At Odds With The Midwife. Patricia Forsythe
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county sheriff and some state investigative agencies had searched for George and had tracked him to Las Vegas, but the leads had petered out. They speculated that he’d changed his name and obtained false identification. They would wait until he resurfaced—but that hadn’t happened in all of these years.
Wherever George was, he had almost certainly gambled all that money away. If he’d been a lucky gambler, he probably wouldn’t have needed to steal in the first place.
Harley returned to the podium and asked, “Does anyone have any questions?”
Of course they did and the next hour was spent in heated discussions about money, personnel, building and equipment upgrades, contract bids for the work, and a dozen other issues. The county supervisors, city manager and banker all answered questions. Finally, someone brought up the other issue Nate had been dreading.
“What about the birthing center?”
* * *
HARLEY’S GAZE WENT directly to Nate. Gemma watched consternation flit across his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to answer that question.
“Dr. Smith, how will the birthing center be involved with the hospital?” Harley asked.
“The same as with any other hospital. When complications occur, the mother will be transferred to the hospital—”
“Although such occurrences are rare,” Gemma broke in, springing to her feet. She hurried up the stairs and across the stage to the podium. Swinging in beside Nate, she eased Harley aside, confiscated the microphone and gave a bright smile as she said, “With every mother and baby, our goal is to make sure they receive the best care possible. We ensure this by frequent checkups and careful monitoring throughout the pregnancy, along with a comprehensive birth plan and education.” She cast a quick glance at Nate. “As you probably know, in Oklahoma, birthing centers can only deal with low-risk pregnancies. We will make every effort to guarantee that a low-risk pregnancy stays that way. We will answer any and all questions the parents may have, and we’ll make it as safe and as memorable as possible. After all, birth is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” she concluded to chuckles from the audience.
Nate retook the microphone and kept his gaze on Gemma as he said, “The birthing center will be monitored by the medical staff at Reston County Hospital.”
“Well, doesn’t Reston County Hospital have to actually open first?” Gemma asked sweetly, leaning in and raising her voice. “The Sunshine Birthing Center will be open within a few weeks. Until Reston Hospital reopens, we’ll transport patients to the hospital in Toncaville if necessary, and our medical director will be one of their physicians. We’ll hold an open house so everyone can visit our facility and if we have any expectant mothers—and if I remember correctly, there are always expectant mothers around here—please feel free to call and make an appointment. Even if you ultimately choose not to use our services, we’re happy to talk to anyone.” She gave the center’s phone number and as she did, Nathan clenched his jaw.
Belatedly seeming to sense the tension, the mayor stepped in between Gemma and Nathan. “Um, that’s all the time we have right now, folks. I’m sure you’ll have more questions. Call my office and we’ll try to help you as best we can.”
Gemma was disappointed in Nate’s reaction, although she didn’t know why it surprised her. She was ready to leave, to rejoin Carly and Lisa, but she found herself gathered into a hug. She looked up into Frances Sanderson’s smiling face.
Laughing, Gemma returned the hug.
“Gemma, we’re so happy to see you back in Reston, at last,” Frances said. Curvaceous and beautiful with shoulder-length silver hair, she was dressed in a crisp white shirt, black jeans and chunky turquoise jewelry.
“It’s only because of you that I’m here.”
“It’s only because of you that we have a healthy grandson,” Frances countered. She glanced up when Nathan paused beside them and treated him to one of her sparkling smiles. “Dr. Smith, you’re very fortunate to be able to work with Gemma.”
Nathan looked at her, then at Gemma, who hid a smile. He probably didn’t know Frances very well and wasn’t aware that she rarely acknowledged negative situations, choosing instead to see the world through rose-colored glasses.
“Um, yes,” he agreed, but his dark eyes said something completely different.
“Tom and I are having our annual Memorial Day picnic at our place and we’ve invited all the hospital and birthing-center donors and potential donors. Of course, we want you to come. We intend to wring every last cent out of them and having you there will make us look legitimate.” She told them the time, wiggled her fingers at the two of them and went to rejoin her husband.
Maybe Frances was more shrewd than she appeared.
“The Sandersons are contributing to the birthing center?” Nathan asked, his gaze following Frances as she charmed her way, one by one, through the people on the stage. Tom followed in her wake, shaking hands and exchanging a few words with everyone. Gemma knew that was one of the reasons the two of them were so successful—they worked as a team.
“So far they’re the major contributors.”
“Because you saved their grandson?”
Gemma crossed her arms at her waist and tilted her head to the side as she considered him. “Careful, Nathan, your skepticism is showing. I am a trained and experienced midwife.” She couldn’t control the testiness in her voice.
“So you keep telling me.” He glanced away, then back again. “Thanks for shutting down Cole.” The words came out as if they were dragged from him. He turned away, grabbed his briefcase and hurried from the stage.
Gemma pressed her lips together and looked down as she slowly followed him off the stage. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be around her, but it wasn’t strictly because of their professional differences. This was deeper, more personal.
* * *
YVETTE BURLEIGH WATCHED the crowd exiting the auditorium. She’d made the mistake of leaving Cole alone while she went to the ladies room. He had wandered off with some of his like-minded cronies. Now she couldn’t find him and she’d left her truck keys at home so she couldn’t even crawl inside, prop up her feet and wait for him. Her ankles were swollen, her back hurt, the baby was doing gymnastics on her bladder and if he didn’t stop it, she was going to need the bathroom again before they got anywhere close to home. She patted her belly. Sometimes that calmed her unborn son. She moved into the shade and took a deep breath. Settling her back against the wall, she tried to relax.
On a daily basis, she found herself swinging between elation about the baby and profound depression fueled by fear that she would be a terrible mother. Her own hadn’t been much of a role model, bouncing in and out of Yvette’s life as she’d grown up and been passed from one relative to another and then to foster homes. Yvette was terrified she would do that to her son, except that her baby would know who his father was—a man with a stable family. Cole’s mom and dad were bossy and overbearing and most of the time she was scared of them, but they were thrilled about the baby. They were planning to purchase nearly every top-of-the-line item their grandson would ever need and Yvette had been completely left out of all the discussions, shopping and decisions. Apparently, her only part in this was to produce the actual baby.
Having grown up in unstable and sometimes dangerous households, she hated conflict and didn’t want to get into any arguments with her in-laws. She wished she had a friend or two, girlfriends she could go shopping with to choose things for herself or for her son, but there was no one.
And then there was Cole.
He had a good job helping run the family sale barn, where livestock was auctioned off to the local ranchers. Her son would never want for anything except maybe tenderness and gentle understanding from his father. She didn’t know exactly how a father was supposed to act, but thought it wasn’t like her loud, arrogant father-in-law, or her convinced-he-was-right