The Surgeon's Surprise Twins (14 page)

Phyllis didn't move. When Bailey looked again, she saw tears trembling in her sister's eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Phyllis whispered. “I didn't know you felt that way.”

“I didn't know I did, either.”

A deep breath, and Phyllis straightened her shoulders. Defeat never lasted long in the Wayne household. “He's coming back, Bailey. He loves me, and he's honestly trying to save this project.”

“What evidence do you have besides wishful thinking?” Bailey's own harshness surprised her. Being around Owen must have rubbed off on her.

“I've been married to him for three years,” Phyllis said. “He told me he's never known anyone before that he felt truly at home with. We've faced setbacks, but we always vowed we'd tackle them together. And we have.”

“Maybe he meant it, in his way,” Bailey conceded. She'd
enjoyed Boone's company plenty of times, laughing at his quirky sense of humor, basking in the sense of belonging to this man's circle. He loved to entertain, and at the parties he and Phyllis had thrown, people flocked around him. Charismatic, that was the word for Boone Storey. How easy it was to get sucked in by him.

“You have to stick by me, you of all people.” Phyllis wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Bailey, I love my husband and I love those babies, too. I'm forty years old. This is the only chance I'll ever have to become a mom. Don't take that away from me.”

That contract…it had specified that Bailey was to be inseminated with Boone's sperm. The contract must be null and void, but even if a lawyer confirmed it, where did that leave her? With a sister whose heart was breaking and two babies in need of parents.

Even after she and Owen became lovers, he'd hidden the truth. While he might have some paternal feelings, he clearly had no intention of stepping up to be a father in the fullest sense of the word.

For a moment, Bailey entertained a fantasy. Her and Owen, married. Curling up in bed every night, fixing breakfast for their little boy and girl in the morning. Eating lunch together at the hospital cafeteria. Attending social events.

The great surgeon and his wife, the nurse.
The wife he had to marry because he got her pregnant.
That wasn't exactly how it went, but close enough. He hadn't chosen her. They'd been thrown together, sharing living quarters, sharing these babies. Even if Dr. T. did marry a woman so unlike the ladies he'd dated in Boston, everyone would know he hadn't actually chosen her.

Bailey took a deep breath and turned to face her sister in the front seat. “These are your babies,” she said. “I
conceived them for you and I'm carrying them for you. I just hope you don't have to go to prison.”

“I won't!” Phyllis threw her arms around Bailey. “It will come out all right, you'll see. They're wrong about Boone. And you're making the right decision. Thank you, Bailey. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was the right choice, Bailey told herself as they got out and went into the house. She was going to stand by her sister, and pray that everything somehow worked itself out.

If that made her guilty of wishful thinking like Phyllis, well, that might not be such an undesirable trait, after all.

Living in fast-forward mode suited Owen fine. He had the ability to focus on the moment even in the face of pressing responsibilities, particularly when performing surgery, then propel himself forward to the next task. Monday morning was no different. He completed two tricky operations by 10:00 a.m. and arrived at his office braced for more action.

Ned was ready for him, up to speed on the patients and prepared for the day's procedures. He must have consulted with Bailey, because he seemed confident without being cocky, as if certain he'd made the correct arrangements. And he had.

Owen tried hard not to dislike the guy. Ned aimed to please, and he had all the qualities a doctor required of a good nurse. It was the idea that he'd been able to talk to Bailey that chafed, because Owen had scarcely caught a glimpse of her since Saturday.

She'd basically moved in with her sister. Phyllis deserved the support, Bailey had explained Saturday night, when he returned home to find her stuffing odds and ends in a suitcase. “Someone has to look after her.”

“That's fine, but who's going to take care of
you?
” he'd replied more sharply than he'd intended.

“She'll do that. She's committed to these babies.” Her
tone implied something further, which was unusual for Bailey. Owen almost got the feeling she was making a dig at him, yet he'd never known Bailey to be anything but up-front with her feelings.

He hated to see her vanish into that mansion. He'd been looking forward to spending another night tangled in each other's arms. “You don't have to sleep there.”

“It's a big place. She shouldn't be alone at a time like this.”

“She's been alone all week and done fine,” he'd grumbled.

“That was before she had a prison sentence hanging over her head and the whole world convinced her husband is a crook.”

“The whole world?” The case hardly seemed that earth-shattering. As of Saturday afternoon, Owen hadn't heard a word about it on the radio or via the hospital grapevine.

“See you,” Bailey had responded, and scampered out of the house so fast she left a breeze.

This morning, as Owen grabbed a bear claw pastry in the cafeteria, he'd seen her again, talking earnestly with Nora. He'd hesitated, trying to devise a suitable excuse for interrupting, and Dr. Sargent had joined the two of them. Since Owen hoped they were making arrangements for Bailey's maternity care, he'd decided to stay out of it.

But the situation was becoming intolerable, he decided between seeing patients that afternoon. Everybody including Bailey considered him an outsider—well, peripheral, anyway. Except that those were
his
children.

He had to find out what she intended to do with the twins. Surely she didn't still plan to hand them over to his con man of a brother.

He also had to level with her about his paternity, and
then they'd work something out. Owen hadn't come up with any brilliant ideas yet, but he expected to.

And he wanted Bailey to come home. He missed her cute little smile and smart-aleck approach to housekeeping. Also, he needed someone to put him in his place. For the first time in his life, Owen wished the staff wouldn't treat him with quite so much deference. It fed his giant ego, and that, he'd been learning, wasn't necessarily a good thing.

At five o'clock, he finally caught a break. Generally, he didn't eat until later, but he was hungry. Carrying his tray across the almost empty hospital cafeteria, Owen spotted her.

Elbows propped on a table, she sat staring into space across a plate of half-eaten pasta. He had her now. She'd never leave without finishing her meal; he knew her better than that.

His tray clunked as he dropped it onto the table. Smiling at her startled expression, Owen sat across from her. “Long time no see.”

“We shouldn't be eating together in public,” she protested.

No sense getting into a fruitless argument. “How's your sister?” he asked, popping open a milk carton.

“I don't know.”

“Why not? You're living with her.”

“She's been tied up all day.”

“In court?” He had the impression criminal charges had to be presented promptly.

“They postponed her arraignment at her attorney's request. The D.A. wanted a meeting with her. That's all I know.” Bailey glanced at the overhead clock. “I expected to hear from her by now.”

“It wouldn't surprise me if they cut a deal,” Owen said.

“Pit Phyllis against Boone?” Bailey blew out a disbelieving breath. “She'd never do that.”

“Too foolishly trusting?” he asked.

“Too loyal!” Bailey returned.

Owen decided to cover one other, less touchy, matter before he broached what was uppermost in his mind. “Are you switching your medical provider? I saw you talking to Dr. Sargent.”

Bailey poked at her pasta with her fork. “Yes. Nora suggested it, and he's agreeable. Under the circumstances, there's no point in my continuing to drive into L.A.”

“Excellent.”

He waited, expecting her to elaborate on the topic, but she didn't. Although she seemed to almost quiver with impatience, she remained silent.

Owen had no idea what she expected him to say. Bailey would no doubt let him know in her own sweet time, so he dug into his meat loaf and potatoes.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Finally she broke. “Weren't you ever going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

She shot him an irritated glance. To Owen's recollection, no one had looked at him with such exasperation since he was an intern. “Phyllis spilled the beans.” She leaned forward. “About the sperm. You rat. You should have told me.”

In a flash, Owen realized that he should have seen this coming, and should have taken care of it long ago.
But I meant to… It was on the tip of my tongue…
All true, but hardly credible. “I'm sorry.”

“It's pretty obvious why you didn't,” she went on with an uncharacteristic trace of bitterness.

“It's a touchy situation,” he began.

“Oh, cut the crap.” Bailey blinked, and to his dismay
he realized she was on the verge of tears. “In spite of everything we've…” She swallowed. “I know I'm not on your level intellectually or socially, or….”

What on earth was she talking about? “This has nothing to do with that,” Owen said. “You're precious.”

“It was the babies that fascinated you.” If she mashed that pasta any harder, it would fuse with the plate. “And the fact that you're a big fat important father, in the scientific sense of the word. To you, I'm nothing but a…a convenient…surrogate!”

Tears slid down her cheeks. Owen ached to gather her close and reassure her, and the hospital grapevine be damned.

But matters weren't that simple. This was about as complicated a situation as he could imagine.

“I intend to stand by you,” he said. “Whatever lies ahead, we'll deal with it together. This isn't something we can resolve emotionally, though. It's important to consider all the ramifications.”

“How else can you resolve a situation like this except emotionally?” she retorted. “Oh, damn.” That last was a reference to her phone playing a melody. “It's Phyllis.”

Owen would gladly have strangled his sister-in-law for interrupting. Too late to object, though. Bailey had already taken the call.

“Hello? Well, of course it's me…. The what?” she said into the phone. “Sure, I do. Right now? Well, okay.” Frowning, she clicked off.

“What's up?” Owen asked.

“She asked me to bring the first aid kit she gave me. You remember, it was in that gift basket.”

Owen doubted Phyllis needed first aid. The toiletries he'd taken as a gesture of sisterly love and caring must have done double duty as a hiding place. “Bring it where?”

“Her lawyer's office, right now.” Bailey stacked her dishes together.

What could a person hide in a first aid kit? “Did you open it? What's in there?”

“I have no idea.” Bailey got to her feet. “You can bus my dishes for me. I'm in a hurry.”

“Sure.” Owen didn't mind being bossed around. It felt almost comfortable. “How about if we meet at home later and talk about this?”

“I don't know if I'll be back tonight.”

“Bailey, you have to stop avoiding me.”

“Not everything in the world is about you, Owen,” she answered tightly, and off she went at a rolling pace.

As he watched her go, Owen caught a couple of very interested glances from fellow staffers. He responded with his coldest scowl, one that a former colleague had referred to as his They-might-find-your-body-at-the-bottom-of-the-harbor-if-you're-not-careful look.

He hoped it worked.

 

I
INTEND TO STAND BY YOU
. Easy words, Bailey thought grimly as she let herself into the house. Although she'd only been away for two days, it felt hollow and lonely, like a location from the distant past. A place where she used to be happy, until she discovered she'd been living in a fool's paradise.

What did Owen have against emotions, anyway? If he was worth his salt in the romantic sense, he should have thrown himself at her. That wasn't a silly fantasy—some men actually did that. Alec and Patty, for instance. He'd broken her heart in high school, but twelve years later he'd flung himself at her feet and begged her to take him back. Well, maybe it hadn't happened precisely that way, but that's how Bailey had imagined it when Patty showed her
the engagement ring and glowed about how they'd finally come home to each other.

She could never truly come home to Owen. He wasn't capable of that kind of selfless love. No matter how he might convince himself that he was standing by her, it would only be in a practical and basically heartless way. By offering money, maybe. With plenty of strings attached when it came to the kids.

Under the bathroom sink, she found the kit, a small square box with a blue base and a white top embossed with a red
X.
Setting it on the counter, Bailey fought a brief battle with her curiosity.

Phyllis hadn't said anything about not opening it. Furthermore, it had been a gift, so technically it belonged to Bailey. On the other hand, she got the impression that her sister's future might depend on whatever lay inside.

“You're going to lose this fight, so get on with it,” she muttered, and opened the box.

How disappointingly ordinary. Antiseptic cleansing wipes, plastic bandages in various sizes, chewable aspirin tablets, a cold compress, gauze, first aid tape, an American Red Cross first aid pamphlet, vinyl gloves, scissors, tweezers, a thermometer…

And, underneath, a computer memory stick.

Bailey regarded the small device with a sense of disbelief. Not because it was unusual; she owned several of the things herself for backing up her computer and sharing files with friends. But because, obviously, her sister had put it there intentionally.

She used me.

Okay, that wasn't the worst thing Phyllis had ever done. And Bailey supposed that, if you wanted to hide information, you wouldn't go telling your kid sister about it. It
wasn't even that big a deal; Phyllis could just as easily have stored it online somewhere.

Except that if it was findable via her computer, then Boone might have located it. A physical memory stick, off the premises, lay beyond his access.

Had Phyllis been hiding information from the authorities, from Boone, or both? In any case, she'd chosen a place no one else was likely to look. All weekend, her sister had protested loud and long that she trusted and believed in her husband. That she'd stand by him and prove everyone wrong. Yet all the time, this little item had lurked beneath Bailey's bathroom sink, evidence that Phyllis had suspected something all along.

Well, people were waiting. Curious though she might be, Bailey didn't intend to compound her snooping by trying to read the thing. With her marginal computer skills, she might accidentally damage it or lose data, and then all hell would break loose. She might even become accessory to a crime.

She replaced everything in the kit the way she'd found it, or as near as possible. Taking the whole box, Bailey was about to rush to her car when she felt a prick of dread. Did carrying this apparent evidence of a crime put her in danger? Suppose Boone showed up and demanded she hand it over?

Maybe she was being paranoid, but Bailey peered through the window to make sure the coast was clear. Couldn't tell much through the overgrowth. After a moment's internal debate, she went in the kitchen and armed herself with a knife. Then she let herself out cautiously, alert to any sudden movement or unexpected sound.

Next door, a lawn mower started up. Bailey nearly jumped out of her flip-flops. Good thing the guy who
lived there couldn't see her through the trees, or at least, she hoped not.

Walking fast, she made it to her car and locked herself inside. Then, with the knife beside her on the seat, she took off for the lawyer's office.

 

O
WEN DIDN'T FIND OUT
from Bailey what was in the first aid kit. And, when he arrived home Monday night, he saw no sign of her. Gone again. Loyal to her sister.

That didn't bode well, any way you looked at it. Sticking by Phyllis presumably meant sticking by Boone, as well. And even though he knew his brother was entitled to his day in court, the man's continued absence screamed “Guilty” louder than any jury foreman.

Unless something bad had befallen Boone. But Owen doubted that. His brother was top dog in any fight.

He hoped Phyllis had hidden some damn good evidence in that first aid kit. Much as he disliked the way she'd put her sister in the middle, at least she'd had the sense to protect herself.

On Tuesday, Ned's continuing cheerfulness grated on Owen once again. But the young man didn't seem to be hiding anything or smirking behind Owen's back, either. A carefully worded question, “Seen Bailey recently?” brought the artless response, “She's sticking like glue to that sister of hers. But you'd know more about that than I would.”