The Holiday Triplets (17 page)

“Sure it does. Once or twice a decade.”

“Special for us.” Sam couldn't believe she was feeling sentimental about snow, but their weekend in the mountains would remain a cherished memory all her life.

Mark's mouth curved into a smile. “Snowballs.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Dare you.”

She couldn't resist following as he went to open the doors. A blast of chilly air raised goose bumps beneath Sam's sweater, but she didn't care.

Outside, white fluff transformed the nearby hedge and the parking lot beyond it into a scene of pristine beauty.
She gazed upward at the unfamiliar sight of snow dusting palm trees.

Crouching by a bush, Mark scraped a thin layer of white into his hands. “Brace yourself.”

“Oh, grow up. Just think, we barely missed having a white Christmas. Wouldn't that have been lovely?” Determined not to be outmatched, Sam brushed the snowy accumulation on a tabletop into her own palms and pressed it hard. As soon as she opened her hands, the stuff fell apart. “This won't pack.”

“I thought we were supposed to grow up,” he reminded her as his own would-be snowball melted in his hand.

“I'll grow up if you will.”

Mark tipped his face to the sky. Flakes dappled his dark hair and eyebrows. “I could move to Seattle with you.”

“I'm going to Mexico.”

“Oh, be a sport. It
never
snows down there.”

“Great food, though.”

“If you like things spicy.”

Sam stopped talking as the snow blotted out the world around them. She loved being isolated with Mark. A week ago, they'd played in the snow and hurried back to the cabin with their arms around each other. If only they could do that again.

Time, stand still. Let me stay here with him.

His cell phone beeped. He glanced at the message. “Delivery.”

“I'd better go, too. The paperwork keeps piling up. Whatever made me think I was cut out to be a bureaucrat?” Sam grumbled. “You can replace me as chief of pedes right away. Please.”

He slid an arm around her waist. “My pleasure.”

“Mark! Anyone can see us.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Well, they can't accuse
me of favoring you, since I'm about to remove you as chief of pediatrics.”

His body sheltered hers, warm against the cold, solid against the fragility of snow. “They'll gossip anyway,” she said, and touched her lips to his. Immediately, she wanted more.

He lifted his head. “Who cares?” And he proceeded to kiss her thoroughly. They stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other, until his beeper went off.

“Delivery,” they both said.

To be discreet, Sam let him go inside ahead of her. When she entered, she saw only a couple of cafeteria workers, whose positions required them to face away from the patio. Lucky break, she supposed.

Sam didn't feel lucky.

She never ran from a challenge, and that was not her intention now. By leaving Safe Harbor she'd be running
to
the kind of commitment she'd always wanted to make. So why was she listening to a selfish inner voice that urged her to stay?

Better tackle those reports awaiting her attention upstairs. She owed a clean desk and an empty in-basket to whoever succeeded her as chief.

On the way, she decided to stop and see if Mark's secretary had his sister's phone number. There was no harm in checking on Bryn, just to be certain she hadn't run into trouble.

The snowfall amounted to less than an inch, but that was enough to pass for a blizzard in southern California. Although the stuff melted within an hour, the news media provided coverage of freeway jams, farmers struggling to save their citrus and avocado crops, children frolicking and people using hair dryers to deice their front steps. Safe Harbor's latest snafu seemed to be forgotten—except by those who mattered.

True to her word, Sam informed Mark that she'd put in some phone calls about finding a replacement pediatrician and spoken to Tony about fast-tracking the adoption. However, Mark realized that little could be accomplished during this week between Christmas and New Year's, when half the world had gone out of town.

The situation had almost driven the counseling clinic from his mind, until Eleanor stopped by his office late on Thursday afternoon. “I never thought I'd say this, but would you please tell Dr. Forrest I didn't mean to drive her away entirely?”

“You could speak to her yourself.” Mark hated to rush this conversation, but he still had to pick up his tuxedo from the cleaners for Jared and Lori's wedding tonight.

“She scares me.”

He regarded the aristocratic woman in her designer suit. “You're kidding.”

Her chest heaved. “I suppose I'm having trouble acknowledging how high-handed I was. It never occurred to me that, without her, there truly isn't anyone in charge. Clients show up without appointments, peer counselors go on vacation and don't tell anybody, and there's no one to keep a lid on things. I've had to drive down here two days in a row. This is crazy.”

“I'll ask her to pitch in.” He felt certain Sam would do her best.

Eleanor drummed her fingers on his desk. “I suppose I was unreasonably optimistic about budgeting and staffing. I doubt we'll be able to afford a real director for at least a year. We need Dr. Forrest.”

He took a deep breath. “I'm afraid that, at best, she'll only be around for a few more months.” He explained about Sam's decision to relocate.

“Is this because of me?” Eleanor asked in dismay.

“It's a lot of things,” he said. “She's always intended to work full-time at a low-cost clinic eventually.”

“But she's got three children! Has she any idea what an education costs these days?”

“If I could change her mind, I would.” Listening to his own words, Mark realized he meant it. And that he'd accepted her decision to leave much too readily.

He loved Safe Harbor Medical Center and everything he'd accomplished in the past couple of years. Even more, he treasured the prospect of what he planned to accomplish in the years to come.

Yet without Sam, all the flavor went out of the place. He couldn't imagine coming to work every day without looking forward to seeing her. Or going home to his sterile house, knowing he'd never hold her in his arms again.

If he wanted to change Sam's mind, he had to do something drastic. And he'd better do it soon.

The problem was, he had no idea how to accomplish that.

 

A
S CO-MAIDS OF HONOR
, Sam and Jennifer had been instructed to walk down the aisle side by side. They stood waiting their turn in the church foyer, wearing identical silver-and-blue dresses, Jennifer's dark hair and Sam's blond curls pinned back with matching silvery ornaments. Sam hoped the three-inch difference in their heights didn't look awkward.

Oh, well, who would notice? Lori's auburn splendor and the joy on her face were bound to steal the show.

“Have I apologized enough?” Jennifer asked in a low voice. She and Lori were among the few Sam had told about her decision to leave. “I feel like I helped push you into this.”

Sam tried to reassure her friend. “I'm famous for shooting my mouth off. I just did it one time too many.” She didn't bother to repeat her contention that she'd always intended either to join her parents in Mexico or work at a similar facility elsewhere. Her closest friends knew that she wouldn't have chosen this particular timing.

Her mom, too, had cautioned her not to make a snap decision. “Not that I wouldn't be thrilled to have you here. Either way, I'm coming to visit my three new grandchildren next month, the first chance I get,” she'd added.

The thought of the triplets soothed Sam. They seemed to get stronger and smarter every day. Since they still weren't big enough to sleep through the night, she'd used a referral service to find a nanny who specialized in caring for twins and triplets. Nanny Nancy had started two days ago and was holding down the fort this evening.

Already, she'd organized the house so Sam no longer banged into furniture and tripped over supplies. The woman was capable, cheerful and experienced.

Wonder how she'd feel about moving to Mexico.

The music shifted into their cue. “Don't trip,” Jennifer advised.

“I wasn't planning to.”

“I'm talking to myself, not you.”

“Let's hope neither of us trips,” Sam suggested.

“Go!” Lori urged from behind.

Silver bells and green-and-silver wreaths gave the small chapel a wintry charm. In the pews, friendly, familiar faces greeted them. Tony Franco and his fiancée, Kate. Ian Martin and nursing director Betsy Raditch. Doctors and nurses, childbirth educator Tina Torres, secretary May Chong…people who'd become like family over the past five years. How could she leave them?

But she had to. Controversy aside, this was what she'd always meant to do.

Finally, Sam allowed herself to focus on the man standing beside Jared at the altar, studying Sam with a gaze that could melt chocolate. In that crisp tuxedo, Mark Rayburn might have been a Mediterranean prince or an old-time movie star. Or simply the man she loved.

I didn't really admit that, did I?

Her chest tightened as she struggled to come to terms with her sudden romanticism. It must be the effect of walking down an aisle clutching a bouquet, she told herself desperately.

What she should have done was paid more attention to her footing. As she reached the front, she took a misstep, stumbled and might have fallen if Jennifer hadn't grabbed her arm.

“You promised!” her friend hissed.

“Sorry.” Regaining her balance, Sam took her place beside her fellow maid of honor. When she glanced over at Mark, she caught the edge of a grin and a small headshake.
Hopeless
, it said.

She didn't have time to dwell on her clumsiness. The wedding march swelled and, along with the guests, Sam turned her attention to Lori. The bride glowed with happiness as she strolled down the aisle on her mother's arm.

Sam's eyes misted as Lori reached Jared and the couple joined hands in front of the minister. Thank goodness these two people hadn't lost each other, because they obviously belonged together.

Sometimes things worked out the way you hoped. And sometimes, she conceded with a pang, they didn't.

 

S
INCE THE COUPLE HADN'T BEEN
able to find an affordable facility at the last minute, the cake-and-champagne reception took place in the hospital's workout room, which was also used for childbirth classes. Lori had assured Mark that she didn't mind, since her “real” reception would be held at a restaurant the following month.

Nevertheless, it was hard to ignore the posters detailing the stages of labor, and another graphically depicting exercises for pregnant women. “I think every couple should have posters like these at their reception,” joked Tina, the childbirth instructor.

“I didn't realize they were still going to be up,” Lori said tartly. “I may deal with pregnancies every day, but on a personal level, I'd rather not think about it for a few years yet.”

Jared gave his new wife a hug. “We can start practicing, though, right?”

“For which part?” she challenged.

“You don't expect me to spell it out here, do you, sweetheart?”

As Lori's cheeks flushed, Mark raised his glass. “I propose a toast. To the couple best qualified of anyone I know to practice for childbirth.”

Amid the laughter, he saw a wistful expression fleet across Sam's face. Did she still regret losing the chance to experience pregnancy? But what a blessing to have Colin and Connie and Courtney.

She still had the chance to enjoy every step of parenthood. As for Mark, he'd felt thousands of babies move inside their mothers, seen them on ultrasounds, and listened to their heartbeats. He'd never minded that he didn't get to keep any of them.

He minded now. How could he let the triplets grow up without him?

Jennifer appeared at his side. “I just got an alert about a website you ought to see.”

“We're both off duty,” he protested.

“I still get alerts on my cell phone. This one concerns Dr. Tartikoff.”

The name no longer inspired enthusiasm. More like antipathy. “Oh?”

“He's been selected scientist of the year.” A prestigious journal had just announced the honor, she explained as she brought up the magazine's website on her phone. Reluctantly, Mark accepted the device and scanned the story, which could only make matters worse as far as the corporate owners were concerned. Now they'd want him more than ever.

A flattering photo made Tartikoff look like a TV star. Mark was less impressed with the interview, in which the doctor went on at great length about the latest developments in manipulating DNA to eliminate genetic diseases.
While he hadn't pioneered the techniques, a reader might get that impression from the way the guy boasted about his stellar record with patients.

Sour grapes on my part.
But Mark had to admit he'd still love to have Owen's name attached to the fertility center.

Chandra had told the doctor of Sam's willingness to leave, but so far he'd made no decision. After this coup, Mark supposed offers would flood in from all over the globe. How ironic if they lost Dr. Tartikoff, anyway.

He returned the phone to Jennifer. “That's quite an honor. Thanks for showing it to me.”

That night, Mark slept badly. He tossed and kicked off the sheets and felt angry at everyone.
Okay, so Owen's a genius. But who's the administrator of this damn hospital, anyway?

Mark didn't intend to spend the next few years catering to the fellow's ego or his touchy temperament. Professional respect had to cut both ways. Three ways—to Samantha, as well.

Regardless of her claim that she wanted to join her parents in Mexico, she was being forced out. Taking Mark's joy and sense of purpose with her.

Maybe eventually he'd regain his dedication to the hospital. Maybe he'd find satisfaction in landing an incredibly gifted and innovative surgeon for his staff, whether Dr. Tartikoff or someone else. But it wasn't enough.

By the time he dozed off at last, he'd come to a difficult decision.

Mark spent much of Friday morning making notes on what he wanted to say to Chandra, then deleted all of them. On impulse, he pulled up the website from last night and reread the article. Spotting an option for reader comments, he clicked over to scan them.

Amid a profusion of posts, many lauded Dr. T's accomplishments. Others took a less pleasant tone, including several that accused him of playing God. A nurse who claimed to be a former coworker called him arrogant to the point of cruelty. A former patient contended he'd unsuccessfully pushed her into high-tech procedures, and that, later, another doctor had helped her get pregnant with simpler and less costly techniques.

Suddenly Mark knew what he wanted to say. Not to the corporation vice president, but to Owen himself.

He put in a call, and got the man's voice mail. Too impatient to delay, Mark left a message that might very well end his career at Safe Harbor.

 

S
AM WASN'T SURE WHEN PEOPLE
had fallen into the habit of calling the entire day of December 31 “New Year's Eve.” As far as she was concerned, the evening didn't begin until after five. To her, Friday was just another workday.

She spent the morning seeing patients, then took her nurse to lunch and broke the news that she might be leaving but would make sure her staff still had jobs.

“I hate—who is it I'm supposed to hate?” Devina demanded. “Who did this?”

“I always planned…”

“Yes, yes, the suffering poor.” Her nurse waved a perfectly manicured hand. How she managed to keep those nails beautifully shaped and polished despite the demands of her profession was the subject of speculation among her coworkers. “This is a terrible idea.”

“I appreciate your support.” Sam waited while a waiter wearing Papa Giovanni's white-and-red-trimmed green uniform refilled her glass.

Devina sniffed a piece of garlic bread and set it aside. An obsessive calorie watcher, she claimed to satisfy her
cravings that way. “Dr. Tartikoff should think about which doctor is going to take care of the babies
after
they're born. What does he imagine, that he brings them into the world and they disappear into a cloud of happiness? He's only a small part of their lives.”

“I doubt that idea ever pierced his ego.” Sam was going to miss her nurse. Just being around Devina lightened her spirits.

“He'd better not cross my path.” Her nurse stabbed a single tortellini with her fork. “I hear he reduces his nurses to tears. Huh.”

“Good thing you're a pedes nurse so you won't have to work with him.”

Devina chewed and swallowed carefully. “Don't leave, Samantha. You belong here.”

Sam felt that way, too, even though her higher self told her otherwise.

After lunch, she gave her staff the rest of the day off. In her medical building office, Sam clicked through emails, glad to get this chore out of the way. Once she collected the babies for the holiday, she wanted to devote her full attention to them.

A message from Mark's sister apologized for being short when Sam called earlier in the week. “I'm sorry I was defensive. Like I said, I'll drive out there one of these days and surprise my brother. I spent Christmas with my mentor, dealing with old guilt feelings. I know I let Mark down. I'm really good at that, aren't I? I haven't even worked up the nerve to apologize yet.”