HER BABY'S SECRET FATHER Read Online Free Page A

around other stations, speaking reverently to their preemies.
    And there, by the radiant warmer second from the end, much to Jaynie’s surprise, stood Terrance Zanderson. He spoke almost inaudibly to her daughter, while giving her a breathing treatment.
    The sight of the tall, handsome man, whispering like a father to her baby, squeezed her heart. She blamed post-partum hormones for the sudden blurring of her vision and the catch in her throat. Too bad things hadn’t worked out.
    If only Tara had a doting father like Terrance to call her own. But that wasn’t part of the plan. All the research in the world couldn’t produce an in-the-flesh, willing-to-commit parent for her girl.
    Feeling much stronger, and eager to see Tara, Jaynie jumped from the wheelchair and approached Terrance and the layette in her hospital-issue, skid-free slipper socks.
    “Hey,” he said, looking surprised.
    “Hey,” she whispered, fearing she’d wake not only her baby, but everyone else’s if she spoke too loud. “What are you still doing here?”
    “I’m doing a double shift,” he replied with a smile. “I’m fiendishly making extra dough to fend off future med school costs.”
    Jaynie nodded. She knew about his big plans. They’d talked for hours on their very first date about their life’s plans. At thirty, his had been medical school—though he’d never completely explained why he wanted to make the switch from R.T. to M.D. At thirty-four, hers had been motherhood, and she hadn’t given him the full story of why either. She’d seen the terrorized look in his eyes when she’d blatantly come out and told him what she wanted most in life. But he hadn’t run away kicking and screaming, like her ex-boyfriend. He’d even asked her out for another date. And another. And another.
    Yet, with their divergent plans, there had been no place for their attraction to lead. But they’d ended on a positive note, remaining friends.
    The crusty NICU nurse greeted Jaynie with antibacterial soap scrub for her hands, shooed Kim out of the room, and took control of the layette and the baby within. “Has your milk come in yet?” she asked, handing a mask to Jaynie to wear.
    Mildly embarrassed in front of Terrance, Jaynie shook her head. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her precious daughter even while she applied the mask.
    “We’ve got an electric pump in the other room. You can plug yourself in and save the colostrum for Tara’s feedings. With o2 Sats like hers, I predict she’ll be extubated by the end of the week. Right, Terrance?”
    He nodded his agreement and smiled warmly at Jaynie—a picture that brightened her spirit.
    “She’s a fighter,” he said. “She’ll be fine; don’t worry. The respirator is just helping save her energy, by not having to work so hard for each breath.”
    His comforting words touched her, but Jaynie was no fool. She knew the biggest threat to her preemie was infection, and the next few days could bring disaster or smooth sailing. Only time would tell.
    The NICU nurse, garbed in pale green scrubs, blue surgery cap and latex-free gloves, said, “Once she’s extubated, we’ll have to see if she’s got a rooting reflex, so she can nurse.”
    The R.N. ushered Jaynie alongside the layette. Encumbering ventilator apparatus was connected to the endotracheal tube in Tara’s mouth, which passed into her windpipe and made little peeping sounds as it pushed air into her lungs. Cardio-respirator leads were in place on her chest and abdomen, along with a temperature sensor on the other side of her tiny stomach.
    Jaynie briefly studied the numbers on the monitors, deciding they were good. Then she noticed Tara’s thigh was bound to a board, to secure IV tubing into a large vein, and more tubing was threaded into an umbilical vessel.
    The sight of her own flesh and blood lying fragile and helpless on a large sterile-looking box, with overhead lights like Friday-night football, took the air from her