The Holiday Triplets (8 page)

“You and Candy get started with the paperwork,” Sam said. “I'll be right up after I check on the babies.” And off she went.

“She's a…what's the word?” Candy asked.

“Force of nature?” the attorney supplied.

Mark had nearly said “maniac.” He was glad he'd thought better of it.

Sam had an iron will and an office lined with documents attesting to her pediatric expertise. But three babies at once? Whatever happened next was sure to be interesting, Mark mused.

He'd better go put in a call to let Chandra know that the press conference cancellation hadn't come off as planned.

By a rather wide margin.

“Forgive me for being an interfering mom, which I swore I'd never do, but are you certain this is a good idea?” The image of Dr. Lanie Forrest on the computer screen might lag a bit, and her voice sounded fuzzy over the internet connection, but her folded arms and creased forehead spoke volumes to her daughter.

“I never thought I'd hear negativity from you of all people!” Sam fought down the impulse to cross her own arms.

“Just because you agreed to take them, that doesn't make the decision irrevocable on your part,” added her father, Dr. David Forrest. His thin face was filled out by a salt-and-pepper beard. “Not that I'm suggesting you renege on your decision, honey. But this is only the first step in a long journey.”

“You mean life?”

“I mean the legal system.”

That was true. According to Tony, Sam had to wait a month and undergo a home study, then appear in court for a judge's final approval. None of that mattered. From the moment she'd promised to care for the babies, they'd become hers.

Sam didn't kid herself that, even with her emergency fund and her determination, she'd have easy sailing.
Raising a baby, let alone three, would be a challenge for any single parent. Oh, heck, she had yet to come to terms with what was involved.

But she'd given her heart. That counted even more than giving a promise.

Determined to dispose of unnecessary tasks, she had thrown her stack of unread holiday cards into a box and instructed Devina to add any other personal notes to the heap. Usually she relished reading messages from former patients and coworkers, but they'd have to wait until she had spare time. Even if that took eighteen years.

She'd checked on the babies several times during the afternoon, and picked them up by 5:00 p.m. Lori had helped her install car seats in the van Sam had hurriedly leased with help from Jennifer, who'd also arranged to have Candy's cribs and other equipment delivered.

Where would a woman be without her friends? Nevertheless, Sam didn't like to depend on them any more than necessary.

Lori had stayed to help feed the infants, leaving a few minutes ago, shortly before 7:00 p.m. Regrettably, they had to rely on formula, but then, Candy had mentioned that she already used it as a supplement. While it was possible for a mother to nurse triplets, it took time and practice.

Breast milk offered many advantages, including the mother's immunities and nature's intended balance of nutrients. But adopted infants generally thrived on formula, and Sam planned to keep a close watch on the babies' development.

The night nurse she'd hired would arrive about ten. So here she sat in front of her computer, cradling a baby as she related the day's events to her parents several hundred miles south in Mexico.

“How are you feeling?” Lanie put in. Her graying hair, once blond like Sam's, had taken on a wiry quality.

“A little tired,” Sam admitted. “That's to be expected until we settle into a routine. I'll try to have a nurse on hand until they can sleep through the night.”

“That may take longer than with singletons,” her mother warned. “They'll tend to wake each other up.”

“If that becomes a problem, I'll keep a crib in my room.” For now, Sam had turned her home office into the triplets' bedroom, and the furniture crowded around her with narrow passageways in between. Good thing she didn't mind clutter. “I could move another one into the living room at night.”

“Great! Then you can run an obstacle course from room to room to room,” Lanie grumbled.

“Mom!”

“You're such an overachiever. I hope you won't feel like you have to stick with this if it wears you out.”

“Lanie,” Sam's dad said in a warning tone.

Time to change the subject. “How're things at the clinic?” she asked.

“We finally got enough flu vaccine for everyone in the area.” As hoped, the question distracted her mother, and the rest of the conversation centered on the couple's efforts to improve the health of local residents.

Their village sounded like a warm, caring place. If Sam ever did decide to join them, she'd bet her kids would love it there.

Her kids.
What a beautiful term.

Afterward, Sam remained in her desk chair with Courtney dozing against her chest. The little girl smelled sweet and fresh, and from this angle it was amazing how long her lashes looked against her rounded cheeks.

She put Courtney to bed, then studied each of the infants
in turn. How precious they were in their footed sleepers, tiny fingers flexing, little bow mouths pursing as they dreamed their baby dreams. In the stillness, she listened to the murmur of their breathing.

For the first time since the press conference, Sam had a moment of actual peace and quiet. It felt like an unbelievable luxury.

The doorbell rang.

She jumped. The babies barely stirred, but she hurried to answer before it rang again.

Not the press, she hoped. O'Donnell had reported the story on the six o'clock news. With the TV playing in the background while she and Lori fed the triplets, Sam had caught glimpses of herself, Candy and the infants. The report had mentioned the fundraiser so briefly that most viewers probably missed it. Thank goodness the newspaper's website, which Jennifer had checked, cited the event prominently.

Reporters who'd missed the impromptu presentation would be trying to make up for lost time. Sam sure hoped some overeager newshound hadn't dredged up her home address.

She supposed she ought to drag a brush through her hair and put on lipstick. But if she stopped to do that, the fool might punch the bell again.

On the doorstep, she found a welcome surprise. Sam's frazzled nerves hummed harmoniously as she took in Mark Rayburn, tie askew and his jaw covered in five o'clock shadow, carrying a sack that smelled like heaven. Garlic, tomato sauce—Italian food. The scent reminded her that she'd missed dinner.

Sam didn't care what a mess she must look. “You were sent by the angels,” she said as she ushered him inside.

“That's what I keep telling the corporate honchos. I don't know why they ever doubt it.”

At the moment, Sam didn't know, either.

 

M
ARK FELT AS IF HE'D STEPPED
inside a rainbow. Colored glass vases, candleholders and bowls filled china cabinets and spilled onto the coffee table and end tables. The shimmering effect reminded him of a cut-glass crystal vase his mother used to treasure—until she smashed it against the fireplace one night in an alcohol-fueled rage over one of his father's affairs.

“So this is what's meant by decorating,” he said.

“You don't have to tell me it's overkill,” Sam replied. “I'll pack the loose pieces away before the babies start crawling.”

He hadn't meant to criticize. Best to let it pass. “I hope you're hungry. Papa Giovanni's makes the best ravioli this side of Italy.”

“Starved. Right this way.” Navigating between pieces of newly arrived baby equipment, she led him into the dining room, where she removed a stack of medical reports from the antique-style table. “I'll grab plates.”

While she went into the kitchen, Mark lifted take-out containers from the sack. “I take it the babies are sleeping,” he said when she returned.

“Dozing.” She set out the plates and glasses of water she'd carried on a tray. “Don't try to be polite. Go ahead and tell me I'm a nutcase. I won't be offended. Much.”

He helped place the silverware. “You aren't crazy. I love kids, too. In small doses.”

She filled her plate from the containers. “Pardon me for being rude, but I'm starving. Aren't you?”

“The restaurant plied me with breadsticks while I was waiting for my order.”

“Lucky you,” she mumbled, and dived into her food.

During the meal, Mark took an appreciative look at the watercolor paintings splashed across the walls. A jacaranda tree abloom in lavender blossoms. A seascape carved by a bougainvillea-draped bluff. A waterfall creating its own rainbow. The profusion of colors soothed him.

“These are beautiful,” he observed. “It's not what I expected to find in your house. Your offices are so Spartan.” The one assigned to her in the hospital as head of pediatrics was practically bare. Her office in the medical building had a corkboard displaying photos sent in by happy patients, plus the expected medical certificates and professional awards. But nothing like this.

She gazed around. “This is my nest. When I was growing up, we lived like we were in the military. Nothing but essentials ready to pack at a moment's notice, although we stayed in the same house practically forever. My parents met in the Peace Corps in South America and they swore they'd be heading south of the border again soon. Twenty-odd years later, they went.”

“You're making up for those bare surfaces,” he concluded.

“It's more than that,” Sam told him. “I guess I've been cramming as much as possible into every day and every inch of space. This past week, it hit me that I've been living as if the cancer might return any day.”

“And you finally accept that it won't?” He hoped that was the case.

“I'm trying to accept that I have to live one day at a time like everybody else.” She polished off a last bite of garlic bread.

“Let me know if you figure out how to do that,” Mark said, “because I haven't a clue. I'm generally thinking at least half a step ahead.”

“You never seem rushed.”

“I put a lot of pressure on myself.” As he spoke, he consciously relaxed his muscles. He'd been tense all day. First there'd been the press conference business, followed by his strained late-afternoon discussion with Chandra.

Her staccato voice still rang in his ears. She'd been upset that Samantha had spoken to reporters and displeased that the hospital was once again featured on the evening news for a reason other than its medical excellence. Mark had barely hung on to his patience with the woman.

She ought to trust his judgment. He'd made his share of mistakes, but so, he suspected, had Ms. Chandra Yashimoto. Besides, today's situation had turned out well, even if it hadn't been strictly on message.

“Rough day for you, too?” Sam asked.

Rather than dwell on his running skirmishes with the executive, Mark deflected the question. “Occasionally I fantasize about practicing medicine full-time. But then I'd have to work under some idiot administrator who forgets to put patient care first. Instead, I get to
be
the idiot administrator.”

“You're not an idiot. Very often.”

“Such high praise.”

Sam gave him a wry smile through her water glass. “You were pretty darn cool out there in the parking lot.”

“I admired the way you handled the press,” he admitted. “You were doing great until Candy showed up. When you decided to take the babies, well, that was unexpected.”

“To me, too.” Her plate empty, she leaned back.

“Were you even considering adoption?”

“Yes, in the theoretical sense.” Even after a full meal and a long day, her sharp features exuded restless intelligence. “I didn't imagine it could happen this quickly, with these children, but it seems almost destined.”

“And now you're a mommy.” Mark found the term endearing when applied to Sam.

Emotions flickered across her face. “Oh, wow, I
am
, aren't I?”

“This comes as a surprise?”

“I mean, of course I know I'm a mother. But I've been so busy putting out fires, I haven't had time to consider the big picture.”

He'd suspected as much. “Which part hit you the hardest?”

“That the kids are going to be counting on me to be there for everything.” She rested her chin on her palm. “For help with homework and heartaches, for Halloween costumes and Christmas dinners, for proms and college prep. What if I let them down?” The responsibility
was
a lot to take in. “You don't think you're up to it?”

“I'm embarrassed that I encouraged Candy to take this on, for one thing,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “Today it was all I could do to get them fed and diapered, and that was
with
Lori helping. On Saturday, you told me a child deserves attention for those special moments. What if they all fly by and I'm too busy dealing with daily battles to meet the kids' emotional needs?”

He'd harbored those same doubts when she took the triplets. Yet Sam wasn't giving herself enough credit. “There's a bond between you and them. I saw it at the hospital.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes. “I love them. When they cry, I feel how much they hurt. When I was working today, there was always a tug, always an awareness, like wishing I could be two places at once.”

“I see my patients juggling and balancing the same way,” he told her. “It's stressful, but they pull it off.”

“But they have husbands. Sometimes grandparents living close by. A support system.” Weariness frayed her voice. “I'm out here on the high wire alone.”

Her unexpected vulnerability aroused Mark's protective instincts. “I can help. I'll be your backup.”

She regarded him skeptically. “What do you mean by that?”

What
did
he mean, anyway? At a whimper from the bedroom, Mark paused, bracing for a cry while he collected his thoughts. The cry never came—the baby must have been fussing in its sleep—but a disturbing thought did.

He felt a powerful urge to cuddle and watch over those little guys. He'd followed their growth from early pregnancy until he'd lifted them from their mother's womb. They almost felt as if they belonged to him, too. But they didn't.

Raising these children was Sam's commitment, not his. He'd come dangerously close to promising more than he should.