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the older man, who'd sliced open his forearm on a rusty muffler. “The tetanus shot and antibiotic should help against infection. Come right back in if you spike a fever ibuprofen won't settle, got it?"
    "Yes, ma'am.” He nodded his bushy head profusely. She hoped he would show the sense most men didn't and actually come in if he got an infection, but didn't have high hopes.
    After walking him out, she stopped in the break room for a breather. She was tired and incredibly hot. Even in November with the temperatures cooling and the heat kept low in the hospital, she was sweating like mad. She added another layer of deodorant and smoothed her blue scrub top over her belly, hoping the antiperspirant would last until she escaped the floor again.
    The reason for her increased temperature was settled comfortably south of her heart and not so pleasantly north of her bladder. Two reasons actually, courtesy of the Patrich brothers. She'd googled them, even tried, badly, to bribe a hotel clerk. She needed to find at least a phone number so she could tell them what was happening. In month four she was finally past the most dangerous months and wanted them to know that one of them was going to be a father.
    Their response was something she couldn't anticipate, but she hoped since they played their games with no problem, facing the consequences would come as easily. Parenthood, especially the unexpected kind, was a big deal and they had a lot to talk about. Wherever they lived, visitation, if they wanted it, would be a nightmare.
    They were her friends though, and if friendship meant as much to them as it did her, they would be fine. It wasn't like she expected anything more than minimal child support. She had a good job, a bigger home and the means to care for the babies. Keeping communication open and friendly seemed like the best plan.
    In passing, she remembered Cody saying he liked kids. In a few months there was a one-in-three chance he would have two of his own or have two new nieces, so she hoped the other brothers felt the same.
    She was proving to be a “fertile myrtle.” The first time she'd trusted Steven, loved him and knew a pregnancy would be a welcome, wonderful event. The most recent one had condom failure written all over it. The Patriches had gone through more little packets than she could remember counting, and one or more had apparently broken or slipped.
    The first pregnancy ended too soon, but she'd felt the stirrings of life before. Conceived in love she'd thought at the time, utterly romantic even if they weren't married. Steven was a friend of her father's, a respected, prestigious doctor and her family had raved about him. It had been the easiest thing in the world to love him and bask in her family's approval for the first time in her life.
    The first few weeks were wonderful. Steven, at the end of a long, unhappy marriage, was thrilled to be starting out so well. He wanted children very much, more than he'd wanted her.
    Amid wedding plans and baby talk she miscarried. There was no reason the doctor could ascertain. One day she was pregnant, the next she was not. The doctor was very kind and explained it wasn't uncommon in the first twelve weeks. She'd been at ten.
    After rapid consideration of her news, Steven decided not to chance another childless marriage. When he recommended they wait to marry until after their next try at pregnancy bore a healthy baby, she understood exactly what she was to him, a brood mare. When she rejected his idea, he told her to think it over, but a week later he called and broke off their relationship completely. She learned in vitro finally worked for his ex-wife and they were back together, thrilled and expecting a baby.
    When she'd started sleeping more and puking five weeks after her night with the Patriches, she'd gone immediately to her doctor. Like the last time, she did everything the doctor said and at week twenty-one, her body was pleasantly filled out and healthy.