Page 23 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

“Where . . . where’s my baby?” Marla asked.

“At home. We couldn’t bring him here. The pediatrician’s orders,” her mother-in-law said and her gaze softened a bit. “You’ll see him as soon as you get home.”

“And when will that be?”

“Soon, honey. When the doctor releases you. He’s just as anxious for you to go home as you are to get there. We’ve known Phil and his wife for years.” Alex’s voice was meant to sound kind, but there was an undertone she thought she heard and she wondered if he was placating her; keeping the truth from her. There was something about him that just didn’t ring quite true.

Or maybe you’re just paranoid!

“We have? Then why did he introduce himself as Dr. Robertson?” she asked, trying not to feel paranoid, but beginning to sense that the entire world was against her. Dear God, maybe she was going crazy. Hadn’t she thought she’d sensed someone at her bedside, an evil presence . . . for the love of God, was she lo

sing her mind? Sweat dampened her palms and her nerves were jangled, yet she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why didn’t he call himself Phil? Say something?”

“Who knows? Probably out of a sense of professionalism. He has to keep up a certain sense of decorum. He probably just puts on his—” Alex held up his hands, signing air quotes with his first and second fingers—“ ‘doctor face’ when he’s at the hospital.”

“It’s odd, if you ask me.”

“Maybe so, but there it is.”

This was getting her nowhere, and she was tired. Weary. Feeling as if she was running in circles on legs made of lead.

As if sensing her despair, Alex hugged her again. “I know this is confusing and exhausting and you still feel like hell,” he said and again she felt the sting of tears. “But slow down, give yourself time. You’re going to be fine,” he whispered into her ear and she wanted to believe him, to trust that. Oh, God, if only he was looking into a crystal ball and foretelling her future rather than offering her platitudes to ease her mind. Swallowing her anxiety, she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked over his shoulder to the doorway. The man she’d seen earlier, the outlaw, stood apart from the rest of the family, his jaw dark with a day’s growth of beard, one shoulder propped against the door frame.

Beneath black eyebrows that had slammed together, Nick stared at her.

He didn’t so much as smile, didn’t offer any words of encouragement. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest, his leather jacket creaking and stretching as he observed the tender scene between husband and wife through his narrowed, jaded eyes. What was it he witnessed? What caused his square jaw to clench so hard?

Suddenly she had to know what she looked like, how everyone else saw her. Was it what had happened between them, or her appearance now? She yanked her gaze from his and silently called herself a dozen kinds of fool. “Is there a mirror over there anywhere?” she asked.

For a second, no one said a word.

“Don’t either of you two have one?” Marla’s gaze moved from her mother-in-law to Cissy.

“A hand mirror?” Eugenia shook her head, apricot curls unmoving under the overhead light. “Well, only in my compact.”

“Could I see it?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea . . .” Eugenia was nervous and Marla realized she must look worse than she imagined.

“Is it that bad?”

“No, dear, but—”

“Give her the mirror,” Nick cut in.

She glanced his way again, saw an emotion akin to anger dart through his gray-blue eyes. “Yes, get it. Because if you don’t, I swear I’ll climb over the rail of this damned bed and crawl to the sink and its mirror if I have to.” She flung a hand toward the cabinet mounted above the basin, then pushed the button that elevated the head of the bed even higher.

“But your IV and, well, you’re still . . .” Alex gestured to the bed and she realized that he was probably indicating her catheter and urine bag hidden discreetly under the sheets.

Heat washed up her cheeks and she groaned inwardly, then squared her shoulders. “I don’t care.”

“Give it to her.” Nick’s lips were blade thin.

Eugenia swallowed hard. “Well, I suppose it’s only a matter of time before you’re able to get up anyway, but remember, you’re still healing and soon you’ll look much better and . . .” She started riffling through her little purse. “Oh . . . here we go.” She withdrew a shiny gold compact and handed it to Marla.

Cissy winced.

Eugenia stiffened her shoulders.

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