Alias Mommy. Linda O. Johnston
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she quickly maneuvered a blanket over the baby’s head to cover herself. Chewing her bottom lip with small, even teeth, she looked at Reeve expectantly, as though waiting for him to take her pulse or ask how she was feeling.
Of course she would consider him just another of the hospital crew parading through her room to check on her welfare. “Hi, Polly. I’m here to see how the baby is doing.”
For a moment, a hurt look passed over Polly’s pretty but bruised face. “She’s doing fine.” Her tone was bright, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
Had she hoped he was here to see her? The idea pleased him, and he felt his lips twitch toward a grin. He was here to see her as well as her child. He cared about her welfare, too.
Professionally, of course. That was all.
“I’m a primary care doctor, Polly,” he said gently. “You’ve been assigned Dr. Fletcher as your obstetrician. If it is all right with you, I’ll be your baby’s doctor while you’re here.”
“Oh. Of course. I’d like that.” She smiled then. Though Polly was still pale enough for her complexion to contrast starkly with her short, black hair, her color had improved. Her eyes were the soft gray of dove feathers, and they regarded him with a warmth that stirred ashes cooled long ago deep inside him. “I can’t imagine a better doctor for Laurel. That’s her name, you know. You’ve done so much for us already, Dr. Snyder.”
“Reeve,” he said. “This is a small town, and we go by first names here.” Not always, of course. But he somehow didn’t like the distance that “doctor” put between them.
“Reeve,” she repeated softly. The melodic sound of the single syllable tripping off her tongue made him want to request an encore. He took an involuntary step toward the bed, and his eyes met Polly’s soft, gray stare for an infinite, exquisite instant. He felt his pulse pound in his veins, wondered if he should grab a cuff to see how elevated his blood pressure had become.
The baby began to cry. Reeve welcomed—and cursed—the interruption.
“Shh,” Polly crooned softly. She cradled little Laurel, maneuvering the blanket over the flimsy hospital gown—but not before Reeve got another glimpse of an exposed curve of breast. The sight sent a wave of heat immediately to his groin.
What was wrong with him? Even if he hadn’t been here as her doctor, he was a professional.
Polly cuddled the tiny, swaddled body close. “Hush, Laurel,” she pleaded. “You’re all right, little one.” As the baby’s wails grew more frantic, Polly looked helplessly at Reeve. This was probably her first baby, and the new mother was still a neophyte. She didn’t look very old, after all—maybe midtwenties. Her complexion was nearly as smooth as her daughter’s, and despite the bump on her forehead she didn’t need any makeup to appear beautiful. Her nose was narrow and perfect, her eyes large with a thick fringe of lashes, her mouth just a little too wide.
“Here,” Reeve said. He repositioned the infant on Polly’s shoulder, then patted the baby’s back gently. The receiving blanket was a soft spun acrylic, warm from being against Polly and her daughter. In a moment, Laurel gave a small burp.
Polly laughed. It was a relieved, merry sound that made Reeve’s heart fill. “I should have figured that out.”
“You will the next time.” Reeve hesitated. “I imagine one of the staff has already gone over this with you, but I understand they weren’t able to locate your family. Can we call someone for you?” Your husband, he wanted to ask. Where is he, and why did he let you travel alone when you were so close to term?
She blanched as white as the sheet behind her, and her gray eyes grew as round and frightened as a captive doe’s. “You can’t.” She sounded almost frantic. Then her lips curled in an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. Her voice was much calmer. Even. Too even, as though she were reciting a memorized line. “Actually, I don’t have any family to notify. I was orphaned as a child, and my husband and I were divorced months ago because of my pregnancy.”
It didn’t take a psychiatrist’s credentials to know she was lying.
Reeve couldn’t breathe suddenly, as though someone had put a tourniquet around his windpipe. He felt his own color deepen. “I see. Well, good luck to you, Ms. Black.” He turned and strode toward the door. He had to get out of there.
It wasn’t his problem. Not this time. But he still felt as though he had been gut punched.
He heard a soft noise behind him, like someone crying.
None of his business, he told himself. But he found himself turning back as he reached the door.
Polly held her squirming baby against her. Tears ran down her cheeks beneath tightly shut eyes, and she was shuddering.
Reeve had to stop himself from taking a step toward her. He wouldn’t comfort her. He didn’t want to.
If she were keeping this baby away from her husband, Reeve could only despise her.
Unless she had a damned good reason.
Chapter Two
She was free. That was all that mattered.
Then why had Dr. Snyder’s snapping at her for no apparent reason caused her to break down? He meant nothing to her.
Except that he was her hero. He had saved her life—hers and Laurel’s. His had been the first kind voice she had heard in ages. And now he had turned against her. The knot in her stomach tightened more at the thought.
She shouldn’t feel particularly bad about him. That had happened a lot lately—people turning out to be quite different from what they had seemed. Her husband. Her own family.
Tears brimmed again in her eyes, but she refused to cry anymore.
She was all alone. Unless she could get to Lorelei, and even that possibility was fraught with danger, for anyone hunting her might recall Lorelei as her college roommate and realize she was heading there.
Polly sighed raggedly and hugged Laurel closer, inhaling her sweet-sour baby aroma. The movement reminded her of her injuries, since she still ached all over. Laurel made a soft protesting noise, and Polly rearranged her more comfortably, stroking the perfect, pudgy smoothness of the skin of her arm.
Polly. Polly Black. Thank heavens she had remembered to call herself that even when she had been most confused.
“Hi. How are we doing here?” The nurse with short platinum hair and a happy demeanor stood in the doorway. Nurse Meltzer.
Polly forced herself to smile. “Just fine.”
“Great!” The nurse bustled into the room and arranged the bedclothes around mother and baby. “She’s a tiny one, but she’s doing wonderfully. I know she was delivered early because of the accident. When was she really due?”
Polly hesitated. In case the news was out, she didn’t want anyone to associate her with the woman she had been. “Oh, right around now. My mother told me she gave birth to small babies, too. My sister and me.” She didn’t have a sister, of course. Just two stepbrothers, and both of them had—Well, never mind that.
“I see,” said Nurse Meltzer. “Lunch will be wheeled around in about an hour, and the TV’s remote control is on that little table beside you. Need anything for pain?”
Polly considered the idea. Her aches were bearable, and she needed to stay as alert as possible. “No, thanks.”
“Then can I get you anything else?”
A new life, Polly thought. No, she was taking care of that herself. But she knew what she really wanted. “Does anyone have copies of newspapers for the last few days?” She sought a plausible explanation. “I’m a comics addict, and I want to catch up on my favorites for the time I’ve been traveling.” Flimsy. She knew it. Her mind groped for names