Operation Baby Rescue

Elise forced a smile. “Thank you.” She made no comment on whether she’d return. The jury was still out on that. Even the little she’d said tonight had been painful to share. She drained her lemonade quickly, hoping to make a hasty exit before any other members of the group caught her in an uncomfortable conversation. Tossing her empty cup in the trash, she spun on her heel to leave … and almost collided with a broad chest belonging to a man with dark brown, soulful eyes.

“Hi,” Jared said with a quick flash of a lopsided grin.

“Oh, uh … hi.” Elise’s heartbeat performed a stutter-step. He was much taller than she’d expected, and this close to him, she could smell a tantalizing hint of sandalwood.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans once before sliding his hands in his pockets. The rattle of keys told her he was fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I … made you uneasy or caused you more pain tonight.”

She blinked at him and furrowed her brow. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but an apology was not on the list. “Pardon?”

“Talking about my daughter.” He gave an apologetic wince. “When the Harrisons joined the group.” He hitched his head toward the young couple still chatting with an older lady at the circle of chairs. “.Kim would get upset when I talked about Isabel. I thought, maybe, since you’d lost your baby … hearing about my daughter would be … especially difficult.” He pressed his lips in a taut line of regret. “If it was, I’m sorry.”

Elise could only stare for a moment. His sensitivity to her pain was thoughtful and also … frustrating.

“I, um …” She shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you, but … I don’t expect you to censor yourself to protect me. Sure, it hurts to hear about other people’s kids and think about what might have been, but … that’s not your problem.”

He shrugged and frowned. “Maybe, but I’d hate to think you decided not to come back because my stories about Isabel upset you. Losing my wife was hard enough. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to have lost Isabel, how difficult it must be for you and the Harrisons.”

Pain shot through her chest, and she murmured, “It’s been hell.”

He pulled one hand out of his pocket and flipped it up in a gesture that said she’d proved his point. “And I don’t want to make it worse.”

She nodded, swallowing hard to force down the knot of emotion that had worked its way up her throat. “I appreciate that. But how selfish would it be of me to expect you not to say what you needed to about your daughter, if it helped you work through your own grief for your wife?”

He lifted his chin and cocked his head as if her comment caught him off guard.

Before he could say anything, she raised a hand. “Besides, I get a little tired of people avoiding mention of babies, and especially Gracie, my daughter, as if pretending she never existed would be easier for me, when really it’s their own awkwardness they want to avoid.”

She heard the bitter edge in her tone and bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t meant to snap at him. Her frustrations with her coworkers and neighbors weren’t his fault. But instead of taking offense, he smiled and nodded.

“Exactly. I get the same thing from my friends concerning my wife. As if any talk of spouses is suddenly taboo. I hate it.”

His response surprised her. Something warm unfurled in her chest, releasing a bit of the pressure that squeezed her lungs. When was the last time someone had actually understood the tangled emotions she had over losing Grace? Even this tiny connection to Jared made her feel a little less alone. “Your wife must have died recently if Isabel is only a year old.”

He nodded. “Nine months ago. Isabel was five months old when Kelly was killed by a drunk driver.”

A spark of outrage fired through her. “A drunk driver. It’s bad enough to lose someone to disease or an accident, but when another person’s carelessness is to blame … that’s—” She shook her head, fumbling for the right word to voice her dismay.

“Yeah. It is.” He gave her a bittersweet smile, telling her he understood what went unsaid.

Empathy pricked her heart, and she felt another thread of connection form between them. His grief might be different, but they faced similar struggles.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, knowing how trite the words sounded. How many people had told her they were sorry for her loss? Enough that the platitude felt empty to her. Judging by his expression, he’d heard a lot of hollow phrases in the past nine months, as well. Well-meant words that did nothing to ease the ache in his heart.

Elise groaned and raised a hand to her face. “Ugh, did I just say that? Not that I’m not sorry about your loss, but—”

He chuckled softly and gave her an understanding look. “I’m sorry for your loss, too. There. Now we’re even on banal expressions.” He shrugged. “Although I’ve decided to cut folks a break. I don’t think I’d know what to say to any of my friends if their wives died, either. Other than, Man, that sucks.”

They shared a wry grin. The flicker of humor in his dark eyes mesmerized her, and after a moment, she realized she was staring at him. He had the kind of face that held a woman’s attention—square jaw, full lips, straight nose. As she shook herself from her trance, her pulse fluttered.

She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and sidled toward the door. “I should be going.”

“Right. Well—” He offered his hand. “—It was nice to meet you, Elise.”

“You, too.” She took his hand, and his long fingers and warm palm folded around hers in an encompassing grasp. Firm. Strong. Dependable.

She let her hand linger in his, puzzling over the words that had sprung to mind. Thinking she could tell anything about his character from his handshake was preposterous. And of all the traits a man could be, why was his dependability what came to mind?

“Will you come back next week?”

His question roused her from her sidetracked thoughts.

Would she be back? Coming tonight had taken her weeks of preparation and building her nerve. “Maybe. I, um …”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Maybe is good enough. No pressure. Just think about it.”

And think, she did. All week. But not just about whether she’d return to the grief-support meeting. She thought about Jared Coleman. The way he’d lost his wife. His one-year-old daughter, who was walking. His dark, compassionate eyes.

When she weighed whether she wanted to return to the support group, her reluctance to open herself to the pain of rehashing Grace’s death was tempered by a desire to see Jared again. The connection she’d felt with him had been real. Hadn’t it? But was her interest in Jared about feeling less alone in her grief or about the flutter of attraction she’d experienced when he’d held her hand? She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, especially not one with his own baggage and a daughter who’d remind her every day of Gracie. So why did his lopsided smile keep drifting through her mind?

“Goodbye, Princess.” Jared kissed his daughter on the top of her head as he moved toward the door the next Thursday night. “Be good for Grandma.”

“She’s always good. Aren’t you, Isabel?” his mother asked as she helped guide Isabel’s spoon to her mouth. Which was progress. “Will you be late?”

“Shouldn’t be. The support group never runs later than eight o’clock. You know that.” He shoved his arms in his jacket, then fumbled in his pocket for his keys.

“What I know is that you don’t have any sort of social life,” his mother said, and Jared groaned.

Here we go again …

“A handsome young man like you should be dating. It’s been almost a year since Kelly died, and—”

“It’s been nine months,” he corrected, “and I’m not ready to date again. I may never be. No one can ever replace Kelly.” He jangled the keys in his hand impatiently. How many times in the past few weeks had he had this same conversation?

“I’m not suggesting anyone replace her. But there are plenty of other women who have merits of their own. There’s a perfectly lovely girl in my office who—”

He huffed a sigh of exasperation. “I can find my own dates, Mom.”

“But you don’t.” She aimed Isabel’s spoon at him to punctuate her point.

“Because I don’t want to date. I told you it’s too soon.”

“A young man like you has … needs. Physical needs that—”

Jared shuddered. “Stop!” He held up a hand and marched quickly to the back door. “Do not go there.”

He was not discussing his sex life with his mother.

“I’m just saying—”

“See you a little after eight, Mom. Good night!” He exited quickly and shook his head as he strolled to his car. He knew his mother meant well, but the idea of dating again stirred a sharp ache in his chest and an uneasy sense of guilt in his gut. Damn, but he missed Kelly so much some days he could barely stand it.

As he cranked his car’s engine, he recalled the new woman who’d visited the grief-support group last week. Elise Norris. Her glossy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and sad smile had filtered through his thoughts at odd moments this past week. While he showered. While he tried to fall asleep. When he woke in the morning.

His pulse kicked up at the prospect of seeing her again tonight, and he frowned to himself. He’d just finished telling his mother that he wasn’t ready to date. So why was he anticipating seeing Elise tonight with schoolboylike nerves?

Okay, yes, they’d had a certain connection in the few moments they’d talked, but that was hardly reason to get all worked up. On the heels of the anxious flutter, cumbersome thoughts of Kelly rose to quash any notion of pursuing his attention to Elise. Just five years ago he’d stood at the altar and promised to forsake all others for Kelly. How could he think of another woman when Kelly hadn’t even been gone for a year?

Raising his daughter had to be his focus now. Not finding a new wife.

Elise had almost made up her mind to skip the next support-group meeting when she remembered the Harrisons. Knowing that they’d also lost a baby made her want to reach out to them. If anyone could understand the hole in her heart, she guessed the young couple could. And maybe she could offer them some support, as well.

By the time she arrived at the meeting, there were only two chairs left vacant in the circle. As Joleen called a greeting to her, Elise headed for the chair closest to her, but before she reached it, one of the older ladies, who’d been getting a cup of coffee, took the seat. Which left one open chair. Next to Jared. She met his gaze as she approached the chair, and he flashed her the lopsided smile that had filled her thoughts throughout the week. Her stomach flip-flopped.

“Welcome back,” he whispered to her as she settled next to him.

The sandalwood scent she remembered from last week filled her nose and stirred a warmth in her chest.

Joleen called the meeting to order and opened the floor to comments and discussion. Throughout the session, Elise tried to focus on what the other members were saying, tried to work up the nerve to share something that might be valuable to the conversation, but she found herself preoccupied with every movement, every sound Jared made. A grunt of sympathy for Mrs. Bagwell. A scratch of his chin. Crossing his arms over his chest. A heavy breath … of fatigue? Boredom?

When he shifted in his chair and her pulse scrambled, she castigated herself mentally for her schoolgirl reaction to him. She couldn’t remember ever being so hyperaware of a man in her life. What was wrong with her? She’d come to the support group for help managing her grief, not to find a boyfriend!

Elise balled her hands in frustration and made a concerted effort to pay attention to what Kim Harrison was saying. The death of this woman’s baby was the primary reason she’d returned to the support group.

“… like Jared said last week. I think a lot about the could-have-beens. What her laugh would have sounded like, what her favorite food would have been, whether she’d have been good at sports.” Kim looked over at Elise then. “Do you ever do that? Think about what your baby might have done, who she’d have been?”

Elise’s breath snagged. “I … yeah. A lot. Almost constantly. When I’m not wondering what went wrong, what I could have done differently during my pregnancy that might have saved her, why this happened to me when she was my one shot at being a mother.”

Mrs. Bagwell frowned. “Why do you think you won’t have other children? You’re still young.”

Elise gripped the edge of her seat, startled by the older woman’s question. Taking a breath for composure, she studied the woman’s face and saw nothing but concern and confusion, not judgment. “Well, the procedure I used to get pregnant with Grace took most of my savings. Since I’m unmarried, not in a relationship and not into one-night stands, the chances of getting pregnant the natural way are pretty nonexistent.”

Mrs. Bagwell seemed unfazed by her bluntness. “I see. I’ve learned, though, never to underestimate the surprises and twists of fate life can hold. Why, by this time next year, you could be happily wed and expecting again.” The older woman punctuated her comment with a satisfied nod and sat back in her chair with a confident smile.

Elise could only gape, speechless.

“I suppose that’s true,” Joleen said. “Holding on to optimism is always a good thing, but let’s look at some ways Elise can deal with the issues she’s facing now. Kim, how do you handle those could-have-been thoughts when you have them?”

Kim glanced at her husband. “I talk about them with Greg. And here, with all of you. That helps. Sometimes I post my feelings to the online message board I’ve mentioned before.” Kim directed her attention to Elise. “I’ll give you the link. It’s another support group I found. A message board for parents who’ve lost children whether to death or kidnapping or divorce. There’s lots of information and links to great resources. You should look into it.”

Elise nodded to Kim. “Thanks. I will.”

The meeting continued, with the discussion turning to Mrs. Fenwick’s late husband, before the group adjourned promptly at the end of the hour. As promised, Kim caught up to Elise by the refreshment table and handed her a scrap of paper with a URL printed neatly in pink ink.

“Here’s the address for the message board. I know an online group seems impersonal, but the people are really helpful and sometimes it is easier to be honest about your feelings when you’re not face-to-face with the people you’re sharing with. You can be as anonymous or open with your identity as you want. I hope you’ll try it.”

Elise tucked the paper in her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll check it out.” She smiled her appreciation. This exchange of information, this opportunity to get to know the Harrisons, was exactly the reason she’d come tonight. Seizing the chance to speak privately with Kim, Elise cleared her throat and asked, “So … if you don’t mind my asking … how did your daughter die?”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about it. Because of how your daughter died and all …” Kim said, leaning toward Elise and placing a hand on her arm.

Elise shook her head. “What does Grace’s death have to do with your baby?”

Kim shrugged. “Maybe nothing. But I thought it was an odd coincidence is all.”

“Coincidence?”

“Yeah.” Kim’s face darkened. “Our little girl died at the hospital, too. Just hours after she was born.”

Chapter 2

Elise heard a buzzing in her ears, and her head swam. When her knees buckled, she groped futilely for something to brace against. As she stumbled back a step, she encountered the warm, solid wall of a chest, and a strong hand grasped her elbow, steadying her. The scent of sandalwood surrounded her, piercing her fog of shock. And she knew without looking who supported her.

“Elise?” Jared’s deep voice rumbled near her ear.

“I’m sorry.” Kim rushed forward, concern knitting her brow. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to—”

“No. I … I’m okay. I was just … caught off guard. Everything about losing Grace just flooded back and—” She swallowed hard and blinked at Kim as the truth the woman had shared sank in. “Your baby died at the hospital, too? I … Was she premature?”

Kim shook her head. “Right on time. To the day. But she apparently had a heart defect that our doctor missed during my pregnancy.”

An eerie prickle nipped her neck. “Her heart stopped, and they couldn’t resuscitate her,” she whispered raggedly.

Kim blinked. “Yes. How did you—?” Her eyes widened. “You mean Grace—?”

Elise’s voice stuck in her throat. The only sound she could make came out as a moan.

Behind her, Jared muttered a curse. “That sounds too suspicious to be a coincidence. The odds …”

“What hospital did you use?” Kim asked.

Elise struggled for her composure, sucking in a calming breath. “My labor started while I was out of town at a crafts fair. I went to a little hospital in Pine Mill …”

Kim frowned and shook her head. “No. We were at Crestview General.”

Something like disappointment punctured the breath Elise had been holding. As tragic and macabre as the similarities in their losses were, hope had flickered briefly that she was on to some answers regarding Grace’s mysterious death.

“So many times I’ve wondered if our baby would have made it if we’d been here in Lagniappe at St. Mary’s where they have the PICU,” Kim said.

“What-ifs are natural,” Jared said quietly, “but you can make yourself crazy with them. Don’t torture yourself, Kim.”

She lifted a corner of her mouth in acknowledgment. “Easier said than done.”

“Ready to go?” Greg asked, stepping up behind his wife.

“Sure.” Kim turned back to Elise. “See you next time?”

Elise nodded and, still rather numb with shock, searched for her voice. “I—yeah. Bye.”

As the Harrisons departed, Jared stepped around to face Elise and dipped his head to get a better look at her expression. “Are you okay?”

Elise raked her blond hair back with her fingers. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I really don’t know what to make of this.”

“It is pretty hard to believe. I mean, if this were 1811, maybe. But with modern health and medicine what it is, you’d think.” He stopped himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well … anyway.”

“The doctors should have been able to save her. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” Elise asked, meeting his gaze. Last week, she’d thought they’d reached an unspoken agreement to be candid with each other. His honesty about his grief had been at the heart of the connection she’d felt with him.

He furrowed his brow with a guilty look. “Yeah. Something like that.”

She sighed. “Tiptoeing around delicate topics is so tedious. Can we agree not to play that game? We both know it serves no purpose.”

He gave her a nod and a relieved smile. “Agreed.”

“In that case, yes. I’ve got plenty of questions about why the doctors and modern medicine didn’t save Grace. And now, in light of what Kim said about their baby dying the same way….” Elise lifted a trembling hand, flipping her palm up in frustration. “What am I supposed to make of that?”

Jared didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced toward the kitchen area where Joleen was cleaning up the last of the refreshments. “Would you like to go somewhere? Get a cup of coffee?”

“I—Don’t you need to get home? I’m sure babysitters are expensive.”

“They can be. But my mom watches Isabel when I come here.” He paused and jingled the keys in his pocket. “I know Kim just dropped a bomb on you, and I don’t want you going home alone to stew and drive yourself crazy over the news.”

Elise lifted a corner of her mouth. “That’s what I’d do. You’re right.”

“I’d be happy to be your sounding board for a while.”

When was the last time someone had offered to just listen to her, let her vent and unburden her heart? Too long. Gratitude for his thoughtfulness tugged in her chest.

“I’d like that. How about Brewer’s Café? It’s just a couple blocks from here.”

He gave a nod and a smile. “Meet you there in five.”

Jared climbed behind his steering wheel and blew out a long, cleansing breath. What the hell was he doing? Hadn’t he just told his mother tonight that he wasn’t ready to date?

“Okay, so this is not a date. Not,” he muttered to himself as he gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield into the church parking lot. Despite his denials, guilt thumped a drumbeat in his chest. “You’re just giving your support to another group member who had a shock tonight. It’s not a date.”

So why were his palms damp with sweat, and why was his conscience pricking him with images of Kelly in the last days they spent together?

Not a date. Not a date … He let the words repeat in his brain as he backed his car out of the parking space and pulled up behind Elise to follow her to Brewer’s Café.

He recalled the look in Elise’s eyes when she’d learned how the Harrisons’ baby had died, and sympathy twisted inside him. No matter how conflicted he felt about meeting Elise for coffee, he wanted to be there for her tonight. Elise was in shock and needed a friend. He could be her friend without it meaning anything else, couldn’t he?

Of course. He released a deep breath. It was not a date.

“Tell me about Isabel,” Elise said after twenty minutes of small talk. She cradled her mug of cappuccino, which had grown cold, and met his startled look with an encouraging nod.

“Are you sure? Doesn’t hearing other people talk about their kids hurt?”

She sighed. “Of course it does. But am I supposed to avoid people with kids the rest of my life?”

He took a slow deep breath. “No.”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

He chuckled, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

She returned his grin. “A long shot, I know, but …”

He flipped open the wallet and turned it so she could see the bright-eyed cherub with blond curls. Elise’s breath caught, and it took a moment to recover. Like all babies, Isabel was precious, but something about her sweet smile and chubby cheeks grabbed Elise by the throat.

“Wow,” she rasped when she found enough air to talk. “Look at those curls. Believe it or not, I had curls like that when I was younger.” She tugged on her straight hair and scoffed. “I’d kill for a few natural curls now.”

“Those curls make for a pretty wild-looking bedhead after her naps, let me tell you,” he said with a soft laugh. He flipped the picture to show her another more recent shot of his daughter. Two teeth peeked from her happy grin, and she wore a lacy white dress with a matching bow in her golden-colored hair. “This was at her baptism a couple months ago.”

Elise admired the shot, fighting down the bittersweet pang clambering inside her. Opposite the picture of Isabel was a picture of a raven-haired woman with olive skin and large almond-shaped eyes. Elise pointed to the woman. “Kelly?”

He nodded.

“She was beautiful.”

“Thanks. I think so, too.”

Elise bit her bottom lip in thought and studied the picture of Isabel again. “I’m trying to decide which of you Isabel favors more, but …”

“But … you don’t see any resemblance to either of us. Am I right?”

“Well …”

“That’s because she was adopted. Kelly couldn’t have children.”

Elise’s gaze darted to Jared’s. “Oh … I—” She didn’t know how to respond, so she changed the subject. “So your family lives in town and helps you take care of Isabel. That’s pretty handy.”

“Yeah, most of my family is local.” He closed the wallet and put it back in his pocket. “My mom and dad live across town, and I have a brother and sister-in-law, Michelle, who live just a couple blocks away. My sister-in-law is the one who keeps her while I’m at work.” He tipped his head in inquiry. “What about you? Any family?”