The Homecoming Baby by Kathleen O`Brien Page A

that moment, Lydia and Katherine Collins, the clinic’s full-time midwife, came through the door. They looked over at Rose, saw that there was a problem and hurried to her side.
    Lydia could handle any emergency, and Celia expected her to handle this one with her usual dazzling efficiency. But to her surprise, Lydia stopped about five feet short of where Celia and Patrick stood, with Rose between them, and seemed to freeze in place.
    Lydia never betrayed much emotion, especially in front of the patients. Her years of running the clinic had taught her to project calm control at all times. Sothis was completely out of character, and Celia watched curiously as Lydia stared at Patrick Torrance.
    A clear jolting shock changed Lydia’s face, but only for a split second. Her gray eyes widened, then narrowed, deep crow’s feet appearing at the edges. Her angular, weathered face slackened momentarily, then tightened, closing in, as if creating a mask to hide her reaction.
    Only her hand, which was fisted at the base of her throat, betrayed how the sight of him had affected her.
    Katherine looked at Lydia, then stepped forward, her long, graying ponytail swinging down her back. “Rose, you poor dear, are you all right?”
    â€œI think so,” Rose said shakily. “It was Tad. He—” She began to cry again.
    â€œOf course. Tad,” Lydia said dryly. “Now there’s a man who could use some anger management classes. You might want to consider offering a workshop soon, Celia.”
    Celia smiled, glad that Lydia seemed to be recovering her equilibrium. The older woman had relaxed her hand, let it drop from her throat and put it out toward Patrick.
    â€œWell, it looks as if we have you to thank for taking care of our Rose, Mr….?”
    She paused, giving him time to introduce himself.
    â€œPatrick,” he said, accepting her hand and shaking it. For a moment their gazes locked, gray steel against blue ice. Celia, watching, felt a strange chill.
    â€œPatrick Torrance. I’m from San Francisco.”
    Lydia’s gaze dropped first, but she seemed completely composed again. So calm and normal, in fact, that Celia began to wonder if she’d imagined that first, lightning-struck reaction.
    â€œAnd I’m Lydia Kane. The founder of The Birth Place. Thank you again, Mr. Torrance.”
    Without waiting for an answer, Lydia removed her hand and turned to Celia. “I want to take Rose back and check things over. She might like to have you along. Do you have time?”
    â€œOh, yes, please.” Rose looked up with tired, red-rimmed eyes. “I’d like Celia there, too.”
    â€œOf course,” Celia said. “I have time.”
    Patrick was still looking at Lydia. “Mrs. Kane—”
    â€œYou’ll have to excuse us, Mr. Torrance,” Lydia said. “But I know Rose thanks you, too, for stepping in to save the day.”
    Obviously that was an understatement. Rose hadn’t yet peeled her hands from Patrick’s shirt. She looked as if she’d like to drag him into the examination room. As if she’d like to cling to his strength for the rest of the day—or the rest of her life.
    Celia had to smile. She wished Trish could be here to see this. Apparently Celia wasn’t the only woman who found herself eating out of Patrick Torrance’s hands the minute she met him.
    Celia looked at him, wishing things were different, wishing they could have even a few moments alone. She wondered why he had been in the parking lot. Had he come here to see her?
    But her patient must come first.
    â€œYes,” she added, equally polite, knowing Lydia was watching. “Thank you so much.”
    â€œIt was nothing,” Patrick said, completing the circle of courteous formality. “I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time.”
    Lydia extracted Rose from his arm. She shot one more quick glance at Patrick’s