today.”
“So…”
“So…she’s gotta make it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HE REST OF L ANDON’S shift passed in a blur of prayer and wild thoughts, and it was all he could do to keep from calling Ashley. If Reagan didn’t want the Baxters to know, he could hardly break the news to them. Especially now, in the middle of an emergency. But what if the baby died? What if Reagan did?
He finished work at midnight, took a cab to Mt. Sinai, and there he got word about Reagan’s condition. A woman at the front desk explained that she’d been upgraded from critical to stable. She’d delivered the baby, and she was in the maternity ward under close watch.
Landon exhaled for what felt like the first time all evening. He took the elevator to the right floor and found Reagan’s mother staring through the glass at a roomful of babies. When he came up beside her he cleared his throat and nodded. “I heard she’s doing better.”
Mrs. Decker looked at him, her eyes swollen and red. “Yes, they stopped the bleeding. And the baby’s…the baby’s fine. A little boy.”
“I’m so glad.” Landon breathed a silent prayer of gratitude.
“You…you’re one of the firefighters, right?”
“Yes. Landon Blake.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “I just got off work.”
“That was very nice of you to come down.” She sniffed and pulled a wadded-up Kleenex from her purse. “It’s a miracle, Mr. Blake. The doctors said we should’ve lost both of them, and that—” Her voice broke and she hung her head again.
Landon didn’t know what to say, so he put his hand on her shoulder and waited.
“We couldn’t take another loss. Reagan’s father…” She held her breath until her emotions were under control. “We lost him September eleventh.”
“I know.”
His answer caused her to look up. “You do?”
“Mrs. Decker, I know the Baxter family. I’m a, well, a special friend of Ashley Baxter, Luke’s sister.” He hesitated and sank his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I moved here to work with FDNY after the terrorist attacks. Reagan and I were on the same bus.”
“Then—” her face lost a shade of color—“then you know about the baby?”
Landon shifted his position and ran his tongue over his lower lip. It was none of his business. “No, ma’am. Not until today.”
Reagan’s mother looked into the nursery. When she met Landon’s gaze again, desperation looked at him from her eyes. “Don’t tell him, please. Reagan doesn’t want him to know.” She smoothed her hand over the wrinkles in her sweater, and her eyes pleaded with him. “It would only complicate things.”
Landon wasn’t sure what to say. The information was too new for him to sort through. That the baby was Luke’s was obvious. But how could Reagan and her mother think it was better to leave Luke out of the picture? It was his child, and Landon was certain he didn’t know. If he did, he hadn’t told any of the Baxters, because if one of them knew, they all did. And Ashley hadn’t said a word about it.
If Luke knew about the baby, he wouldn’t be living with some girl he met at school. He’d be here—with Reagan. So why hadn’t she told him?
Reagan’s mother was waiting for an answer, and Landon could do nothing but give a polite nod. “Of course. That decision belongs to you and Reagan, not me.”
Relief washed over Mrs. Decker’s face. “I know it’s…unconventional. But she tried to call him, and, well…Reagan has her reasons.” She looked back at the nursery. “Thank you for respecting that.”
Landon followed her gaze. He coughed twice and cleared his throat. “Which one is he?”
The woman pointed to a blue-capped infant near the window, red-faced and screaming mad. “He’s a fighter. Reagan named him Thomas Luke.”
“He looks perfect.”
“Yes.” The word came out part laugh, part sob. Mrs. Decker put her fingers against her mouth and shook her head. “Almost six pounds and completely
“So…”
“So…she’s gotta make it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HE REST OF L ANDON’S shift passed in a blur of prayer and wild thoughts, and it was all he could do to keep from calling Ashley. If Reagan didn’t want the Baxters to know, he could hardly break the news to them. Especially now, in the middle of an emergency. But what if the baby died? What if Reagan did?
He finished work at midnight, took a cab to Mt. Sinai, and there he got word about Reagan’s condition. A woman at the front desk explained that she’d been upgraded from critical to stable. She’d delivered the baby, and she was in the maternity ward under close watch.
Landon exhaled for what felt like the first time all evening. He took the elevator to the right floor and found Reagan’s mother staring through the glass at a roomful of babies. When he came up beside her he cleared his throat and nodded. “I heard she’s doing better.”
Mrs. Decker looked at him, her eyes swollen and red. “Yes, they stopped the bleeding. And the baby’s…the baby’s fine. A little boy.”
“I’m so glad.” Landon breathed a silent prayer of gratitude.
“You…you’re one of the firefighters, right?”
“Yes. Landon Blake.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “I just got off work.”
“That was very nice of you to come down.” She sniffed and pulled a wadded-up Kleenex from her purse. “It’s a miracle, Mr. Blake. The doctors said we should’ve lost both of them, and that—” Her voice broke and she hung her head again.
Landon didn’t know what to say, so he put his hand on her shoulder and waited.
“We couldn’t take another loss. Reagan’s father…” She held her breath until her emotions were under control. “We lost him September eleventh.”
“I know.”
His answer caused her to look up. “You do?”
“Mrs. Decker, I know the Baxter family. I’m a, well, a special friend of Ashley Baxter, Luke’s sister.” He hesitated and sank his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I moved here to work with FDNY after the terrorist attacks. Reagan and I were on the same bus.”
“Then—” her face lost a shade of color—“then you know about the baby?”
Landon shifted his position and ran his tongue over his lower lip. It was none of his business. “No, ma’am. Not until today.”
Reagan’s mother looked into the nursery. When she met Landon’s gaze again, desperation looked at him from her eyes. “Don’t tell him, please. Reagan doesn’t want him to know.” She smoothed her hand over the wrinkles in her sweater, and her eyes pleaded with him. “It would only complicate things.”
Landon wasn’t sure what to say. The information was too new for him to sort through. That the baby was Luke’s was obvious. But how could Reagan and her mother think it was better to leave Luke out of the picture? It was his child, and Landon was certain he didn’t know. If he did, he hadn’t told any of the Baxters, because if one of them knew, they all did. And Ashley hadn’t said a word about it.
If Luke knew about the baby, he wouldn’t be living with some girl he met at school. He’d be here—with Reagan. So why hadn’t she told him?
Reagan’s mother was waiting for an answer, and Landon could do nothing but give a polite nod. “Of course. That decision belongs to you and Reagan, not me.”
Relief washed over Mrs. Decker’s face. “I know it’s…unconventional. But she tried to call him, and, well…Reagan has her reasons.” She looked back at the nursery. “Thank you for respecting that.”
Landon followed her gaze. He coughed twice and cleared his throat. “Which one is he?”
The woman pointed to a blue-capped infant near the window, red-faced and screaming mad. “He’s a fighter. Reagan named him Thomas Luke.”
“He looks perfect.”
“Yes.” The word came out part laugh, part sob. Mrs. Decker put her fingers against her mouth and shook her head. “Almost six pounds and completely
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