Nightwatch. Jo Leigh
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closed his eyes. Memories of Heather laughing, braiding her hair, begging him for a Madonna album despite the adult lyrics. He’d only had her for four years. Four years of emergency calls, late-night surgeries, missed school plays, forgotten birthdays. He’d been as lousy a stepparent as he’d been a husband. But he’d loved Heather. More than her mother, at the end, although that was no one’s fault but his own.
He’d never blamed Tammy for leaving him. She had every right, and in fact, she’d probably stayed too long. His damn job. That was what she’d always called it. His damn job. And it had given him the only real satisfaction in his life.
He wasn’t meant to be married, but the lesson had been learned the hard way. With other people’s pain. And now, Heather was gone.
Guy hadn’t known she was pregnant, or even that she’d had a boyfriend, a lover. He’d lost touch, and whose fault was that?
It took him a moment to locate Tammy’s number in his Rolodex. She was living in Bordeaux, France, away with husband number three, studying art and learning to cook. Last time they’d talked, she’d sounded happy.
He got through after dialing all those numbers, and Tammy’s voice sounded as if she were in the next room, not overseas.
“Bonjour.”
“Tammy.”
There was a pause, long and static-free. “Guy.” She always used the French pronunciation. “To what do I owe this honor?”
He swallowed, picked up his pen and squeezed it. “I don’t know how to…Oh hell, Tammy…Heather.”
“What about Heather?”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tammy. She’s dead.”
Nothing. No sound. No sharp cry, no keening wail. Just perfect silence.
“If this is a joke—”
“It’s not. I wish it were.”
Then came the sound of pain, and it was as terrible as anything he’d heard in all the years he’d been telling parents about their children, husbands about their wives…This was his grief, and her grief, and it was too real. It hurt like hot metal in his gut, like a gunshot wound.
“How?” Tammy said, her voice slurred.
“I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”
“What? What are you talking about? Heather’s not pregnant. She’s with her father. With Walter. In Los Angeles.”
“No, she’s not. She’s here, in Courage Bay. I think—” He stopped. Swallowed. “I think she was trying to find me.”
“Wait a minute. This makes no sense. I spoke to her two weeks ago, and she said everything was fine. That she was in L.A., that Walter was at the office, but that she would tell him hello.”
Guy ran a hand over his face. “So you had no idea where she was? Who she was with?”
“No.”
“Tammy—”
“Wait, stop right there. Don’t you dare use that tone with me, not now. Not when…”
He listened to her weep and cursed himself for being an insensitive fool. “We should call Walter. Find out what he knows.”
She sniffed. “Yes, right. But she was really pregnant?”
“She had a baby boy.”
“Oh, God.”
“And, I’m sorry, Tammy, but he’s not doing all that well.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure, except that he has jaundice and his blood pressure isn’t stable.”
“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You’re a doctor, for God’s sake—that’s all you’ve ever cared about. And now your grandchild is ill and you don’t know why?”
Guy’s first thought was that the boy wasn’t his grandchild, but he said nothing. His second thought was that he was a complete ass. “I’m sorry. I’ve been having a tough time with this, too. I’m going from here to the NICU.”
“I’m going to call Walter. And then I’ll get on a plane. Please, Guy. You have to take care of the baby. Please.”
“Of course.”
She wept quietly for another moment. “I have to clear things with Ted. He’s got this…It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“You have my cell. Call me if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
He heard her hang up, and he listened to the dial tone for a second, then put his phone in the cradle. He had to go see the baby, make sure everything was being done to save him. A baby boy that Heather would never know. Who the hell was the father, and where had he been last night? Where had he been during the whole pregnancy?
A knock jerked him out of his thoughts and his sister, Natalie, poked her head in. “Can I come in?”
He nodded.
She stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. Six years his junior, she bore the distinctive Giroux high cheekbones and dark eyes. Natalie was a burn specialist, and their brother, Alec, worked in the E.R. with Guy. “I heard about Heather, Guy. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Does everybody know?”
She smiled the way she did with her patients. Kind, concerned, ready to listen. “This isn’t L.A. County General, Guy. These things get around pretty fast.”
His head dropped into his hands. “She deserved better, Nat. I don’t know how it happened.”
She walked behind him and massaged his tense shoulder muscles. “Things happen, Guy. Mom—Dad. You have to believe there’s a reason.”
“Don’t get all metaphysical on me. Does Alec know yet?”
“He’s already left for Cabo with Janice and the kids. But I’ll call him. Let him know what’s going on. I know he liked Heather a great deal. We both did. She was a sweet girl.”
Guy’s throat tightened, and he had to change the subject before he made a fool of himself. His sister had recently married the city’s fire chief, Dan Egan. “How are things with you and Dan?”
Natalie walked to his side and smiled. “Really good. Thanks. In fact, why don’t you come for dinner tomorrow night?”
Guy appreciated the invitation. He liked Dan, and was happy that Nat had found herself a good man. Both his siblings had been through so much in the last year, and yet they’d come out stronger, better. In love. And he’d never felt so distant from them. “Thanks, Nat, but I’m going to stick close to the hospital. I’ll take a rain check.”
“Anytime, big brother.”
“I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I swear it.”
Her beeper went off. Natalie sighed, patted his still-tense shoulders and headed for the door. “You’re an incredible doctor, Guy, and a pretty decent man. I know you’ll do the right thing, whatever it is.” With a final smile, she left his office, closing the door behind her.
CALLIE BAKER SET ASIDE the damage report and her master list of what had to be done to get the hospital back to perfect working order, even though she hadn’t even started on the delegation sheet. It was time for rounds.
She knew most chiefs of staff didn’t go on master rounds, but for her it was a sacred ritual. Although she could only manage it once a week, twice if she was lucky, it was the one duty that kept her heart and her mind completely focused on who she was and what her job was all about.
Above all else, she was a doctor, and she liked to think