Silver Dawn

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  Wade’s hunch had been right. She was squealing like a pig. Even from a distance I could hear every insult she hurled at him.

  Wade wasn’t ruffled in the slightest. He stood in front of her, taking a backward step with every forward stagger Jasmine took, chanting at her. “No pain, no gain, babes!” He slammed his fist into his hand. “You’ve got this!”

  It was like a poorly scripted infomercial. Not even Jasmine was buying it.

  “Get the hell out of my way, you lunatic!” she screamed.

  “That’s it babes,” he foolishly encouraged. “Let it all out.”

  Jasmine let it all out alright. She came out swinging and clocked him in the side of the head with her giant handbag. It must’ve been a hard blow because Wade hit the deck.

  I probably would’ve gone to his aid but was beaten to it by a couple of enthusiastic orderlies who came rushing out the door pushing a wheelchair.

  That’s when I finally gave in and laughed.

  Wade was pushed through the emergency room doors in a wheelchair, and his pregnant wife - who was mid labour – walked in behind him.

  Despite the ridiculousness, I silently wished them well. Every excited couple that walked through those doors deserved to have things run smoothly.

  That was the moment that I realised my boy would soon be rooming with the Davis baby in the nursery. His parents would be proudly gushing over him, while my baby continued the lonely wait for his mother.

  ***

  Considering Jasmine and Wade had been admitted, I was surprised to see Hannah sitting at the nurse’s station when I stepped out of the elevator.

  “I thought you’d be in the delivery suite with Jasmine,” I said, approaching her desk.

  Hannah smiled up at me. “She’s well taken care of. Someone else has the pleasure of attending that delivery,” she replied, sounding totally relieved by the prospect. “Your little man’s been waiting for you.” She pointed toward the door of the nursery. “You can bathe him if you want to.”

  I stiffly shook my head. “Gabrielle wants some pictures. I promised her I’d take some for her.”

  Hannah stood up and walked around the desk. “Okay, you can just sit and hold him for a while,” she pressed. “Get to know him a little better.”

  I deliberated for a quick moment, wondering what she’d think of me if I told her how I really felt. I didn’t know her well enough to decide, so I kept quiet.

  “Come with me,” she urged, grabbing me by the elbow.

  Hannah led me through the door and across to the little plastic box closest to the viewing window. My perfect little boy was swaddled firmly in a white blanket, and had a little blue cap on his head.

  “Why are you making him wear a hat?” I asked. “He has rock star hair. He should be showing it off.”

  She gently pulled the hat off his head. “I didn’t want him making the bald babies jealous.”

  I smiled down at my son but made no attempt to touch him.

  “Hold him, Alex,” she urged. “He needs you.”

  I lifted my head, forcing myself to look her in the eye. “I’m not much good to him at the moment,” I confessed.

  “You’re here,” she stated. “That’s all he needs.”

  “Gabi should be here.”

  “And she will be – just as soon as she’s well enough,” she replied. “So in the meantime, it’s up to you to hold the fort. You’ll just have to enjoy him by yourself for a while.”

  “I can’t bathe him.”

  “I’ll bathe him,” she offered. “You can watch.”

  14. TWO STEPS BACK

  I loaded my phone up with a million pictures of my son having his first bath. It wasn’t the most relaxing of tasks. The poor little bloke screamed bloody murder the whole time, reminding me of a pissed off little kitten.

  His mother had been deathly afraid of the water until I taught her to swim. Judging by the baby’s reaction to his first bath, he needed a few swimming lessons in the black river too.

  Gabrielle didn’t seem to care that there wasn’t a decent picture to choose from. “He’s so little,” she beamed, holding the phone to her face. “And he does have a lot of hair.”

  The phone was shaking in her hand. I discreetly held her wrist to steady her. “Are you cold, Gabs?”

  “No,” she insisted, eyes glued to the phone. “I’m fine. When will they take me to see him?”

  “Soon, babe,” I promised.

  “They took more blood from me this morning,” she told me. “I’m tired of being poked and prodded. You must tell them I’m fine.”

  I silently vowed to do no such thing. She was far from fine and her defensive attitude led me to think she knew it too. Calling her out on it would only rile her so I shifted the conversation back to the baby. “He really is cute, Gabs.”

  She brought the screen closer to her face. “Isn’t he?” she gushed. “He doesn’t look like a Pierre-Auguste, though.”

  Thank God.

  “No, I don’t think he does either.”

  “He needs a name, Alex.”

  I totally agreed, but now wasn’t the time. Neither of us were in the right frame of mind to be naming a child. It didn’t stop Gabi from trying though. She spent the next few minutes brainstorming.

  I was actually glad when a doctor walked in and interrupted us. It saved me from having to explain why I thought Lionel was a terrible name for our son.

  He introduced himself and asked Gabrielle how she was feeling. She lied and told him she felt great.

  He nodded, but obviously wasn’t buying it. “Gabrielle, there are some abnormalities in your blood tests,” he said seriously. “It indicates an infection.”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” she insisted.

  “We’re going to administer a course of antibiotics,” he continued, ignoring her.

  “I’m seeing my baby today,” Gabi demanded. “They told me I could see him today.”

  As far as she was concerned, being ill wasn’t a good enough reason to keep her separated from him. My heart broke for her all over again. Try as she might, it was an argument she wasn’t going to win.

  “We’ll concentrate on getting you well again first.” The doctor’s tone was one of pure pity. “Then we’ll move you downstairs and reunite you with your son.”

  “Today?” she asked hopefully.

  He didn’t need to answer. Gabi knew it wasn’t going to happen. She burst into tears and I reached for her hand. “Soon, Gabs,” I whispered. “You’ll be with him soon.”

  “Not soon.” She growled out the words, sounding the strongest she had since the ordeal began. “Today.”

  It was hard not to feel angry. We were already on the ground, bruised and beaten. I just couldn’t understand why the universe kept delivering more kicks.

  The doctor left the room and two nurses began fussing with Gabi’s IV lines. The tremor in her hands was so bad now that I could barely hold her still.

  I felt helpless and scared all over again, and trying to hide it from her wasn’t working. “I’m here, Alex,” she said quietly.

  I brought her shaking hand to my lips. “I’m here too, Gabrielle.”

  She stopped talking after that. I didn’t push her for conversation, and she eventually drifted off to sleep.

  ***

  I couldn’t deny that the atmosphere on the maternity ward was much more pleasant than the ICU ward. Every single person I saw looked thrilled to be there. Perhaps it was because they were part of the ninety-nine percent of the population who managed to bring their babies into the world without a hitch. I represented the one percent who resented every single one of them.

  “Alex!” called an excited voice from further down the hall.

  I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “Wade,” I replied listlessly.

  “How’s it going, mate?” He slapped me on the back as soon as I was in reach.

  I resisted the urge to punch him in the face and forced a polite reply. �
�Fine.”

  “Good stuff. Is Gabrielle here too?” I nodded. “Jasmine came in this afternoon. I needed to get out of there for a while. It’s getting pretty intense.”

  I was glad Wade Davis was a self-absorbed fool. He didn’t think to ask how Gabrielle was, which saved me from having to explain. “Well, good luck.”

  “You too,” he called as I walked away. “When do you reckon your boy will get here?”

  His question was innocent enough, but I was back to fighting the urge to smash him. I turned back to reply. “He’s here. He was born yesterday.”

  “Aww, crap,” he huffed. “Jasmine will spew when she finds out you and Gabi beat her to the punch.”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head, trying to shake free of the disgust I was feeling. “We’re real winners.”

  15. LITTLE KITTEN

  My little boy was alone in the nursery. All of the other babies were probably hanging out in their mother’s rooms. I pulled a chair across to the little plastic box and sat down.

  He was wearing the stupid hat again. I gently pulled it off his head and hid it in my pocket. “Sorry about the hat,” I said quietly. “Some people have no sense of style.”

  I lightly rested my hand on his back. Unlike his mum, he felt calm and still. “I think I talked her out of calling you Pierre-Auguste,” I said quietly.

  I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six in the evening. My son had been in the world for over thirty hours and hadn’t been held by either of his parents. His mother’s reasons were valid. Mine weren’t and it was getting harder to justify by the minute. I swept my hand through his spiky dark hair. “I’m so sorry, little boy.” My voice quaked. “She’ll be here soon, I promise.”

  He stirred and wriggled beneath my hand. I couldn’t work out if he was trying to escape the blanket or me. When he started crying, I stupidly panicked and went to find help for my pissed off little kitten.

  The first nurse I came across was Hannah. I was always grateful to see her, but especially at that moment.

  “Hey, Alex,” she greeted.

  “Hi.” I pointed back at the nursery. “He’s crying.”

  “He’s probably getting hungry,” she replied. “He eats well, that boy of yours. I’ll get you a bottle.”

  “I can’t feed him.” I sounded appalled. “Can you do it?”

  She frowned. “I could, but you’re his dad.”

  “You’re a nurse.”

  “I am,” she agreed. “I help those who are sick or injured or helpless. Which category do you fall under?”

  “Helpless.” Hopeless.

  “You’ve done this before,” she reminded. “Why are you so afraid of him?”

  There was no point trying to explain something I didn’t understand. “Please, Hannah,” I begged. “Just feed him for me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “If you need help to – ”

  “I don’t need help,” I snapped, pointing toward the door. “I need someone to go in there and feed my son.”

  Hannah Davis was no pushover. She stepped forward, speaking slowly and quietly. “Find a better way of working through this, Alex. This isn’t helping.”

  “Tell me how,” I demanded. “If you have the answers, Hannah, I’d love to hear them.”

  She didn’t answer me. Instead, she headed into the nursery to tend to the baby I couldn’t deal with.

  16. HORROR STORY

  I ignored the suggestions of going home in favour of another uncomfortable night in the chair beside Gabi’s bed. I managed to grab a shower but feeling refreshed only lasted until I got dressed. I was so bedraggled and worn down that a three-day-old shirt no longer bothered me. The only thing I cared about was being with Gabrielle. Considering they’d been pumping her full of antibiotics for hours, I expected her to be much better by morning.

  She wasn’t.

  If anything, she looked worse. Her skin was pale, she was violently trembling and her hair was damp with sweat.

  I reached for her hand, doing my best to appear unaffected by her terrible appearance.

  Gabi turned her head in my direction.

  “Alright, Gabs?” I asked.

  She didn’t seem to be looking at me. Her green eyes were drifting without purpose as if she couldn’t see a thing. After a long moment of silence, she answered me in French.

  “English, Gabrielle,” I gently urged. “I don’t understand.”

  She frowned and tried again – in French – and even that didn’t sound right.

  I straightened up in the chair and called out to a passing nurse. “Something is wrong,” I told her. “She’s not making any sense.”

  “We’re running more tests,” she replied grimly. “We’ll know more soon.” Her expression led me to think she knew exactly what was going on. She just wasn’t prepared to tell me.

  “It’s not good is it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No,” she gently confirmed. “She’s very ill.”

  I looked across at Gabi. Her eyes were still wandering, and so was her mind. I have no idea who she was mumbling to in French, but it wasn’t me.

  “Oh, Gabs,” I whispered in total despair. “What now?”

  I didn’t recognise a single person in the group who filed into the room a few minutes later, but as usual, they all seemed to know us.

  “Mr Blake, I’m doctor Barnard,” announced the spokesman.

  I didn’t reply. I just stared, trying to predict the next words out of his mouth. I knew it wouldn’t be good. It was never good.

  I was right to be worried. The latest round of tests had confirmed that the infection had spread to Gabrielle’s bloodstream. “We’re monitoring her very closely,” he told me. “Tests on her blood cultures have identified the type of infection we’re dealing with, and we’re treating her with the correct antibiotics.”

  The only thing I concluded was that they’d been botching her treatment before now. I was livid. “You mean you’ve been giving her the wrong ones?”

  “It’s a delicate balance, Alex,” he replied calmly.

  I released Gabi’s hand and stood up. It was stupid, aggressive and pointless. “Fix her!” I demanded. “She has a brand new baby downstairs who needs her. I need her.”

  Why didn’t they know this? Why weren’t they doing more?

  He ignored my outburst and continued with the horror story. “We’re going to place Gabrielle into an induced coma,” he explained. “It will give her body a chance to heal.”

  “No,” I snapped, appalled by the idea. “Find another way.”

  “Gabrielle has sepsis, Alex. She’s in the early stages of organ failure. We have no other option at this point.”

  My heart started beating fast. I’d felt it happen so many times over the past day that I knew exactly what was causing it – pure unadulterated fear.

  I had nothing sensible to add to the conversation, so I didn’t speak. I just listened as he explained how her already weakened heart was failing again. Her kidneys were packing up too, adding to her massive woes.

  I cried when my daughter was born. I cried when my mother died too, but the strangled sob that fell out of my mouth was a sound I’d never made before in my life. I just couldn’t deal with anything more. I sat back down and leaned forward, resting my head on Gabi’s forearm.

  In a move I wasn’t expecting, she gripped a fistful of my hair. “Je suis ici, Alex.”

  I don’t know how I understood her, but I did. “I’m here too, Gabs,” I whispered.

  17. BLAKE BABY

  Being anywhere near that room while they sedated Gabrielle was never going to happen. Even if I’d wanted to stay, they wouldn’t have allowed it. For the second time in three days, I was pushed out the door with a firm hand to the back. I headed downstairs to the maternity ward. I wasn’t being a dutiful, caring father. I just had nowhere else to go.

  As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, Wade pounced as if he’d been waiting for me. “It’s a boy!” he ann
ounced gleefully.

  “Congratulations,” I mumbled, pushing past him.

  Wade foolishly stopped me with a hand to my chest. I looked at his hand and then glared at him. It had no effect.

  “We called him Lachlan,” he boasted. “His name rhymes with the twins’. Clever, eh?”

  I was too jumbled to work it out, and didn’t care to ask for an explanation. “Genius,” I muttered.

  He dropped his hand. “Thanks,” he crowed. “Sorry to hear about Gabrielle. My gran told me she was in rough shape. Tough break, eh?”

  I hadn’t laid a punch on someone since I was a sixteen-year-old hothead, but something deep in my soul told me to make an exception. I grabbed a fistful of Wade’s shirt and bailed him up against the metal doors of the elevator.

  “It’s not a tough break,” I menaced through gritted teeth. “A tough break is a broken jaw.”

  I didn’t loosen my grip as both of Wade’s hands flew up in surrender. He looked terrified but I was beyond caring. I just wanted to hit something, and at that moment, he was it. I might never have released him if Hannah hadn’t rushed over and pulled me off him.

  “Stop it, Alex!” She dragged me a few steps back by my shirt. “What does this solve?”

  “Nothing,” I spat. “But it’ll make me feel better.”

  “I’m prepared to forgive you, Alex,” announced Wade, shrugging his shirt back into place. “I understand grievery.”

  “One punch,” I growled, taking a quick lurch forward. “Just give me one shot.”

  “No!” they both yelled in unison.

  Hannah ordered Wade to go back to the safety of his family. As soon as he was gone, she spun me around, bunched up my shirt in her hand and pushed me against the wall. I should’ve known she’d be skilled at pulling people into line. She was the mother of the Lost Boys. “You listen to me,” she ordered. “He’s an idiot, but he’s always been an idiot. Don’t take your troubles out on him.”

  I pulled in a calming breath, giving her enough confidence to release her hold on me. I straightened my shirt as best I could. Nothing was going to make me look neat. I’d been wearing the same shirt for days.