by Calinda B
He whirled and stalked away, out of her home and her life for good.
Siobhan stood, fixed to the tile floor. The shadows receded. As they dissipated, she realized she loved him, too. Stephen had been an anchor for her through her months and months of grief. He’d watched over Paul in his free time. He’d played with him. And, he’d watched over her, bringing her take-out when she didn’t have the will to cook a good supper for herself and her son. He’d make her a cuppa when she cried. He always kept a respectful distance, but she’d known how he felt. And, she felt the same way.
She ran through the room, darted through the mudroom, and bolted out of the door. Maybe Stephen’s still sitting in his vehicle. Maybe he’s waiting for me to come to my senses. But, no. His taillights receded in the distance, as his car burned dust down the road. He left her with her endlessly lonely heart and the promise of a life of misery.
The only thing she could think to do was get to Paul. She didn’t dare address all the other things she needed to attend to—like making an appointment with a shrink to deal with the insane wailing in her head. Or, becoming a kind human being again. Or—and this one scared the Bejeesus out of her—letting Bres into her heart.
Chapter 16
Day 5, mid-afternoon - Lassi
As Lassi barreled down the Waterford City hospital corridor, clutching a children’s book, heading toward Paul’s room, one of the nurses she’d met earlier stopped her. “What is it?” Lassi said, her heart jitter-bugging in her chest.
“The doctor requested I speak with you. We’re baffled,” Nurse Maalai said. “We’ve never seen an illness like this.”
Lassi waved her arms around, dissatisfied with that answer. “There’s got to be something you can do. Call Royal Hospital in Dublin. They’re one of the best. They’ll have answers,” she’d said, her rage barely contained. She’d leaned toward the poor nurse like a big, bad bully, as the nurse shrank backward. Finally, she’d resorted to pleading, something she never succumbed to. Wringing her hands before her, she said, “There has to be something we can do. This child is important.”
The nurse averted her gaze and shook her head. “I’m sorry. We’re trying. And all children are important.” She glanced at her watch and skittered away.
Lassi sighed and trudged into the hospital room. “Hi, Paul,” she said, in her cheeriest voice. “How’s my big boy today?”
He gazed at her with puffy, listless eyes.
“Want Auntie Lassi to read you a book?”
He nodded.
She sat by his side, clenching the book she brought. He’d never looked this terrible, ever. And she’d nursed him through many childhood illnesses so far.
She proceeded to read him his favorite story, Goodnight Moon until he fell asleep.
His breath whistled through his lungs as he exhaled. It rasped when he inhaled.
Nothing in Lassi’s medical training or the countless tragic injuries she’d seen over the years in the emergency room or on the Labor and Delivery floor could ever erase the pain of watching a child suffer. Watching a child suffer whom she knew increased her distress one-hundred-fold.
Paul’s health deteriorated by the second.
In her training to become a birthing nurse, Lassi’s medical textbooks described the emotional grief that would hit when a child or baby died. It was one of those circumstances that brought a medical professional to her knees. In her class on The Fundamentals of Bedside Manner for Labor and Delivery, one of her instructors, Brie Kavanaugh, had played a YouTube video of a six-year-old boy in the hospital dying of cancer.
The boy lay quietly in his bed, his mother and father sitting on opposite sides of the bed, each gripping one of his small hands in theirs. His head, swathed in white bandages, pressed against the pillow. An IV snaked from his arm. The boy looked from his mother to his father. He looked peaceful, staring out from soft hazel eyes.
“I’ve got to go, mommy,” he said. “Jesus is calling me.”
The mother sobbed, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest.
“Will you be all right?” the boy asked his parents.
The father sat stoically. He choked back tears as he said, “We’ll miss you terribly, Conor. But, we’ll be all right.”
The child smiled at both of them, closed his eyes, and died.
Whoever held the camera cried out. “He was supposed to get better. This visit was supposed to be a celebration.” Then, the frame flashed chaotically around the room and went dark.
“I cry every time I see this video,” Brie told them, her eyes moist with tears.
The entire classroom sniffed and sobbed.
“And I’m glad you feel it, too,” Brie said. “Nothing and I mean nothing, can ever prepare you for the heartbreak of a child’s passing.” Her expression hardened. “And if any of you ever get to the place of being numb to such an occurrence, I want you to take a good long look at yourself.” She wagged her finger at them. “Because you most likely will be completely walled off from your feelings.”
No walling off here. Lassi squeezed Paul’s hand, then released it and wiped away a tear from her cheek. At the sound of footsteps, she lifted her head.
Bres entered the room. His lips curved into a lifeless smile.
Lassi cocked her head. “Hey, boss. What’s the matter?”
“What makes you think something’s the matter?” he snapped.
“Oh, the fact you look like dried shit, and you barked your answer,” she retorted.
“I’m fine. Isn’t that what you tell me all the time?” He stalked toward Paul.
Her head reared back. “You’ve got quite a barbed stick up your ass, Breslin.”
He gave her a side-eye and then gazed at Paul. “How is he doing?”
“Not well.” She pushed to her feet and sat the book on the metal bed tray. She reached out and brushed Paul’s messy ginger curls from his face.
Bres lay his hand on Paul’s chest. “There’s got to be something we can do. I have a call into a colleague in the States. He’s one of the best pediatricians I know. If anyone can find an answer, he can.” He turned to her and sighed. “But, that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why then?”
“I’ve scheduled an ultrasound for you.”
She blinked, her heartbeat galloping. “An ultrasound? Why?”
He huffed out a sigh. “Why do you think? We want to make sure the child is…” He paused, directing his gaze at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Healthy.”
“And doesn’t have tentacles?” Lassi’s hands landed on her hips.
Bres’ neck and face reddened. “Something like that. And this hospital has superior equipment. I called in a favor. No one will be watching but me if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Who says I’m worried?”
“Who says I’m upset?” he countered.
“Okay, fine. Let’s go.” She followed him from the room, down the hall, and into the elevator.
They rode it up two flights to the Ultrasound and Imaging floor.
A nurse, clad in green scrubs, greeted them at the counter.
“Hello, Dr. Breslin. You’re here for the ultrasound, right?” She smiled warmly.
“Correct. This is Lassi Finn. She’s also my amazing clinic director and our birthing expert.” He smiled, his professional countenance replacing his previous gloom.
“Miss Finn. It’s a pleasure. I’m Deva Kapur.” She held out her hand.
Lassi gazed into her warm brown eyes. “My pleasure, also, Miss Kapur. Show us the way to the ultrasound, please.”
Nurse Kapur pointed to a door next to the counter. “All the equipment is in there. I’ve set out a tray with your supplies, Dr. Breslin. I’ll be right here, should you need anything.”
Again, she flashed her warm smile.
Lassi shuffled toward the door, both dread and excitement pooling in her tummy. After kicking off her shoes and placing her purse on a chair pushed against the wall, she plucked a white paper
sheet from the tray of supplies which had been placed on the counter. Then, she lay back on the exam table, the way she’d instructed countless women to do. She shook the paper sheet open and placed it over her like a flimsy shield, clutching the edges to her chin with her sweaty hands.
A picture of yellow daisies hung on the wall in her line of sight. Other than that smidge of personality, the room looked like ultrasound rooms everywhere. White counter and sink. Numerous glass jars sat in a row at the back of the counter, holding cotton balls, swabs, and tongue depressors. White cupboards over the sink. Off-white walls. A poster of the stages of fetus development. A blood pressure cuff hanging from the wall. And one ultrasound machine looming next to the exam table.
Bres strode through the door. “Ready?”
“I suppose.” She had to pry her jaw open. Relax, girl. Take a deep breath. She let out a sigh.
“You know the procedure.” He grinned at her, his earlier upset apparently forgotten. “What do you think about a transvaginal ultrasound?”
“No!” Lassi blurted. “If the baby is a squid, I would rather not see it in enhanced imagery.”
He nodded. After donning gloves, he turned the machine on. He smirked at Lassi. “Um, I didn’t think I needed to explain the steps to you, Miss Finn. I’ll need access to your belly.
“Oh, right,” she said. She fumbled with her waistband underneath the white sheet. Once she’d pushed her pants down her hips, she tugged up her soft cotton shirt, noting absently the shirt she’d worn today was one of Cillian’s favorites.
“It gives me easy access to your sweet peaches and creamy skin,” he often told her.
She winced at the memory. And yet access to my peaches and cream put a baby in the oven. Perhaps, had I known your response to a baby, I should have worn armor around you and your potent sperm. She pushed back the papery covering around her groin area, revealing her belly.
“Go ahead.”
Bres placed his hand on her shoulder and trained his caring gaze at her. “You seem a bit tense. Maybe we shouldn’t do this today. We’re all stressed to the max.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. The sooner we know what’s growing inside of me, the better. Then, I’ll know how to proceed.”
Bres’ eyebrows drew together. “Are you keeping abortion as an option?”
Her cheeks flamed. “I don’t know. If it’s a tentacled monster, I don’t think it would be wise to proceed, do you?” She shuddered. “Let alone seek the advice of another medical professional. I’d be written up in the tabloids and every medical journal in the world.”
He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I’ll take care of it.”
She reached up and squeezed his hand. “I know you will.” She inhaled and let out a long breath. Then, she smiled. “I’m ready.”
He nodded curtly, turned and picked up a tube of Sonic-O gel from the tray of supplies. “This will be cold,” he said, squeezing a dollop onto Lassi’s belly.
The gel sent shivery goosebumps down her arms and legs. “Shite almighty, you’re not kidding me,” she exclaimed.
Bres placed the tube back on the tray. Next, he plucked the transducer from the side of the ultrasound machine.
“Here we go.” He placed the tip of the transducer on her belly and began moving it around. “Whoa. This is a surprise.”
Lassi squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t look. Give it to me straight, Bres. Do I have a monster inside?”
He let out a delighted chuckle. “No, not a monster, Miss Finn. Look. You have twins.”
“Bloody hell,” she said, scrambling to push up on her elbows so she could see the monitor.
Two peanut size fetuses floated in her belly.
A smile lit her face. “Feck me hard, you’re right. And no squid. Damn.” Her ringtone interrupted her momentary joy. She froze, her lilting butterfly-winged mood suddenly trapped in amber. She looked at Bres. “I kinda don’t want to answer it.”
“Answering the phone lately has only meant bad news. Want me to get it?” Bres asked.
“No, I’m a big girl. It’s in the front pocket of my purse. Hand it to me, will you, please?”
Bres placed the transducer in the tray, stepped toward the chair and fished the phone from her small canvas purse. He turned to hand it to her.
She snatched it from his grip and scanned the screen display.
“Oh, no,” she said. “It’s Mary.”
Bres stiffened. His faced paled. “Answer it. It could be about Siobhan.”
She slid the icon to Speaker. “Hello, Mary, this is Lassi.”
A horrible croaking gasp met her ears.
Lassi’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Mary? What is it?”
“Lassi, come quickly,” Mary said in a rasping whisper. “I think I’m about to die.”
And then, a big fat wall of silence met her ears.
Chapter 17
Day 5, afternoon - Lassi
From her perch on the exam table in the ultrasound room, Lassi screamed into the phone. “Mary! Mary! Talk to me.” She shook her pink sparkly phone, like that might help, and pressed it to her ear. Her eyes met Bres’ worried gaze. “She hung up…or…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Or, else she died. “We’ve got to go.”
“On it,” Bres said, pressing a button on the ultrasound.
A whirring machine noise heralded a print-out of the twin fetuses in Lassi’s belly.
“I had to preserve the moment, emergency or no emergency.” A slight smile crossed Bres’ face as he snatched the image and shoved it into her hands.
“Thank you.” Lassi hugged it to her chest. Then, for a hot second, she stared at the fuzzy peanuts and grinned. We’re having twins. Her smile melted into a scowl. Correction. I’m having twins.
She hopped off the table and righted her clothes. Carefully, she tucked the print-out into the side pocket of her purse. Then, she crumpled the white paper sheet which had covered her, set it on the table, and donned her shoes and coat.
Bres busied himself with powering off the ultrasound and capping the Sonic-O gel.
“Ready?” Lassi looked at him, anxiety galloping through her bloodstream.
“Let’s go.” Bres led the way out of the room. He paused at the corner where Nurse Kapur sat.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, rising to her feet. “I heard loud noises.”
“We don’t know yet,” Bres answered. “We got an emergency call. I cleaned up the room as best I could, but…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nurse Kapur said, with a wave of her hand. “I’ll take care of the room. You take care of the emergency.”
“Thank you very much,” Lassi said.
Lassi and Bres scooted toward the elevator, rode it down, and headed toward her car.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said to Bres.
“Got it,” he said. “I’ll dispatch an ambulance and contact Ryan. I’ll be two seconds after you.” He turned and jogged away from her, heading toward his own vehicle.
As Lassi sped through the sodden streets, the windshield wipers on high, her mind whirled. Should I tell Cillian about the twins? How long should I wait to tell him? If I wait until he makes a decision, the twins could be teenagers.
A wet dog bolted across the road.
She slammed on the brakes. “Fecking dog. You almost got us both killed.” She peered out the window. The Skoda had stopped in the intersection, just past Tara Lane, the road to Mary’s cottage. “Would you look at that. It’s so hard to see outside, I would have passed her street. Huh. I guess I owe you an apology little mutt.” She flipped on her turn signal, backed up a meter, and headed toward Mary’s.
Once she arrived, she parked on the street, leaped from the vehicle, and dashed inside without knocking. Her medical bag banged against her hip.
Ryan sat on the sofa, cradling his mother with heartbreaking tenderness. Lines etched his eyes and the corners of his mouth, drawing his face into a rictus of fear
.
Hanging from his belt, his radio crackled with the ETA of the ambulance. “Dispatch, this is medic thirty-two, en route to 22 Tara Lane.”
“Medic thirty-two, en route to 22 Tara Lane, over,” came the static response.
“Lassi,” Ryan said, choking out the word. “She’s completely unresponsive. She was fine this morning. Tired, but fine. After Siobhan got sorted, she went in and laid down and…”
His distress carved holes in her typical medical professional calm. Her hands shook as she glanced at Mary. “Easy, Ryan. Take a breath, buddy. Your ma appears to be in shock.”
She set her medical bag on the floor and crouched next to the sofa.
The poor woman’s skin had taken on the blue-tinged pallor of cyanosis. Her coloring contrasted with her cheerful pink robe. Her forehead appeared waxen, with beads of sweat.
Swiftly, Lassi removed her cuff and stethoscope, and then affixed the armband around Mary’s arm. She also plucked a pulse oximeter from the bottom of her kit and positioned it on Mary’s forefinger. She placed the stethoscope ear tips in her ears, positioned the diaphragm in Mary’s elbow, and inflated the cuff. After cracking the release valve open, she listened for the thump, thump of the heartbeat.
She removed the stethoscope from her ears. “B.P.’s 90 over 60. Pulse ox reading is 70%. Her bloodstream’s not getting enough oxygen. I’ll be right back. I’ve got to get my O2 out of the car.”
“Hurry, Lassi. Hurry!” Ryan’s voice cracked.
Lassi sprinted to the Skoda and returned with the green cylinder and bag valve mask set-up. The two-second sprint had managed to get her hair, face, and clothes soaked from the beating rain.
Mary grimaced. She moaned, shaking her head. Her hands clapped to her ears as if she heard something awful.
“Get away from me,” she cried out. “The wailing…I can’t stand the wailing. All she does is lament.”
Lassi exchanged a worried glance with Ryan. She affixed the metal nozzle to the oxygen cylinder and slowly released the valve. After checking the amount of gas in the bottle, she nodded to herself. Then, she retrieved a pocket mask and a self-inflating bag. She attached the tube feeding the bag to the oxygen. As she reached to place the mask on Mary’s face, Mary’s eyelids fluttered open.