His Special Delivery. Belinda BarnesЧитать онлайн книгу.
that up like he had everything else in his life. Everything except delivering Jessie.
Cal heard Sara’s muffled sobs as his hand closed over the handle. He paused, refusing to look at her, knowing the sight of her tears would be his undoing. “I’ll take you and Jessie home when you’re released.”
Cursing himself for staying in the first place, he slipped through the door and closed it behind him, effectively cutting off her rejection of his offer. He pulled the key to her car from his pocket. She’d made it clear she didn’t want his help. Not that he wanted to give it, but she had no one else.
Cal glanced at his watch, remembering he should have met James hours earlier. He’d go change, then head to the Bull Pen. After the day he’d had, Cal needed a couple of drinks. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anyone waiting at home.
Around midnight Cal accepted a long-neck bottle from the waitress as James tossed her a smile along with a ten-dollar bill. They both stared at the hypnotic sway of her jean-clad hips as she strolled her way across the room. But somewhere between their table and the bar, Cal’s vision blurred and he saw a pair of green eyes that refused to give him peace. Realizing the direction of his thoughts, he muttered an oath.
James slapped Cal on the back. “You gonna make it?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, finally acknowledging he’d get no rest until he knew how Sara was doing…and Jessie.
“These are just my thoughts, so you can take ’em or leave ’em.” James tipped his bottle up to take a healthy draw. “But if you’re going to pine away after Tiffany, then you—”
“Pine away?” Out on the dance floor, a woman laughed, reminding Cal of Sara. He’d call the hospital as soon as he got home to check on her. Then he’d put her out of his mind.
James eyed Cal. “Your mind is somewhere else. Have you talked to Tiffany since the wedding?”
From the corner jukebox, George Strait sang about doing the right thing. “Who?”
“Tiffany—the gal you were supposed to marry. Why don’t you go find her and talk things out?”
Cal picked at the corner of his beer label. “We’ve talked. I went home to change clothes and called her before I came here. She confessed she’d met some guy—a photographer—last month. She had no intention of seeing him outside of work, but said there was a chemistry between them—whatever the hell that means.” He ran a hand over his face. “Anyway, she’s headed back to New York…to him. It seems she came back to break things off with me, only she lost her nerve. So, there’s nothing to work out. She’s always hated what I do. It was only after my dad offered me that position running one of his companies that she seemed eager to give up modeling to be my wife.”
James winked at a redhead two tables over. “Are you okay with that?”
“You mean do I want to fight for her?”
At James’s nod, Cal shook his head. “No. There’s no point.”
“What do your folks have to say about all this?”
“Nothing yet. They were catching a flight to France right after the wedding.”
Cal knew they would blame him for this mess with Tiffany, just as he knew his mother would double her efforts to find him a suitable wife—meaning one whose family came from old money.
They could shove their rules, social register, dinner parties and their efforts to run his life. He’d never walk away from the only thing that made him happy. He couldn’t imagine his life without his veterinary practice. He’d never give it up—not to please his manipulating parents or the beautiful model whose so-called love came at a price he hadn’t been willing to pay.
“I knew Tiff and I disagreed on almost everything,” he said, “but I’d fooled myself into believing things might work. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of trying. Tired of failing. And I’m tired of always being the one who has to change.”
James sent him a questioning look. “You sure?”
“I mean it. I’m through trying to be what everyone else wants. Look where it’s gotten me. From now on, I’m doing what I want, when I want. To hell with everybody else.”
The beeper hanging on Cal’s belt vibrated. He tilted his pager at an angle so he could see the message. Flipping open his cellular phone, he punched in the number.
When a nurse from the hospital answered, he said, “This is Cal Tucker.”
“Dr. Tucker, this is Mercy Hospital. Dr. Moore asked me to call you.”
Cal’s gut clenched as tightly as his grip on the phone. “Why?”
“There’s a problem with the baby.”
“Put me through to Sara.” Without hesitation, Cal stood and grabbed his denim jacket.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Tucker, we had to sedate her.”
“I’m on my way.” Cal closed the phone and shoved it in the holster at his hip.
“What’s wrong?” James asked.
“I’ve got to go. I feel responsible.” A strange heaviness filled Cal’s chest. He could still feel the slight weight of Jessie’s tiny body in his palms when she’d slid from Sara’s body. A weight that had lodged itself in his heart.
“Who is Sara?”
“I can’t talk about it now.” Cal grabbed his Resistol off the table. “Look, I’d planned on coming back to work since the wedding fell through, but something has come up. I think I’ll take a couple of days off if you can manage the clinic.”
James stood. “No sweat.”
Cal pushed his hat down low on his brow and headed out the door, jamming a fist through the sleeve of his jacket as he went.
He hated the fear that twisted his gut and knew he had no choice but to go. Sara needed him. Jessie needed him. And he needed to know if he was responsible for Jessie’s problem.
Cal brushed a chestnut curl off Sara’s forehead as she lay sleeping in the hospital bed. His gaze traced the contour of her smooth jaw, followed by his fingertip.
The voice of the hospital operator paging someone brought him back to reality. Realizing he’d touched Sara, he frowned and pulled away, forcing himself across the room. He stared out the windows into the night, its inky blackness broken here and there by the dim glow of streetlights. The heater kicked on and the whir of the fan blowing warm air through the vents interrupted the room’s stillness.
If only he had news about the baby, something to give Sara hope and reassurance when she woke.
When she stirred in her sleep and blinked, he returned to the side of her bed. Her green eyes fluttered, then opened. Sara stared at him, and Cal knew from the way she squinted that she still fought the lingering effects of the sedative.
“It’s okay, Sara. I’m here.” Cal sat on the edge of her bed and leaned toward her so she could see him.
“Oh, Cal.” Her voice cracked. “How did you know?”
“The hospital called.”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she clutched his hands as if fearing he would leave. Her frantic grip loosened after a moment, but when he tried to pull away, she grabbed at his shirtfront. “Have they told you anything about Jessica? She’s the only thing I have. I can’t lose her. I can’t.”
The urge to take Sara in his arms and hold her caught him off guard. He knew he shouldn’t, but that’s exactly what he did. He had to do something to ease her pain before it consumed him.
He held her tight. “I won’t leave until I see the doctor, until we have some answers.” Cal buried his nose in the curls that framed her face and inhaled her sweetness.
When