Baby, Baby. Roz Denny Fox

it affected others. I believe she planned this pregnancy from the getgo. It wasn’t accidental.”

      Kipp broke into the conversation. “Look, I need to catch the three-o’clock shuttle back to New York. Do you suppose you two could take care of family business after we settle my parental rights?”

      Faith felt like hitting his supercilious jaw. “I imagine your wife is expecting you home at the usual time. Does she have any idea where you are and what you’re doing, Mr. Fielding?”

      “Wife?” Michael repeated, bristling.

      The well-placed barb brought a wave of crimson to Kipp’s tanned cheeks. “Shelby doesn’t know yet, Ms. Hyatt. I assure you she’ll welcome the boy into our home once the details here are finalized and I have a chance to tell her. Shelby has wanted to adopt a child for some time.” Lowering his voice, he said hesitantly, “My father hasn’t favored adoption. He’s pressed for a blood grandson. And now he has one.”

      Faith cocked her head to one side. “Lacy had twins, Mr. Fielding. A boy and a girl. You’ve only mentioned her son. But then girls can’t carry on the family name, can they?” she said coolly. In an even colder tone, she added, “Lacy’s son will never be Kipp Fielding IV if I have any say in the matter. And I have a lot of say.”

      Michael stepped between the two combatants before Kipp could rebut. “Shouldn’t we go to Dr. Peterson’s office before we shed blood on this shiny tile?”

      Faith clammed up immediately. She hadn’t intended to lose her temper. And she’d forgotten their audience. Aiming pointed glances at the bystanders still lurking in the hall, she squared her shoulders and marched past them. Michael and Kipp fell in behind her. Michael, though, paused at the nursery window and leaned his forehead against the glass. He cupped both hands around his eyes in order to see better.

      “Lacy’s babies are in the premie unit,” Faith informed him stiffly.

      Backing away from the window, Michael joined her. “The paper said they were approximately four weeks early. Are they well, Faith?”

      Kipp halted midstride. “They are, aren’t they?” he demanded. “The article I read said the boy was under-weight.” He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “Lacy never told me she’d had organ transplants. Is there a possibility her son will inherit her medical problems?” he asked, sounding both worried and unsure.

      Michael shot him an incredulous stare. “I’m a good surgeon, Fielding, but no one is that perfect at cracking open a chest. If you and Lacy got down to bare skin, fella, it’d be hard to miss her scar.”

      A flush streaked up Kipp’s throat. He fingered his tie.

      “Stop it, you two.” Faith pasted a smile on her face for the gray-haired woman seated behind a desk outside Dr. Peterson’s office. “The world doesn’t need to know all the sordid details of Lacy’s history. Both babies are in good health. Hal Sampson examined them. Michael, you remember him—he was pediatric chief when you were here.”

      “Yes, I remember. Sampson’s top-notch.”

      The men dropped back and let Faith address Peterson’s secretary. “Mrs. Lansing, I phoned Dr. Peterson a few minutes ago. I’m Faith Hyatt.”

      Nodding, the woman rose and led the trio into an oak-paneled room. She pointed out a tray with a coffee carafe and cups that sat on a low table. While she withdrew, but before she closed the door, Michael poured Faith a cup of coffee, and then one for himself. “Still take cream in yours?” he asked, passing the carafe to Fielding so he could pour his own.

      “Yes,” she said, surprised he’d recall such a mundane thing. “Too much straight caffeine gives me jitters. Today, especially, I’ve got enough acid running in my stomach to charge a battery.”

      Michael gazed at her over the rim of his cup. “I’m sorry so much has fallen on your shoulders, Faith. How is Dwight handling Lacy’s death? Has he been any help, or are you having problems there, too?”

      She perched on the edge of one of the three chairs someone had arranged in a triangle around the coffee table, and clutched the hot cup to warm her suddenly cold fingers. “I tried telling Dad we’d lost Lacy. He got it all mixed up in his mind and thought I was talking about Mother. The doctor had to sedate him. I decided there wasn’t any sense in putting him through the grief of attending her service.”

      “What about your aunt Lorraine?”

      “Still on the mission field in Tanzania. When things calm down, I’ll write her a letter. Or perhaps I should try calling her via the field office. But maybe it’s pointless to worry her when she can’t come.” She broke off abruptly. “Why this pretended concern, Michael? Your obligations to the Hyatt family ended when the divorce was final. By the way, exactly when was that?”

      “July.” Michael shifted his gaze to Kipp Fielding. “The divorce wasn’t my idea. Lacy filed in January while I was on a medical mission to Norway. I phoned her at the beach house to ask her to reconsider. She refused to talk, and said she had company. It was too late, anyway—she’d already filed the papers. That was January fifth. Two days later, divorce papers arrived by courier at my hotel.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I might have convinced her to drop the request if I’d been able to make it home the next week as I’d originally planned. But we ran into complications with the transplant and I couldn’t leave Norway until much later. By then, her lawyer and mine had pretty much settled the particulars. Mine said I shouldn’t contest. He said she was seeing someone else.”

      “That would be you,” Faith said testily, her soft brown gaze hardening as she pinned it on Kipp.

      “Yes, it would,” he returned without a hint of shame.

      Faith’s gaze never wavered. “I guess you forgot you had a wife.”

      “Shelby and I separated before Thanksgiving. I assumed she intended to get a divorce—not that it’s your business. Having spent the holidays alone, I felt at loose ends. Lacy was lonely, too.” His lip curled slightly. “She said she was on her own a lot. Her husband devoted his life to his career.” Meeting Michael’s angry glare, Kipp continued speaking to Faith. “Lacy hadn’t been out with her husband in months. She’d never been sailing. Had never dug for clams. You’d have thought I’d given her diamonds when I bought her flowers. If ever a woman had been neglected, it was Lacy Cameron.”

      Michael clenched a hand in the front of Kipp’s shirt. “Damn you, Fielding! I didn’t neglect my wife.”

      “That’s enough.” Faith pulled a tissue from her handbag and mopped up the coffee Michael had spilled when he vaulted from his chair. Their macho posturing irritated her so much she forgot to be shy. “Lacy did feel you were obsessed with work, Michael. But Kipp, although you treated her like a queen for a few weeks, that hardly makes up for concealing the fact that you were married.”

      The men gaped at Faith’s furious scrubbing. They both frowned, and Michael recognized the anger in her movements as she wielded the tissue. The table was more than polished to a shine when she finished.

      Michael broke the silence first. “Lacy had all of my heart and as much of my time as I was able to give.” If he sounded hurt, he thought dully, it was because he still had his moments. “I took an oath to heal.” He thought Faith should understand that, even if Lacy had somehow forgotten.

      Getting to her feet, Faith tossed the sodden tissue into the trash. While she was up, she dug in her purse again and removed the copies she’d made of the custody agreement. She shoved one into each man’s hand. “What drove either of you to do what you did doesn’t make any difference to Lacy now. In seeking love, my sister obviously made some bad choices. Maybe even selfish ones. But in the end, her decisions weren’t selfish. No matter how difficult it was for her to breathe when she was admitted, her focus was on the life that had been created within her.”

      “Custody papers?” Kipp skimmed through the stapled packet. “She can’t do this. Her babies have a father.”