Page 38 of Doctor’s Surprise Twins

“Dad?” I froze in the open doorway. My father stood with a calm expression, hands clasped in front of himself. He wore a casual tweed blazer and brown slacks. The thin wisps of hair on his head looked like they were getting lonelier by the day. The sparkle of joy that flickered in his eyes was not outdone by anything. He didn’t even smile. Just stared at me calmly.

“Derek.”

“Is this a joke?” I glanced back at the double doors behind me, but Rick wasn’t there. “Are you playing a joke on me? Is this an intervention or something?” I turned back to him and he finally offered a soft smile.

“There is no joke.” He gestured at a chair and said, “Come. Sit.”

I stepped in, letting the door swing shut, and ambled in confusion to the table. I was in complete shock as I lowered myself into the seat. Dad acted like he could tell, giving me space to think and not pressing me to speak. I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing the racing thoughts to calm down.

“How? Why? I don’t understand.” I looked up at him and saw tears in his eyes.

“I did a lot of soul searching. I did a lot of praying. Peter called me shortly after you left town and told me he had been praying too. He got in to see a counselor.”

That was another shock. My parents had always taught us that we didn’t need counselors or medications to help us when God was the Wonderful Counselor and Great Physician. The fact that Peter struggled so badly after Mom’s death was a direct result of that. I was so relieved to hear that he was getting help.

“I couldn’t see it, Derek. I was so out of touch. I didn’t even let my own heart really feel the pain of losing her because the joy of the Lord is my strength. It really is my strength.” His eyes brimmed. “But Jesus wept too, and I neglected to see how weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning.”

Dad spouted so many Bible verses at me I thought it was a sermon, but I tried to look past what I felt was nonsense to understand the heart of what he was saying. I was quiet as he continued.

“What I’m trying to say is, I was wrong.” He sucked in a breath and held it, then blew it out and blinked. A few tears streamed down his cheek and he wiped them away. “I did some reading, and you were right. Mom’s thyroid condition was very treatable, and she refused that treatment and died as a result. I do not feel guilty that it happened the way it did. It was her choice, and I would always respect her choice no matter what. I do feel saddened that I missed so much. God gave us wisdom. Solomon was one of the wisest men of all time, and he said life is futile under this sun, but what I wouldn’t give to have just five more minutes with her.”

Dad’s shoulders shook as he cried, tears dripping into his lap. I offered the handkerchief from my pocket and he took it. “Dad, what happened?”

“I prayed, Son. And I believe God said that he made men to be wise, and that with that wisdom, man discovered medical science. It is a miracle in and of itself, and it is good. If the money that has been sitting in my bank account for the last two years can do anything good at all, it should help women in this region benefit from the expert wisdom that God gave you.” He blew his nose and sighed. “I’m building this birthing center to give them access to hope. The only thing I ask is that you fill it with doctors as wise and kind as you are and never turn a woman away because she can’t afford help.”

Dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. When he handed it to me, I saw that it was a check. “Please accept my sincere apology. And make sure you come home for Christmas. Peter will be there.”

The number of zeros on that slip of paper would build three hospitals. I was in awe. If I donated my share of the inheritance too, no woman in this region would go without care for the next twenty years.

“I love you, Dad.” I stood, and so did he, and I wrapped my arms around him, realizing for the first time how frail he was getting as he aged. If Christmas miracles were a thing, I had just witnessed one.

I only prayed that God didn’t withhold His best. I needed one more. I needed Maggie now.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

Maggie

My body shook violently,cold shivers hitting me so hard they nearly overrode the amount of back pain I was in. I turned the bed down and climbed back in after a trip to the bathroom. My head swam. I knew I was feverish without even using the thermometer I’d taken out of the medicine cabinet. I’d been lying in bed since I woke up this morning, but I’d spent most of the day in bed yesterday too. My lower back hurt so badly I couldn’t bend well.

The thermometer was cold, but I held it under my tongue for the ninety seconds it took to register, and when it beeped and I looked at it, I was shocked. 102 degrees was not good, not while pregnant. It was possible that I had something as simple as the common cold, but a fever would affect the babies, which was something I worried about.

I pulled the covers up to my chin and ground my teeth as I waited for their warmth to comfort me. My skin hurt. My stomach hurt. My entire body felt like it had tiny lead weights hanging from every muscle. I shut my eyes and nearly drifted off to sleep but jerked awake in another bout of shivering.

Daylight was fading, which meant it was nearing five o’clock. Sunset this time of year came so early in the east, something I loathed, and the darkness was deceiving, making me feel like it was later than it was. It coaxed me into a lucid dreaming state where I was panicking, calling Derek and Curt and begging them to help me. When I jolted awake again, my body didn’t let go of the panic. I pulled it right into the real world with me.

Something was wrong. I could feel it. And I blamed myself for waiting so long to realize it. Thursday night when I had that bath and my stomach felt crampy, I had ignored it. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the babies. I’d felt them moving around quite normally. I did fear, however, that this infection—viral or bacterial, I’d never know—could spread to them and make them sick, or worse, the fever would cause brain damage.

That fear was enough to motivate me. I picked up my cell phone, unplugging it from the charger, and scrolled my contacts. Dad and Curt knew nothing about my pregnancy, so I knew I couldn't call them. I hadn’t even thought out a good plan for telling them aboutonebaby, let alone twins. Sure, if I called them, they would come immediately and help me, no questions asked, but the lectures later on—I wasn’t ready for that yet.

Derek’s contact info came up after Dad’s, a chilling reminder of the past I was running from. I stared at his name and my thumb hovered over the number, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t an option either. The fact that I even considered it, though, told me how scared I was. As if I had dissociated from reality enough to throw myself under the proverbial bus just to save my children.

I continued scrolling, and Gypsy’s name popped up. She knew about the babies, and she would definitely come, but I’d have to endure the same lecture about telling the father.

My neck tingled, goosebumps rising on my arms. The fever made my head throb and my shoulders tighten. I felt like it was going up by the second, but that was probably my paranoia. After scrolling the rest of my contacts and realizing the only possible help I had here in Evansville was Phillip—a man I was currently avoiding due to intense sexual attraction—I decided on Gypsy.

“Mags? How you doing?” Gypsy sounded chipper. She was chewing something. I could tell by the food sounds coming across the phone.

“I’m sick. I think I need to go to the hospital, but I don’t think I can drive. I’m really sick.” I shivered, covering my head with the comforter. “Can you come take me?”

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