her the medicine. But so far, there had been no results.
"I don't know yet," Rebecca said, laying the baster aside and sitting in the straw beside the goat. "If we can just get enough into her, it may all work out... in the end," she added, pointing to Rosie's tail.
"A bad pun, Dr. Rebecca," Michael said with a tired smile as he sank onto the hay next to her.
"Hey, at six o'clock in the morning that's as good as it gets."
Rebecca looked over at Katie, who was sleeping in the corner, curled into a ball in the straw. Michael's leather jacket was draped over her small shoulders.
"She finally gave it up, huh?" Rebecca said.
"Yes, and I'm glad," Michael replied. "There was no reason for her to be up all night worrying. A hell of a way for a kid to spend Christmas Eve."
He gazed at the child for a long time, then he turned back to Rebecca. "You were right. I am afraid I'm going to lose her, too. I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, worrying about it."
Rebecca nodded. "I'm not surprised, considering all that's happened to you. I felt the same way after Tim's accident, but as time passed it got easier. It will for you, too."
"Do you think so?" He looked at her with a light of hope in his blue eyes that were so much like his daughter's.
"Yes, I promise. The first two years are the worst. Then it gets easier."
Michael ran his hand over the kid's swollen belly. Rebecca noticed that his fingers were shaking slightly, and her heart went out to him. She wondered how she could ever have considered him cold and uncaring.
"When I think of Beverly," he said, "I only remember her death... the fact that I wasn't there. I remember the last time I saw her. She was so sick and helpless—she didn't even know me. Beverly was always a strong, proud woman. She wouldn't want me to remember her that way. I don't want to think of ho- that way."
"Time will help you with that, too," Rebecca said, laying a comforting hand on his broad shoulder. "The day will come when you'll remember her life—the happy times, her strength, her laughter, her beauty- more than the sad circumstances of her death."
To her surprise, he reached out, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. For a long time, he held her tightly against his chest, his face buried in her hair, saying nothing.
Her arms went around his waist, and she allowed herself the wonderful luxury of melting into another human being. The embrace was the first intimate contact she had experienced since before Tim's death. And she couldn't believe how much she needed it or how good it felt to hold someone and to be held in return.
Finally, he released her and she was shocked to see the depth of emotion in his eyes. What she saw there was a mirror image of what she was feeling.
"You've done so much for us, Rebecca, for me," he said as his hand slipped lightly down her cheek. His fingertips were so warm, so gentle as he brushed a stray curl away from her temple. "In the time I've known you, you've shown me how important it is to reach out to others."
After a quick glance at his sleeping daughter, he leaned toward her and tenderly kissed her cheek. The sensations of acute desire and equally sharp fear shot
through her at the contact. Suddenly, she felt as though she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.
"I want to reach out to you, Rebecca," he said. His fingers twined in the hair at the nape of her neck, sending shivers of pleasures down her back. "If I do... if I find the courage to reach out... will you be there?"
A hundred replies raced through Rebecca's mind as she sat there in the straw, looking into the eyes of a man she could easily love. A man she already loved. Her heart could only allow her to give one reply, "Michael... I-"
Her words were cut off by a loud bleat as Rosie began to thrash around, struggling to stand.
"Hey, hey," Rebecca said, setting issues of romance aside for the moment, "this looks promising."
"Here," h e said, rising from his seat on the straw,
"I don't know yet," Rebecca said, laying the baster aside and sitting in the straw beside the goat. "If we can just get enough into her, it may all work out... in the end," she added, pointing to Rosie's tail.
"A bad pun, Dr. Rebecca," Michael said with a tired smile as he sank onto the hay next to her.
"Hey, at six o'clock in the morning that's as good as it gets."
Rebecca looked over at Katie, who was sleeping in the corner, curled into a ball in the straw. Michael's leather jacket was draped over her small shoulders.
"She finally gave it up, huh?" Rebecca said.
"Yes, and I'm glad," Michael replied. "There was no reason for her to be up all night worrying. A hell of a way for a kid to spend Christmas Eve."
He gazed at the child for a long time, then he turned back to Rebecca. "You were right. I am afraid I'm going to lose her, too. I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, worrying about it."
Rebecca nodded. "I'm not surprised, considering all that's happened to you. I felt the same way after Tim's accident, but as time passed it got easier. It will for you, too."
"Do you think so?" He looked at her with a light of hope in his blue eyes that were so much like his daughter's.
"Yes, I promise. The first two years are the worst. Then it gets easier."
Michael ran his hand over the kid's swollen belly. Rebecca noticed that his fingers were shaking slightly, and her heart went out to him. She wondered how she could ever have considered him cold and uncaring.
"When I think of Beverly," he said, "I only remember her death... the fact that I wasn't there. I remember the last time I saw her. She was so sick and helpless—she didn't even know me. Beverly was always a strong, proud woman. She wouldn't want me to remember her that way. I don't want to think of ho- that way."
"Time will help you with that, too," Rebecca said, laying a comforting hand on his broad shoulder. "The day will come when you'll remember her life—the happy times, her strength, her laughter, her beauty- more than the sad circumstances of her death."
To her surprise, he reached out, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. For a long time, he held her tightly against his chest, his face buried in her hair, saying nothing.
Her arms went around his waist, and she allowed herself the wonderful luxury of melting into another human being. The embrace was the first intimate contact she had experienced since before Tim's death. And she couldn't believe how much she needed it or how good it felt to hold someone and to be held in return.
Finally, he released her and she was shocked to see the depth of emotion in his eyes. What she saw there was a mirror image of what she was feeling.
"You've done so much for us, Rebecca, for me," he said as his hand slipped lightly down her cheek. His fingertips were so warm, so gentle as he brushed a stray curl away from her temple. "In the time I've known you, you've shown me how important it is to reach out to others."
After a quick glance at his sleeping daughter, he leaned toward her and tenderly kissed her cheek. The sensations of acute desire and equally sharp fear shot
through her at the contact. Suddenly, she felt as though she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak.
"I want to reach out to you, Rebecca," he said. His fingers twined in the hair at the nape of her neck, sending shivers of pleasures down her back. "If I do... if I find the courage to reach out... will you be there?"
A hundred replies raced through Rebecca's mind as she sat there in the straw, looking into the eyes of a man she could easily love. A man she already loved. Her heart could only allow her to give one reply, "Michael... I-"
Her words were cut off by a loud bleat as Rosie began to thrash around, struggling to stand.
"Hey, hey," Rebecca said, setting issues of romance aside for the moment, "this looks promising."
"Here," h e said, rising from his seat on the straw,
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