“The state disagrees,” Hollis said quietly.

“The state,” Annie said, unable to keep the heat from her voice, “decides in favor of those with the money to buy opinions, and we both know which group has the advantage there.”

Hollis didn’t move except to steeple her fingers on her thigh. Her gaze never wavered, her expression never changed. Thoughtful. Remote. The distance between them was so vast Annie felt as if she were standing on the edge of a chasm and one misstep would plummet her into its endless depths. If she reached out her hand, she’d find no one to grasp it, no one to stop her fall. Unlike that weekend, when the ever-present solitude had disappeared for a few hours in the middle of a rainy afternoon, she’d be all alone again. The ache of loss was familiar—she remembered feeling the same hollow sadness after she’d delivered Callie and her world had imploded. The urge to get up and run from her past was so powerful she trembled. She grasped the arms of her chair to keep from bolting.

“I told my boss I thought it was a bad idea.” Hollis smiled wryly. “Pretty loudly, actually. My specialty is high-risk pregnancies, and I know how quickly things can go bad. Lives can change in the blink of an eye, when there’s no time for a phone call or to wait for an ambulance to transport a mother in trouble or an infant in distress to even the closest hospital. Sometimes we know when a mother is at risk for complications, but all too frequently it’s the ones we thought were going to be easy that go bad. Those are the ones I worry about. Those are the ones you are not equipped to deal with. Why ask for trouble?”

“Statistics—”

“I don’t care about statistics.” Hollis’s eyes darkened and her control fractured just long enough for Annie to catch a glimpse of fury—and something else, something wounded and bleeding—beneath her calm expression. “One preventable death is one too many.”

“Who was it?” Annie asked.

“What?” Hollis pulled back in her chair.

“This is personal, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s personal. Isn’t it for you?”

Annie knew there was more, but Hollis was right. She was entitled to her secrets. “We’re not going to disappear, Dr. Monroe.”

“I know that.” Although, taking note of the formal address for the second time in as many minutes, Hollis wasn’t so sure. Annie had been girded for battle, shields up and sword drawn since she’d walked in the door, just as she’d been the first day she’d come to the office. She was that Annie now—defensive, angry, distrustful. Knowing what Annie had gone through in her past, Hollis understood a little better where those feelings came from, but the knowing couldn’t help deflect the pain of being shut out. One misstep here and Annie would be gone. “Now that we’ve spelled it out, what are we going to do about the situation?”

“We could make it simple,” Annie said. “We’ll both tell our superiors it’s not tenable. It’s a win-win.”

“Not a bad solution,” Hollis said. Annie’s answer to the impasse would avoid any more questions she didn’t want to answer. She wouldn’t have to worry about the attraction that grew stronger every time she saw Annie. But if Annie walked out the door now, if they solved their dilemma by simply agreeing nothing was possible, she’d probably never see her again. Oh, she might run into her on some rare occasion passing in the hall, but that hadn’t happened yet and probably wouldn’t happen often. She didn’t want Annie to walk out of her life, and that might mean changing her mind about the clinic—at least in the short term. After all, they were only at the information-gathering stage. It didn’t mean anything would change in the end. She could still vote against any formal relationship between the OB department and the midwifes. “I don’t know about your boss, but I doubt mine will accept our decision without some indication we’ve explored all possible avenues of working together.”

Annie grimaced. “Unfortunately, mine would probably feel the same way.”

Hollis breathed easier. So they’d have a little more time. Right now, that was enough. “Okay. Why don’t we at least do the initial fact-finding? Then we can both appease our bosses and still get what we want.”

“What do you suggest?” Annie’s tone held the slightest edge of suspicion.

“The only way we can justify a decision about the feasibility of an OB-midwife joint care center is if we assess our clinical practices. See how we mesh.”

“Why do I get the feeling that your idea of assessing clinical practices means you’ll be grading midwifes on their care? And by whose standards?”

Hollis barely managed to clamp down on a hot wave of temper. “Is that really what you think of me? That I won’t be fair or objective?”

Annie closed her eyes briefly. “No. I’m sorry. No. I know you’ll be fair.”

The tightness in Hollis’s chest eased. “How about we make sure it goes both ways? I’ll spend time with you however you want—seeing patients with you in your clinic, assisting at births, doing follow-ups—whatever you say.”

“And vice versa?”

Hollis nodded. “Although it’ll play hell with your schedule. My patients tend to be even more unpredictable than the norm.”

“You don’t have to worry. I can handle a difficult schedule. I’m used to being available when my patients need me.”

“I was thinking about Callie—”

“I appreciate that—” Annie paused and glanced down at her beeper. “Sorry, I’ve got an emergency page.”

“Of course, you can—” Hollis frowned at the sharp knock on her door. Sybil never interrupted when she was in a meeting except in the case of dire emergency. “Come in.”

The door opened and Sybil looked in. “I’m sorry, Dr. Monroe. The ER on two. Honor says she needs to talk to you right away.”

“All right.” Hollis reached for the phone. “Sorry, Annie.”

Annie rose. “That’s fine. I need to go take my call too.”

“I’ll call you when I’m free. We’ll set something up.”

“Fine.” Annie followed Sybil out the door, tapping her phone as she went.

Hollis watched the door close behind her, thinking Annie couldn’t get away fast enough. Shoving the twinge of disquiet aside, she picked up the phone.

“Monroe.”

*

“Hollis will be down in a few minutes,” Honor said, checking the readouts on the monitor above Linda’s bed.

“Did you get hold of Robin?” Linda asked.

“She’s on her way. She just had to call Phyllis to pick up Mike after school.” Honor took Linda’s hand. Linda’s fair skin was unnaturally white and her pupils huge, inky disks. Her pulsed raced. Stress reaction, and completely unlike her. Linda was a rock in a crisis—everyone’s rock. Honor’s heart twisted to see her so afraid. “Listen, you’re going to be all right. There’s no bleeding, the fetal heart tones are fine. It’s probably just a false alarm, but we’re going to do everything by the book. Are you hearing me?”

“If anything happens, you’ll make sure Robin—”

“Okay, you’re obviously not hearing me.” Honor stroked the damp hair off Linda’s forehead. When Jett had radioed that they were delivering two patients instead of one—the anticipated MVA, unstable and needing immediate surgery, plus a midtrimester female in early labor—Honor had known it was Linda without hearing the name Jett hadn’t sent over the airways. She’d called Quinn for the trauma, and then she’d called Robin. And for the next ten minutes she’d paced, double-checking that everything was ready for Linda’s arrival. Quinn had asked if she needed her to stand by, but she’d said no. Quinn would have her hands full with the multiple trauma patient, and Honor wanted to be the one to take care of Linda. Linda was one of the few people in her life she loved unconditionally. She’d lost Terry in this emergency room a dozen years before, and she wouldn’t lose anyone else. “Robin is going to be fine because you’re going to be fine. Nothing else is acceptable.”

Linda laughed shakily. “I forgot how close to God ER physicians are.”

“Well, best remember that in the future.”

“I was being careful—”

“Of course you were. I know that. Robin knows that. Stop worrying.”

Linda closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll let you play doctor, then.”

Honor smiled. “Very wise. I’m going to step outside and wait for Hollis.”

“You called her?”

“By the book, remember? If you need anything, you know where the buzzer is.”

“You’ll make sure Robin gets through the red tape?”

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Honor stepped outside the curtain and scanned the ER. The automatic doors at the end of the hall opened, but the woman who strode through wasn’t Hollis Monroe or Robin. The pretty blonde paused at the nurses’ station, said something to the charge nurse, and then walked down the hall toward Honor. She stopped and held out her hand.

“Hello, I’m Annie Colfax. I’m Linda’s midwife. Robin called.”

Taken off guard, Honor hesitated for a microsecond before pulling the curtain aside. “She’s right here. Go on in.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Hi,” Annie said, stepping up to Linda’s bedside.

“Oh, you came,” Linda said. “I’m so glad. Have you seen Robin?”

“No, not yet, but she called just a few minutes ago.” Annie lightly gripped Linda’s wrist. The vital signs scrolling over the monitors beside her bed all looked normal. Some of the burning in her stomach quieted. “I imagine she’ll be here any second.”

“God, this is a nightmare.”

“If this is premature labor,” Annie said gently, “the most important thing is early treatment, and you’re getting that right now. I know it’s hard, but try to relax.”

Linda laughed shakily. “Tall order.”

Annie squeezed her fingers. “I know. How did this star—”

“Sorry,” the ER chief said, coming into the cubicle. She held a chart out to Annie. “Thought you might want this.”

“Thanks,” Annie said.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Honor Blake. Are you with the Wellness Clinic?”

“Yes.” Annie remembered seeing her at the picnic the day before with a good-looking dark-haired woman and two children. The younger boy went to Callie’s preschool. The world suddenly seemed a lot smaller, and she flashed back to the community she’d left behind where, for better or worse, everyone knew one another. Sometimes that closeness offered comfort and strength, and sometimes it shaped the bars of an invisible prison. She shook off the touch of the past and scanned the brief notes and lab data on the chart. “I’ve been following Linda regularly since insemination. She’s been doing fine.” Annie turned back to Linda. The chart told her little—what she wanted was Linda’s story. “How long ago did you first start having contractions?”

“About—”

The blue-and-white-striped curtain opened with a snap and Hollis strode in. Her eyes registered surprise when she saw Annie, but she quickly looked away and smiled at Linda. “Hi. Honor called me down to take a look at you. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” Linda said. “I was just telling Annie—Annie, this is Dr. Monroe—”

“Yes,” Annie said, “we know each other.” She glanced at Hollis, whose expression was pleasantly neutral, as if their acquaintance was merely in passing. Perhaps here, on the professional field, they were still strangers. An unexpected arrow of disappointment shot through her, and she mentally brushed the ache aside. She handed Hollis the chart. “Linda was just telling me what’s been going on.”

“Good,” Hollis said, leafing through the few pages of intake notes. “Now she’ll only have to repeat it all once.”

“I’ll wait for Robin,” Honor said and stepped into the hall.

“Go ahead, Linda,” Annie said. She wasn’t really sure of the protocol now that Hollis was here, but she knew what she needed to do, and until someone suggested otherwise, she planned on doing it. Maybe Hollis’s silence was part of their new clinical observation plan, but whatever the situation, she couldn’t be distracted by it now.

Annie and Hollis flanked the narrow hospital stretcher while Linda recounted the medevac flight and the onset of the twinges she’d at first attributed to a muscle pull. Annie asked a few questions and noticed Hollis making notes in the chart. She was left-handed. Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before? With an effort she looked away from Hollis’s hands, but it was harder to ignore the shimmer of electricity that danced over her skin.

“And thinking back,” Annie said when Linda fell silent, “you don’t recall feeling this way previously?”

“No, God,” Linda said, shaking her head. “You’d think I would have known right away.”

“Not necessarily. A backache is pretty much a way of life for pregnant women at your stage. It’s natural to think that’s all it is.” Annie glanced at her watch. “So all this started about an hour ago?”