Doctor Holliday (Doctors of Eastport General)

Chapter 9

Monday, December 11 th

Lucy

Dropping the hint to Keaton to call her might have gone over his daughter’s head, but her daughter caught it. Callie had teased her the second Keaton and Ruby left the restaurant. Lucy didn’t care. She had dated some through the years; she had even been seriously involved with someone twice. But she was always careful with Callie—both her physical well-being and safety, as well as her mental and emotional well-being. Lucy hadn’t been nearly enough in love with anyone to change her routine, to change her daughter’s routine. Not after her disastrous first marriage.

But she did enjoy dating, getting out for dinner or movies or even dancing, on some occasions. And Keaton Thatcher was nice to look at. She hadn’t noticed him drooling over her, but she had noticed him looking at her a time or two. First and foremost, Lucy Holliday was a mother, and nothing would ever be more important to her than her daughter. The only thing that would come close to Callie in importance was her career. But Lucy was a woman, and she could read Keaton well enough. He thought she was attractive.

She admitted to Callie that she thought Keaton was good-looking, and she ruined Callie’s fun of teasing her when she flat out said she would like to go to dinner with him. Their conversation had eventually moved on to school topics, including Callie and college, the last thing Lucy wanted to think about.

Was that why she found Keaton attractive? Someone to occupy her mind rather than the constant dread about Callie leaving for school? Someone to keep her from being homesick for her daughter once she did leave?

Well, she reasoned, as she made her way down the Eastport corridor on the 13 th floor toward Anita Craven’s room, she found Keaton attractive because he had wide shoulders and messy dark hair. She liked his sexy eyes, the way his dark brows expressed his thoughts without him saying a word. She had noticed his hands that night when she delivered the baby in his stockroom. Not enough to daydream; she was too professional for that. But she had noticed his big hands and his ropey, wiry forearms.

Not only that, but she was attracted to him because he called her. Because a strange, broken little girl had crawled into his stockroom ready to give birth and begged him not to call an ambulance. Rather than ignore her wishes, Keaton had made an extra call to get Lucy’s number and then he had called her to help the kid. Most men would have called 911 and washed their hands of it. And rightly so. Things could have gone sideways. On the other hand, women’s bodies were made to birth babies.

But maybe not little girls’ bodies. And that little girl’s heart and her big eyes and tiny voice had needled Keaton, got under his skin. So he showed compassion.

Sexy as hell, Lucy reasoned as she tapped on the closed door of Room 1305 and pushed it open. Anita Craven and her husband Tom smiled at her as she stepped into the room on silent feet. Anita cradled a tiny infant boy to her breast. Lucy had delivered him Sunday morning before most people were up for coffee or church or whatever Sunday rituals they clung to.

“How’re you feeling?” Lucy asked her patient. The woman wore a serene smile, though she was still pale, and most likely exhausted.

“Good.”

“Looks like he’s latching good.” She eyed the infant with a smile and then glanced at Tom. “How about you, Dad? Feeling okay?”

He flashed her a bright but clearly exhausted smile.

“I am.”

“We’re gonna cut you loose today.” She turned her attention back to Anita. “I’ll have my nurse come in and check your blood pressure one more time, and then we’ll get the paperwork going to get you out of here.”

“Sounds good.” Anita dropped her head back on her pillow.

“I know. The hospital is the worse place to try to get any sleep.”

Anita laughed softly.

“Except maybe at home with your newborn the first several nights.”

The young couple exchanged a glance and a small smile.

“Outreach was here to talk to you, right? If you need?—”

“Yeah.” Anita cut her off with a nod.

“Okay. I know you both have big families. Don’t hesitate to ask for help, and if you need to, don’t hesitate to call the outreach hotline. That’s what it’s for.”

“Thank you.”

Lucy nodded and shook their hands.

“I’ll see you in six weeks.”

She left the room and nearly plowed into Dr. Love.

“Hey.” She offered him a smile. “How’s your Monday going?”

“It’s Monday.” He shrugged. “Yours?”

“Good.”

Keaton hadn’t called her yet, but she had a feeling he would. That feeling was curled in her belly, warm and fuzzy, like the beginnings of a new crush as a junior high student. Always an optimistic person, always a Monday lover, she felt a little extra spring in her step today.

“You did a good job with the Klein girl.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Mm.” Alonso nodded for her to walk with him as he talked. Lucy slipped her hands in her hip pockets as she listened. “Physically, good. A child that age should never go through what she did.”

Lucy refrained from saying that girls Logan’s age often suffered through the same things—in the old days, girls were married off at tender ages and expected to make babies and birth them and then get up the next day and tend to the house. Girls in some foreign cultures were deemed women and old enough to marry and make babies. Because while all of that was true, Logan’s situation made her blood pump with fury. None of it should have happened.

“Baby okay?”

“Ivy,” Alonso told her.

“She named her Ivy?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “But she refuses to look at her. Hold her. Wants nothing to do with her.”

A pang of sorrow, regret, hooked her heart like a claw. Lucy swallowed hard. Who could blame a fourteen-year-old kid for not wanting her baby?

But who could blame a newborn for being alive? For needing to be nurtured?

“Has psych done an eval?”

“With her right now.”

“What about the stepmom? She’s your patient?”

“She is.” Alonso slowed his steps as they neared the nurse’s station. He hovered at the far wall, though only one of the nurses was currently at the desk. “But I don’t know her well. She’s been my patient for just over a year. Don’t know much about the family.”

“How does a fourteen-year-old girl hide nine of months of pregnancy?”

He shook his head. “I guess you can hide anything if no one’s paying enough attention.”

Lucy flinched. “I learned a long time ago not to think about Callie when I’m on the clock.”

Alonso drew in a deep breath and waited for her to go on. Callie had been at the hospital with her on a couple of occasions through the years, and she had joined them at their department picnics and holiday parties once or twice. Her colleagues knew her daughter; Lucy knew their families.

“But it’s hard not to see your own child in a baby face like that,” she finished the thought on a rugged exhale. “Is she giving the baby up for adoption?”

Alonso shrugged. “Don’t know yet. It’s been discussed.”

“Well, I’m glad they’re both healthy.”

“Labor and Delivery’s calling you Dr. Miracle,” he told her as he started to walk away from her.

Lucy chuckled.

“I know. I heard.”

“Go see that little Christmas miracle,” he told her. “She’s a cute baby.”

“They’re all cute babies, Dr. Love,” she reminded him.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she crossed the hall to stand at the nurse’s desk.