Secret Baby Romance

Offering him the only encouragement she could, she titled her lips slightly. “Remove it. I’m sorry, but it’s his only chance at surviving. Try to do as little damage as possible to the other leg, but his life is our priority.”

Edmund rubbed a hand over his face.

“Do you hear me, Edmund? His life—”

“But what kind of life will he have without legs, Doc? He’s a fisherman.”

And he may never fish again.

“I promised his wife I’d save him,” she replied. “Legs or not, I’m bringing this man back to his family.”

Edmund nodded. “Come on Pauler.” He inclined his head toward Brodie’s lower half.

Cameron returned to her friend’s head to trade places with the other man.

“Are you sure you can save him?” Pauler asked.

“No,” she whispered, helplessness washing over her. “But no one will be able to accuse us of not giving it everything we have.”

On the beach, chaos reigned. The scents and sounds of destruction assaulted Cameron’s senses as Edmund towed her and Brodie’s unconscious body back to shore behind his kayak. Feverishly, men and women worked, bucket by bucket, to douse the flames determined to destroy their corner of paradise. In the water, the burning plane still bobbed with Brodie’s boat slowly sinking beside it.

Climbing off her board, she stepped back and allowed the men to lift it and Brodie out of the water. Someone had already brought the island’s Jeep to transport him the short distance to the clinic.

“What the hell happened?” someone murmured.

Ignoring the whispers around her, Cameron pulled two blankets from the back of the Jeep. She wrapped one around Brodie’s mangled leg, trying to staunch the blood flow. With the other, she covered Brodie’s lower half before Esme could reach them. She searched the Jeep for other supplies.

“Are there any—”

“Doc C. Doc C hurry.”

Cameron spun around, her gaze landing on Benita, the oldest Hunte girl, only four years old like Ara. The girl stood atop the rocks frantically waving Cameron to follow her.

“Hurry,” the girl cried. “It’s Ara.”

“Ara!” Panic lived and breathed in Cameron’s chest, clawing at her heart.

“Go,” Edmund urged. “We’ve got Brodie.”

Cameron sprinted after the girl, noticing Creek’s high-pitched yips for the first time. As she scrambled over the rocks, sharp edges sliced her bare feet, but she continued to claw her way up behind Benita, following Creek’s siren call. Her sand-coated feet slipped, and she fell to her knees. Agony ripped through her shin. Ignoring the pain, she crawled forward until she could see the dog. He stood by the entrance of what appeared to be a small cave, pacing and whining.

“Ara,” she screamed.

Creek’s head lifted. He yipped and turned back to the cave. She scrambled over the last of the rocks and landed in the sand. The dog ran toward her, but before he reached her, he turned and ran back to the rocks. She raced after him.

When she reached the tiny clearing, her heart plummeted. Fresh tears stung her eyes and breathing became almost impossible.

“Ara,” she croaked.

Her baby, her beautiful, energetic baby girl, lie slumped against the rocks. Blood dribbled from a cut on her head, trickling down her forehead and over her closed eyes. Cameron could handle the blood. She could patch up the cut on her daughter’s head and send her back out to hunt the cliffs for mermaid caves in minutes. What had her heart in her throat was the airplane debris embedded in her daughter’s side. A sob swelled in her chest, like the wave that had risen after the crash. She fought to keep the cry contained. If she allowed her tears free rein now, she may never get them under control again. Later, she could fall apart. Right now, her baby needed her. She wouldn’t lose another child.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Luci cried. “I couldn’t move her, but I couldn’t leave her to get help either.”

Shaking herself from her stupor, Cameron hurried forward to assess her daughter’s condition. “You did the right thing,” she assured the older woman. “Bennie got me. Ara is going to be fine. Just watch.” For the second time today, she prayed to a God she’d long ago lost faith in. This time she asked Him to do what He’d been unable or unwilling to do six years ago—save her precious, innocent child.

Beside Ara’s still form, Cameron dropped to her knees and pressed a shaking hand to her daughter’s throat. Relief swamped her when she found the tiny thump thump of Ara’s pulse. Faint, but present.

The girl’s baby-soft lashes fluttered, and her eyes cracked open. “Mommy.” Her voice couldn’t even be called a whisper, but that one small sound rocked Cameron’s entire world and spurred her into action.

“Shh, baby. Mommy’s here. Don’t talk. Just rest.” Tears made speaking difficult. She offered a shaky smile, but Ara’s eyes had already drifted closed.

She scanned her daughter’s body. Blood seeped around the wound on her side, wetting the linen of her dress. Cameron moved around her tiny body, careful not to jostle her. The metal, though not wide, passed completely through Ara’s side, sticking into the sand beneath her. Cameron’s first instinct was to pull the offending object from her baby’s body, but she stopped herself. The metal likely stifled the blood flow. Not to mention, she had no way of knowing what organs it may have passed through.

Biting her lip, she held her tears at bay. She’d have to carry Arabella back to the beach. If she worked quickly, Edmund may still be on the beach with the Jeep to take them to the clinic. The doctors were already on their way. They’d have an x-ray or ultrasound machine to determine how to best remove the debris. As long as she could stabilize Ara, her baby would survive.

Infusing her voice with artificial steel, she bit out, “Okay, baby. Mommy’s going to pick you up and carry you. It’s going to hurt, sweetie, but I’ll make it stop as soon as we get to the clinic.” Once there, she’d put Ara under until they could figure out how to help her. She wouldn’t let her daughter suffer.

Ara’s eyelids fluttered and her tiny, colorless lips parted as if she tried to speak.

“Shh baby. Mommy has you.”

Carefully, she slipped her arms under Ara’s legs and back. The metal shifted. Cameron froze. Her gaze darted around the beach, landing on a tattered fishing net.

“Get me that,” she ordered Benita.

The small girl raced to retrieve the net. Cameron ripped it to pieces, then lashed the metal tight to Ara’s body to keep it in place. Satisfied she’d immobilized the debris as much as possible, she again slipped her arms under her daughter and lifted her to her chest.

“Mommy has you,” she whispered against Ara’s sweat-dampened curls. And there was no way in hell she’d give her baby up. Not even to death.