Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(17)
After Marsha he’d more or less sworn off dating for a few years. With determination he’d started building a life outside the hospital, but it was a constant struggle not to revert to old habits. Every so often he longed for a woman to hold, but he honestly felt as if he just didn’t know where to start or if it was in him to give what they all seemed to want and need. When it came to romantic relationships, he was at a loss as to how it should be—the baring of souls, the shared intimacies—all that seemed beyond him. For someone others considered smart and intelligent, he was having a difficult time figuring this out.
This evening was a good example. The Blaines had entrusted their son’s life to him, and they were relying on his skill to correct their infant son’s heart. If he succeeded, the boy had a good chance of living a normal life. He admired the way the parents leaned on each other. They were partners, friends, lovers. Phillip wanted that kind of relationship, too, a wife and family of his own, only he didn’t know if it was possible for him. At thirty-nine he was set in his ways.
The trouble was that most of the women he met came with baggage. Either they were divorced and embittered, with two or three kids, or they were like him, married to their careers.
On Thursday morning, Phillip woke to the sound of his alarm. He stumbled into the kitchen and got a cup of coffee brewing while he grabbed his workout clothes.
He was at the gym lifting weights when he saw the woman he’d met Monday in the hospital elevator. The one who’d arrived with the two girls and the preemie hats.
She was alone this morning; apparently the friend she usually worked out with didn’t make it today. They made eye contact and she stiffened and looked away. Phillip figured he deserved that. He’d taken one look at her daughter and recognized trouble, and he’d probably been a bit brusque as a result.
He didn’t envy … oh, what was her name again … Lesley, Lindy … no, Libby. He wondered if she knew her daughter was pregnant. He doubted it. In fact, she seemed completely oblivious. Unfortunately, the girl couldn’t be much older than thirteen or fourteen. He might have misread the situation, but he doubted it. He’d been around pregnant women far too long not to recognize the symptoms. The teenager wore loose clothes but they couldn’t hide what he found obvious. He gave her high marks for being clever, though. He suspected she was six to seven months along; she hid it well. His guess was that Libby didn’t have a clue. It was unfair to blame the mother, but clearly she wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to her daughter.
Well, Libby was in for a shock. And the girl probably wasn’t getting the medical attention she needed, either. This could be a formula for disaster. He’d toyed with the idea of saying something right there in the elevator but had changed his mind. He didn’t want to overstep his bounds. This wasn’t his business. Still, he was concerned for the young teen and the possible consequences for her and her baby.
“Hey, Phillip, you coming tonight?”
Distracted from his thoughts, Phillip turned to face his friend, pediatrician Michael Everett. He set the weight down while his mind unscrambled his friend’s comment.
“Poker. We’re meeting at Ritchie’s place. You coming or not?”
“Coming, and this time I intend to win my money back.” Ritchie was Michael’s brother-in-law from his first marriage. Hannah’s brother. Michael had taken his wife Hannah’s death hard. For months the pediatrician hadn’t been himself. He’d holed up completely, refusing invitations and doing only what was necessary. Grief had crippled him. His staff and friends had worried he would never recover, and then, a year or so after Hannah’s death, Michael had met Macy.
Michael slapped him across the back. “Good. See you at Ritchie’s at seven.”
“See ya.”
Ritchie and Michael routinely worked out together, and Ritchie stood next to him with a weight in each hand. Ritchie laid down the weights. “Did you hear?” Michael asked Phillip, grinning sheepishly. “Macy’s pregnant.”
Phillip slapped his fellow physician across the back and experienced a twinge of envy. “Congratulations.”
Michael nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Yeah, we just found out. See you tonight.”
“Tonight,” Phillip echoed. He was happy for his friend. Michael was a good man and a wonderful doctor, popular with the staff and respected. Phillip had met Macy once and rather liked her. Really, it was difficult not to. She was like a beam of sunshine. He’d met Hannah, too, and felt she would have approved of Michael’s choice.
When he finished his regular workout, Phillip headed back to his condo. He didn’t need to be at the hospital for another hour. He showered, got dressed, and decided on a second cup of coffee. He took a fresh mug from the cabinet and noticed the flower on his windowsill. He’d brought it home from the office because it’d looked sad and unhealthy. He’d hoped the sunlight would help if he placed it in his kitchen window.
Instead it had withered completely. It had died from neglect.
Chapter 6
The job situation looked bleak. Libby didn’t have a single prospect on the horizon and was getting more depressed by the day. She’d knit so many baby hats that she knew the pattern by heart. At the rate she was going, she’d have two hundred hats completed by the end of the month.
Sharon Jennings, the nurse she’d met on Monday, had mentioned that volunteers were needed in the nursery. She’d also said that rocking the babies was comforting. Libby needed something, anything, that would soothe her troubled spirit.