“Thank you.”
He eyed me curiously. “You’re welcome. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll be over in a minute.”
I did as he asked. Even though my heart was wanting to take a little galloping stroll in my chest, I took a couple deep breaths and reminded myself that I didn’t have to do anything that I didn’t want to. I could, in fact, control the situation. Lies. That was a bald faced lie I would continue to tell myself up until Turner came and sat down next to me. Good God, the man smelled divine. It was a subtle soap scent mixed with a light cologne. How bad would it look if I closed my eyes and inhaled?
“Alright I’ve fed you, given you drinks, and now it’s time to talk.”
I raised my brow. “About?”
“Annabelle.” He said my name in warning.
“Turner.” I dished back.
He sighed exasperated. “The baby. Tell me about the baby. It’s obvious he means something to you.”
Kind of hoped I could dodge this one tonight, but clearly he wasn’t going to let me. Now to decide how much to tell him. Would it really hurt if he knew? Turner hasn’t shown me any ill will or done anything to make me believe he doesn’t want the best for me. He’s shown that he just wants to make me happy. Maybe letting him know and actually talking to someone about it would make me feel better and understand a little more myself about these emotions I had.
“Well, you already know about his traumatic birth experience. His mother completely abandoned him not long after she had him, and I just . . . I don’t know. I felt bad for him.”
“Okay, but you go and see him every time you’re on your shift.”
I nodded in agreeance. “Yes, sometimes more.” I looked down at my pants and picked the lines in the fiber. “It started off as me just wanting to check in on him and making sure the kid was being given a fighting chance. But then, next thing I knew I found myself wandering back in and asking the nurses how he was doing. I felt awful for him that there was no family for him to be held by. The only human contact was what the nurses were capable of giving, and even then, their time has to be split amongst other infants that demanded the same, if not more, of their attention. It just didn’t seem fair to me. The way my parents were taken from me so young, I know what it’s like to be alone.”
He was listening so intently. “Okay, I get that much. So you wanted him to feel love. But do you love him as well?”
I could only answer honestly. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
“He’s a fragile little person. What you’re doing is so beyond selfless, it’s admirable. Do you understand how big of a heart you have? We are taught throughout our residency not to get too attached to our patients. It’s okay to be empathetic toward them, but getting close was frowned upon. Most of us shut it off. We go in, get the job done, and walk out. I’m sure you’ve seen that with several doctors that come in to catch the baby, and leave the rest up to you nurses. But this is so much more than that.” He put his hand on the hand that was fidgeting. “Annabelle, look at me.”
I couldn’t fight him asking. I gave him my eyes. “It’s commendable.”
A lump was forming in my throat and I swallowed. “Is it? Or is it stupid?”
“Why would it be stupid?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because he isn’t mine. I mean I did get attached. I really have. He has machines helping him breathe, he has tubes pumping food into his stomach so he doesn’t have to work so hard to digest anything, and none of it seems fair. I don’t know why I chose to spend time with him like I have. It just sort of happened.”
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead. It was sweet. “If it’s what feels right, then keep doing it. Besides studies show, that the kind of contact you’re giving him helps the healing process.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t question it.”
I paused and thought for a second if I should tell him the rest. “I’ve named him.”
“What?”
“I haven’t told anybody that, but when I talked to him and I sang to him, I decided he deserved a name instead of just ‘Baby March’ that is on all his charts. I named him Noah. Seemed fitting.”
Aqua blue eyes beamed down at me. “That’s a good, strong name.”
Totally not the reaction I was expecting from that little confession. Most men would hear about babies, and baby names and get the hell out of dodge. Turner was surprising the hell out of me by not doing what I figured he would when any of this came out. I didn’t know whether to hug him for being so understanding, or to question his own sanity for not thinking I was crazy.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For having enough gumption to ask. It’s not like it’s an easy subject for a typical man.”
He put his hand on his chest. “Ouch. I’m typical?”
This time I reached out to him. No clue where the bravery came from, but it seemed appropriate. My palm cupped his cheek. “You are anything but typical.”
Time stood still. I was lost to him, and how he was making me feel. But then he asked his next question.
“What happened with your parents?”
My arm dropped. Another tough subject. Hadn’t we had enough heavy for one night?
“What do you want to know?”
“The night it all happened. Were you there?”
“No. But I was supposed to be.”
He frowned. “You were supposed to be?”
“In the car, I mean. My parents had gone to the mountains for their annual ‘it’s going to be too cold to sleep outside’ camping trip. They’d done it since I was a baby. It was the one vacation that all three of us looked forward to every year. I wasn’t one of those teens that avoided their parents. I loved being around them. That particular year, I had come down with some crazy flu that my body didn’t want to shake. My mom was going to cancel but I told her I’d be fine. The neighbors were near, and I was old enough to drive by then anyway if I needed something. I’ll never forget how reluctant she was. My dad said we could hold off for another weekend, but really it was already getting too late in the year and I didn’t want to be the reason they missed it for the first time since they started the tradition. I promised I’d have my phone nearby, and if anything happened they would know. They were on their way back from the three day trip. I was finally starting to feel better and was expecting them home later that evening. But there was a knock on my door.” I closed my eyes and did everything I could to hold back the tears. I hadn’t spoken about this or even allowed myself to think of it for years. The memory was too painful and not the way I wanted to remember them. “I vaguely remember the officer telling me what had happened. They weren’t very far from home. Maybe an hour. Someone had been coming off of their long shift and fell asleep at the wheel and they crossed the median. The whole vehicle was totaled. The backseat where I would have been sitting was mangled. Both died on impact. The officer had asked me if there was someone that he could call for me, but there was no one. My grandparents were already gone, and both were only children. They’re laid to rest near here but I haven’t been back to visit their grave sites since they were buried.”
He sat for a moment and let what I’d said sink in. “You were sixteen?”
“Yes.”
“Did the courts want to place you in the system?”
“No. Technically I was already ahead of the rest of my class in school, and I was old enough to emancipate myself . My parents left their insurance policies in my name, and the house. I’ve been on my own since.”
“Seriously, Annabelle, that’s awful.”
I shrugged, not sure what else to say.