Secret Star by Nora Roberts Page A

child of a friend, but when he asked at the nurses’ station for Grace Fontaine, faces lit up.
    â€œI think she’s in the intensive care nursery.” The nurse on duty checked her watch. “It’s her usual time there. Do you know the way?”
    Baffled, Seth shook his head. “No.” He listened to the directions, while his mind turned over a dozen reasons why Grace Fontaine should have a usual time in a nursery. Since none of them slipped comfortably into a slot, he headed down corridors.
    He could hear the high sound of babies crying behind a barrier of glass. And perhaps he stopped for just a moment outside the window of the regular nursery, and his eyes might have softened, just a little, as he scanned the infants in their clear-sided beds. Tiny faces, some slack in sleep, others screwed up into wrinkled balls of fury.
    A couple stood beside him, the man with his arm over the woman’s robed shoulders. “Ours is third from the left. Joshua Michael Delvecchio. Eight pounds, five ounces. He’s one day old.”
    â€œHe’s a beaut,” Seth said.
    â€œWhich one is yours?” the woman asked.
    Seth shook his head, shot one more glance through the glass. “I’m just passing through. Congratulations on your son.”
    He continued on, resisting the urge to look back at the new parents lost in their own private miracle.
    Two turns down the corridor away from the celebration was a smaller nursery. Here machines hummed, and nurses walked quietly. And behind the glass were six empty cribs.
    Grace sat beside one, cuddling a tiny, crying baby. She brushed away tears from the pale little cheek, rested her own against the smooth head as she rocked.
    It struck him to the core, the picture she made. Her hair was braided back from her face and she wore a shapeless green smock over her suit. Her face was soft as she soothed the restless infant. Her attention was totally focused on the eyes that stared tearfully into hers.
    â€œExcuse me, sir.” A nurse hurried up. “This is a restricted area.”
    Absently, his eyes still on Grace, Seth reached for his badge. “I’m here to speak with Ms. Fontaine.”
    â€œI see. I’ll tell her you’re here, Lieutenant.”
    â€œNo, don’t disturb her.” He didn’t want anything to spoil that picture. “I can wait. What’s wrong with the baby she’s holding?”
    â€œPeter’s an AIDS baby. Ms. Fontaine arranged for him to have care here.”
    â€œMs. Fontaine?” He felt a fist lodge in his gut. “It’s her child?”
    â€œBiologically? No.” The nurse’s face softened slightly. “I think she considers them all hers. I honestly don’t know what we’d do without her help. Not just the foundation, but her.”
    â€œThe foundation?”
    â€œThe Falling Star Foundation. Ms. Fontaine set it up a few years ago to assist critically ill and terminal children and their families. But it’s the hands-on that really matters.” She gestured back toward the glass with a nod of her head. “No amount of financial generosity can buy a loving touch or sing a lullaby.”
    He watched the baby calm, drift slowly to sleep in Grace’s arms. “She comes here often?”
    â€œAs often as she can. She’s our angel. You’ll have to excuse me, Lieutenant.”
    â€œThank you.” As she walked away, he stepped closer to the isolation glass. Grace started toward the crib. It was then that her eyes met his.
    He saw the shock come into them first. Even she wasn’t skilled enough to disguise the range of emotions that raced over her face. Surprise, embarrassment, annoyance. Then she smoothed the expressions out. Gently, she laid the baby back into the crib, brushed a hand over his cheek. She walked through a side door and disappeared.
    It was several minutes before she came out into the corridor. The smock was gone. Now she