McCallum Quintuplets (10 page)

“No, not shoehorns,” Ian said, paging through the inches-thick book until he found what he was looking for. “Here we go,” he said, pulling out a thick card that had been glued to one of the pages, a sample wedding invitation. He handed it to Madeline. “It's not the usual formal invitation, but it's perfect for us. Everything else is
up to you, Maddie, I promise, but I think I have to insist on this one.”

She read the outside of the card, then looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Oh, Ian, I love you. I love you
so much!
” she said, then grabbed him, pulled him down on top of her—which was pretty much where he wanted to be anyway.

The card fell to the floor, landing on its back so that the words on the outside were visible:
Today I marry my best friend…

Mindy Neff

Nerves clawed at Annabelle Reardon's insides, but never in a million years would she let it show.

She was the labor and delivery nurse in the McCallum Multiple Birth Wing at Maitland Maternity Clinic, the only specialty clinic of its kind in Texas. At twenty-three she was the youngest person on staff, but she knew her job and considered herself one of the best, a status she strove for in every part of her life.

The smell of antiseptic, pine cleaner and the cafeteria's chicken special permeated the air, scents Annabelle was so used to she hardly noticed.

She held her friend's hand as the orderly wheeled the gurney toward the surgery room. The much anticipated arrival of Maggie McCallum's quintuplets was imminent, and Maggie was understandably scared.

“It's only thirty-six weeks, Annabelle.” Maggie panted through the contraction that seized her. “It's too soon.”

“Now you stop your worrying, you hear? Breathe through that contraction, sweetie. There's a good girl. We'll get 'em stopped right quick. And thirty-six weeks is perfect—the babies' lungs are fully developed by this time.” She squeezed Maggie's hand and didn't make a peep about the bones grinding in her own.

Maggie's father-in-law, Jackson McCallum, had donated this specialty wing in honor of his late wife, who'd died giving birth to triplets, Adam—Maggie's husband—Briana and Caleb McCallum.

But that had been more than thirty years ago. Medical research had advanced light-years since then.

“Zach's kept a close watch on you, Maggie, and you'll be just fine. You know he's the best obstetric perinatologist around.”

Just saying his name gave Annabelle a flutter in her stomach. What the devil was wrong with her lately? She'd managed to subdue her attraction for the handsome doctor, but recently the struggle was getting harder—not that he'd given her an ounce of encouragement.

No, her wily hormones were most likely a product of the incessant urging from her stepmother to do some catching up in the dating, man-woman relationship department.

But now was
not
the time to get sidetracked by Dr. Zachary Beaumont.

Regardless of her easy assurances, the procedure ahead of them was filled with potential complications.

Still, Annabelle knew she was darn good at her job. A nurturer by nature, having raised her brother and three sisters, she was cool under fire and knew just the right thing to say to calm a fear or encourage a dream. She believed that everything always worked out for the best in the end.

Idealistic, perhaps, but there it was.

And she intended to see that her friend sailed through this risky delivery with a positive attitude and a minimum of fear.

“I know he's the best,” Maggie said, battling tears.
“And I trust you both. Thank you for being here for me, Annabelle.”

“I wouldn't be anywhere else. Hang in there, Maggie. It won't be much longer now.”

When they got to the doors of the operating room, Annabelle pushed through, then turned.

“Whoa, there.” They had an entire entourage following them—the whole McCallum clan, extended family and friends. “This is where the line ends, guys. The waiting room's just down the hall.”

Adam McCallum stood firmly by his wife, the stubborn set of his jaw masking sheer terror. They'd gone through a rough time getting pregnant. With his mother's death in childbirth, Annabelle knew that weighed heavily on his mind.

She reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. “Fathers are the exception. You get gowned up, and we'll let you stand by your wife's head and coach. If you faint, though, I'm putting it on the bulletin board downstairs.”

She didn't bother to tell him if they had a crisis, they'd make him leave. No sense borrowing trouble.

The surgery room was a buzz of activity in preparation for the cesarean section delivery.

Annabelle's gaze automatically honed in on Zach's.

Oh, Lord, those dimples were going to be the death of her virginity. Good night, where had that thought come from?

She found herself blushing. Dr. Zachary Beaumont, not one to miss a trick, noticed and frowned.

Guiltily, she jerked her gaze away and focused on her job, her adrenaline surging as though a patient had just coded in front of her.

Darn it, she had to calm down. She was normally com
petent and composed, a rock in a crisis. That's what put her in such high demand with all the doctors.

The anesthesiologist was standing by, as was April Sullivan-McCallum, the neonatal nurse who also happened to be Maggie's sister-in-law. The atmosphere in the room was tense, yet everyone was putting on a good front.

Annabelle couldn't let everyone be thinking about bad memories of a thirty-one-year-old heartache—Emily McCallum's loss of life in childbirth.

By dog, that was
not
going to happen here. Not on her watch.

She went to the tape player and switched on a soft, toe-tapping rock-and-roll cassette.

Maggie glanced over. “Oh, that's my favorite. I play it for the babies all the time.”

“Then they'll be anxious to get here and do a little dancin',” Annabelle said with a grin. “Although you ought to be ashamed for not starting them out early on honky-tonk tunes.”

Maggie gave a weak laugh and grasped her husband's hand. He was gowned and standing next to her.

Zach gave her a slight nod of approval for her quick thinking, and she felt a thrill of excitement at his acknowledgment. She knew he could work under any circumstance. Even if she'd blared heavy metal music, it wouldn't distract him. He was a totally focused man. More so than necessary at times, Annabelle thought.

“Okay, Maggie,” Zach said. “This is what we've been waiting for.” He held her hand while Annabelle started an IV and hooked up numerous tubes and monitors.

Zachary Beaumont could appear unemotional, even harsh at times, but that wasn't his true nature. After working with him for the past eight months, Annabelle had
come to realize that he was fiercely protective and had an excellent bedside manner.

When it came time to deliver babies, though, he was focused and dynamic—a “do something or get out of my way” kind of guy.

“I should have stayed in bed longer,” Maggie said to Zach.

“Probably wouldn't have helped. This is very common with multiple births. Roll over toward me. Adam, give your wife a hand.”

Once Maggie managed to shift to her side, Zach took her hand again, careful of the IV. “Let me give you a rundown on what to expect so you'll know what's happening. There's nothing to worry about. I've done these hundreds of times. Dr. Lee is going to give you an epidural so you won't feel anything with the birth. The epidural is going to be a bit painful, so hold on to Adam.”

When Dr. Lee inserted the needle, Maggie gasped and Adam winced. “A
bit
painful? Dammit, Zach.” She panted. “It's awful.”

“Breathe through it, Maggie,” Annabelle said, laying a hand on Maggie's leg, stroking. “That's right, almost done now.”

Maggie continued to glare at Zach.

He grinned, and Annabelle didn't think that was the wisest choice he could have made. A woman getting an epidural would likely deck him—heck, the size of that needle even scared
her.
Thank goodness both of Maggie's hands were being held—by Adam as well as Zach.

He'd probably planned it that way, the devil.

“Don't let all these monitors and wires upset you,” he continued. “They're so we can keep a watch on your and the babies' vitals. Annabelle's going to insert a catheter and have you drink a concoction for your stomach acids.
Then once we're ready to go, I'll make a vertical incision in your abdomen, as well as a uterine incision. I'll break the bags of water the babies are in and pass them over to April and her team of nurses. We'll let you see the babies, but they'll have to go to the NICU—”

“The what?” Maggie asked.

“Neonatal care unit,” April Sullivan-McCallum said.

“Oh, that's right. I knew that.”

A special twinkle appeared in Zach's eyes, a smile that didn't curve his lips. She'd noticed it countless times, and Annabelle thought it was one of the sexiest expressions she'd ever seen.

“I should have the babies delivered in ten minutes or less. Then all that's left is to stitch you up and move you to recovery.”

“When will I get to see the babies? Hold them?”

“The pediatrician will be checking them over while you're in recovery. We'll arrange for you to go in a bit later.” Zach glanced around the room, making sure everyone was in place. Annabelle nodded to let him know she was ready.

“Okay, any more questions? Maggie? Adam?”

“Just do a good job,” Adam said.

“I always do.”

The touch of arrogance in Zach's tone wasn't rude. It simply conveyed unequivocal confidence. And at a time like this, that level of confidence was soothing.

Annabelle handed him instruments by rote. They worked well as a team, and she'd assisted in so many of these births, she could probably do it on her own—not that she'd want to.

She noted that Adam was pale, holding his wife tenderly. It did her heart good to see that. The years of miscarriages and trying to get pregnant had taken a toll on
their relationship. The love between them was evident, though. They were true soul mates.

She hoped the birth of these babies would bring them closer together once again. Though they would have a long haul ahead of them caring for five infants.

True to his word, Zach was in and out within nine minutes. “We have a girl,” he said, holding her up and glancing at the clock. “Five thirty-one p.m. And she's already complaining.” He passed the squalling baby to April, and Annabelle gave him an arch look for his sexist comment.

“This one's a fine-looking boy,” he said a minute later. Two more boys and another girl were lifted up for Maggie and Adam's inspection, then quickly passed to the neonatal team, who suctioned and weighed the babies.

“We've got weights of five pounds one ounce, five pounds even, four-fourteen, four-thirteen, and another at four-thirteen,” April announced, her voice filled with an aunt's pride and excitement even as her movements were efficient and quick.

“Why isn't the last girl crying?” Adam asked.

“She probably didn't like to be last and is holding her breath.” The baby emitted a weak cry, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Then April and her team whisked the babies away to the NICU.

“Are they all okay?” Maggie asked, staring at the door.

“They're beautiful,” Annabelle said. “You did great, Maggie. My gosh, think how wonderful you'll feel now that you're not carrying around twenty-five pounds of babies.”

“Oh, I never looked at it that way.”

“Mmm.” While she talked, Annabelle automatically handed Zach instruments, anticipating before he could
even hold out his hand for them. “It hurt me just to watch you try to get up out of a chair.”

Maggie laughed, her whole body trembling. “Adam had to help me. I couldn't manage on my own.”

Adam was rubbing her arms to warm her, soothe her. “I love helping you. Anytime I can get my hands on your skin, I'm a happy man.”

“All right, you two,” Annabelle said as Zach finished the last stitch. “Don't get carried away. You've got another six weeks before you can be foolin' around with each other.”

“Killjoy,” Adam said, but he kissed his wife anyway. The love between them was nearly tangible. They had each other, and now the family they'd so desperately wanted.

Something Annabelle desperately wanted.

A lump formed in her throat, and she looked away—right into Zach's solemn gaze.

She realized he'd been watching her, and when he noticed the tears hovering on her lower lashes, his rich chocolate eyes went so incredibly gentle, she nearly sobbed out loud.

Whatever passed between them in that one moment was new.

Something she couldn't quite describe filled the air, as though the successful birth of the quintuplets had forged a special bond between them. She felt a pull of attraction, of mutual respect, of curiosity, of awareness, that hadn't been there before.

What in the world was going on here?

A nurse wheeled Maggie out of the surgery room, and Adam stopped to pump Zach's hand, thanking him profusely.

After the high emotions of all that had transpired in the
surgical room began to subside, Annabelle felt a pang of distress. She'd raised her siblings and worked around babies all day, watching the miracle of birth. Yet each day a nagging worry assailed her.

The car accident that killed her mother had injured Annabelle, too. An unexpected infection in the hospital had cost her one of her ovaries and created scar tissue on her Fallopian tubes. Her periods weren't regular, and getting pregnant would not be an easy task. Her chances were extremely slim.

She yearned to settle down. To fall in love. To have a family of her own.

But would she ever find a man who would take her without guarantees? Flaws and all?

Her college boyfriend hadn't wanted to. And the wounds from his rejection went much deeper than the internal scars from the accident.

She should have learned her lesson from Peter. And she shouldn't be lusting after Dr. Zachary Beaumont.

“Deep thoughts?” Zach asked, startling her.

She laughed to cover her turmoil. “It's a failing of mine. I go off into daydreams and forget there's a world around me.”

“Doesn't sound like a failing to me. Everybody needs dreams—day or night or long-term. Those dreams get us where we want to go.”

“Did you always dream of being a doctor?”

“Yes. Always.”

She gave him a bright smile. “Single-minded, are we?”

“Absolutely. I go after what I want.”