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The telephone was ringing when Faith walked into her apartment the next afternoon. She’d spent most of the morning attending to the numerous details associated with Chloe’s funeral. The cloying scent of funeral-home flowers remained in her nostrils. Although she’d walked home in the late-summer sunshine, she still couldn’t warm up.

Physically and mentally drained, Faith considered letting the machine take a message. The red light already blinked, so there were others. News traveled fast in a hospital. It was probably someone from the staff wanting to express condolences. But what if it was the funeral home? The director had said he’d be in touch if any problem arose. Maybe she’d neglected something important.

She snatched up the receiver on the fifth ring. After an initial exchange of hellos, it was a minute or two before Faith realized the caller was the hospital’s chief administrator.

At first all she heard was the mention of the twins and she panicked. Her heart flew over high hurdles while her ears recoiled in fear. She could only think that something had happened to Chloe’s babies, even though they’d been fine when she’d stopped by at ten. The nurses had assured her the babies were healthy, small as they were.

Little by little, Faith’s training kicked in, and she relaxed enough to make sense of what Dr. Peterson was saying.

“I don’t understand.” She ventured shakily when she thought she finally had his message straight. “Two men are at the nursery asking to see the twins? Both claim to be the father? Who are they? How do they...” Her voice trailed off, but before Dr. Peterson could say another word, Faith drowned him out. “It doesn’t matter. Allow no one near Chloe’s babies. No one but me. I’ll be there in five minutes. Tell the nursery staff to have the men wait in the room at the end of the hall.”

The taste of fear grew stronger after she dropped the receiver and bolted for the door. The how, the why, the who all whirled in a muddle through Faith’s sleep-deprived brain. She’d hardly closed her eyes since Chloe had reappeared so abruptly in her life...and then vanished for good. Had it really only been last night?

The how fell in place before Faith reached the sidewalk. Local papers had built a headline story out of the death of Brian Littrell’s first multiple-organ transplant patient. Faith had briefly glimpsed today’s front page. At the time, she’d only registered pain—-to think Chloe wasn’t to be allowed dignity in death. Her sister had despised the condition she thought had stolen her independence. Chloe had been terrified of becoming a burden to others. She would have hated having her weaknesses exposed to the world.

As she hailed a cab, it struck Faith that the who—-the two men making demands at the hospital—-wasn’t really any great mystery. One of them would be the great Dr. Littrell himself. The other, probably the married Playboy. Nick, the sailor boy with no last name.

It wouldn’t be so long before Faith ferreted out the why, she thought as she grimly paid the driver and quickly entered the hospital by a side door. Not that anything either man had to say would change the facts. Chloe’s last request had been for Faith to keep her baby safe from the likes of those two. She had papers saying so.

For good measure, Faith stopped by the admitting office and ran off two copies of the custody document. If, by the time she reached the nursery, she still felt as hostile toward the men as she did now, she’d rub their noses in the truth. Neither one of them had loved Chloe enough to stick by her during her pregnancy. As far as Faith was concerned, the jerks didn’t deserve to set eyes on the twins—-that went for the actual birth father as well as Brian, who must suffer delusions of being the dad. Why else would he be here throwing his weight around?

Staff members glanced at Faith curiously as she hurried along the corridor and took the back stairs two at a time. Obviously the grapevine had spread the word around. An interested crowd would be lurking behind the potted plants in the expectant fathers’ waiting room.

Thanks to one of the larger rubber plants, Faith was afforded a good view inside the room before anyone noted her approach. Her breath did a flip-flop that she couldn’t control. Brian stood near the window, his hair light and curly as always, yet mussed as if he’d run a hand through it several times...the inscrutable Dr. Littrell, who rarely, if ever, had a hair out of place.

No matter how hard Faith tried to control her feelings, her heart always did a slow somersault when she came across Brian unexpectedly. It irritated her that she never seemed to have that reaction to other eligible men.

Today Faith commanded her heart to be still. She wanted to study these two analytically—-the men who’d been her sister’s lovers. Brian’s summer khaki suit looked new. He wore a pale cream shirt and a tie that matched the flecks of gold that caught his intense blue eyes. He appeared more built than when she’d last seen him more than a year ago, the previous May, at Chloe’s 25th birthday party.

His smoldering regard centered on the room’s other occupant. But the man at whom Brian glared appeared oblivious of the daggers coming his way.

Sun-bleached hair fell in a perfect, somewhat boyish cut of blonde above the second man’s well-tanned brow. An expensive navy dress shirt hung loose over pristine white linen pants. Faith couldn’t determine the color of the stranger’s eyes. They were trained on a magazine with a sailboat on the cover.

Both men exuded an air of comfortable wealth. Faith could only hope their behavior would be as civilized as their appearance. Taking one last deep breath, she moved around the plant and into the room.

Brian was the first to notice her. He uncrossed his arms and straightened away from the window, feeling a jolt of recognition. Faith Hyatt had always been different from Chloe. He doubted he was alone in finding it hard to believe they were sisters. Tall, blonde, Chloe had had an athletic build-—or rather before she’d decided to become model-thin. She wore make-up with flair and was always experimenting with hairstyles. His ex-wife had been happiest when surrounded by people. Faith, however, was small-boned, petite, slim and quiet to the point of being difficult to talk to. She seemed content to spend hours of her own, yet she had a rare ability to calm the sick with a touch. If she wore any lipstick at all today, she’d chewed it off. Although only five years older than Chloe, she seemed younger. Something about this woman had always fascinated him.

Brian had first met Faith the year before he’d completed his residency. Even then, she’d worn her chestnut-brown curls in a becoming cut that emphasized her huge dark eyes. Serious eyes that studied him now as if he were an unwanted specimen under a microscope. Not surprising. She’d played mother bear too long. Chloe had been her cub. Naturally she’d transfer those nurturing habits to Chloe’s babies. His babies.

From the minute Brian had seen the article in the New York Times, describing Chloe’s pregnancy and her reputed refusal to take her anti-rejection meds, many things that hadn’t made sense to him before the divorce fell into place. For instance, Chloe’s little speech about normal women her age having kids. Her odd behavior that day. The unused packet of birth control pills he’d found after she’d virtually attacked him at the door frantically initiating sex. A lot added up now—-now that he was too late to help her. But it wasn’t too late to help their babies. The infants were said to be about four weeks premature, and that made them is. Period. Nothing left to discuss. He scowled in the other man’s direction.

Because Faith’s steps slowed as she entered the room and her uneasy brown irises seemed to be searching for an escape route, Brian took pity on her and softened his harsh expression. Crossing the room in long strides he reached for her trembling hand. “I’m sorry Peterson disturbed you, Faith.” He murmured. “You must have a million more important things to do today than rush down here. I can’t tell you how shocked I was to read about Chloe’s death. The report indicated that she’d stopped her anti-rejection meds. I wish you’d called me when her pregnancy became obvious. Whether or not Chloe was mad at me, someone in her transplant follow-up team should have followed her prenatal care.”

Faith swallowed. “Chloe never contacted me. She never returned any of my calls. The first I knew she was pregnant was when they admitted her to the hospital. She’d had no prenatal care, Brian.”

The other man in the waiting room rose and glanced at the couple engaged in conversation. Closing his magazine, he walked to the center of the room. “You’re Faith? Chloe’s sister? I’m Nick Carter. The news story I read in our paper said you’d spent time with Chloe before she, uh...went into surgery. She and I were...quite close in January and February. Did she by chance mention me?”

Faith’s head snapped up. She tugged her hand from Brian’s fingers. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Carter, she did have a few things to say about you. Except that she never revealed your last name—-so you could have remained anonymous.” A rustle near the room’s entrance forced their heads around. Two nurses stood in the hall, chatting with a technician who was rearranging items on a lab cart. Faith knew at once that all ears were turned to what was being said inside. Gossip lightened the tedious work at the hospital, provided a distraction from pain and death. In the past, Faith had been a big participant as the next person. However, now that it involved someone she loved, she had second thoughts about the passing of possibly harmful rumors.

“Gentleman, let me call Dr. Peterson and see if there’s a conference room available where we can talk with more privacy.”

Nick buried his hands in his pockets. “I don’t see what there is to talk about. That baby boy is my son. He’s a Carter. I intended to take steps to insure his birth-right.”

“Now wait one fucking minute.” Brian growled, wrapping his fingers around Nick’s tie. “Maybe you can’t add, Carter, but I can. Chloe and I were still married in January. Those are my children she had.”

A shrill whistle split the air. Both men swiveled toward the source. They gaped at Faith, who calmly moved two fingers from unsmiling lips. “Maybe you two don’t mind airing your dirty laundry in public. But it’s my recently deceased sister you’re mangling. Have you no decency?”

Brian dropped his hand. “You’re absolutely right, Faith. I’m sorry.” He cast a scowl at the eavesdroppers. “I agree...we need a private place where we can settle this issue.”

Confident that she’d soon set both men straight, Faith went to the house phone and punched the hospital administrator’s number. “Dr. Peterson, please. This is Faith Hyatt. He phoned me at home earlier. I’m here in the hospital now.” She tapped her toe while she waited for him to come onto the line. When she’d explained the problem, he told her the conference rooms were all in use, but offered her the use of his office. “Thank you.” Faith said. “We’ll be right down.”

Peterson brushed her effusive thanks aside. “It’s an honor to have Brian here...I’m on my way to the cafeteria. I’ll have them send over a tray of coffee. Oh, Faith, when your business winds down, perhaps Dr. Littrell might take a moment to tour our new heart wing. His stamp of approval would be a like gold...”

Faith sighed. “I’ll tell him.” She had no doubt he’d prefer a tour of the heart wing over a trip to the funeral home. Of course, she was probably foolish to even think Brian might ask to pay his last respects to his former wife. Hadn’t Chloe said Brian loved his work more than he loved her? If that was how things stood between them when they were married, why would he alter his attitudes after their divorce?

“Does Peterson have a room or not?” Brian spoke near her ear, making her jump.

“Um, yes. His office. He also said he hoped you had time to tour our new heart facility when we’ve completed our business.”

“Not today. Maybe later in the week. I’ll catch him and explain. Once we iron out this mess, I plan to spend an hour or so with my babies. And after that...” He swallowed. “Uh...if you have no objection, Faith, I’d like to see Chloe.”

His chin dropped to his chest and eyelids closed, and she realized she’s misjudged him unfairly.

“Of c-course.” She stammered. Seeing Brian so emotional triggered her own bleak feelings again. “The service is tomorrow. It’s very small.” She named the funeral home. “Chloe didn’t have many friends left in Boston. Although...I’m not sure of that.” Suddenly flustered, Faith clasped her hands and frowned at her fingers. “Perhaps I should’ve had an official funeral notice placed in the paper.” Peering at Brian through her eyelashes, she asked him, “Were you aware Chloe had moved back to Boston?”

Unexpectedly her eyes filled. She had to blink hard to contain the tears. “That’s another thing I don’t have any explanation for—-why she didn’t let me know. It might have made a difference if she had.” A tear did creep out and slip down her cheek.

Brian gently clasped her upper arms. “Don’t beat yourself up, Faith. It’s taken me some time since she asked for the divorce to realize that Chloe always did what Chloe wanted. And to hell with how it affected others. I believe she planned her pregnancy from the get-go. It wasn’t accidental.”

Nick broke into the conversation. “Look, I need to catch the three o’clock shuttle back to New York. Do you suppose you two could take care of family business after we settle my parental rights?”

Faith felt like hitting his supercilious jaw. “I imagine your wife is expecting you home at the usual time. Does she have any idea where you are and what you’re doing, Mr. Carter?”

“Wife?” Brian repeated, bristling.

The well-placed barb brought a wave of crimson to Nick’s tanned cheeks. “Shelby doesn’t know yet, Ms. Hyatt. I assure you she’ll welcome the boy into our home once the details here are finalized and I have a chance to tell her. Shelby has wanted to adopt a child for some time.” Lowering his voice, he said hesitantly, “My father hasn’t favored adoption. He’s pressed for a blood grandson...and now he has one...”

Faith cocked her head to one side. “Chloe had twins, Mr. Carter. A boy and a girl. You’ve only mentioned her son. But then again, girls can’t carry on the family name can they?” She said coolly. In an even colder tone, she added, “Chloe’s son will never be a Nick Carter Junior if I have any say in the matter. And I have a lot of say.”

Brian stepped between the two before Nick could rebut. “Shouldn’t we go to Dr. Peterson’s office before we shed blood on this shiny tile?”

Faith clammed up immediately. She hadn’t intended to lose her temper. And she’d forgotten their audience. Aiming pointed glances at the bystanders still lurking in the hall, she squared her shoulders and marched past them. Brian and Nick fell in behind her. Brian, though, paused at the nursery window and leaned his forehead against the glass. He cupped both hands around his eyes in order to see better.

“Chloe’s babies are in the preemie unit.” Faith informed him swiftly.

Backing away from the window, Brian joined her.

“The paper said they were approximately four weeks early. Are they well?”

Nick halted midstride. “They are, aren’t they?” He demanded. “The article I read said the boy was underweight.” He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets.

“Chloe never told me she’d had organ transplants. Is there a possibility her son will inherit her medical problems?” he asked, sounding both worried and unsure.

Brian shot him an incredulous stare. “I’m a good surgeon, Carter, but no one is that perfect at cracking open a chest. If you and Chloe got down to bare skin, fella, it’d be hard to miss her scar.”

A flush streaked up Nick’s throat. He fingered his tie.

“Stop it, you two.” Faith pasted a smile on her face for the grey-haired woman seated behind the desk outside Dr. Peterson’s office. “The world doesn’t need to know all the sordid details of Chloe’s history. Both babies are in good health. Dr. Sampson examined them. Brian, you remember him-—he was the pediatric chief when you were here.”

“Yes, I remember. He’s great.”

The men dropped back and let Faith address Dr. Peterson’s secretary. “Mrs. Lansing, I phoned Dr. Peterson a few minutes ago...I’m Faith...”

Nodding, the woman rose and led the trio into an oak-paneled room. She pointed out a tray with coffee and cups, which sat on a low table. While she withdrew, but before she closed the door, Brian poured Faith a cup of coffee, and then one for himself. “Still take cream in yours?” He asked, passing the coffee pot to Nick so he could pour his own.

“Yes.” She said, surprised he’d recall such a mundane thing. “Too much straight caffeine gives me jitters. Today, especially, I’ve got enough acid running in my stomach to charge a battery.”

Brian gazed at her over the rim of his cup. “I’m sorry so much has fallen on your shoulders, Faith. How is Dwight handling Chloe’s death? Has he been any help, or are you having problems there, too?”

She perched on the edge of one of the three chairs that someone had arranged in a triangle around the coffee table, and clutched her hot cup to warm her suddenly cold fingers. “I tried telling Dad we’d lost Chloe. He got all mixed up in his mind and thought I was talking about Mom. The doctor had to sedate him. I decided there wasn’t any sense in putting him through the grief of attending her service.”

“Why this pretended concern, Brian? Your obligations to the Hyatt family ended when the divorce was final. By the way, exactly when was that?”

“July.” Brian shifted his gaze to Nick. “The divorce wasn’t my idea. Chloe filed in January while I was on a medical mission to Norway. I phoned her at the beach house to ask her to reconsider. She refused to talk, said she had company. It was too late, anyway—-she’d already filed the papers. That was January fifth. Two days later, divorce papers arrived by courier at my hotel.” He massaged the back of his neck.

“I might have convinced her to drop the request if I’d been able to make it home the next week as I’d originally planned. But we ran into complications with the transplant and I couldn’t leave Norway until much later. By then, her lawyer and mine had pretty much settled the particulars. Mine said I shouldn’t contest. He said she was seeing someone else.”

“That would be you.” Faith said testily, her soft brown gaze hardening as she pinned it on Nick.

“Yes, it would.” He returned without a hint of shame.

Faith’s gaze never wavered. “I guess you forgot you had a wife, huh?”

“Shelby and I separated before Thanksgiving. I assumed she intended to get a divorce-—not that it’s your business. Having spent our holidays alone, I felt at loose ends. Chloe was lonely, too...” His lip curled slightly.

“She said she was on her own a lot. Her husband devoted his life to his career.” Meeting Brian’s angry glare, Nick continued speaking to Faith. “Chloe hadn’t been out with her husband in months. She’d never been sailing. Had never dug for clams. You’d have thought I’d given her diamonds when I bought her flowers. If ever a woman had been neglected, it was Chloe.”

Brian clenched his hands. “Damn you, Carter! I didn’t neglect her!”

“That’s enough.” Faith pulled a tissue from her handbag and mopped up the coffee Brian had spilled when he vaulted from his chair. Their macho posturing irritated her so mush she forgot to be shy. “Chloe did feel you were obsessed with work, Brian. But Nick, although you treated her like a queen for a few weeks, that hardly makes up for concealing the fact that you were married...and abandoning her.”

The men gaped at Faith’s furious scrubbing. They both frowned, and Brian recognized the anger in her movements as she wielded the tissue. The table was more than polished to a shine when she finished.

Brian broke the silence first. “Chloe had all of my heart and as much of my time as I was able to give.” If he sounded hurt, he thought dully, it was because he still had his moments. “I took an oath to heal.” He thought Faith should understand that, even if Chloe had somehow forgotten.

Getting to her feet, Faith tossed the sodden tissue into the trash. While she was up, she dug into her purse again and removed the copies she’d made of the custody agreement. She shoved one into each man’s hand. “What drove either of you to do what you did doesn’t make any difference to Chloe now. In seeking love, my sister obviously made some bad choices. Maybe even selfish ones. But in the end, her decisions weren’t selfish. No matter how difficult it was for her to breathe when she was admitted, her focus was on the life that had been created within her.”

“Custody papers?” Nick skimmed through the stapled packet. “She can’t do this. Her babies have a father.” The man scowled openly at Faith. “You just admitted that Chloe was in distress during her last hours. Any attorney worth anything will prove you forced her into signing these. Not only that, who witnessed your signatures?”

“I didn’t instigate this agreement. Chloe brought it with her, Mr. Carter. If there was any forcing in the signing, it was directed toward me. Chloe refused all treatment except oxygen until I not only signed the forms but also mailed them to her lawyer. If you’ll check closely, on three pages she acknowledges my signature. And someone notarized each line Chloe endorsed.”

Faith wasn’t about to tell them Chloe’s witness signature had already been in place when she herself signed the document. That didn’t change the facts. Chloe had watched her sign. Most importantly, the agreement represented her wishes.

A range of emotions flitted across Brian’s face as he read the document from start to finish. Sadness. Longing. Grief. But Faith didn’t see anything like resignation as he folded the papers and tucked them into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. While his eyes darkened sympathetically, his jaw remained tensed, his posture determined-—as though they’d entered a fight ring and the bell had just rung.

Nick drained his cup and thumped it back onto the tray. Wadding a paper napkin, he threw it into a nearby wastebasket. “Chloe told me a little about her childhood. I recall she said her mom was an invalid. And that you sacrificed a lot to help her.”

“I was the oldest child...only by five years but...if Chloe had been born first, it would have been the other way around.” Faith stated flatly.

Brian moved forward. “If you have a point, Carter, I’d like to hear it. But don’t try to say Chloe slandered Faith. I know she admired her sister.”

Faith gave him a surprised glance. She and Chloe had grown closer after Chloe’s marriage—-and before her divorce. Faith was pretty sure familial love had existed. But admiration? Her heart swelled at the thought. During all those troubled years, she would have settled for a simple hug from her sister. Faith roused as Nick spoke again.

“My point, Littrell, is that Faith missed out on things kids do for fun. Chloe said Faith never participated in school activities. No dances. No sports. No guys. A while ago, you two talked about her ailing father. If she assumes care of two infants on top of that, I think she’s kissing any chance for a normal life goodbye. This is when she should concentrate on meeting someone and getting married.”

A startled gasp escaped Faith’s lips. But she was too embarrassed by Nick’s rundown on her life to make any comment. More like her lack of life. He’d managed to make her sound pretty pathetic. Oh, she’d dreamed of falling in love, she’d even had a brief affair with a hospital accountant. He’d ended the relationship, eventually marrying another nurse and moving to a different state. Faith continued to hope for marriage and a family someday. But she never felt as if she needed a husband to be complete. Her life hadn’t been all that bad.

Brian, too, seemed astonished by Nick’s blunt statement. Since no one interrupted, Nick hammered his point in. “I’m offering you a chance here, Faith. Shelby and I have a six-bedroom home. It sits on three acres. She’s able to devote all her time to motherhood. I made some inquiries this morning. I know how much you earn. And I know you work some oddball shifts. I sincerely doubt anyone would think you derelict of duty if you signed Chloe’s babies over to their natural father.”

“You’re claiming that role, huh?” Brian slapped a hand on the table. “We have difference of opinion on that score. The twins are mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nick’s chest expanded a few inches. “I hate bringing this up with a lady present, old man. You ex-wife was pretty outspoken about the frequency of your intimacy...to put it nicely.”

Brian’s face became defiant. “It so happens, that we were...” a smiled played across his lips as he continued “intimate, the day I left for Norway. January fourth. You’re welcome to calculate that.”

Nick seemed shaken by Brian’s announcement.

“I—I...that’s the day before we...uh...that is...when Chloe and I first slept together. I think you’re lying, Littrell."

“Think what you want. Chloe’s forte was high drama. I guess I always knew she was impulsive. I’m only just realizing how impulsive."

Faith slumped down hard in her chair. She blinked up at them, stomach rolling. “So what you’re...both saying is that it’s a mystery as to who fathered the twins?”

Neither man acknowledged her conclusion.

Nick checked his watch for about the third time in five minutes. “I have to get back to New York. I don’t have any more time to argue. Here’s the bottom line. There’s a boy upstairs in the nursery with Carter genes. Because of that, he’s entitled to a legacy. I won’t go into everything that entails. Suffice it to say he’ll be well taken care of. You two will be hearing from my lawyer. That’s a promise.”

Faith and Brian watched in silence as he stalked out.

“Two can play his game.” Brian said, his expression thunderous. “I don’t care how many damned Roman numerals he wants to put after my son’s name...Carter will be hearing from my lawyer, too. Meanwhile, I’m going up to visit the babies. I don’t advise trying to stop me, Faith.” Giving her only seconds to respond he, too, stormed out.

Faith’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, Chloe.” She muttered. “What kind of mess have you left me with this time?”

Sighing, she regained enough composure to pick up the phone and call the duty nurse in charge of the premie ward. “My sister’s ex-husband has asked to visit the twins, Eileen. I’m willing to extend him that courtesy today, but make sure everyone else on duty knows Chloe left custody papers on file. If Brian or anyone else wants to see the babies from here on out, staff will have to call me for authorization. Is that clear?” When she was certain the charge nurse understood, Faith rang off.

Stopping at the reception area, she thanked Dr. Peterson’s secretary for the use of his office. After that, she went upstairs to her own ward, post-surgical. Faith wanted to see the babies again after Brian left. Somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he presented a threat.

Her mind not on work, she nevertheless emptied her mailbox. It was full. Among the usual junk was a notice to stop at the finance office and discuss Chloe’s hospital bill. Faith stared at the statement. She had a tidy savings account. She’d expected to use it to stock a nursery. She’d also figured it would allow her to take six months or so off work. Last night when she couldn’t sleep, she made lists of what the babies would need.

Planning for two of everything ate up money fast. To say nothing of the fact that the cost of funerals had skyrocketed since she’d arranged her mother’s.

Closing her eyes, Faith rubbed her forehead. It hadn’t entered her mind that she’d owe for Chloe’s care. But then, what company would insure her sister? Even if she had a policy, it probably excluded her preexisting condition. Faith placed this new worry at the bottom of her stack. The next envelope she opened was almost as distressing. The babies needed names before the state could issue birth certificates.

Faith picked up a pen. Elyse was easy. That had been Chloe’s wish. Elyse Julianne. It was Chloe's middle name, too, and the two went together well. Hyatt. She wrote the last name in block letters. Writing it felt good. Like thumbing her nose at Nick Carter and his father.

The form for Chloe’s son remained mockingly blank. Faith made a list of names she thought sounded strong. Evan kept floating on the top. "Evan it shall be.” She murmured then chewed on the eraser while she searched her list for an acceptable middle name. Joshua. A solid biblical name. Also, it had been Faith and Chloe’s grandfather’s name. Faith remembered the soft-spoken gentleman with twinkling blue eyes.

Once that chore was complete, she dispatched her remaining mail quickly. A glance at her watch suggested she’d wasted enough time; Brian should be long gone from the nursery. She dropped off the birth certificate forms in the outgoing mail on her way to visit the twins.

By now she knew the routine and proceeded to don sterile gear before she entered the nursery. Tying the last set of strings on her mask, Faith pushed open the door to the premie ward. And froze. A fully gowned and masked Brian sat in Faith’s usual chair. He had a baby lying across each of his forearms, their little heads cradled in the palms of his gentle hands. Both pairs of baby eyes were wide open. Faith was near enough to see their mouths working. They looked like perfect little dolls.

Fuzzy dark hair spilled from beneath Evan's blue stocking cap. Elyse's wispy curls glinted pale gold in the artificial light.

Faith’s gaze shifted to Brian’s face. Her stomach knotted and her knees felt watery. There was no mistaking the tears that tracked down his cheeks. An involuntary protest arose in Faith’s throat, blocking the breath she tried desperately to suck into her lungs. She didn’t want to sympathize with Chloe’s ex. Throwing out a hand, she clutched the privacy screen to keep from falling.

Brian heard the sound. His rapt gaze left the twins. “Faith.” He said her name softly. “I know I’ve been her beyond the time you set, but...but they’re incredible. I’ve never felt like this before. Since Chloe risked everything for them I really hope that somehow she knows how perfect they are...”

Faith watched him transfer his attention to a tiny hand that had worked free of its gown and felt the blood drain from her face.

With one gloved finger, he captured the baby’s waving fist. “Carter said they’re labeled babies A and B Hyatt. I stopped in finance to pay Chloe’s bill and discovered that she’d never legally changed her name after the divorce. Officially the babies are Littrells. As they should be.” He said sternly, his eyes lifting in time to witness Faith’s retreat. Brian called her to come back, to no avail.

Hands over her ears, Faith stumbled into the hall. She needed to get home and call Chloe’s lawyer. Maybe the custody papers, which plainly stated Chloe wanted the babies to go by the name Hyatt, were flawed. She took the time, however, to detour by the nursing station and retrieve the birth certificate forms she’d filled out incorrectly.

What was in a name, anyway?

Brian admitted the divorce was final. And she certainly hadn’t asked him to pay Chloe’s hospital bill. Maybe he was being thoughtful. Then again, he might have an ulterior motive. At any rate, Faith felt disloyal to Chloe as she crossed out Hyatt on the forms and wrote Littrell.

As she dropped her gown, mask and booties into the laundry, she mentally rearranged her budget to include attorneys. If Nick and Brian expected her to fade quietly into the woodwork, they’d better think again. She intended to be a devoted mom to her sister’s babies. The kind she’d never had time to be for Chloe. She’d been too young then and stretched too thin in caring for their ailing mother. Still, the thought of so many lawyers getting involved made Faith almost sick to her stomach.