The Nurse's Newborn Gift. Wendy S. Marcus

the cold, dark ground, and she’d never again be as close to him as she now stood.

      Her heart ached, literally hurt, every time she thought about never seeing him again, never being on the receiving end of one of his powerful hugs, never hearing his annoying snort-laugh that always got her snort-laughing too.

      A tear trickled down her cheek.

      Who would she share good news with? Who could she count on to cheer her up when she had a bad day? Whose visits and phone calls would give her something to look forward to? Who would ever understand her and love her and accept her, as is, like Jarrod had?

      No one.

      Out of the corner of her eye, Krissy saw Jarrod’s mother, Patti, walking toward her. A quiet, plain woman, with short darkish hair, a figure that tended to run toward chubby, and a heart filled with love, she looked like she’d aged twenty years in the past two. “Come on, honey.” She put her arm around Krissy’s shoulders and tried to steer her away. “We have a room reserved at a local restaurant. Jarrod wanted a party, so we’ll give him a party.”

      “And it’s not a party...” Krissy started.

      “Without Mom’s caramel, fudge brownies with walnuts for dessert,” Patti finished sadly, repeating what Jarrod would have said if he’d been alive and able to talk.

      The fact that he wasn’t, and never would be again, sent another wave of tears flooding Krissy’s raw, sore eyes.

      Patti pulled her into a hug, not as wonderful as one of Jarrod’s, but close. “I swear that boy could eat a whole pan by himself.” She rubbed Krissy’s back. “I put a batch in the casket with him,” she said quietly, almost numbly. “Along with a picture of the two of you from graduation. Gosh darn it, this is so unfair.”

      “I know.” Krissy squeezed her tight, well acquainted with the unfairness of life.

      “Come on, you two,” Jarrod’s dad, Bart, said. A tall, solid man, like his son, he put a strong arm around each of them. “Time to go.” He walked them away from the casket that held her best friend, away from the grave where he would lay for eternity...alone. “He lives on in our hearts,” Bart said, walking slowly. “We may not have a piece of him to hold on to, but as long as we think about him and remember him, he’ll never be fully gone from our lives.”

      But they could have a piece of him to hold on to, if Krissy did what she’d promised to do.

       CHAPTER ONE

      Five years and seven and a half months later

      KRISSY SAT ON the bed in her temporary bedroom at her sister Kira’s house in White Plains, New York, home from a mostly fantastic six-month assignment, that’d actually turned into seven months, in Hawaii, sorting through a mess of papers. She moved the real estate listings into one pile, time to find a place of her own and set down some roots. Help Wanted printouts got their own stack, her days as a traveling nurse over, it was time to figure out what she wanted to do going forward, in a job that would keep her in one place, but no rush on that. For the time being she was happy to work as an office nurse in her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s family practice.

      That left pictures and mementos of all the fun times she’d had with Zac, her ex-traveling nurse buddy/friend with benefits/almost but not quite a boyfriend. She scooped those up and dumped them in the trash basket on the floor, time to move on.

      Krissy had waited long enough. She had a promise to keep.

      And Zac, for as often as he’d professed his love for her, which happened pretty regularly after orgasms—back when they used to have sex, before her successful artificial insemination—didn’t love her enough to give up his carefree existence to settle down with her and start a family. Especially, he’d made sure to point out, a family that included another man’s child.

      Which was probably a good thing since Zac was everything Jarrod had hated in Krissy’s boyfriends. Stuff that made him fun—he partied hard, didn’t take life too seriously, and couldn’t care less what people thought of him—would have made him a bad parent. Which is probably why, while their last goodbye had caused some tears—seemed tears came rather easily these days—the ache in her heart had been short-lived.

      Krissy found the manila folder she’d been looking for when she’d first gotten the bright idea to dump out the box. The sight of her name written in Jarrod’s scrawl still gave her a pang of loss in her chest, bringing on the memory of his funeral, the party afterward, where she’d sat in the back and kept to herself, and the talk she’d had with his parents before heading home.

      “He left it all to you,” Patti had said, handing Krissy the manila envelope she now held in her hands. “His savings, some certificates of deposit, and his car. And you’re the sole beneficiary on his military life insurance policy.” Patti had stared into Krissy’s eyes, looking for answers. One question was obvious: Why would he leave everything to you?

      At the time, Krissy couldn’t do more than stare right back in bewilderment, shocked and overwhelmed by what Jarrod had done. For her. For the son or daughter he would never know. His confidence that she would do what she’d promised to do had made her love him and miss him even more.

      When Krissy had regained her composure, she’d briefly considered telling Jarrod’s parents of her promise. But she’d decided against it, wasn’t ready to make the commitment, or to get their hopes up. She’d only been twenty-one years old, for God’s sake, just starting out, and in no way ready to have a baby.

      But now, at twenty-six, almost twenty-seven years old she felt...ready. Well, as ready as a woman about to become solely responsible for the life of another human being could feel. Sure, it would have been nice to have a man who loved her and was eager to accompany her on this journey, but three boyfriends had been quick to skedaddle upon learning of her plans to have her dead best friend’s baby. Fine. She never loved any of them as much as she’d loved Jarrod, anyway. And settling for Zac would have been a horrible mistake. Thank goodness he’d seen that, when she’d been too worried about the responsibility of caring for and raising a child, alone, to see it for herself.

      “I can do it on my own,” she told the baby in her belly, hoping it couldn’t sense her self-doubt. “I’m going to be a great mom,” she told herself, remembering what a wonderful mother her own mom had been, before the brain injury. If Krissy could manage to be half as wonderful, it’d be enough.

      “I will do it on my own.” She’d given herself five years to mature and prepare. Five years to travel and have fun and live life to its fullest before settling down to raise her child. Five years to find a man worthy of being her baby’s surrogate daddy. Didn’t happen.

      “Alone is fine.” Thanks to Jarrod and years of hard work and careful spending, she had plenty of money. She was used to living independently and had excellent nursing skills, which would surely come in handy during any bouts of baby choking or illness. Not that she planned on having to do everything on her own forever.

      Surely Jarrod’s parents would help with babysitting...if they were still local. She swallowed back the guilt of waiting so long as she opened the large tan envelope and pulled out the letters inside, all but one still sealed, each labeled by Jarrod with specific instructions.

      #1—For Krissy—Open after my funeral

      She’d read that letter so many times she could recite it from memory.

      #2—For Spencer—When you’re ready to give it to him

      Spencer, of all people! Why did he want Spencer to be the baby’s godfather? Spencer hated her. And, as of junior year of high school, the feeling was mutual.

      #3—For my mom and dad—To explain our agreement

      She planned to hand-deliver that one after the birth of the baby.

      #4—To my son on his tenth birthday

      #4—To