ve also heard that they expect to be paid.” While she earned a respectable salary, Mark knew she was far from wealthy.

  “My grandparents left me an emergency fund. I’ve always felt it was there for a reason, and this is it.”

  That took care of one obstacle, but despite her take-no-prisoners attitude, Sam didn’t possess superpowers. “You’re well organized, I grant you. But raising three infants can be overwhelming. For anyone.”

  “Yeah.” Without his noticing, Candy had joined them. “I think it’s great that Dr. Forrest’s going to find out exactly what she wished on me.”

  “Whoa.” Sam regarded the young woman in mock dismay. Or perhaps it was real dismay. “Is this your notion of revenge?”

  “You have no idea what my last two nights have been like.” Candy held up one hand. “Okay, that’s not fair. I did think it would be cool to keep the babies, back when they were inside me. My friends encouraged me, too. Plus I had this dumb idea Jon would act like a real father.”

  Sympathy softened Sam’s features. “I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better for the reality. I got carried away with my own fantasies, I’m afraid. But what about your mom?”

  “She was helping me last night and all of a sudden she burst into tears. She said she likes the idea of grandchildren, but she’s only forty. She wants to have free time with Jerry, not spend every spare minute changing diapers.” The girl swept a rueful gaze toward the strollers being piloted toward the day care center by hospital volunteers. “If you’d told me it was a bad idea, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

  Sam gathered her into a hug. “You still have to get back on your feet. You’ll come in for counseling, won’t you?”

  “Oh, yeah. And my friends in the teen group are sticking by me. I kind of wish I could keep one baby, but that wouldn’t be fair. They belong together.” Candy ducked her head. “Besides, those cribs and stuff are taking up all the room in our place.”

  “If it’s okay, I’ll borrow them temporarily,” Sam said. “Then I’ll pass them on to the other teen moms.”

  “Cool.”

  Tony came indoors, moving with an easy stride. Newly engaged to Kate and the happy father of a baby girl, he’d shed his former air of tight control. “Jennifer’s finishing up with the reporters. Would you two ladies care to step into my office?”

  “You and Candy get started with the paperwork,” Sam said. “I’ll be right up after I check on the babies.” And off she went.

  “She’s a…what’s the word?” Candy asked.

  “Force of nature?” the attorney supplied.

  Mark had nearly said “maniac.” He was glad he’d thought better of it.

  Sam had an iron will and an office lined with documents attesting to her pediatric expertise. But three babies at once? Whatever happened next was sure to be interesting, Mark mused.

  He’d better go put in a call to let Chandra know that the press conference cancellation hadn’t come off as planned.

  By a rather wide margin.

  Chapter Eight

  “Forgive me for being an interfering mom, which I swore I’d never do, but are you certain this is a good idea?” The image of Dr. Lanie Forrest on the computer screen might lag a bit, and her voice sounded fuzzy over the internet connection, but her folded arms and creased forehead spoke volumes to her daughter.

  “I never thought I’d hear negativity from you of all people!” Sam fought down the impulse to cross her own arms.

  “Just because you agreed to take them, that doesn’t make the decision irrevocable on your part,” added her father, Dr. David Forrest. His thin face was filled out by a salt-and-pepper beard. “Not that I’m suggesting you renege on your decision, honey. But this is only the first step in a long journey.”

  “You mean life?”

  “I mean the legal system.”

  That was true. According to Tony, Sam had to wait a month and undergo a home study, then appear in court for a judge’s final approval. None of that mattered. From the moment she’d promised to care for the babies, they’d become hers.

  Sam didn’t kid herself that, even with her emergency fund and her determination, she’d have easy sailing. Raising a baby, let alone three, would be a challenge for any single parent. Oh, heck, she had yet to come to terms with what was involved.

  But she’d given her heart. That counted even more than giving a promise.

  Determined to dispose of unnecessary tasks, she had thrown her stack of unread holiday cards into a box and instructed Devina to add any other personal notes to the heap. Usually she relished reading messages from former patients and coworkers, but they’d have to wait until she had spare time. Even if that took eighteen years.

  She’d checked on the babies several times during the afternoon, and picked them up by 5:00 p.m. Lori had helped her install car seats in the van Sam had hurriedly leased with help from Jennifer, who’d also arranged to have Candy’s cribs and other equipment delivered.

  Where would a woman be without her friends? Nevertheless, Sam didn’t like to depend on them any more than necessary.

  Lori had stayed to help feed the infants, leaving a few minutes ago, shortly before 7:00 p.m. Regrettably, they had to rely on formula, but then, Candy had mentioned that she already used it as a supplement. While it was possible for a mother to nurse triplets, it took time and practice.

  Breast milk offered many advantages, including the mother’s immunities and nature’s intended balance of nutrients. But adopted infants generally thrived on formula, and Sam planned to keep a close watch on the babies’ development.

  The night nurse she’d hired would arrive about ten. So here she sat in front of her computer, cradling a baby as she related the day’s events to her parents several hundred miles south in Mexico.

  “How are you feeling?” Lanie put in. Her graying hair, once blond like Sam’s, had taken on a wiry quality.

  “A little tired,” Sam admitted. “That’s to be expected until we settle into a routine. I’ll try to have a nurse on hand until they can sleep through the night.”

  “That may take longer than with singletons,” her mother warned. “They’ll tend to wake each other up.”

  “If that becomes a problem, I’ll keep a crib in my room.” For now, Sam had turned her home office into the triplets’ bedroom
, and the furniture crowded around her with narrow passageways in between. Good thing she didn’t mind clutter. “I could move another one into the living room at night.”

  “Great! Then you can run an obstacle course from room to room to room,” Lanie grumbled.

  “Mom!”

  “You’re such an overachiever. I hope you won’t feel like you have to stick with this if it wears you out.”

  “Lanie,” Sam’s dad said in a warning tone.

  Time to change the subject. “How’re things at the clinic?” she asked.

  “We finally got enough flu vaccine for everyone in the area.” As hoped, the question distracted her mother, and the rest of the conversation centered on the couple’s efforts to improve the health of local residents.

  Their village sounded like a warm, caring place. If Sam ever did decide to join them, she’d bet her kids would love it there.

  Her kids. What a beautiful term.

  Afterward, Sam remained in her desk chair with Courtney dozing against her chest. The little girl smelled sweet and fresh, and from this angle it was amazing how long her lashes looked against her rounded cheeks.

  She put Courtney to bed, then studied each of the infants in turn. How precious they were in their footed sleepers, tiny fingers flexing, little bow mouths pursing as they dreamed their baby dreams. In the stillness, she listened to the murmur of their breathing.

  For the first time since the press conference, Sam had a moment of actual peace and quiet. It felt like an unbelievable luxury.

  The doorbell rang.

  She jumped. The babies barely stirred, but she hurried to answer before it rang again.

  Not the press, she hoped. O’Donnell had reported the story on the six o’clock news. With the TV playing in the background while she and Lori fed the triplets, Sam had caught glimpses of herself, Candy and the infants. The report had mentioned the fundraiser so briefly that most viewers probably missed it. Thank goodness the newspaper’s website, which Jennifer had checked, cited the event prominently.

  Reporters who’d missed the impromptu presentation would be trying to make up for lost time. Sam sure hoped some overeager newshound hadn’t dredged up her home address.

  She supposed she ought to drag a brush through her hair and put on lipstick. But if she stopped to do that, the fool might punch the bell again.

  On the doorstep, she found a welcome surprise. Sam’s frazzled nerves hummed harmoniously as she took in Mark Rayburn, tie askew and his jaw covered in five o’clock shadow, carrying a sack that smelled like heaven. Garlic, tomato sauce—Italian food. The scent reminded her that she’d missed dinner.

  Sam didn’t care what a mess she must look. “You were sent by the angels,” she said as she ushered him inside.

  “That’s what I keep telling the corporate honchos. I don’t know why they ever doubt it.”

  At the moment, Sam didn’t know, either.

  MARK FELT AS IF HE’D STEPPED inside a rainbow. Colored glass vases, candleholders and bowls filled china cabinets and spilled onto the coffee table and end tables. The shimmering effect reminded him of a cut-glass crystal vase his mother used to treasure—until she smashed it against the fireplace one night in an alcohol-fueled rage over one of his father’s affairs.

  “So this is what’s meant by decorating,” he said.

  “You don’t have to tell me it’s overkill,” Sam replied. “I’ll pack the loose pieces away before the babies start crawling.”

  He hadn’t meant to criticize. Best to let it pass. “I hope you’re hungry. Papa Giovanni’s makes the best ravioli this side of Italy.”

  “Starved. Right this way.” Navigating between pieces of newly arrived baby equipment, she led him into the dining room, where she removed a stack of medical reports from the antique-style table. “I’ll grab plates.”

  While she went into the kitchen, Mark lifted take-out containers from the sack. “I take it the babies are sleeping,” he said when she returned.

  “Dozing.” She set out the plates and glasses of water she’d carried on a tray. “Don’t try to be polite. Go ahead and tell me I’m a nutcase. I won’t be offended. Much.”

  He helped place the silverware. “You aren’t crazy. I love kids, too. In small doses.”

  She filled her plate from the containers. “Pardon me for being rude, but I’m starving. Aren’t you?”

  “The restaurant plied me with breadsticks while I was waiting for my order.”

  “Lucky you,” she mumbled, and dived into her food.

  During the meal, Mark took an appreciative look at the watercolor paintings splashed across the walls. A jacaranda tree abloom in lavender blossoms. A seascape carved by a bougainvillea-draped bluff. A waterfall creating its own rainbow. The profusion of colors soothed him.

  “These are beautiful,” he observed. “It’s not what I expected to find in your house. Your offices are so Spartan.” The one assigned to her in the hospital as head of pediatrics was practically bare. Her office in the medical building had a corkboard displaying photos sent in by happy patients, plus the expected medical certificates and professional awards. But nothing like this.

  She gazed around. “This is my nest. When I was growing up, we lived like we were in the military. Nothing but essentials ready to pack at a moment’s notice, although we stayed in the same house practically forever. My parents met in the Peace Corps in South America and they swore they’d be heading south of the border again soon. Twenty-odd years later, they went.”

  “You’re making up for those bare surfaces,” he concluded.

  “It’s more than that,” Sam told him. “I guess I’ve been cramming as much as possible into every day and every inch of space. This past week, it hit me that I’ve been living as if the cancer might return any day.”

  “And you finally accept that it won’t?” He hoped that was the case.

  “I’m trying to accept that I have to live one day at a time like everybody else.” She polished off a last bite of garlic bread.

  “Let me know if you figure out how to do that,” Mark said, “because I haven’t a clue. I’m generally thinking at least half a step ahead.”

  “You never seem rushed.”

  “I put a lot of pressure on myself.” As he spoke, he consciously relaxed his muscles. He’d been tense all day. First there’d been the press conference business, followed by his strained late-afternoon discussion with Chandra.

  Her staccato voice still rang in his ears. She’d been upset that Samantha had spoken to reporters and displeased that the hospital was once again featured on the evening news for a reason other than its medical excellence. Mark had barely hung on to his patience with the woman.

  She ought to trust his judgment. He’d made his share of mistakes, but so, he suspected, had Ms. Chandra Yashimoto. Besides, today’s situation had turned out well, even if it hadn’t been strictly on message.

  “Rough day for you, too?” Sam asked.

  Rather than dwell on his running skirmishes with the executive, Mark deflected the question. “Occasionally I fantasize about practicing medicine full-time. But then I’d have to work under some idiot administrator who forgets to put patient care first. Instead, I get to be the idiot administrator.”

  “You’re not an idiot. Very often.”

  “Such high praise.”

  Sam gave him a wry smile through her water glass. “You were pretty darn cool out there in the parking lot.”

  “I admired the way you handled the press,” he admitted. “You were doing great until Candy showed up. When you decided to take the babies, well, that was unexpected.”

  “To me, too.” Her plate empty, she leaned back.

  “Were you even considering adoption?”

  “Yes, in the theoretical sense.” Even after a full meal and a long day, her sharp features exuded restless intelligence. “I didn’t imagine it could happen this quickly, with these children, but it seems almost destined.”

  “And now you’r
e a mommy.” Mark found the term endearing when applied to Sam.

  Emotions flickered across her face. “Oh, wow, I am, aren’t I?”

  “This comes as a surprise?”

  “I mean, of course I know I’m a mother. But I’ve been so busy putting out fires, I haven’t had time to consider the big picture.”

  He’d suspected as much. “Which part hit you the hardest?”

  “That the kids are going to be counting on me to be there for everything.” She rested her chin on her palm. “For help with homework and heartaches, for Halloween costumes and Christmas dinners, for proms and college prep. What if I let them down?” The responsibility was a lot to take in. “You don’t think you’re up to it?”

  “I’m embarrassed that I encouraged Candy to take this on, for one thing,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “Today it was all I could do to get them fed and diapered, and that was with Lori helping. On Saturday, you told me a child deserves attention for those special moments. What if they all fly by and I’m too busy dealing with daily battles to meet the kids’ emotional needs?”

  He’d harbored those same doubts when she took the triplets. Yet Sam wasn’t giving herself enough credit. “There’s a bond between you and them. I saw it at the hospital.”

  Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I love them. When they cry, I feel how much they hurt. When I was working today, there was always a tug, always an awareness, like wishing I could be two places at once.”

  “I see my patients juggling and balancing the same way,” he told her. “It’s stressful, but they pull it off.”

  “But they have husbands. Sometimes grandparents living close by. A support system.” Weariness frayed her voice. “I’m out here on the high wire alone.”

  Her unexpected vulnerability aroused Mark’s protective instincts. “I can help. I’ll be your backup.”

  She regarded him skeptically. “What do you mean by that?”

  What did he mean, anyway? At a whimper from the bedroom, Mark paused, bracing for a cry while he collected his thoughts. The cry never came—the baby must have been fussing in its sleep—but a disturbing thought did.