Laurel’s thumb grazed the screen, pausing the video. She looked up at Adam, her eyes searching his. “I’ve seen this.” She looked vaguely embarrassed. “Several times, actually. The computer in the common room—”
He’d seen the computer for himself. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him that she might have done her own internet search. “And nothing about it was familiar except me? You’re sure?”
Her brows pulled together. Without answering, she glanced at the phone again and resumed the video. The anchor continued.
—inspired by a five-month-old infant suffering from aplastic anemia, a condition where one’s body fails to produce enough new blood cells—
Adam felt Laurel’s glance, though she didn’t pause the playback as the reporter took over the story from the anchorman and began spouting off statistics and courses of treatments.
—the greatest gift, of course, is the gift of life. And in the town of Rambling Rose, that’s exactly what we found. A perfectly suited bone marrow match for the very child who’d inspired the drive in the first place.
Adam knew there was a brief collage of shots of him at that point—at Provisions talking to one of the waitstaff, striding through the busy kitchen as if he were ready to pitch in there even though he’d get his hands chopped off by Nicole if he ever tried such a thing, and then walking down Main Street before the images changed to the exterior of the Rambling Rose Pediatric Center.
I spoke to Dr. Parker Green, the chief physician at the local pediatric center who first diagnosed our young patient’s condition. Dr. Green, is this the first time you’ve seen the locals rally around an issue like this?
He rubbed his hand down his face while Dr. Green assured Constance Silberman that it wasn’t and began recounting tales of Rambling Rose’s history. The reporter skillfully stopped the doctor from going on too long, though, redirecting him when he started talking about how the pediatric center had been built on the original site of the Fortune’s Foundling Hospital.
Clearly, Rambling Rose is a very special place. It’s no wonder that it’s ranked one of the fastest growing towns in Texas. And nobody can be more grateful for the New York transplant named Adam Fortune who is donating his bone marrow than the single father of the tiny boy who’ll be receiving it the day this story is scheduled to air.
Adam dropped his hand, watching Laurel’s face. But she showed no reaction to the image of Eric Johnson that appeared on the screen.
Because of the strict precautions being taken to ensure that his child is not exposed to any contagions at this critical juncture, I wasn’t able to meet personally with Eric Johnson. But he did speak with me by phone. And when I asked him what it meant to find a donor match for his son, he had this to say. That the donor was the most important person he’d never met.
Laurel looked up and extended the phone toward Adam. “You donated bone marrow. I knew that because of this news story.” She wagged the phone slightly. “What am I missing?”
Adam silenced the phone. “You didn’t pay attention. That father. His name was Eric Johnson.” His jaw was tight. “Your Eric Johnson.”
It seemed to sink in then and she stared at him. It was a full minute before she blinked. “But he has a baby.”
It didn’t take him a full minute, but it took long enough. “Yes.” The effort to push out just that one word made his chest ache.
“And I’m engaged to him.” Her gaze flickered. “To be married.”
He ground his molars together. “Until you...put on the brakes and told him you needed space.” Adam had come to the conclusion she’d done that because she’d been carrying his baby. But now, he had to wonder if fear of Eric had been the motivator.
She barely seemed to hear him. “It said he’s a single father.” She was pulling so hard on her sweater sleeve it had stretched right over her hand. Only her fingertips showed. And those fingertips were visibly digging into her thigh. “Where’s the baby’s mother?”
His head ached deep behind his eyes. He slowly took a step toward her. His voice, when he finally marshalled the strength, was hoarse. “I’m looking at her.”
Chapter Five
Laurel was barely aware of walking back to Fresh Pine.
I’m looking at her.
It wasn’t possible. How could it be? How could she have had a baby that she couldn’t remember having?
How can you look in a mirror and not know your own name?
When they reached the entrance to the clinic, Jerry buzzed them in.
She wasn’t even able to wonder about Adam at that point. He was just an old boyfriend. Caught in the middle of the mess that was her life.
What other sins had she blocked out of her mind?
Without stopping, she walked straight through the lobby to the stairs and up to her room, climbing onto the bed and curling into a ball before pulling the tangle of blankets up to her chin.
They weren’t enough to stop her shivering.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever stop shivering.
I’m looking at her.
She closed her eyes. But the image of Adam’s expression was burned on the backs of her eyelids.
She opened them again. Stared blindly at the calendar hanging on her wall.
She heard the soft knocking on her door and ignored it.
If her fiancé was at the root of her panic attacks, why would she ever leave their baby alone with him? What kind of a person was she?
A distinctive creak told her someone had opened her door. It took too much energy to turn and see by whom. “Leave me alone.” Her voice sounded as dull as her soul clearly was.
“If I could do that, I wouldn’t be here in Seattle.”
Her eyes suddenly burned. She turned her head and silently watched Adam round her bed. When he sat on the side of it, the mattress dipped,
