Read Online His Bundle of Love / the Color of Courage by Patricia Davids - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Davids
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Mick. So, why was some guy pretending to be her baby’s daddy?
The doctor jotted a note on her chart. “Amnesia isn’t unusual after a trauma such as you’ve experienced, but it’s usually limited to the time directly preceding the event. The fact that you can’t remember a specific person is somewhat worrisome.”
“No kidding,” she croaked.
“It’s best not to try and force your memory. You’ve been in a coma for ten days. For now, you need rest.”
“Ten days?” Caitlin stared at him, aghast. She’d been asleep for ten whole days? How was that even possible? Her daughter had been alone all this time. Who’d been taking care of her? She grabbed his arm. “I’ve got to see my baby.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t get up yet. You’ve been very ill.” The doctor gently removed her hand.
“I want to see my daughter. Let me out of this thing.” She shook the bed rails.
“Your baby is being taken care of. If your vital signs remain stable, we’ll talk about letting you visit the NICU tomorrow.”
Caitlin stared at him. “What’s that?”
“NICU stands for neonatal intensive care unit.”
Blinding pain stabbed through Caitlin’s head. “Intensive care? What’s wrong with her?”
“Your baby is very premature. She needs special care to help her breathe and stay warm.”
“I’ve got to see her.” Again, she tried to sit up.
The doctor stopped her. “Not today.”
“Please?” She hated pleading.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” the nurse said.
Caitlin looked down and smoothed the sheet with her free hand, then leaned back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t strong enough to fight both of them. Let them think she’d given up. “Okay. I guess I am kind of tired.”
The doctor patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you are. Get some rest. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”
After a moment, she heard the door close, but the faint sound of movement told her the nurse had remained. She waited. Lying quietly in bed, sleep pulled at her, but she fought it. What if she didn’t wake up the next time she drifted off?
Long minutes stretched by until at last Caitlin heard the door open and close. She chanced a peek. The room was empty.
Studying the bed rails, she couldn’t find a way to lower them, so she scooted to the foot of the bed. Slipping out the end, she stood and clutched the footboard. The room spun and tumbled around her like clothes in a Laundromat dryer.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, Caitlin looked up to see a tall man with auburn hair and a deep scowl on his face standing in the doorway. The movement cost her what little balance she had, and she pitched forward.
She would have hit the floor if he hadn’t been so quick. Instead, she felt herself swept up and cradled in arms that were as strong as they were gentle.
“Easy does it. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
She kept her eyes closed to shut out the sight of the spinning room as the last of her strength drained away. She knew that voice. It haunted her dreams.
Mick stared at the pale slip of a woman in his arms. Her full lashes, tipped with burnished gold lay fanned against her high-boned cheeks. They fluttered for a moment, then lay still. An ugly, red mark left by the tape that had held her ventilator tubing marred her fair skin.
Sleeping Beauty was awake. He was glad for Caitlin’s recovery, but his dreams and plans for Beth had died a quick death when he got the phone call. Oh, he intended to remain a part of her life—a big part. But just how much depended on the woman he held.
Caitlin stirred in his arms, and he noticed the thinness of her body beneath his hands. She felt delicate and fragile. During the past week and a half, she had lost weight she didn’t have to spare. The thought roused feelings of pity. How had someone so small and exquisite survived in the harsh, violent world of Chicago’s slums?
And how could she take care of Beth in that same brutal environment? The thought of what
The doctor jotted a note on her chart. “Amnesia isn’t unusual after a trauma such as you’ve experienced, but it’s usually limited to the time directly preceding the event. The fact that you can’t remember a specific person is somewhat worrisome.”
“No kidding,” she croaked.
“It’s best not to try and force your memory. You’ve been in a coma for ten days. For now, you need rest.”
“Ten days?” Caitlin stared at him, aghast. She’d been asleep for ten whole days? How was that even possible? Her daughter had been alone all this time. Who’d been taking care of her? She grabbed his arm. “I’ve got to see my baby.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t get up yet. You’ve been very ill.” The doctor gently removed her hand.
“I want to see my daughter. Let me out of this thing.” She shook the bed rails.
“Your baby is being taken care of. If your vital signs remain stable, we’ll talk about letting you visit the NICU tomorrow.”
Caitlin stared at him. “What’s that?”
“NICU stands for neonatal intensive care unit.”
Blinding pain stabbed through Caitlin’s head. “Intensive care? What’s wrong with her?”
“Your baby is very premature. She needs special care to help her breathe and stay warm.”
“I’ve got to see her.” Again, she tried to sit up.
The doctor stopped her. “Not today.”
“Please?” She hated pleading.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” the nurse said.
Caitlin looked down and smoothed the sheet with her free hand, then leaned back and closed her eyes. She wasn’t strong enough to fight both of them. Let them think she’d given up. “Okay. I guess I am kind of tired.”
The doctor patted her shoulder. “I’m sure you are. Get some rest. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”
After a moment, she heard the door close, but the faint sound of movement told her the nurse had remained. She waited. Lying quietly in bed, sleep pulled at her, but she fought it. What if she didn’t wake up the next time she drifted off?
Long minutes stretched by until at last Caitlin heard the door open and close. She chanced a peek. The room was empty.
Studying the bed rails, she couldn’t find a way to lower them, so she scooted to the foot of the bed. Slipping out the end, she stood and clutched the footboard. The room spun and tumbled around her like clothes in a Laundromat dryer.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, Caitlin looked up to see a tall man with auburn hair and a deep scowl on his face standing in the doorway. The movement cost her what little balance she had, and she pitched forward.
She would have hit the floor if he hadn’t been so quick. Instead, she felt herself swept up and cradled in arms that were as strong as they were gentle.
“Easy does it. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
She kept her eyes closed to shut out the sight of the spinning room as the last of her strength drained away. She knew that voice. It haunted her dreams.
Mick stared at the pale slip of a woman in his arms. Her full lashes, tipped with burnished gold lay fanned against her high-boned cheeks. They fluttered for a moment, then lay still. An ugly, red mark left by the tape that had held her ventilator tubing marred her fair skin.
Sleeping Beauty was awake. He was glad for Caitlin’s recovery, but his dreams and plans for Beth had died a quick death when he got the phone call. Oh, he intended to remain a part of her life—a big part. But just how much depended on the woman he held.
Caitlin stirred in his arms, and he noticed the thinness of her body beneath his hands. She felt delicate and fragile. During the past week and a half, she had lost weight she didn’t have to spare. The thought roused feelings of pity. How had someone so small and exquisite survived in the harsh, violent world of Chicago’s slums?
And how could she take care of Beth in that same brutal environment? The thought of what
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