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“We’re still checking things out,” the young doctor said with scarcely a glance at Trace.
For endless moments only the sound of Cath’s crying and occasional moan could be heard. The doctor ordered various tests. A nurse took her temperature—it was elevated. Another set of blood work was ordered.
“How far along is she?” the doctor asked at one point.
“About three months.”
Cath gripped Trace’s hand. He switched his attention from the doctor back to her.
“Thanks for coming,” she whispered.
He leaned closer.
“Nothing could have kept me away.”
“Now let me see,” the doctor said, moving his hands gently across her abdomen.
Cath let out a yelp.
“Hmmm. I don’t think you are miscarrying your baby, I think it’s appendicitis,” the doctor said. “Call the OR and have someone standing by. Let’s get the results of that last test, but I’d prep her for surgery.”
“What about the baby?” Trace asked.
“If we get this appendix out before it ruptures, the baby should be fine,” the doctor said.
Chapter Twelve
Trace leaned back in the uncomfortable chair and gazed at the ceiling. Cath had been in surgery for more than two hours. Her regular doctor had been notified and had shown up, speaking briefly to Trace before going into the operating room.
He sat at the end of the room watching the wall-mounted television. Two other people were in the waiting room, one reading, another knitting. Time seemed to drag by. He wanted to storm into the operating room and demand some answers. He prayed the surgeon knew what he was doing. And that neither Cath or the baby would be harmed.
Reviewing the last few months, he couldn’t believe how much of an impact Cath had made on his life. He wanted her safety more than anything. Next to that, he wanted her to have her baby. He’d never known anyone who wanted a child as much as she did.
The hospital was a top-notch facility. Everything possible was being done for her.
Why was he so worried?
He couldn’t get the sight of Cath and her tears from his mind. He’d do anything to keep her from worry about the baby.
Anything but erase her stress, a voice reminded him.
Rubbing his hand over his face he glared at the television, not seeing it. He shouldn’t have handled McIntyre’s hire as he had. And he should stop being a roadblock to her happiness.
If she wanted the job in Brussels, he’d give it to her. He’d give her anything to take away the fear of losing her baby.
He wanted her laughing like she had last summer. Planning business coups that would catapult her division to the top. He didn’t want her fragile. He didn’t want her scared.
But that’s what she was today. Would she lose the baby? How would she manage if she did?
He couldn’t take her pain. He knew what it was like. She had to deliver this baby.
He checked his watch again. He probably should call Cath’s parents, but there was no sense worrying them when there was nothing they could do. Still, he swiped his phone and called Ellie. He’d get their phone number and called them when he knew more to tell.
No sense anyone worrying like he was.
What if something happened to that baby?
She’d never get over it. He tightened his hands into fists. He wished he could go in and make a difference. He closed million dollar deals without turning an eye. But he was totally helpless in this situation.
