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‘Do you need some analgesia for your section wound before we start?’
She shook her head. The Caesarean section wound wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d imagined. Maybe being unconscious for the first forty-eight hours had helped. The nurse had given her a couple of painkillers when she’d woken up and she felt fine.
Lincoln rummaged around in her locker. ‘Let’s find you something else to wear. That hospital gown won’t do.’
He was right. The traditional hospital gown, with its Velcro fastenings at the back, wouldn’t suit. He pulled out a pair of loose yellow jersey pyjamas, with buttons down the front. ‘What about these?’
Amy nodded her head. Her tiny son was still in her arms. A nurse came into the room and between her and Lincoln they helped Amy freshen up and then secure her son next to her.
The next few hours passed swiftly. Amy tried to get her tiny son to latch onto her breast, and when that failed, she managed to express some of her milk to feed to him via the tiny tube down his nose. The nurse rechecked her vital signs and reduced some of her IV infusions.
Cassidy came and checked on her twice. She talked her through the events and her subsequent care, warning her that women could still have seizures after delivery and that she would need to be observed for the next few days.
And Lincoln floated in and out of her room all day, taking Zachary back to the nursery for a spell then bringing him back to her later.
It was almost as if the words hadn’t been spoken—or never been heard. Life was beginning to tick along as normal. Why did that make her feel so empty inside?
* * *
Lincoln wheeled the cot back along the corridor to NICU. Zachary was doing well and seemed a little brighter since his mother had woken up. Although he hadn’t managed to latch on today, there was every chance that he’d start breastfeeding soon and then his tube could be removed.
So why did life feel at a standstill?
For Lincoln, the instant feeling of relief when Amy had woken up had now been replaced by a feeling of worthlessness. She didn’t blame him for her deterioration, she hadn’t even been too angry when he’d told her he couldn’t be Zachary’s doctor. In fact, she’d hardly said anything, even after his heart had been in his throat and he’d said those words. The I love you words.
And there had been nothing—no response. It was almost as if he hadn’t spoken.
Lincoln looked at the little baby lying in the crib beneath him. Zachary Carson. Every day he grew more attached. Every day he noticed something else about the little guy. Something new.
But what if this was a recipe for disaster? Amy had never said anything to make him think she was looking for anything else from him.
He still couldn’t get to the bottom of what Amy wanted and it frustrated him beyond belief. She’d come here saying she wanted his skills and expertise as a doctor. But from the moment they’d set eyes on each other again, the tension in the air had been palpable.
He loved it that she was unpredictable. He loved it that she flirted with him. He loved it that they still seemed to fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
But Amy was different too. Illness had changed her. A high-risk pregnancy had changed her. She wasn’t as confident as she used to be. Sure, he knew that her body had changed, but something else had changed deep inside her. Was it her feelings of self-worth? He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t really understand. And it was making him tiptoe around about her, something he’d never had to do before.
Then there was the guilt. Guilt that she’d come to him for help and he’d let her down. He’d let his guard down. He didn’t want to be Amy’s son’s doctor.
One of the NICU nurses walked past and gave him a little smile. Carrie. Blonde. Cute. Nice butt. The old Lincoln would have chased her out the door. The old Lincoln would have had her number in his phone in two minutes flat.
Lincoln moved into autopilot. He lifted Zachary from the crib, strapped him to his chest and nestled him under his shirt.
He had absolutely no doubt about where he wanted to be. The effect of seeing Amy again after six years had been like a punch to the face. No woman had made him feel the way she did. He hadn’t recognised love because he’d never felt it before. He didn’t know what to say to her, when to back off, or when to move closer.
This was a steep learning curve.
But he’d never been one to shirk a challenge—and this was one thing he was determined to master.
CHAPTER NINE
AMY swallowed nervously as she climbed the steps towards the apartment. Her arms couldn’t hide the slight tremor in them as she carried her precious bundle upstairs to the place she was currently calling ‘home’.
This was nothing like she’d imagined. Zachary was six weeks old—he shouldn’t even have been born yet. But his feeding and weight gain had been sufficient for him to be discharged from San Francisco’s Children’s Hospital. His skin had lost that translucent look and his little body had finally managed to store a tiny amount of fat and fill out a little.
His wide blue eyes had obviously started to focus and she could see him studying her face at times and reacting to her expressions. And at five pounds he was even big enough to wear some of the premature baby clothes she’d carefully folded in a drawer in Lincoln’s apartment.
But all of this still unsettled her. She was in San Francisco—this wasn’t home to her—but it could be. The longer she stayed here, the more she loved this city, from its quirky visitors and attractions to its deep-rooted history and traditions. She loved looking over to the Golden Gate Bridge, she loved the bustling people around Pier 39. She loved the rattle of the cable cars. And most of all she loved the staff attached to San Francisco’s Children and Maternity Hospital. Unlike most hospitals, she’d yet to meet a member of staff who hadn’t been warm and friendly, who hadn’t made her feel at home. She was sure that being a good friend of one the consultants helped. But it was also a place she could see a future in, a place where she would be happy to go to work. So why the strange feeling in her stomach?
Lincoln had arranged for Zachary’s baby items to be delivered to San Francisco from Santa Maria. Literally overnight the white wooden baby crib and chest of drawers had appeared in her bedroom in Lincoln’s apartment. The zebra-print baby seat was currently sitting next to the sofa in the living room. And the red pram was parked at the bottom of the stairs. All awaiting the arrival of baby Zachary.
She thought that she would have loved this moment. To finally bring her son home from hospital was a huge step. She should be singing from the rooftops. She should be telling the whole world that Zach was well enough to come home. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t.
She was nervous. She felt sick. Her stomach was churning. Was this new-mother nerves? Or something else?
The patient, easily accessible staff in the NICU were no longer by her side. The emergency monitors and equipment were no longer ready to be pulled over at a moment’s notice. All the little
queries or insecurities she’d had in the last few weeks couldn’t be answered by another person in the room. Or could they?
Because Lincoln was here with her. Lincoln hadn’t left her side. Or Zachary’s.
He’d done everything he could to help her. He’d bent over backwards to be accommodating. And as much as she was grateful, it was going to make it so much harder to say goodbye…
Because right now she knew that was what she had to do.
Lincoln slid his key into the lock in the door and pushed the buttons to turn off the alarm. He held the door wide for her. She gave a little smile and carried Zachary into the apartment, walking over to one of the huge windows. ‘What do you think, Zach? Do you like this place?’
Because she certainly did. So why did she feel as if she had to leave? Why, when the man of her dreams was offering her love, did she feel as if she had to retreat to the distant hills? Why did she feel that she couldn’t even enter into a discussion with him?
She carried Zach through to the bedroom. ‘Here’s your crib, right next to Mommy’s bed. I’ll be able to stick my hand through and hold your hand.’ She held him up to look, but Zach just blinked.
Her attention was caught by something new. ‘Wow, look at this.’ She leaned over and touched the mobile hanging above the crib and turned on the music. The soft, multicoloured animals started to spin around to ‘Nelly the Elephant’. ‘Did you get this?’ she asked Lincoln.
He nodded slowly, folding his arms and leaning against the doorpost. ‘Colour and noise are supposed to stimulate babies.’ That smile again. That smile that drew you in and held you there. Held you with those dark blue eyes.
Being around him was good. His easy way and infectious laugh made her feel comfortable. She’d fallen asleep in his arms several times over the last few weeks, resting in the chairs next to Zachary’s crib in NICU, and woken to find her head on his chest and her arms wrapped around him.
