Water and Fire
DEMELZA CARLTON
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to all those who have known the heartbreak of losing a child.
Despite the sorrow surrounding her, a stillborn child still has purpose.
Copyright © 2012 Demelza Carlton
Lost Plot Press
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved.
Contents
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32
Part 33
Part 34
Part 35
Part 36
Part 37
Part 38
Part 39
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43
Epilogue
Bonus Sample of Ocean's Gift
About the Author
1
A screech and a thump were my only whisper of warning.
I sighed. Another suicide.
I rounded the corner. The humped body of the big buck kangaroo sprawled like a sleeping seal by the side of the road. No other animal has a death-wish quite like a kamikaze kangaroo. The bitumen glittered in my headlights, as if frosted over in preparation for the dawn. The crunch beneath my tyres belied the thought of ice. I knew the sound of crushed glass.
The tail-lights of the tiny Toyota bled their glow onto the gravel beneath. The tree toppled between those two red eyes had folded the roof into a pair of ominous knitted eyebrows.
I slowed to a stop in the gravel behind it, hoping my help wouldn't be necessary. I left my headlights on to illuminate the wrecked hatchback. "Hello?" I called.
The answering groan was deep and came from the car. I peered through the back window, but the inflated airbags inside made it hard to see. I approached the driver's door.
"Are you okay?" I asked, knowing the answer already as I surveyed the damage done by both the kangaroo and the tree the driver had blindly swerved into.
"No," whimpered a female voice. "I…I can't get out."
Her door had popped partly open, so it wasn't difficult to pull on the handle to widen the gap. The airbag sprouting from her steering wheel pinned her to the seat. Under the weight of the fallen tree, both the roof and the console tightened into a cage around the airbag, making her car a padded cell in which she started to panic. She struggled to twist out of her seat, but she couldn't.
I waited a moment, before asking, "Can you undo your seat belt, or is it stuck?"
She looked at me in wonder and began fumbling for the seat belt buckle. I clearly heard the click that released her, before her scream shattered the air.
When she ran out of breath, she panted for a moment before she spoke. "I'm sorry," she said hoarsely.
I gritted my teeth into a smile. "Nothing to be sorry about. Let's get you out of there."
I helped her out of the driver's seat and onto her shaky legs. Only as she straightened beside me did I see the swollen belly that the airbag had hidden. I had barely a second to recognise her pregnancy before another contraction seized her. My arms were strong enough to support her, but her scream was longer this time. I saw the blood and fluid staining the driver's seat and felt a frisson of fear.
No. Can't hesitate. I'll do whatever it takes to save her. I won't lose this patient.
When the sound had died away, I said quickly, "Let's get you to my car, where you can lie down."
I helped her hobble to my car in time for her to topple into the back seat as her next contraction hit. Her scream rang in my ears, but I pulled out my phone, ready to ring for help as soon as she was silent.
I looked down. No signal. I held her life in my hands and mine alone. No, not just hers. Her unborn child, too.
So be it.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, "but I think I'm having my baby, too."
For the first time, I smiled properly. "Then you're in luck. I'm Belinda, one of Albany Regional Hospital's best midwives and I'm on my way to work. I guess I'm starting early today, with you as my first patient. What's your name?"
"Miranda Nelson," she groaned over the next contraction. A gout of blood soaked the seat beneath her.
"I'll buckle you up and then we'd best get going," I said brightly, hoping there were no police up yet to catch me speeding. If I didn't get her to hospital soon, Miranda might bleed to death.
Not on my shift she won't.
2
"I'm sorry," Miranda sobbed, before another scream sounded her next contraction.
"No need," I replied cheerfully. I found myself singing under my breath. I lifted my voice a little so she might hear the soothing song, too. After all, it can't hurt. She's in enough pain already.
A wail heralded another contraction, Miranda's panicked panting punctuating the time between. I glanced at my watch. Five minutes. With the contractions so close, the next one should hit just as we get there.
I braked carefully as we reached the ambulance entrance, the sound drowned in Miranda's deep groan. I threw myself out of my door and pelted to hers.
"EMERGENCY. I NEED A WHEELCHAIR!" I bellowed as a stricken-looking ward clerk appeared at the door.
"Yes, Belinda," Helen replied smartly, vanishing back inside. She returned in a moment with the small hospital's only wheelchair, angling it perfectly to catch Miranda as I levered her out of the car.
Helen pursed her lips at the sight of blood in the back seat of my car, but she said nothing. I passed her my keys as I took hold of the wheelchair. "Can you take care of my car, Helen?" I asked brightly, already rolling Miranda inside.
With the help of a sleepy orderly named Rob, I quickly ensconced Miranda in a birthing suite, her wail rising as another contraction hit her.
"Where's Jill?" I asked Rob, before he left the room.
"In with Mrs Barker. She went into labour and won't let Jill leave. Jill and the anaesthetist are trying to persuade her to have an epidural, but she swears she won't."
Two difficult births in one night – Mrs Barker and now Miranda. This was going to be harder than I'd thought. I sucked in a breath, wondering who else would be able to help me. "Where's Dr Henderson?"
Rob shrugged. "He's not on duty – he's on the afternoon shift. We got a new intern for the morning shift – he's shaking in his office. I swear he goes whiter every time Mrs Barker bellows. Not like you – everyone knows you're the ice queen. Cool, calm and collected – no matter what."
The last thing I needed was a terrified intern for this birth. Alone, then. "Can you send the anaesthetist to me, after he's done with Mrs Barker? Miranda Nelson was in a car accident, and it looks like she's gone into premature labour."
Miranda let out another hoarse scream.
"And get someone to call her husband. He's up in Perth this week, I believe – tell him we'll have her flown up to King Edward Memorial Hospital as soon as we can. Call the Flying Doctors for transport, too." I looked at Miranda, straining through another contraction.
Rob hurried out, leaving us alone.
"Just you and me, Mir
anda," I said softly.
"No," Miranda gasped out. "She's coming. She's coming…urngh!"
Not wanting to believe her, I examined her as quickly as I could. She was almost fully dilated. There would be two patients for transport, not one.
And it's up to me to make sure they survive.
"So she is," I replied, keeping my voice calm. "It's time to push, Miranda. I hope you have a name picked out."
3
I watched with worried eyes as the paramedic strapped Miranda into a stretcher and loaded her into the small aircraft, followed by her newborn child.
"Thank you," Miranda said hoarsely, a smile stretching her face as her eyes shimmered with tears. "I don't know what would have happened without all your help."
My smile was more strained than hers. She didn't know what would have happened, but I did. The child would be in the hospital morgue and Miranda might have followed soon after. "My pleasure. The hospital staff in Perth will take care of you both. Your husband will be there when the plane lands."
The Royal Flying Doctor Service plane's doors slammed shut and the pilot crunched across the gravel on his way to the cockpit.
I heard a shout from across the field.
"Wait!"
The emergency gate ground open, motor whirring and metal grating on metal.
Both the pilot and I turned to see a lanky man running through the grinding gate and across the gravel beside the tarmac. His long strides cleared the distance faster than I could have. He waved a paper file that looked like medical records.
The man was breathless when he reached us, but he still managed to make his words intelligible. "The patient's file. Has to go with her on the plane." He held out the white cardboard folder with a rainbow of numbered stickers up the side.
The pilot took the folder with a nod and climbed into the plane. I backed away to a safe distance and the breathless man did the same. "Glad I got here in time," he gasped. He was almost doubled over, his hands near his knees, as he tried to catch his breath. He appeared to be speaking to the gravel beneath his large feet.
I looked around, but I saw no one else within earshot, so the man must have been speaking to me.
"What did you do to make the hospital staff send you racing out here with medical records? Did you steal one of the doctors' parking spots?" I asked, hoping to head off any further conversation.
Privately, I thought it more likely that he was a member of the cleaning staff that I hadn't met yet, who'd been sent here by the cowering intern, too shaken to venture out of his office to drive.
Instead of being offended, the man laughed. He stood up and I realised for the first time that the length of his limbs matched his height – he was taller than me. "I may be the most junior doctor at the hospital, but I still get my own parking spot. I'm Aidan Lannon, the intern. I wrote up the patient's notes so slowly that I didn't realise she'd left without them, so it was my responsibility to take them to the airport."
So this is the new intern – and he's not the useless, quivering wreck Rob said he was. He's a man who takes his responsibilities seriously and doesn't send a flunky to make up for his mistakes. I found I almost liked him. Begrudgingly, I began, "I'm Belinda," but that's as far as I got.
"I know who you are. You're the midwife who saved that woman's life, and her baby. If it weren't for you, they both would've died." His eyes shone with something like admiration.
I sighed. "I'm the student midwife, who happened to drive past where she'd crashed her car into a kangaroo and took her to hospital with me at the start of my shift. When she went into premature labour, she became my patient, as Jill, the qualified midwife, was dealing with a difficult delivery for a woman who refused anaesthesia. I told Jill I'd let her know if I ran into trouble, but it wasn't necessary, and her patient needed her more."
I hit the gate release and we waited for it to clank open before trudging from the restricted airside gravel to the bitumen between the hire cars and the staff car park. Together, we stood and watched the tiny plane taxi down the runway. It took off, shrinking into the sky until it rose above the cloud ceiling and out of sight. Silently, I wished the woman luck, hoping that her daughter would survive long enough to leave hospital and go home with her mother. My hopes for happiness flew with her.
Happiness I will never know. My daughter no longer lives.
I sagged, suddenly realising how exhausted I was.
Yet the intern turned to me, his eyes full of unmistakeable awe. "If that was your first solo delivery, you're in the wrong profession. You should have studied medicine instead of nursing. I couldn't have done it."
I was too tired to explain to him that Miranda's child was by no means the first baby I'd delivered, nor the most difficult. Instead, I looked for my car in the parking lot.
"How did you get here?" Aidan persisted.
I wondered the same thing, as the only car I could see was not mine. "In the ambulance, with my patient," I replied slowly. The ambulance had left without me. I hoped that didn't mean there would be another emergency waiting at the hospital. If and when I managed to make my way back there. It would be a long walk – more than three hours. There wasn't a taxi in sight and my bag, my phone and my wallet were back in my locker at the hospital. I heaved a deep sigh and summoned the strength to start the long journey back.
Aidan pressed a button on his key. The lone car in the parking lot flashed its orange lights. "Let me give you a lift back to the hospital."
I considered refusing. I also considered how tired I was. By the time I reached the hospital on foot, my shift would be well and truly over and the sun would have set. I hadn't brought a torch and there weren't any streetlights for most of the way. It'd be pitch dark and I'd be a good target for the Nannup Tiger, if it existed.
"Okay." I tried to keep my face expressionless. It wasn't difficult, as even the effort of forming any expression was exhausting.
Aidan drove a Mini, a very small car that appeared incongruous to his size. He opened the passenger door and started pitching things from the passenger seat into the back, before he gestured for me to sit down. He seemed really nervous, apologising for the mess in his vehicle.
I sat in the passenger seat, carefully placing my feet between a pair of very large sneakers and some muddy gumboots. Noticing something uncomfortable beneath me, I reached for it and pulled out a stethoscope, the head of the chestpiece decorated with a sticker of a three-lobed leaf.
In three strides he rounded the front of his car and folded himself into the space between the driver's seat and the steering wheel. He reminded me of an octopus squeezing itself into a small rock crevice, only more angular and awkward.
When he'd managed to wedge himself inside, I held up the stethoscope, lifting my eyebrows, too.
"Oh hell, sorry. That's my lucky stethoscope. Dad gave it to me before I left Ireland and I forgot to take it off before I left the hospital." He took it from me and stuffed it into the glove box.
He said little and I said less for the start of the drive, until we were forced to stop by a flock of sheep moving across the road from one paddock to another. The farmer shifting them waved to us and walked over to the driver's side window.
He and Aidan discussed sheep and I let my mind wander, not listening, until I caught the words, "…Nannup Tiger…"
I turned to listen to their conversation.
Aidan laughed. "You don't expect me to believe in the Nannup Tiger, do you? That's just something you made up for tourists!"
The farmer shook his head. "The Nannup Tiger's real, mate. It took two of my lambs last week and Pete next door said he's lost three. Pete's missus saw a slinking dark shape by one of the sheds near the house the night they lost two lambs. You watch out for it. I'm shifting my lambing ewes closer to the house, so the dog and I can keep a better eye on them."
He waved again as he closed the gate behind his sheep.
Aidan crunched his car back into gear and accelerated away. "So, do you believ
e in the Nannup Tiger?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the road.
I replied cautiously. "It's a native species that's believed to be extinct because no one's seen one for a long time, isn't it? With all the forests and big farms around here, anything could be hiding. It wouldn't surprise me if there are still some around, even if no one sees much of them. Aren't there plenty of undiscovered species in the world, even in Australia? What's one more?"
Aidan's laughter died. "Some stories say it's a thylacine, some sort of big native cat, but others say it's a black panther that escaped from a circus. No one seems to know what it is." He looked nervously into the trees on either side of the road.
I made myself smile. "Well, if you're scared of it, don't go out at night, then," I said lightly.
He shivered and continued driving, this time in silence.
4
When we reached the hospital, my shift was over. I thanked Aidan for the lift and headed inside to collect my bag. I lifted the bag onto my shoulder, without pausing, and turned on my heel to head out the way I'd come. I heard the clink of keys inside and thanked Helen in my head, hoping I'd remember to thank her properly when I saw her next.
Aidan was talking to one of the receptionists at the front desk when I stepped into the entrance lobby. Tired and unwilling to engage in further conversation with the intern, I crossed the lobby as quickly as I could to the front door.
The automatic doors slid open to reveal darkness and rain. I didn't mind water falling from the sky, but I did mind the way my clothing stuck to me when I was drenched. Environmental water and clothing is a bad combination. It seemed far more practical to me to go naked in the rain.
I braced myself for the uncomfortable restriction of my wet pants clinging to my legs when a hand touched my arm. Aidan stood beside me, screwing his nose up at the rain.
"It's times like this that I realise why I left Ireland for Australia," he told me with a big smile.
Water and Fire Page 1