The thought made my blood run cold. I shook my head, suddenly wanting to get home. I thought about getting an Uber. I knew Gary would take me home, but I didn’t need any rumors brewing abouthow people saw Mason Thaysden in a cop car. This story would be enough for one day.
I was tired, but I couldn’t resist seeing the baby one last time. Or, I realized, as I walked back into the room, maybe who I really wanted to see one more time was Daisy.
“Hey, um, since you don’t know anyone, why don’t you give me your number? I can introduce you to some women I think you’d like.”
She raised one eyebrow at me. “So, is that a sneaky way of asking if you can call me?”
I smiled. I liked her. “Maybe it is. If it was, could I?”
She made a face like she was considering. “I mean, you did save a baby today.”
She gave me her number, and I wondered if I’d use it. Probably. I’d been a baseball hero for a lot of my life. Then, for a time, the exact opposite. But the way Daisy smiled at me made me think that maybe all that wasn’t over for me. Maybe I could be a hero of a different kind.
DAISYFlorence Nightingale
It had been only three hours since our tiny Jane Doe had burst onto the scene. And it was already breaking my heart that she hadn’t had any visitors. One of the best parts about working with high-risk babies was getting to know the families, feeling the love from people who wanted nothing more in the world than for their little ones to thrive, teaching them how to help and care for their infants. I usually spent a lot of time telling exhausted parents and grandparents to go home, get a shower, get some rest. Now, nothing. I sighed. It wasn’t the first time this had happened on my watch recently. It was disheartening to say the least. My heart clenched thinking of my last little patient in Charlotte. I knew he was why I had come here.But it wasn’t running away, I reminded myself. How it wasn’t, I wasn’t sure, but I had work to do and couldn’t dwell on it.
I scooped up my girl from under the bilirubin light—she would be my girl until we found her parents—and fed and rocked her.
“What a first day!” Laura said, bursting into the nursery, where two other babies were contentedly sleeping. “I mean, Daisy, we almost never have exciting things happen around here!” She ran herhands through her hair like she needed to find something to do with them.
I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, but, also, I wasn’t sure I would qualify this as “exciting.” More like heartbreaking. Our Jane Doe was looking up at me, wide-eyed and curious, and I felt a little surge of love for her. What kind of mother could just abandon her child? I liked to pretend I didn’t know the answer.
“I’m sorry,” Laura said, reading my face. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She shrugged. “But I guess I feel like this is all some sort of misunderstanding, that we’ll find her parents, and all will be well.”
I nodded. “I really hope you’re right.”
“And to think that Mason Thaysden found her,” Laura said, shaking her head.
I raised my eyebrows, trying to hide the fact that my heart thudded at the mention of the very handsome rescuer.
She laughed. “Oh, I know he’s cute. But that one’s trouble, believe you me. You can ask any woman in this town, and I’d defy you to find a dissenting opinion.”
Well… That didn’t sound good. Before I could ask for more, another patient stirred, and Laura scooped him up with an expert touch. “Is it time for a change, big guy?”
She brought the preemie, who made our little Jane Doe look huge in comparison, close, and I noticed a raspberry on his cheek, a tiny birthmark that would fade in the coming weeks. Pain shot through me, and I had to look away. To most people, babies just look like babies. But, to us, the few who get to know so many of them, they begin to look shockingly unique.
Nurse Sandy bustled in and gave me a scolding look. “Young lady, your shift ended fifteen minutes ago.” There it was again, that mixture of scolding and amusement. I suspected some people found Sandyintimidating, but I loved her right away. I liked to know where I stood with someone. In friendships, in romantic relationships, and, most especially, at work.
I stroked Jane Doe’s cheek. “I can stay,” I said softly. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone again the day she was born, a day full of so much trauma.
Laura came close to me on one side, and Sandy on the other. “Daisy,” Laura said gently. “We’ll take care of her. You know we will.”
It was only my first day, but Ididknow. This was a group of women who valued every little life like it was their very own. Sandy nodded. “She’ll be okay.”
I willed myself to clear my mind, to steel myself, to think of math equations so as not to cry. I would not cry on my first day at a new job. I nodded slowly, still not moving. “She must be so traumatized, you know?”
Laura nodded. “I know. What she’s been through—”
Sandy was the voice of reason: “Ladies, she is maybe ten hours old. She is safe now, and she will be fine.”
She wasn’t playing around. My shift was over. Time to leave. I knew it wasn’t a good look to bethisattached to my first patient. But I knew these women knew what I had experienced in Charlotte, so I also figured they might understand my being a little clingy. Sandy reached for the baby, and I let her take her this time. I squeezed her little socked foot and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jane Doe. Get some rest.”
Sandy put her arm around me and squeezed me to her so quickly I wasn’t totally sure it had happened. “It gets easier,” she said. “I promise. The first few patients are the hardest.”
I turned quickly, afraid that if I didn’t rush out, she would see the tears pooling in my eyes. To ease my heartache, I called the man I loved most: my dad.
He answered on the first ring, as he always did when he wasn’t working. “What’s shaking, Florence Nightingale?” he asked.
