“It’s also very generous of you to pay for her continuing care.” Dr. Granger’s voice dragged his attention back to the here and now.
“You haven’t told her about that.”
“Of course not.” She opened the file to a typewritten form. “This is the financial responsibility form I mentioned when we talked last. You’ll want to read it over and check the box there at the bottom. You’re not the only benefactor who chooses to remain anonymous.”
Benefactor. It wasn’t a term he’d ever earned before. He didn’t feel much like one now, either, considering the rest of the things he could have told Dr. Granger and hadn’t.
“Regardless of the financial arrangements, I wouldn’t be able to discuss her case with you if she hadn’t granted her permission. I managed to keep her here for two extra weeks even though she no longer qualifies for free care, but I was at a point where that choice was being taken out of my hands. Since we’re a nonprofit, the requirements are regrettably strict for patients with no other means. That news story of yours seemed heaven-sent.”
She’d said all of this when they’d spoken on the phone. And still nothing felt heaven-sent to him.
Since the day of the transplant, he’d been circling a drain to hell.
“As I mentioned, Laurel’s physical injuries are healed, though she’s still regaining her strength. The frequency of her panic attacks has lessened. I know we’ve become a haven for her, which is good for a time, but not for her long-term well-being. I would like to have seen her showing more interest in life outside our walls by now.” She hesitated for a moment. “I didn’t tell you earlier, but now that you’re here—”
He braced himself, not liking the way she was fiddling with the file. “Tell me what?”
The doctor sighed, concern clear on her face. “After Laurel’s accident, her trauma surgeons realized that she’d recently given birth.” She didn’t seem to notice the flinch he couldn’t quite hide. “As recently as a week or two before her accident.” She shook her head. “After she was brought out of the coma and her amnesia became apparent, a decision was made not to tell her. This all occurred before she joined us here at Fresh Pine. I believe we’ve established enough trust by now that she would have told me if she’d regained that memory. There could be a correlation between the resolution of her pregnancy and the panic attacks. Postpartum disorders can be so tricky to diagnose, even under more usual circumstances.” She sighed again.
Adam stared down at his hands. There was no reason for her to connect Laurel’s baby with the one who’d needed a bone marrow transplant. Laurel had been languishing in a coma when Linus was diagnosed with aplastic anemia. She’d have no way of knowing about it at all. And certainly no way of knowing the truth about that baby’s real father.
“She had the baby.” His jaw felt so rigid it was hard to get out the words. “But she gave him up.”
Dr. Granger looked confused. “I must have misunderstood when you told me you knew Laurel in college. I thought you meant you hadn’t been in touch since then.”
“We’ve...kept up.” The statement was almost laughable.
“Does she have a boyfriend, then? A husband, maybe?”
“No.”
She blinked a little at his abrupt answer. “I see. Well, I appreciate you telling me about her giving up the baby. Knowing will be helpful as we go forward in her therapy. I hope one day she’ll fully understand what a good friend she has in—”
She broke off when he plucked a pen out of the plastic holder and began writing in his credit card number on the form. As he scrawled his signature at the bottom, he didn’t dwell on how seriously Fresh Pine’s fees would eat into his savings. Savings that he’d been building for the last decade, thinking that one day he’d make something of himself.
Looking slightly uncomfortable, as if she might have divined his thoughts, the director rose. “Why don’t we go see her?”
His neck was so tight it was a wonder he could nod. He stood as well, and followed her out of the office.
“I should have asked already,” she said over her shoulder. “Do you know how the transplant went?”
The question jarred more than she would ever know. “The procedure went well.”
“Engraftment takes time, I know. Meanwhile, everyone is on tenterhooks waiting for complications to set in. Everything was done in Houston, wasn’t it?” She didn’t wait to see his nod. “Excellent facilities. They’ll do everything they can to ensure a successful outcome. Did you meet the father? Some recipients and their families never meet their donors. I always think it’s nice when they can.”
He made a sound that she probably took as agreement.
There hadn’t been anything nice about meeting Eric Johnson. Not from the moment Adam realized Eric was the man Laurel had planned to marry. Or the moment when Eric realized that Adam had been the “someone else” for Laurel.
He’d gone into that surgical suite believing Laurel was dead. And despite the next shock he’d gotten after he’d come out of the surgical suite—a shock that still had him reeling—for three of the longest days of his life, he’d grieved. Grieved her.
And then Dr. Granger had called.
And instead of Eric, it was Adam who was here now.
While Eric stayed with Linus. Even though he’d already figured out he wasn’t the baby’s biological father. He just hadn’t known—until the day of the transplant—who was.
Dr. Granger stopped in the doorway of a spacious room outfitted with mismatched furniture. No matter how well he’d steeled his heart, when he caught sight of Laurel sitting off by herself next to a window, his efforts turned out to be useless.
Dr. Granger had texted him a picture of Laurel when she’d called him in that “do you
