Lingering Flames (The Everson Legacy #1)

Prologue

W ith an exhausted sigh, Clara took a cautious seat behind the nurses’ station to call Charlie to tell him she would be late getting home.

Her husband cursed a wild streak from his end of the call. His worry about her increased each day that she continued to work.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet so much, Acushla .” His voice sounded pained, shamed that his job didn’t pay more.

But they couldn’t get around the fact that it didn’t. They needed her income. Better she work now so she could stay home some after the baby was born.

She tried to calm him, tried to hide the exhaustion from her tone. “I’m feeling fine. I’ll come home as soon as May gets here. She got a flat. You know that takes time to fix.”

Clara hung up the phone in the middle of another of his colorful curses, shaking her head.

Charlie would have to learn to watch his language. Unless he wanted his mouth washed out with soap. He knew she’d do it. She’d threatened him before. The thought of attempting it made her smile.

Beside her, another nurse, Nick, raised one dark eyebrow. Her husband’s words would have carried to his ears.

“Charlie’s upset.”

“I got that.”

With one hand pressed to her lower back and the other on the counter, she stood, attempting to rub circles through the fabric of her maternity scrubs to ease the ache. The weight of her protruding stomach didn’t help. Not that she blamed the baby growing inside her. Carrying wasn’t easy.

Nick studied her, his blue eyes sharp with assessment. “Roadside Assistance is with May now.” He twirled a pen between his fingers. “When’s your maternity leave? Not to piss you off, but you don’t look so good.”

She grimaced. “It’s a hard thing, growing a child. It’ll be worth it, though.” Just a bit longer. She pushed herself away from the counter and walked around to the other side of the desk. The maternity ward doors swung open.

An intern wheeled a woman in, her dark hair mussed, her eyes full of terror. Her pants clung to her legs, soaked through. Her hands clung tightly to the arms of the wheelchair. Pain etched the lines of her pale face.

Her voice came out breathy with fear. “It’s coming. I can’t stop it anymore.”

Nick was already in motion; he took over pushing the chair.

Clara moved toward a birthing room, and they went to work.

An hour and a half later, the woman’s new daughter lay asleep in the nursery. The baby had come fast, less than fifteen minutes after they got her in a gown and took her vitals.

Luck was with the woman. Dr. Schroeder had been asleep down the hall and delivered the child. Clara had delivered plenty of babies on her own, but with her own three weeks to full term, her belly in the way, it would have been awkward.

The newborn had been difficult to soothe.

Clara understood too well. The world was a harsh one.

Sometimes, a new life needed a bit more care than others.

Clara rocked and swayed the little one while the mother slept.

In a soft voice, she sang lyrics from a lullaby until the babe’s tiny eyelids drifted closed.

She kept rocking.

Adoption. This baby was up for adoption. Her future parents would be here in the morning to meet her.

The birth mother held the infant for a brief time. She’d needed extra care as well. She’d torn badly in the process of delivering her daughter. With tears on her cheeks, she said, “My situation. She’ll be better off without me.”

Clara wanted to offer the woman a hug. Sorrow wept from her eyes. She’d seen it on too many faces—that wish that things could be different. This woman hadn’t been the first to want something more for her child.

Pain moved through Clara’s back, enough to make her catch her breath, to make her stop rocking.

Charlie was right. She needed to be off her feet. Maybe he could rub her back before bed.

The pain dissipated when May entered the nursery.

Clara’s heart ached as she moved toward the nurses’ station. She’d tried not to watch the mother as she studied the newborn’s face, the hand that smoothed over the wisps of dark hair gracing her head. How she held her breath when the woman pressed her lips to the babe’s forehead.

She shuffled toward the nurses’ station to clock out, the last of the patient’s files in her hands. Nick stood as she approached. “Take my chair. It’s more comfortable.” He moved, held out a hand to help her. “I called your man to come get you. You shouldn’t be driving.”

She didn’t argue. With a nod, she moved one foot forward and then stopped.

Pain. Sharp. Ripped through her.

It slashed through her back, across her middle. A harsh cry tore from her throat. Papers fell from her hands as she reached for Nick.

Her eyes met his as he took a firm hold of her. Another pain. Fluid rushed out of her. A cry came from deep inside her.

Nick’s voice was sure and calm. “Clara, I’ve got you.” He held onto her with strong hands; his arm came around her for support.

Her baby was coming. “I’m in labor.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I noticed.” He turned his head and hollered at the top of his lungs. “I need a nurse and Dr. Schroeder now!”

The contraction lessened, but another one would come soon. It hurt more than she expected. No wonder some women screamed.

She couldn’t wait to meet her son, hold him in her arms, but she was scared too. Her baby was only thirty-seven weeks. “It’s too early, Nick.”

“Trust us, Clara,” he said. “Breathe. Scream if you need to. I’m not leaving you.”

She felt the rise of the next contraction. “Charlie?—”

“—On his way. He’s going to get one hell of a shock when he walks in.”

She focused on her breath, Nick’s calm blue eyes, and the strength of his firm voice as she heard the sounds of rapid steps on the tile floor.