Alive.
As Nick settled into his place, she grabbed her menu and held it up in front of her, praying he wouldn’t see the moisture that had suddenly gathered in her eyes.
Dear sweet heaven, what was wrong with her? She’d spent most of the day sleeping, so she couldn’t blame her sensitivity on jet lag.
Telling herself she was just feeling stressed, she fastened her attention on the list of appetizers. Even so, she couldn’t seem to control the letters that swam before her eyes.
“Everything here is good,” Nick said, oblivious to her distress. “But if you order a salad, I’ll personally sic the chef on you.”
His comment made her snap out of her thoughts, but she couldn’t afford to speak just yet. Not when her voice might emerge as a croak.
Was it a coincidence that Nick had brought her here? Or had he remembered that Italian food was one of her weaknesses? She loved everything about it—the intoxicating aromas, the combination of spices, the rich sauces, the fresh meats and cheeses.
“Well, what do you think?”
Quickly blinking the last vestiges of tears from her eyes, Lucy focused on her menu. After reading only the first few items, she expelled a sigh of pleasure. “I have died and gone to heaven,” she said under her breath. At that moment, she vowed to stop worrying about the man who sat across from her, the appropriateness of her attire, or her unusual sensitivity. Her only concern would be which delectable concoction she’d taste first.
“If you look near the bottom of the menu, you’ll see they have a sampler of some of the most popular dishes.”
Lucy’s stomach growled in anticipation.
“There’s also soup, a side salad with a house dressing, bread sticks…. Just make sure you leave room for dessert.”
“Dessert?” she breathed, her eyes already scanning the list on the back cover.
“They have a raspberry lemon cheesecake that will make you weep.”
As if you aren’t on the verge of tears already.
By the time the waiter returned to take their orders, Lucy had managed to whittle her choices down to a somewhat manageable size. In the end, she chose a sampler of lasagna with red-pepper noodles, spinach and walnut ravioli in a white sauce and chicken picatta.
Once the waiter settled a tureen of minestrone soup and a basket of fresh bread in front of them, Lucy eagerly began filling their bowls.
“So when was the last time you had a decent sit-down meal?” Nick asked as she began smoothing herb butter on her bread.
Lucy shrugged. “It depends on your definition of ‘sit-down.’ It’s been at least a year since I’ve had Italian.”
“A lifetime, then, considering your love of Italian food.”
So he had remembered.
“Tell me about the twins.”
To her shame, Lucy realized that she had momentarily forgotten about the babies who were en route to Salt Lake City.
Wrenching her brain away from the way the subtle lighting seemed to caress the angular lines of Nick’s features and bring back to her responsibilities, she asked, “What would you like to know?”
“I suppose you’d better start at the beginning. How did you become their guardian?”
She took her time answering, swallowing a spoonful of soup before saying, “I was reporting on the humanitarian conditions in the war-torn regions of the Congo in Zaire, and I did a series on the orphanages in the area. I’d only been there a week when an orphanage run by a group of Franciscan nuns contacted me. At the time, the twins were just a few days old. Their mother had died in childbirth and the nuns feared that their own meager medical facilities were inadequate for the situation. They were hoping that, with my connections, I could help arrange for the girls’ care in the United States.”
“Yet it’s taken weeks to get them here. What kind of attention have they had in the meantime?”
Her forehead creased as familiar concerns pushed to the fore. “They were transferred immediately to a larger hospital, but it’s taken that long to process the reams of paperwork. I have copies of their medical files for you, but other than simple X rays, they haven’t had any tests to determine if they can be separated. The hospital was more worried about getting the children stabilized. The twins were losing weight and having trouble maintaining their temperature. At one point, Hope, the smaller girl, caught an infection, which set them back a bit.”
“What exactly do you know about conjoined twins?”
Lucy paused, then set down her spoon. Resting her arms on the table, she clasped her fingers together. “To be honest, the research I’ve done has been far from reassuring.”
“Why is that?”
Reluctantly, she met his gaze, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to mask her fears.
“Since my resources were somewhat limited, I was forced to get most of my information from the Internet. With some searching, I was able to find some medical texts, but first I had to wade through page after page of historically dated, sensationalist garbage. The most disturbing are the references to so-called Siamese twins being used in circus sideshows or being kept hidden from polite society.”
“It upsets you.”
“Yes, it upsets me. Faith and Hope are children, not oddities to be ogled or dismissed.” She took a deep breath. “And yet, if it weren’t for the nuns, they could have been trapped in a similar situation.”
“So you’re intent on a separation?”
“Only if it’s in the twins’ best interests.”
“And if it isn’t?” he asked carefully, knowing there were be no guarantees that such an operation would be successful.
“Then I can accept that prognosis. I would like them to have healthy and productive lives, whether that means as separate individuals or not. But no matter what happens, I intend to make sure they’re given the dignity and respect that every human being deserves.”
Nick nodded. “And what will happen to them after you’ve done as much as you can?”
The words were spoken with great care, as if he expected a heated reply.
Lucy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Because of the death of their mother, the sisters arranged for me to become the girls’ legal guardian. If—no, when their condition is stable—I’ve been assigned the task of finding suitable adoptive parents for them. I’ve taken a six-month leave of absence from work…”
The waiter appeared to take away their empty soup bowls, interrupting Lucy. It was evident from the way she’d spoken that Lucy was anticipating a time when the twins would be healthy individuals, but Nick was relieved that she realized a completely positive outcome might be unattainable.
Yet he was well aware that totally preparing oneself for the realities of such a serious operation was not entirely possible. There were so many obstacles that lay in the children’s paths—the least of which was whether or not they could tolerate the surgery. If the option proved feasible, the process of preparation and recuperation from the invasive procedure could take months, even years.
What would happen in that time? Lucy had said she intended to find adoptive parents for the babies—but what if the children grew attached to her? Since their own mother had died in childbirth, it was Lucy who’d been the most constant influence in their lives.
The waiter finally stepped away, leaving each of them a small dish of gelato to clear their palates after the soup course.
“Tell me more about the twins themselves,” Nick prompted.
He