“He needs a cell phone,” Phyllis muttered under her breath. She was across the birthing room from Tory, perched on the edge of a rocking chair that was part of the living-room ensemble set up for family members awaiting the birth. Tory, sweaty and looking ragged, no sign of the eyeliner she always wore, was lying in bed with her eyes closed, but Phyllis knew her friend wasn’t asleep.
Why couldn’t this, at least, be easy for Tory? Phyllis wondered, hating her helplessness while she watched her friend suffer. The twenty-four-year-old woman had already had far more than her fair share of suffering.
“Phyllis?” Tory’s voice was cracked. Dry.
“Yeah, honey, I’m right here.” Tory’s coloring wasn’t good. She seemed too pale, with red blotches on her neck and the exposed upper part of her chest.
“Is something wrong with my baby?”
Tory’s eyes were still closed. Phyllis didn’t need to see them to picture the shadows that had been back in their depths for the past few hours. It had been months since Phyllis had seen those shadows.
“Everything looks fine, honey,” Phyllis said, repeating what the doctor had tentatively reported when Phyllis had followed her out of the room the last time she’d stopped by. The doctor and nurses were in there often, watching all the monitors hooked up to Tory. They were taking extra care, Phyllis knew that. Knew, too, that this could mean they expected a greater chance of something going wrong.
But that was natural, considering Tory was almost a month early.
“It doesn’t feel fine.”
Phyllis’s stomach tensed. “I know, Tor, but I think that’s pretty normal. Giving birth is hard work and you’re tired.”
Tory’s eyes opened, pinning Phyllis. “No, I mean it really doesn’t feel right.”
“How?” Phyllis asked, a sense of urgency filling her. Tory’s eyes had a strange look about them. Glazed. Like she was disconnecting from the reality around her.
“Something’s…breaking…down there.”
Pressing the nurse’s call button, Phyllis took Tory’s right hand—the one not connected to the intravenous drip—and rubbed it. “You hang in there, Tor,” she said, her voice firm. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You need something?” The nurse peeked around the door, took one look at Tory and suddenly all hell broke loose. There were nurses surrounding Tory’s bed, checking her blood pressure, taking note of monitor readings, checking Tory’s progress. Another minute passed and then Dr. Anderson, Tory’s obstetrician, arrived.
Phyllis, staying right by Tory’s side while they worked on her, relaxed slightly. Dr. Anderson had been Becca Parsons’s doctor and had brought Becca, a forty-two-year-old with a first pregnancy, through a high-risk birth with textbook ease.
“Phyllis?” Tory cried out at one point, flinching, though whether that was from what the doctor was doing or from another contraction, Phyllis couldn’t be sure. With all the people around the bed, Phyllis couldn’t see the monitor she’d been watching for hours. From it she’d been able to tell when the contractions were coming and how severe they were.
“I’m right here,” she told Tory, squeezing the younger woman’s fingers.
“It hurts,” Tory said.
Phyllis, glancing over at Dr. Anderson, tried to ascertain what was going on, but the doctor was too busy to give her any notice.
“Just hold on, sweetie,” Dr. Anderson said then. “You’re going to feel some pressure.”
Tory moaned.
Holding as tightly as she could to her own fear, Phyllis wiped away the tears that slipped from Tory’s closed eyes and slid down her cheeks.
She’d gladly suffer every bit of this for Tory. The young woman had been through enough. Didn’t deserve this, too. Especially not without Ben by her side.
It dawned on Phyllis, as she stood there, trying every calming technique she knew, for herself and for Tory, that she wasn’t as far away from Tory’s suffering as she’d thought. In a few short months she could be the one lying there, struggling to bring her baby to life….
“The baby’s turned and I can’t get her to turn back,” Dr. Anderson said. “The cord’s around her neck. We’re going to have to do a C-section before she goes into distress.”
“She’s okay for now?” Phyllis asked.
“She is.”
The doctor’s words instilled a confidence Phyllis had badly needed. Dr. Anderson glanced at Tory, who was fading in and out of awareness as the pain racked her body.
“Would you like to stay with her?”
“Yes.” Phyllis didn’t hesitate for a second. There was no way she was leaving Tory alone if she didn’t absolutely have to.
The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to get prepped….”
Phyllis followed the nurse Dr. Anderson had pointed out, leaving Tory for only as long as it took to get herself ready. By the time she returned to Tory, wearing scrubs, a mask and gloves, the younger woman looked a little better. Tory’s color was back, her face a bit more relaxed. She’d opted to stay awake for the surgery, choosing a local anesthetic rather than a general. They’d already put something for the pain in her IV.
“I sure don’t do things by half measures, do I?” Tory asked as Phyllis approached the delivery table and took Tory’s free hand in her own. People were working down at the other end of the table, but Dr. Anderson had not yet reappeared.
“You sure don’t,” Phyllis agreed with a grin, “but you do them very well.”
Tory’s eyes clouded. “I sure hope so.”
“The baby’s fine, Tor,” Phyllis said insistently. And prayed silently that she was right. God, she wished Ben was there.
“Ben’s going to be so mad…” Tory licked her dry lips.
Wishing she had an ice cube to rub along Tory’s lips, Phyllis leaned closer, calling up the sternest expression she could.
“You stop right there, Tory Sanders. That man couldn’t get mad at you if he tried, he’s so damned in love with you.”
Tory grinned, a small, weary grin. “I meant he was going to be mad at himself,” she whispered. The nurse rubbed a dark orange liquid—antiseptic—over the huge mound of Tory’s stomach and even that little bit of pressure was too much. Tory groaned in agony.
The painkiller was working some, but obviously not enough. Phyllis hoped Dr. Anderson arrived soon—and got this thing over with.
Tory’s eyes were starting to look a little wild again.
It went downhill from there. They had to administer the epidural that would numb the lower half of Tory’s body for the surgery.
That was difficult, too, and Tory was in so much pain Phyllis wished they’d just knock her out. She insisted one of the nurses do that, but there were procedures to be followed. People to call in.
It would take a minute or two.
They placed a tentlike structure around the lower half of Tory’s body, blocking any actual surgical procedure from view.
“I can’t do it….”
“Yes, you can.” Phyllis’s voice was stern, her grip tight on Tory’s hand. One of the nurses looked up, concerned.
“The doctor will be here in a second.”
“Just let me go, Phyl…” Tory’s voice was strong and then faded to nothing. “I’m too tired…”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Phyllis said, more scared than she’d ever been in her life. “You hear me?” she demanded, mustering up anger from somewhere. “You hang on, Tory. You have a job to do here.”
She’d keep the young woman with her by sheer force of will if she had to. Tory had paid a big price for her happiness. She wasn’t going to lose it now. Not if Phyllis had anything to say about it.
CHAPTER TEN
A MONITOR STARTED to beep alarmingly, and hospital personnel scurried. Dr. Anderson came in almost immediately. There wasn’t time to put Tory to sleep.
“Let’s bring this little girl home, shall we?”
Tory started to cry. Big racking sobs, “I can’t, Phyllis.
Not without Ben.”
“Yes, you can. You’ve done much worse than this, honey.”
And she had. Tory had lain all alone the last time she’d been in a hospital. She’d dealt with great pain and fear then, too—and grief. The car accident that had put her there had killed her beloved older sister.
“If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell anyone?” Phyllis asked, desperate for a way to keep Tory with her.
Tory nodded, her pretty blue eyes focusing on Phyllis’s face. Phyllis could see the effort it took Tory to do that much and had to choke back her own tears.
“You aren’t the only one bringing a baby into the world,” she said, moving in close enough to force Tory to meet her eyes.
“I know,” Tory croaked. And then, “Cassie and Randi, too.” Phyllis could read her friend’s weariness on her face. Not just exhaustion from the difficult birth, but from all the struggles life had brought her way.
Somehow they made Phyllis’s struggles seem like nothing. Even if something terrible happened and Phyllis lost her baby, she wouldn’t have suffered as her young friend had.
“There’s someone else, too,” Phyllis said, knowing she’d do anything to take Tory’s mind off these next minutes as the doctor delivered her baby.
She had a feeling her carefully kept secret would, if nothing else, grab Tory’s attention for a second. And even a second away from the fear and the pain would be worth it.
“Who else?” Tory’s voice was fading again, her head falling to the side.
“Me.”
“What?” Tory asked, her face moving back toward Phyllis.
Phyllis nodded and found a tremulous smile. “I’m three months along as of yesterday.”
Tory’s tired blue eyes focused completely, searching Phyllis’s face. She frowned, obviously concentrating with great effort.
“You’re pregnant?”
Dr. Anderson was working swiftly. “Yep,” Phyllis said, smiling at Tory.
“Who’s…the…father?”
Of course, thought Phyllis. Of course Tory would ask that. She should have expected it. But she hadn’t thought things through. She’d been desperately grasping for something to distract Tory from the terror she’d been experiencing.
“Nobody you know,” she said. “Nobody I really even know.”
Tory’s eyes widened, filled with horror. “You weren’t—”
“No!” Phyllis said quickly, rubbing Tory’s hand between both of hers. “I wasn’t raped, Tor,” she told her. She should’ve realized that Tory, with her past, would immediately jump to that conclusion.
“He was just someone I met and had a one-night fling with. And I ended up with a consequence I didn’t count on.”
Tory flinched.
“Felt that, eh?” Dr. Anderson asked.
“Y-y-yeah,” Tory got the word out on the third try.
“Just a couple more minutes,” the doctor said cheerily. “We’re almost there.”
Judging by the intent look on Dr. Anderson’s face, as well as on the faces surrounding her, Phyllis wasn’t sure the outcome was going to be as cheery as the doctor sounded. But for Tory’s sake, she appreciated the older woman’s bedside manner.
“D-did, mmm, oowwooo, does he know?” Tory half-whispered, half-cried.
“Yes, he does.”
“Almost there,” Dr. Anderson said.
“And?” Tory asked breathlessly.
“We have an agreement,” Phyllis said, knowing that it was only the situation that would let her get away with an answer so vague. “Get ready, Tor, I think it’s time to say hello to your daughter.”
Phyllis got just a glimpse of the newborn as Dr. Anderson moved, and then she heard a robust cry of protest.
“Say hello to your mommy,” Dr. Anderson said, holding the baby up for one brief moment so Tory could see her. Then she handed the infant to the waiting medical personnel, who whisked her to a nearby table to examine her.
Phyllis didn’t know, as she reached down to take Tory in her arms, which of them was sobbing harder.
“You did it, Tor,” Phyllis whispered in Tory’s ear.
Tory clutched Phyllis desperately, not letting go even as the doctor delivered the afterbirth and stitched her up.
“Thank you, Phyllis,” Tory whispered fervently.
“I didn’t do anything but stand here, Tor. You did all the work.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Tory said, her voice stronger as she drew back and looked Phyllis straight in the eye. “Not this, not any of it. Thank you for giving me back my life.”
Phyllis swallowed a fresh spate of tears. “You’re welcome.”
“I can see why Christine loved you so much,” Tory said, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks.
“I loved her, too, you know.”
Tory nodded, turning her head to watch the people working on her daughter.
“I’m naming her Phyllis Christine.”
Phyllis couldn’t speak after that, too emotional to get any words out. She and Christine together again, in the form of a perfect little baby girl who was destined to bring years and years of long-overdue happiness to the people who’d given her life.
She watched the nurses with the baby, catching sight of a flailing foot, a tiny hand, as they cleaned her up, checking her vitals.
“Sir, sir, you can’t just barge in there!”
Phyllis and Tory turned to see a harried-looking Ben, still pulling on a pair of scrubs, come charging into the room.
“Ben!” Tory cried, eyes shining with relief and need.
Ben didn’t even notice the baby in the nurse’s arms. His eyes went straight to Tory’s, searching desperately for reassurance.
“Tory, sweetheart, are you all right?”
Phyllis backed away as Ben stood beside his wife, taking her hand.
“Fine, now that you’re here,” Tory said.
Dr. Anderson glanced up, smiled at the couple and went silently and efficiently back to work.
“I’m so sorry, love. I should’ve been here.”
Tory’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “You were,” she said softly. “In my heart, you were here every second.”
“Would you like to see your daughter, sir?” a nurse interrupted. She was holding Phyllis Christine, wrapped in a blanket with a tiny pastel-colored cap on her head.
Ben turned toward her, then stopped abruptly. Phyllis found herself crying again as she witnessed Ben’s first glimpse of his new daughter. She’d never seen such a look before. Masculine, strong, vigilant—and completely vulnerable at the same time.
Phyllis Christine had a slave for life. One who was going to provide for her, protect her and cherish her in the way only a father could.
Something Phyllis’s baby was never going to have.
For the first time, she considered the full ramifications of what she was doing. Simply by the circumstance of her baby’s conception and birth, he or she was going to come into the world at a disadvantage.
Her baby wouldn’t ever know a father’s protection. A father’s adoration. Would never have that wealth of unconditional love a good man naturally gave his child.
Choking on the sobs that she could no longer hold back, Phyllis hurried from the room.
WHERE THE HELL was she? Tossing his portable phone on the kitchen counter, Matt looked down at the shining hardwood floors he’d treated that morning, reminding himself that Phyllis Langford was a responsible, capable adult. He should be watching the football game on television, drinking a beer, getting online to place bets with the anonymous friends he’d spent the past couple of years “watching” Sunday afternoon football with. Friends he’d never met.
Instead, he grabbed the keys to his Blazer and locked up the house. He’d helped build the place a couple of years before on the acreage he’d bought just outside Shelter Valley. He headed back into town, back to Phyllis’s house. He’d told Phyllis he’d be over when she got home from church; he planned to d
o anything that needed doing to help her get ready for the coming week. After Saturday, when they’d known that Friday night’s cleaning had been too much for her, she’d easily agreed to his offer.
When he’d arrived at her home a couple of hours before, she hadn’t been home. And she hadn’t answered her phone since.
Sweating by the time he turned onto Phyllis’s street—in spite of the fifty-degree weather and the fact that he hadn’t turned on the heat in the Blazer—Matt concentrated on separating himself from the situation, stepping outside it. A technique he’d learned during the long days of a court battle that he, a poor young man from a family of convicts, hadn’t had a hope of winning.
Phyllis was fine. She would’ve called if there was a problem. And if there was a problem and she hadn’t called…well, it was none of his business, anyway. She was nothing to him but an obligation; serving her was simply paying off a debt. Paying what he owed her…
And the baby. He didn’t think about that.
Still, though he tried to hide it from himself, the relief Matt felt when he saw Phyllis’s car in her drive eased every muscle in his body.
He knocked, impatient when there was no immediate answer. He’d called just a few minutes ago. She couldn’t have been home long.
He knocked again, more loudly.
The door opened, but only a crack.
“Oh, Matt, hi,” she said, her voice froggy, as though she’d been sleeping. Or crying. “Sorry, I forgot you were coming over.”
Good thing he had nothing invested here.
“Did I wake you?” he asked, shrugging off her apology.
“No.”
He pulled open the screen door she never locked. “If you’ll just open that door a little wider, I’ll be able to slide through and get to the trash.” He tried for a grin, but was too tense to pull it off. She was acting so out of character….
And then it hit him. Maybe she had a man in there.
Just Around the Corner Page 11