Rescued by Her Rival Read online

  “A side of Pitocin.” Aiyana winced and rubbed her lower back. “All the books I read made having a baby sound like a breeze. This is not my idea of fun.”

  Wendy hailed the waiter to place their order, then settled back in the booth. “Have you and Ned decided on names?”

  Aiyana shook her head as the server brought them water. “We’ve been busy.”

  True. In addition to becoming a new dad soon, Ned was learning the ropes to take over the family mechanic shop from their father. Her other two brothers, Jim and Mike, were also busy, shouldering the extra duties Ned had left behind when he’d become the manager. Wendy helped out there when she could, despite her busy schedule at Anchorage Mercy, figuring it was the least she could do since they’d raised her after Mom had died.

  Wendy had been just ten when it had happened, but she remembered it like yesterday.

  She sighed. Her thirtieth birthday was looming, and she’d begun to hear the ticktock of her biological clock louder than ever, no matter how improbable.

  But getting pregnant, for her, would be a huge disaster, even if she did secretly want a baby of her own. Life was hard when you could be a walking genetic time bomb. Huntington’s disease had taken everything from her poor mother by the end of her too-short life. She’d been unable to walk, talk, swallow. She’d died a shell of the vibrant woman she’d once been.

  The thought of leaving behind a husband and children was too devastating to consider.

  So it was best not to go down that route at all.

  Wendy had been tested, of course, at age eighteen, just as her brothers had been before her. But they’d all been in serious relationships at the time they’d gotten their results, so it seemed more urgent for them to find out. She hadn’t been seeing anyone when she’d had her testing. In fact, she’d been ready to head off to college and begin her nursing career. With all that pressure, the last thing she’d wanted was a Huntington’s positive result looming over her head too. She’d always figured there’d be plenty of time to find out later. Then, as the years had passed, and her life had moved on, the time had never seemed right.

  Her brothers had all been negative for the gene mutation that caused Huntington’s disease. There was a fifty-fifty shot of inheriting. Being the last out of four siblings...well, Wendy knew the odds weren’t in her favor. It would’ve been a miracle if she was negative too, and when it came to her own mortality she wasn’t the betting type. So, twelve years on, she’d never requested her results, never wanted to know, never wanted to play Russian roulette with her own life. Just the thought of spending the rest of her days like a dead woman walking, terrified of every twitch or stumble, thinking the end was near, was terrifying.

  Instead, she’d gone in the opposite direction, living life to the fullest. All to conceal the shame and fear of possibly being afflicted with an incurable disease. Maybe some people took that as running away from her problems or being a coward. Wendy didn’t care. Let those people walk a mile in her shoes.

  No sense pretending a happily-ever-after was in her future.

  Not when those you cared for could be ripped away from you at any time.

  Love was a definite no-go for Wendy. No risk. No reward. No problem.

  Across from her, Aiyana inhaled deeply and slowly, her hands sliding across the table, fingers splayed in an effort to control her breathing, her lung capacity compromised by the twins shoving up against them.

  “You should probably get on that whole naming thing,” Wendy said, raising a brow. “Looks like you don’t have much longer to go.”

  The server interrupted them with a platter of hot nachos and two plates.

  Wendy grabbed a handful of chips and put them on her plate, knowing if she didn’t act now Aiyana would devour the food and she’d never get any.

  Their waiter’s gaze darted from her sister-in-law’s belly to Wendy’s little pile of nachos then back again. “Did you want ice cream with the dessert, ma’am?”

  “Two scoops, please,” Aiyana said.

  The server departed, and Wendy flicked open her napkin. “That’s a lot of food.”

  “What difference does it make? I’m already as big as a house.” Aiyana’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes sparkled with tears. Wendy felt awful. She’d not meant it that way. “But I’m always hungry and Ned’s working overtime to make up for when he’ll be off after the babies are born and I haven’t found another person to cover for me at the souvenir shop and...” Aiyana flinched and grabbed her belly, bending over and inhaling sharply. “Braxton Hicks contractions.”

  After a moment, her sister-in-law relaxed and dug into the platter of nachos. Within minutes, as predicted, all the food was gone. She chugged down her water then banged the glass on the tabletop like a Viking. The server left a pitcher of water on the table.

  “Obviously we need names for the birth certificates,” Aiyana said, chewing suspiciously.

  Wendy looked at her own plate to find the rest of her nachos gone too. “Hey!”

  A guilty look crossed her pretty face. “Sorry.”

  Thankfully, the waiter soon came to the rescue, bringing the piping-hot Peanut Butter Brownie Surprise and an extra fork.

  Her sister-in-law deftly changed subjects, speaking around a mouthful of chocolate and ice cream. “Carmen says we’ll give it five more days. Then we’ll reassess.”

  Carmen Sanchez was her sister-in-law’s certified nurse midwife. With a master’s degree in nursing, she was sort of like an obstetrician and a midwife combined, except she couldn’t perform surgery. If Aiyana did end up needing a C-section they’d have to use the OB on call at Anchorage Mercy at the time of delivery.

  From years of working in the ER, Wendy knew that could be a crapshoot. Thankfully, Aiyana’s pregnancy had gone without a hitch thus far, so she could stay with her midwife, but the ever-present threat of preeclampsia and obstetric cholestasis meant the OB/GYN department was ready at all times, just in case.

  “Well, you’ve got my number on speed dial,” Wendy said. “And you know I’ll show up anytime, anywhere, whenever these kids decide to be born.”

  Aiyana looked up from her dessert, her cheeks persistently rosy this late in pregnancy. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Wendy smiled. “Someone’s got to keep my brother in line while you’re in labor, right?”

  “Right.” Laughing, Aiyana eased out of the booth. “Need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

  She waddled away, and Wendy’s throat constricted with unexpected tears.

  She’d not expected to be so emotional over the impending delivery of the twins. Everything was about to change. Ned and Aiyana would have new responsibilities, new obligations, new lives to embark on. While she would stay stuck inside her self-imposed bubble, safe and protected and happy.

  And I am happy, right?

  Sure, she’d made sacrifices because of a potential medical diagnosis. But Wendy had been inconsolable for weeks after her mom’s passing. Her universe had imploded and when her world had re-formed, she’d been different—more guarded, more responsible, less carefree and reliant on others.

  Two decades had passed, but not much had changed.

  Maybe her social life had suffered lately because she was so busy. Didn’t matter. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Which was good because it was hard to meet men when you worked eighty-plus hours a week.

  These days she had fun, dated, got involved with guys who were looking for a good time, not a long-term relationship, and kept what was left of her battered heart out of the equation.

  And so what if, sometimes, those niggles of yearning—the ones that whispered how wonderful it might be to have a baby and family of her own—became too persistent? She’d soon have her newborn niece and nephew to satisfy that craving.

  Plus, now there was Sam at work to keep her company.
r />   A friend who was a youth counselor at Anchorage Mercy had been going on vacation, and had asked Wendy if she’d be willing to help out with one of the kids she was treating who’d recently lost her mother. It was a no-brainer, given Wendy’s past and the fact she’d trained to volunteer helping at-risk youth at the hospital, which meant she’d already been screened and vetted. Sam was twelve and full of snark, reminding Wendy of herself at that age. Sam’s father also worked at the hospital, but, with her busy schedule, Wendy hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. Plus, since she’d only be covering for a short time, it hadn’t seemed like a top priority.

  Over her few visits with Sam, though, Wendy had come to enjoy them and looked forward to those late-lunch chats.

  Sam was like the kid sister Wendy had never had.

  The sound of clattering dishes drew her attention to the afternoon sunshine filtering through the pub windows, flashing across tabletops and sparkling through rows of glasses and bottles waiting for customers behind the bar. The air smelled of lemon furniture polish and fried food. Outside, May in Alaska meant the whole state felt warm and green and bursting with life.

  Wendy took a deep breath, enjoying the calm before the storm. She had a shift in the ER later. The controlled chaos of working in trauma care suited her, partly because of her type A personality and partly because being raised in an all-male household meant she’d had to be scrappy to survive. She could take care of herself, could drink and curse with the best of them, could rebuild an engine faster than anyone. And all that independence played nicely into her belief that if she just kept moving, kept busy, kept one step ahead of the game, then her genetics wouldn’t catch up with her.

  “I’m back,” Aiyana said, perching on the edge of her seat like a cello player.

  Wendy nodded, shoving her last bite of dessert into her mouth. She wasn’t generally the sappy or reflective type, but a tiny part of her wanted to shave off a little of the wonderful closeness Aiyana and Ned shared and hold it inside, so she could turn to it when she felt lonely or desperate. Wendy never stuck around long enough in relationships for things to get that deep.

  “How’s work?” her sister-in-law asked.

  “Same old, same old. Lots of bee stings and weekend warrior accidents this time of year.”

  She went to say more, but her sister-in-law leaned over again, inhaling deeply. By Wendy’s estimation, the contractions were about seven minutes apart, lasting about thirty-eight seconds.

  Once the pain passed, Aiyana drank half a glass of water.

  “I’m dehydrated,” her sister-in-law said, smoothing back her long black ponytail.

  And delusional, Wendy thought. These were more than false labor pains. “Sure.”

  They chatted for a few more minutes and Aiyana snagged one last stray tortilla chip from the nacho tray and shoved it into her mouth. From what Wendy could see, her sister-in-law’s belly looked high and tight. Good. As long as it didn’t suddenly drop lower, they still had time.

  The server delivered their check. “Anything else I can get you, ladies?”

  “No, thank you,” Aiyana said, then put her head down and took another deep breath.

  This contraction was only five minutes from the last one and forty-five seconds long.

  Wendy stood and hiked her thumb toward the bathroom. “My turn.”

  The minute the door closed behind her, she was on the phone to her brother Ned.

  “Hello?” his deep baritone answered.

  “Hey, bud. It’s your little sis.”

  “Hey.” The sounds of a busy garage buzzed in the background. “What’s up?”

  “I think your wife’s in labor. The contractions are coming five to six minutes apart and—well, the last one was forty-five seconds.”

  Ned’s tone shifted from jovial to nervous in one second flat. “That close?”

  “Yep. She’s claiming they’re Braxton Hicks and guzzling water like there’s no tomorrow. I’m bringing her in to Anchorage Mercy just in case. I’ll call you when we get to the hospital and we’ll meet you in the ER.”

  “Uh, okay,” Ned said, his voice strained. “Good thing we got the nursery done last weekend, huh?”

  “Yeah.” The twins’ room was already filled with toys Ned and Aiyana’s families had bought over the past few months, with a fondness for oversize Alaskan animals. There was a walrus the size of a small car wedged into the tiny room.

  After ending the call, Wendy went back out and paid the check then helped Aiyana stand. Her sister-in-law’s face was even redder now, color creeping down her neck and upper chest, the edges of her hairline damp with sweat. Doing her best to keep her tone light, Wendy asked, “Did you have another contraction while I was in the bathroom?”

  “I had a twinge.”

  “A twinge?”

  “More like a surge.”

  Twinge and surge were used in the natural childbirth community to reference contractions, a way to train their minds to think differently about the pain. Wendy wasn’t fooled.

  “All right,” Aiyana admitted. “Technically, it was a searing, ripping pain, like somebody reached into my belly, twisted it, then wrung it out like a wet shirt.”

  “And how long did the feeling last?”

  “I’m not in labor,” Aiyana said, clearly still in denial.

  Wendy led her outside and steered her toward the car, parked about half a block away. “Let’s walk nice and slowly. It’ll help you feel better.”

  Passersby shot them nervous looks, especially when her sister-in-law cradled her enormous abdomen, teeth gritted as she breathed in and out. Three minutes this time. Wendy counted the seconds, hitting thirty, then forty, then fifty. If they didn’t get to Anchorage Mercy soon, the twins would be delivered here on the sidewalk. Wendy shifted into her best take-charge trauma nurse persona. “Aiyana.”

  “Yes?” her sister-in-law gasped.

  “It’s time.” Despite her bravado, Wendy’s voice cracked.

  “You’re right,” her sister-in-law admitted, fear and anticipation sparkling in her deep brown eyes. “Babies are coming.”

  They stopped talking as another contraction hit, continuing step by painstaking step toward the car. It was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  As far as shifts went, this one was shaping up okay so far, but then, Dr. Thomas Farber still had another nineteen hours to go. He was reserving final judgment until after he got home.

  Home. He snorted. His modest two-bedroom apartment in the Rogers Park neighborhood of Anchorage was more like a war zone these days, since his daughter, Samantha, had come to live with him. Not that he didn’t love having her there. He did. It was just that he’d expected things between them to be...different.

  The counselor here at the hospital had told him to be patient, but it was hard when all Tom wanted was to see his daughter smile, laugh, feel comfortable with him and his parents, who lived up in Fairbanks. He wanted her to feel cherished. He wanted to erase that flicker of pain and grief in her green eyes.

  A twelve-year-old shouldn’t look so world-weary...

  His cellphone buzzed in the pocket of his scrubs, distracting him. He pulled it out to see a text from the nanny he’d hired to pick up Sam at the hospital and take her home on the days he worked long shifts. The nanny was running late, but it was fine. Sam could stay in his office and do her homework. He wished he could spend more time with her but keeping a roof over both their heads had to be his top priority right now. Sam understood.

  Didn’t she?

  Tom exhaled slowly and clicked off his phone, guilt squeezing his chest. He sighed and frowned down at his messy handwritten notes in the chart. Honestly, being a single dad was not what he’d expected at all. He wouldn’t change it for the world, though. Even if Sam had yelled at him again that morning and told him she hated him.

 
It was the grief talking. Had to be, right?

  The automatic doors at the ambulance entrance to the ER whooshed open and Tom looked up to see a small group of people causing quite a commotion. A heavily pregnant woman, flanked by Dr. Jake Ryder, the head of Emergency Medicine, and a tall man with short, dark hair and a denim work shirt with “Smith’s Body Shop and Repair” embroidered on the back.

  A nurse walked in behind them. Wendy Smith. She and Tom had said hello in passing a few times after he’d first moved back to Anchorage. In fact, she was the woman who was meeting with Sam for a few weeks in the counselor’s absence. He’d meant to introduce himself properly to Wendy, but his workload had kept him too busy.

  Following them all was one of the local certified nurse midwives, Carmen Sanchez, and his budding excitement over the prospect of a new case dimmed. He was the OB on call tonight, but unless there were complications severe enough to warrant bringing him in, he probably wouldn’t be involved.

  They all raced by the nurses’ station where he stood. Wendy glanced his way and he couldn’t help but notice her long black hair and gorgeous dark eyes. She was curvy and petite, maybe half a foot shorter than his own six-one height.

  He had more than enough on his plate at the moment, but couldn’t squelch his curiosity about the new case, and found himself tracking the quartet’s progress across the busy ER. They loaded onto an elevator, most likely headed for the maternity ward upstairs.

  Tom glanced at the dour-faced nurse sitting at the desk before him. “Uh, I think I’ll head up to L&D to see if they need help.”

  “What about the rest of these charts?” the nurse called, her scowl imposing as she pointed at the neat stack of abandoned files he’d left behind.

  “I’ll get to them later.” He backed toward the elevator. “Duty calls.”

  The doors opened, and he turned to find Wendy blocking his way.

  She stared up at him. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  He ignored the skip of his pulse and the odd tingle in his bloodstream. It had been so long since anyone had been glad to see him, that had to be it. He swallowed hard and stepped on board the elevator. “What’s up?”