McCallum Quintuplets Page 6

  Ian smiled. He couldn’t help himself. This was the Maddie he knew, the Maddie he loved. The most down-to-earth, unaffected, honest woman he’d ever known. “There’s trouble with one of your patients?”

  She nodded as she stood up, stamped her feet a few times, quickly downed the remainder of her coffee. “Maggie McCallum. She’s spotting, and frightened out of her mind. I’m not officially on call, and I won’t treat, since I did have that wine. Zachary Beaumont is already there, but I’ve got to go. She asked for me.”

  “Then you go if you have to, but I’ll drive if you do,” Ian said, not that he believed Maddie would stay if he’d asked her to stay. They could talk later, tomorrow. Talk about what happened tonight. If either of them could figure out what had happened tonight. But, right now, and for as long as it took to deal with Maggie McCallum, Maddie’s entire mind would be concentrated on her job, doing her job.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—thank you, Ian. I’d appreciate it.”

  Maddie picked up her purse, headed for the door. “Maddie?” he called after her as he grabbed his car keys from the table.

  “Huh?” she asked, one hand on the doorknob.

  “I don’t want to be overly picky, but—”

  “What, Ian? We have to go.”

  “Yes, I know. But I was thinking—first you might want to rehook your bra.”

  “Oh, damn!” she said, her cheeks flushing as she dropped her purse, reached her hands behind her, under her blouse. “Oh, stop smiling. It isn’t funny!” Then she quickly opened the door as Ian followed after her, laughing out loud.

  Chapter Four

  Madeline tapped her fingertips on her thighs, an outward sign of her inner wish that Ian’s car had wings and they could be across town now, at the unit.

  She knew Maggie McCallum, knew her to be a steady, levelheaded woman. An intelligent woman. But she also knew that all the intelligence and maturity in the world meant less than nothing to an expectant mom who’d started bleeding two months into her already at-risk pregnancy.

  Maggie would hold on, give an outward appearance of calm. But inside? Inside, she’d shake, cry, silently scream against the unfairness of it all.

  Madeline’s job would be to get through to Maggie, and to Adam, as well. While Zachary took care of his patient medically, it would be Madeline who had to calm the expectant parents, keep them operating as part of the team, not another problem for the team.

  “Maddie?”

  “Hmm?” Madeline said, mentally rehearsing what she’d say, how she’d handle a small problem…how she’d deal with a much larger one.

  “How bad is this for the McCallums?” Ian asked, neatly maneuvering his car through a yellow caution light before it could turn red.

  Sighing, Madeline folded her hands in her lap, at last aware that she’d been fidgeting. “There’s a lot of schools of thought on it, Ian, and a lot of studies, statistics, that sort of thing.”

  “How so?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Believe it or not, yes, I do. As a matter of fact, I’ve recently developed this whole new interest in intricacies of women and pregnancy.”

  “Really,” Madeline said, sniffing. “Okay. Spotting in the first trimester isn’t that unusual and often goes away on its own. Many believe that bed rest, and enough carefully administered drugs, will handle this sort of complication nine times out of ten. Then there’s my nature’s-way mother, who says that a pregnant woman can stand on her head for nine months, but if the pregnancy isn’t to be, it isn’t to be. Those are the two ends of the spectrum, and probably always will be. The main thing, right now, is to reassure Maggie that nothing she did caused the spotting.”

  “And that would be your job, right?”

  “It would,” Madeline said, sighing once more. “The job doesn’t stop when the couple gets pregnant. We’re working as a real team effort in the unit. Once the pregnancy is confirmed, mine becomes the role of cheerleader, confidante, hand-holder, you name it. Oh, I hope she’s all right.”

  “You trust Zachary Beaumont?”

  “He’s the best,” Madeline told him, realizing that Ian was trying to keep her talking, helping her to convince herself that there were high chances for a good outcome for Maggie’s quints. “Cool in a crisis, reassuring and one of the top obstetricians in the country. If anyone can get Maggie and her babies to a safe delivery, it’s Zach.”

  “The McCallums can’t ask for more than that, can they? So you and the rest of the team do everything you can, and then you hope for the best. What else can you do?”

  “Nothing. And worrying won’t change that, will it?” Madeline turned her head, looked at him. “You’re right. We do our best, then hope for the best. Okay, I’m calmer now, thanks. It’s just that, although every set of hopeful parents are special, Maggie and Adam really have gotten to me. And not just because Adam’s father donated the new unit. They’re special people, that’s all. They deserve a break.” She put a hand on the buckle of her seat belt. “Oh, good, we’re here.”

  Ian pulled right up to the front doors. “I’ll let you out here, go park the car. Do you mind if I come up to the unit, wait for you?”

  Madeline felt a sudden stinging behind her eyes, threatening tears she hadn’t expected. She put her hand on Ian’s arm. “I’d really like that, Ian. I’d like that very much.”

  He covered her hand with his, gave hers a squeeze. “Maddie? About earlier tonight. I know that’s never happened before, and I—”

  She cut off his words with her mouth, a quick kiss that was all she had time for, when she wanted the rest of their lives. “I’ll see you upstairs,” she said, then quickly exited the car, trotted toward the main doors, not even noticing that the boots pinched her toes.

  Adam McCallum was waiting for her just outside the elevator doors, his short dark hair spiking on his head, his hazel eyes clouded with worry. “Doctor! I’m so glad you’re here. Maggie’s down there…just down the hall. Dr. Beaumont is still with her.”

  Madeline nodded, and the two of them set off down the hallway together. “Would you please tell me what happened tonight? When did the spotting start? Any cramping? Discomfort of any kind?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Adam told her, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “We had an early dinner at the country club, then came home, popped in a video. Maggie was fine, fine. She just went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and all of sudden I heard her crying, calling out for me. I brought her right here.”

  “Which was exactly the right thing to do. She’s in good hands.”

  “Yeah, then tell me, Dr. Sheppard, why am I still so scared?”

  “Madeline. I’d be honored if you and Maggie began calling me Madeline. After all, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next seven months.”

  “Thank you.” It had been the right thing to say, and she watched as Adam McCallum’s shoulders dropped slightly and his body relaxed. “But are you sure we’re going to have the next seven months, Madeline?”

  “Nothing’s a sure bet, Adam, but Maggie’s very healthy, the babies are developing nicely, and this is probably just a small speed bump we have to get over, that’s all. Now, if you’ll stay out here for a few moments, I’d like to go talk to Dr. Beaumont and Maggie.”

  Ten minutes later, Madeline was sitting in a chair pulled up beside Maggie’s bed, with Adam standing on the other side, holding his wife’s hand.

  “Speed bump,” Adam said, his smile shaky. “Is that the medical term?”

  “If not, maybe it should be,” Madeline told him, “because that’s what this looks like to everyone. There’s been no increase in bleeding. In fact, there’s been no more spotting since Maggie was admitted to the unit. She isn’t cramping or in any pain. Temperature, normal. Blood count back, and good. Blood pressure, normal. And she’s hungry. As a matter of fact, if you’re this good tomorrow morning, Maggie, Dr. Beaumont is going to kick you out of here.”

&nb
sp; Maggie McCallum dabbed at her moist eyes with a pile of the ridiculously small tissues all hospitals handed out to their patients. “I was so frightened, Madeline. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”

  “And we’re going to avoid that in the future, aren’t we?” Madeline said, looking at Maggie with some intensity. “You and Adam are prepared to do anything and everything possible for your children, right?”

  “Of course,” Adam said, sounding not only confident, but a little angry at being asked the question. “And you said Maggie hadn’t done anything wrong.”

  “No, she didn’t. And I’d hoped Maggie could continue her normal routine for a while longer, but tonight’s episode tells us that we’re going to have to go into full pamper-mommy mode now. And that, Maggie, means that you’ll be handing in your resignation at school, effective Monday morning.”

  “But—but my students. They won’t understand. I can’t just desert them, just not show up. Can I?” she asked, looking at Adam.

  “She can’t go in and say goodbye?” Adam asked Madeline.

  “Not Monday, no. When Maggie goes home, she goes home to bed rest. No lifting, no driving, no cooking, no vacuuming—that’s the worst, you know—and no emotional farewells at the school. In a couple of weeks, once Dr. Beaumont okays it, you can visit your class, Maggie, maybe have a little party, if it’s allowed.”

  Adam bent over his wife, kissed her forehead. “I’ll call the principal tomorrow,” he said with a reassuring smile. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart. And I’ll enjoy spoiling you, although I will tell you that it amazes me, the lengths you’ll go to get breakfast in bed.”

  Maggie sniffled, laughed weakly, nodded her agreement. “We said we’d do anything, didn’t we, darling? I guess we just hit our first anything.” Then she turned to Madeline. “Will I be on bed rest for the entire pregnancy?”

  “I don’t think so, but that’s up to Dr. Beaumont. Let’s just take this one day at a time, all right? And now, considering that it’s nearly one in the morning, I’d say it’s time for Maggie to get some rest. You, too, Adam. Go home, get some sleep and be back here around ten tomorrow morning, when Dr. Beaumont makes his Sunday rounds.”

  “No, that’s okay, Madeline,” Adam told her. “I’ve already made arrangements to stay here. Someone is bringing a cot in here for me.”

  “Oh, yes, just one more service of the McCallum Multiple Birth Wing,” Madeline said, smiling. “Just remember, new unit or not, a cot is still just a cot, so don’t blame us if you wake up with a sore back. Adam, could I speak to you for just a moment? Outside?”

  “Madeline?” Maggie asked, pushing herself up against the pillows. “What are you going to say that I can’t hear? I thought you said everything’s fine.”

  Madeline looked from Adam to Maggie, then shrugged. “All right. I was planning to tell you separately, but there really isn’t any compelling reason for that, is there? Maggie, you do know how you got into this condition, don’t you?” she asked, gesturing toward Maggie McCallum’s still fairly flat belly.

  “Certainly,” she answered, frowning. “Testing, timing, fertility drugs…”

  “And?” Madeline prompted.

  “Sex,” Adam said abruptly. “We made love.”

  Madeline grinned. “Give that man a cigar, and a cold shower, because sex is something you two are not going to be having for a while. Deal?”

  Madeline watched as Maggie’s cheeks colored prettily, as if she were a young bride. “Adam?” she asked, looking at her husband.

  “Maggie?” he said right back at her, then grinned. “So, how would you like me to teach you how to play gin rummy?”

  Laughing, Madeline left the expectant parents alone and headed into the hallway. Crisis averted. Maggie and Adam, totally onboard with the team for the duration. Madeline, exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted…until she looked down the hallway and saw Ian leaning against the wall, holding two cups of cafeteria coffee.

  She approached him slowly, taking in the way his slacks draped slightly over his brown loafers, the way he had his white shirt sleeves rolled up, the top button open, his tweed sports coat draped over one arm. One lock of his black hair fell forward over his forehead, and his bright blue eyes looked heavy-lidded, sleepy.

  She could put him on bread, butter him and have him for an early breakfast.

  “You’re smiling,” he said as she stopped in front of him, and he handed her one of the paper cups. “I’ll take that as a good sign?”

  “A very good sign,” Madeline agreed, prying off the lid and taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Good? Delirious with fatigue, are you?” Ian teased. “This coffee, Maddie, tastes like it was run through an oil refinery. Twice.”

  “I know, but I think I’m used to it,” she told him as she pushed the button that would summon the elevator. “Ian? How unprofessional would it look if I took off these boots?”

  “You’d have to roll up your slacks, remember,” he said as the doors opened and they stepped into the elevator. “How about I carry you to the car?”

  “You and whose army? No way, Ian,” Madeline retorted. “Carrying my hundred and forty pounds all the way to the parking lot would have to qualify you for some Olympic sport.”

  “Maddie-carrying. It has a certain ring to it,” Ian said, leading her through the foyer, through the main doorway and toward the parking lot. “That’s it, keep limping. You’ll get there. We’ll go home, I’ll make you some real coffee and then I’ll massage your feet. Does that sound like a plan?”

  It would have, about eight hours ago. But a lot had happened tonight, and the idea of lounging on Ian’s couch, her legs in his lap, his hands stroking her feet? Ian maybe opening his mouth and wanting to talk about just what had happened—or almost happened—on that same couch a little earlier?

  “I—I probably should try to get some sleep. I’m off tomorrow, but I’ll want to go in, see Maggie one more time if Zach is going to be sending her home. I have some photocopied articles in my office on multiples pregnancies that she might want to read.”

  “So no coffee? No Russell special foot rub?”

  Madeline bowed her head. “Not tonight, Ian. But thank you. Really. Thank you.” She touched the diamond bracelet. “For everything.”

  “For everything? Don’t mention it. I mean it. Please, don’t mention it.”

  The car moved through the dark, nearly deserted streets, passing beneath street lamps so that Madeline, when she dared to look at him, could see the tic working in Ian’s cheek.

  This wasn’t going to work. They either had to talk about tonight, or she’d have to never talk to him again. It was definitely an either-or situation, a really important either-or situation.

  “Ian?”

  He braked at a red light, turned to look at her. “Maddie,” he responded tightly.

  “What…what happened tonight. I guess, that is, I know we have to talk about it.”

  He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Gee, that sounds about as welcome as having a root canal. Was it that bad?”

  “No. No! It was wonder—that is, oh, Ian, would you look at us? This is ridiculous. We can’t even talk to each other. When have we not been able to talk about anything?”

  The light turned green, and Ian concentrated once more on his driving. “Never,” he said after a few moments. “We’ve never not been able to talk to each other. About anything. Okay? Does that answer your question?”

  “It would have, up until tonight,” Madeline told him, keeping her head front even as she kept watching him out of the corner of her eye. “And, if we’re ever going to be able to talk to each other again, I think we have to talk about this.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Don’t, Ian, or won’t? Which is it?”

  Ian sighed as he turned into the apartment complex, eased into his assigned parking space. He turned off the ignition, pulled out the key and looked at Madeline. “Nothi
ng’s changed, Maddie. We’re still friends. I just kissed you, that’s all.”

  “Oh, really? Kissed me? Excuse me, but I think I remember having to rehook my bra.”

  “Okay, that, too,” he said as they both got out of the car, headed toward their building. “We had a moment, Maddie. Your birthday, the wine, that outfit—your eyes. I don’t know. It was a moment. Can’t we let it go at that? Do we have to psychoanalyze it?”

  “Yes,” Madeline said as he held open the door for her and she entered the building ahead of him. “I think we do have to psychoanalyze it. And you know why? Because we’re friends, Ian. We’ve been friends for fifteen years, and I don’t want to lose that.”

  I don’t want to lose it because your friendship is all I’ve got of you, all I could ever hope to have of you, and I figured that out years ago. That’s what she would have said, if she hadn’t quickly bitten her bottom lip until she got a firmer grip on her emotions.

  She dug in her purse for her apartment key as they headed down the hallway, but Ian grabbed her elbow, steered her toward his door. “Okay, now we talk. How in hell are you figuring that one kiss—yes, and one small grope—are going to cost us our friendship?”

  Good question, and Madeline mulled it as, still holding onto her elbow, he opened his apartment door and just about pulled her inside. He probably deserved an answer.

  “Sit,” he ordered, then gave her a lopsided grin. “Please sit.”

  Madeline sat, remembering how she’d been sort of sprawled on this same couch a few hours ago, sending out silent “Go for it!” signals in response to every move Ian made.

  She hopped up from the couch, headed for the kitchen. “There’s bound to be some coffee left,” she said, hoping there wasn’t, because then she could make more, hide in the kitchen, delay the inevitable just a little bit longer.

  Ian followed her, not giving her any time, any space, any wiggle room at all. He helped her take down two clean mugs, gathered spoons and sugar bowl. Then he carried the mugs into the living room, set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Or the COUCH. Madeline was beginning to think of that particular piece of furniture in capital letters.