Hollis watched the door close behind her, thinking Annie couldn’t get away fast enough. Shoving the twinge of disquiet aside, she picked up the phone.

“Monroe.”

*

“Hollis will be down in a few minutes,” Honor said, checking the readouts on the monitor above Linda’s bed.

“Did you get hold of Robin?” Linda asked.

“She’s on her way. She just had to call Phyllis to pick up Mike after school.” Honor took Linda’s hand. Linda’s fair skin was unnaturally white and her pupils huge, inky disks. Her pulsed raced. Stress reaction, and completely unlike her. Linda was a rock in a crisis—everyone’s rock. Honor’s heart twisted to see her so afraid. “Listen, you’re going to be all right. There’s no bleeding, the fetal heart tones are fine. It’s probably just a false alarm, but we’re going to do everything by the book. Are you hearing me?”

“If anything happens, you’ll make sure Robin—”

“Okay, you’re obviously not hearing me.” Honor stroked the damp hair off Linda’s forehead. When Jett had radioed that they were delivering two patients instead of one—the anticipated MVA, unstable and needing immediate surgery, plus a midtrimester female in early labor—Honor had known it was Linda without hearing the name Jett hadn’t sent over the airways. She’d called Quinn for the trauma, and then she’d called Robin. And for the next ten minutes she’d paced, double-checking that everything was ready for Linda’s arrival. Quinn had asked if she needed her to stand by, but she’d said no. Quinn would have her hands full with the multiple trauma patient, and Honor wanted to be the one to take care of Linda. Linda was one of the few people in her life she loved unconditionally. She’d lost Terry in this emergency room a dozen years before, and she wouldn’t lose anyone else. “Robin is going to be fine because you’re going to be fine. Nothing else is acceptable.”

Linda laughed shakily. “I forgot how close to God ER physicians are.”

“Well, best remember that in the future.”

“I was being careful—”

“Of course you were. I know that. Robin knows that. Stop worrying.”

Linda closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll let you play doctor, then.”

Honor smiled. “Very wise. I’m going to step outside and wait for Hollis.”

“You called her?”

“By the book, remember? If you need anything, you know where the buzzer is.”

“You’ll make sure Robin gets through the red tape?”

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Honor stepped outside the curtain and scanned the ER. The automatic doors at the end of the hall opened, but the woman who strode through wasn’t Hollis Monroe or Robin. The pretty blonde paused at the nurses’ station, said something to the charge nurse, and then walked down the hall toward Honor. She stopped and held out her hand.

“Hello, I’m Annie Colfax. I’m Linda’s midwife. Robin called.”

Taken off guard, Honor hesitated for a microsecond before pulling the curtain aside. “She’s right here. Go on in.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Hi,” Annie said, stepping up to Linda’s bedside.

“Oh, you came,” Linda said. “I’m so glad. Have you seen Robin?”

“No, not yet, but she called just a few minutes ago.” Annie lightly gripped Linda’s wrist. The vital signs scrolling over the monitors beside her bed all looked normal. Some of the burning in her stomach quieted. “I imagine she’ll be here any second.”

“God, this is a nightmare.”

“If this is premature labor,” Annie said gently, “the most important thing is early treatment, and you’re getting that right now. I know it’s hard, but try to relax.”

Linda laughed shakily. “Tall order.”

Annie squeezed her fingers. “I know. How did this star—”

“Sorry,” the ER chief said, coming into the cubicle. She held a chart out to Annie. “Thought you might want this.”

“Thanks,” Annie said.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Honor Blake. Are you with the Wellness Clinic?”

“Yes.” Annie remembered seeing her at the picnic the day before with a good-looking dark-haired woman and two children. The younger boy went to Callie’s preschool. The world suddenly seemed a lot smaller, and she flashed back to the community she’d left behind where, for better or worse, everyone knew one another. Sometimes that closeness offered comfort and strength, and sometimes it shaped the bars of an invisible prison. She shook off the touch of the past and scanned the brief notes and lab data on the chart. “I’ve been following Linda regularly since insemination. She’s been doing fine.” Annie turned back to Linda. The chart told her little—what she wanted was Linda’s story. “How long ago did you first start having contractions?”

“About—”

The blue-and-white-striped curtain opened with a snap and Hollis strode in. Her eyes registered surprise when she saw Annie, but she quickly looked away and smiled at Linda. “Hi. Honor called me down to take a look at you. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” Linda said. “I was just telling Annie—Annie, this is Dr. Monroe—”

“Yes,” Annie said, “we know each other.” She glanced at Hollis, whose expression was pleasantly neutral, as if their acquaintance was merely in passing. Perhaps here, on the professional field, they were still strangers. An unexpected arrow of disappointment shot through her, and she mentally brushed the ache aside. She handed Hollis the chart. “Linda was just telling me what’s been going on.”

“Good,” Hollis said, leafing through the few pages of intake notes. “Now she’ll only have to repeat it all once.”

“I’ll wait for Robin,” Honor said and stepped into the hall.

“Go ahead, Linda,” Annie said. She wasn’t really sure of the protocol now that Hollis was here, but she knew what she needed to do, and until someone suggested otherwise, she planned on doing it. Maybe Hollis’s silence was part of their new clinical observation plan, but whatever the situation, she couldn’t be distracted by it now.

Annie and Hollis flanked the narrow hospital stretcher while Linda recounted the medevac flight and the onset of the twinges she’d at first attributed to a muscle pull. Annie asked a few questions and noticed Hollis making notes in the chart. She was left-handed. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before? With an effort she looked away from Hollis’s hands, but it was harder to ignore the shimmer of electricity that danced over her skin.

“And thinking back,” Annie said when Linda fell silent, “you don’t recall feeling this way previously?”

“No, God,” Linda said, shaking her head. “You’d think I would have known right away.”

“Not necessarily. A backache is pretty much a way of life for pregnant women at your stage. It’s natural to think that’s all it is.” Annie glanced at her watch. “So all this started about an hour ago?”

Linda nodded.

“How many contractions do you think you’ve had all told?”

“At least five,” Linda said.

Annie glanced at Hollis. The next step was to assess the status of Linda’s cervix. If the contractions had caused the cervix to dilate prematurely, she was at risk for premature delivery. She’d need intravenous medication to help relax the uterus, and close monitoring.

“We’re going to need to take a look,” Hollis said, as if reading Annie’s mind. “If the contractions continue or your cervix is dilating, I want to start some mag sulfate.”

Linda’s eyes closed for an instant and then she nodded. “Whatever needs to be done.”

Honor poked her head in, “Linda, Robin’s here.”

“Tell her I’m okay,” Linda said.

“You tell her,” Honor said, holding the curtain aside.

Robin strode in, her dark hair damp with sweat, wearing a soccer T-shirt and shorts and looking as if she’d just come off the field. She leaned down and kissed Linda. “Hi, baby. How you doing?”

Her voice was soft and steady, and Annie had a fleeting moment of envy, imagining that kind of tender caring. She looked away and found Hollis watching her. She lifted her chin, chasing the dreams away. “Can we talk outside a minute?”

Hollis nodded.

“We’ll be right back,” Annie said to Linda. She followed Hollis into the hall and stopped a few feet away, out of earshot of Linda’s cubicle. “If I saw her in the clinic, I’d examine her, and if the cervix wasn’t compromised, I’d hydrate her and watch her to see if her contractions stopped before transferring her. The contractions might stop spontaneously.”

Hollis was used to consulting with other physicians about patient care, but she was also used to calling the shots when and how she saw them. She valued the input of every other professional, but her instinct—and training—was to take charge when the case involved her area of expertise. If Annie hadn’t been Annie, she wouldn’t even be considering how to answer. And since Linda was the only one who really mattered, she went with her gut. “She’s forty years old and this is a first pregnancy, so we don’t have any history to go by. She’s what—twenty-four weeks?”

“Twenty-three.”

“So the fetus isn’t viable. We’ve got a good shot at controlling this if we jump on it hard now. I’m not comfortable waiting. There’s almost no downside to mag sulfate.”

“Almost none.” Annie checked behind her and lowered her voice. “But some studies have shown an increased incidence of neonatal death.”

Hollis nodded. Annie knew her numbers. “True—but usually only in instances of multiple other complications.”

“She’s here now, and it’s not my call.” Annie waved a hand, taking in the bright lights and beeping monitors and atmosphere of urgency permeating the ER. “And this is no time for a turf war.”

Relieved not to have to fight this out, Hollis nevertheless felt the distance grow deeper between them. Distance she couldn’t change. “I’ll get the nurses to set up for an exam and meet you inside.”