LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Three

      Travis felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

      He tightened his grip on the frantic woman, urging her away from the nursery window. “Let’s go on back now. You ought to be resting.”

      Peggy yanked out of his grasp just as a woman emerged from a nearby doorway. There was a stethoscope poking out of her breast pocket, so Peggy latched onto her. “What’s going on in there? Please, is something wrong with one of my babies?”

      The nurse spiked a quick glance through the nursery window and smiled sadly. “That’s the preemie nursery.” She added a deflective nod down the hallway. “Your babies are in the next room.”

      Peggy’s breath rushed out all at once. She sagged bonelessly into Travis’s arms. A warm, liquid feeling spread through his chest. He tried to ignore it, but a sweet fragrance wafted up from her hair, and the feel of her soft weight against him made him feel, well, kind of knightly.

      It was a stupid sensation. Travis wasn’t anybody’s knight in shining armor. Even the fleeting image made him feel like a fool. Still, there it was, a protective instinct so strong that it shook him to his boots.

      When Peggy’s gaze shuddered toward the incubator, the nurse’s did, too. “That’s Christopher,” she said with a sad sigh. “He was born late last night, only it was a little too soon for him, so he has some problems.”

      Peggy’s lip quivered. “Will he be all right?”

      “We hope so.”

      Peggy looked up at Travis, her eyes wide with concern, moist with sympathy. “The poor little thing. His mother must be so frantic.”

      The nurse’s lips thinned into an angry line. “One would think so. Unfortunately, we have no idea where she is. A security guard saw her slip out through the north-wing exit, but he didn’t realize that she was a patient, and since we were having trouble with the hospital generator at the time, things were a bit chaotic.”

      Peggy was horrified. “You mean she simply walked away and abandoned her baby?”

      “So it seems.”

      “How can that be?” Peggy whispered. “How could any mother do such an evil thing?”

      The nurse made a conspicuous attempt to soften her disapproval with a forced smile. “Christopher’s mother wasn’t much more than a child herself. She may have been overwhelmed by the responsibility of motherhood. We hope she’ll be back when she’s had a chance to think things through.”

      Travis followed Peggy’s gaze to the incubator, which was partially exposed now that most of the medical team had moved away. Apparently the crisis was over. Electronic screens reflected rhythmic peaks and valleys, and inside the clear plastic box, hooked to a vicious assortment of tubes and wires, was the tiniest human Travis had ever seen in his entire life.

      One doctor in surgical scrubs remained with the infant, gazing through the Plexiglas with an incredibly sad expression, but the rest of the group were already removing their masks, exiting the area with tight faces and rounded shoulders.

      The nurse nodded at the red-eyed physician still hovering over the incubator. “That’s Dr. Howell.”

      Peggy glanced up. “Randi Howell’s brother?”

      “Yes. It’s been a horrible time for poor Noah. First his sister disappeared on her wedding day, then Olivia’s death, and now this poor little preemie struggling for life without anyone to love him.”

      Travis knew Peggy was going to cry even before the first surge of moisture brightened those meadow green eyes. He made eye contact with the nurse, who understood his silent question and took Peggy’s arm, urging her down the hallway.

      The woman’s smile broadened. “Your babies are doing beautifully, Mrs. Saxon.”

      Peggy sniffed, brightened. “Are they?”

      “Indeed, and they’re just gorgeous. Let’s go have a look, shall we?”

      “Oh, yes.” Breathless, Peggy wiped her wet cheek, focusing on the window toward which she was being tactfully guided. “Oh…oh, there they are! Aren’t they beautiful, Travis?”

      “Uh—” he gulped “—huh.” Clearly, childbirth had affected the poor woman’s vision. To Travis’s good old twenty-twenty sight, the red-haired infants in question resembled a matching pair of rumple-faced orangutans. “Umm, how come they’re all wrinkly?”

      Peggy laughed, a delightful, melodic sound that sent happy chills down his spine. “Patience, Mr. Stockwell. God just hasn’t had a chance to iron them yet.”

      Oddly enough, that made sense. Travis nodded dumbly, his gaze locked on the tiny faces blinking up from their Plexiglas bassinets. The boy, so designated by a blue-striped stretch cap,

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