The Nurse Who Saved Christmas

Despite her protest, Abby might be having a baby. His baby. The slightly stunned expression on her pretty little face said so.

Another woman, another pregnancy, swept through his memories. Sandra excitedly telling her news. Lord, he’d been scared. After all, he’d still had a few years of residency left. But he’d looked into her eyes and he’d hidden his fear, had swept her into his arms and spun her around. A baby. Shelby. And now, would there be another baby?

Sharp pain zigzagged across his chest at the thought.

Both volunteers turned to him, expectation and protectiveness of Abby in their eyes. He couldn

’t blame them. He felt like beating the crap out of him, too, for doing this. He deserved worse if he’d made her pregnant.

Judy crossed her arms over her chest, her head bent slightly to one side, as if to say, Well?

Uh-huh. He wasn’t going to have that conversation with two strangers watching, listening to every word.

Abby wasn’t pregnant. And if she was… Hell, he didn’t know what they’d do if she was.

Regardless, that was a private conversation. Not one for women he’d just met, even if they were longtime friends of Abby’s and treated her like a favorite niece.

Following Abby’s lead, Dirk drew on acting skills he’d honed in the days following Sandra and Shelby’s deaths, days in which he’d been dead inside but had had to go on, puting on a front for the world. Had put on a show for his friends and family who’d not been able to look at him without pity in their eyes. Pity he’d tired of and left behind. In late spring he’d started searching for another position, knowing he couldn’t face another holiday season under their watchful gazes. In June he’d accepted the position in Philadelphia, finished up his Oak Park contract, and had started in the emergency room in October.

And met Abby. Possibly impregnated her.

“This is the last of the boxes, Abby. You ready to pack them into my truck so we can go?” God, he hoped so, because he wanted away from the prying eyes. “We’ve still got to go pick up those fruit baskets and get them delivered. Unless I can convince you to cancel out so you can rest and properly get over this virus.”

Did his voice sound normal? Or could everyone in the room hear his panic? See how his insides quavered at the thought he might have made Abby pregnant?

“I, uh…” Her hand fell away from her belly. She turned to him, her expression so tentative and vulnerable that something fragile deep in his chest cracked open and bled freely, gushing, leaving him weak. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s get these loaded.”

Stunned by the rush of emotions, Dirk just stood, unable to move, unable to put on a show, only able to watch Abby smile briefly at the other volunteers and walk over to a far corner of the room. She had a dolly in her competent little hands within minutes.

“It’s not much,” she said, rolling the dolly toward him. “But it will do at a pinch.”

He would have welcomed any excuse to get away from the mother hens’ knowing looks. He hightailed it, boxes in tow, moving at record speed, leaving the three women alone.

Even before he’d made it out the door Judy’s excited squeal echoed throughout the building, across the city, across his stampeding heart.

“Tell me the truth. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

He turned, waiting at the doorway to hear Abby’s answer. The two women had practically pounced on her, were holding her hands and excitedly asking her questions.

As if sensing he still stood there, she glanced toward the doorway, met his gaze. Deep emotions shot across the room, deep pleas. Pleas for exactly what Dirk wasn’t sure, neither was he sure he wanted to know.

Abby needed him. How could he be there for her when there wasn’t anything left of him to give?

“Tell us.” Judy wrapped her arm around Abby’s shoulder in a motherly hug. “Are you pregnant or not?”

“Regardless, we love you and are here for you,” Joyce added. “You know that.”

Did they even know he still stood here? He held his breath, waiting, wondering, knowing it was impossible, knowing it was damned well possible. He’d made love to Abby quite vigorously. Twice.

“Don’t be silly and start rumors,” she said with a falsely bright voice, looking from one of the ladies to the other, then at him. Their gazes met, clung to each other.

Don’t say it, Abby. Don’t say that there is any possibility you might be pregnant.

“Of course I’m not pregnant.”

Which should have relieved him, but her eyes told a different story.

All eight of Santa’s reindeer drop-kicked Dirk in the gut at once, knocking his breath out of him and stomping him to smithereens while he was down.