West Wing to Maternity Wing!By: Scarlet Wilson
David caught him with his sharp gaze. ‘What’s with you anyway? You’ve been like a bear with a sore head all afternoon.’
Linc sighed. The man missed nothing. ‘I got a strange text message last night from someone I haven’t seen in years—at least, I think that’s who it was from. I’ve texted back but I can’t seem to get a signal right now, so I don’t know if she’s replied.’ He held his cellphone up near the window and turned in various directions. Still no signal.
David gave him a knowing look. ‘I take it this was a female someone?’
Linc nodded and smiled. ‘Let’s just say it was an unexpected blast from the past.’
‘A good one?’
‘She certainly wasn’t that easy to forget so I hope so. But with everything that’s happened in the last two days I’ve just not had a minute.’ He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. ‘I can’t remember the last time I actually slept.’
David nodded. ‘Having the head of White House Security turn up at your door at three in the morning and tell you to pack up to deliver the President’s baby would flatten most men.’ He frowned. ‘Your text. Was it from a real friend? Or a fair-weather friend? I’ve experienced lots of those—people who the minute you appear in the media have apparently been your “best friend” or “closest colleague” for years—even though they don’t know when your birthday is or what car you drive. Fame does funny things to folks—you need to be careful, Lincoln. This is a whole new ball game for you.’
Lincoln looked thoughtful. He gestured towards the door. ‘Well, that was my first official television appearance, so she can’t have known anything about it. She sounded—I don’t know—in trouble.’
‘Just what every man loves—a damsel in distress.’ David flashed him a smile. ‘Come on, Lincoln, let’s go and look after our girls.’ He tossed his apple core into a trash can on the other side of the room.
‘I told you to stop calling me that. It’s Linc. My friends call me Linc.’
David looked aghast. ‘Linc? Certainly not. You, my friend, are named after the finest President we’ve ever had and you should wear that name with pride.’ He put his hand on the doorhandle as a frown puckered his forehead. ‘Just don’t tell Charlie Taylor I said that.’
Lincoln laughed. ‘I may well use that as blackmail material.’
* * *
Amy glanced at her watch as the cab seemed to meander up the coastal road. The traffic was almost at a standstill and she watched as only a few vehicles got through the cordon in front of them. The rest were directed to turn and head back down the hill. Her stomach churned. This had to be the worst idea she’d ever had.
A uniformed officer approached the cab and rapped sharply on the window. He glanced in the back seat towards Amy. ‘Where are you headed?’
The taxi driver gestured behind him. ‘Got a pregnant lady to drop at the hospital.’
The cop gave a little start. He looked like a man who had heard every line in the book today but he leaned forward a little to get a better look. He obviously hadn’t heard this one yet. ‘Can you step out the car please, ma’am?’
Amy fumbled for the doorhandle and stepped out into the warm sea air. She pulled some money from her purse and handed it to the driver. ‘Thanks very much.’
The cop ran his eyes up and down the length of her body. It was almost as if he was checking she actually was pregnant. Her white tunic and expanding trousers flapped in the wind, exposing every part of her body, including the currently out-turned umbilicus. She pressed her hands self-consciously over her stomach.
‘Your name, ma’am?’
‘You have to give me your name—and the name of the doctor you have an appointment to see.’
Amy hesitated. ‘I don’t exactly have an appointment, but I’m here to see Dr Lincoln Adams.’
The cop looked down at the list in his hand and stared at her. ‘This isn’t exactly the time for social calls.’ His eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘Dr Adams, he’s a neonatologist, isn’t he?’ He nodded towards her stomach. ‘What do you want to see him for? You haven’t had your baby yet—shouldn’t you be seeing an obstetrician?’