by Sabre, Mason
The silence around them was too much for Cathy. It weighed so heavy in her chest that she felt like she was suffocating. She stood and stretched, making Cade and Gemma, and even Jeff, glance at her. Stephen didn’t move, only his eyes watched her. Rich, green eyes. They bore right through her as if he might see the secret she was hiding. She turned away, shame causing her face to flush. “Does anyone mind if I put the radio on?”
Gemma lifted her weary head. Her eyes were hooded as she sighed and shook her head. Cade didn’t protest. The only indication that he had heard was like Stephen’s. Only his eyes moved, just for a second, and then he closed them and went back to just lying with Gemma. Jeff gave Cathy a worried glance, but she smiled at him, letting him know that she was doing okay. She had to be—on the outside, at least. She was sure that later, she would not sleep. Not for days, maybe weeks. These moments would haunt her perhaps until the end of her days. The silence only made it worse. But then, if it didn’t bother her, maybe that would be the biggest problem. She hoped that in all the years of doing this job that she wouldn’t become hardened to it. That she would never reach a point where she could not empathise with the patient’s plight. If that ever happened, it was time to retire.
Cathy walked to the window and glanced outside into the dark and towards the cars parked there. Her skin tingled with irritation, and her tiger pushed at her insides for some kind of freedom. She tried to calm herself and not think about everything. It was no time now to alert her animal that there was something wrong. It was already on alert with the idea of a new cub coming into the world. She rubbed at her face, trying to wipe away the thoughts her mind wanted to entertain. “Would anyone like anything to drink? Tea, coffee? I think I have some lemonade in …”
“Gemma needs some more ice,” Cade said to her, freeing his hand just a moment to lift up the jug.
Cathy was more than aware of Jeff watching her. She knew what he was thinking—maybe she was going to lose it. This birth was so different from the rest. The room would be loud and alive. But not this time. The impending birth was like a force that oppressed them, holding them all down—even the mother and the father, who knew nothing, were not acting like expectant parents usually do.
Cathy took the jug from Cade, and he immediately went back to holding Gemma’s hand. Cathy eyed the IV. It was the star of the show and everything was resting on that. She went to the kitchen for the ice and to make a pot of tea, but even when she stopped for just a moment, the thoughts of guilt and pain hijacked her mind. She was such a fraud. That was probably what bothered her the most. She could see Stephen from where she stood waiting for the water to heat up. If only Stephen knew that the threat was in the room right next to him, dripping from a bag in a controlled dosage. It snuck in, taking out the baby first, and then Gemma … and they had no idea.
None at all.
Part of Cathy wished that she could do something that would alert them to what was going on, and then maybe they would run. Maybe they would get Gemma to safety.
Leaning against the counter, she gripped the side and let herself take in a breath to calm herself. She had to do this. There was no choice. She had to because what would it be like to tell Malcolm that she had failed? What excuse could she give to him that he would accept? She couldn’t forget that it was because of him that her family was safe. It was because of him that she had this semblance of a normal life—this facade of life, perhaps. She couldn’t give it all up for one girl and her baby. Maybe that was selfish of her. Maybe it was unkind, but then she had to trust in Malcolm, too. This was his daughter after all. She wasn’t some nobody, whom he cared nothing for. There had to be some kind of meaning behind his instructions. There had to be because if there wasn’t, Cathy was sure that the guilt of it all would drive her to insanity for a long, long time.
She made the tea up in the pot and put it on a tray with some cups. Maybe they would want some when she took it in. A yell sounded from the room, pulling Cathy abruptly from her thoughts. She left the tea. Stephen was up and in the room before Cathy. She followed just behind him. Gemma was sitting bolt upright in the bed.
“A contraction? A big one?” Cathy said. That was how labour went, contraction after contraction and then, bam, a big one.
Gemma shook her head, her eyes blinking slowly as she did. Her words slurred. “It’s not a contraction.”
“Jeff …” Cathy said, but he was right there already. Cathy hung back at the doorway as the three of them crowded around the poor girl. Jeff pulled out a pen-light and lifted the lids of Gemma’s eyes to shine it in and see if she was anywhere close to unconscious. He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and pressed it to the bump, holding out a hand to signal everyone to shut the hell up.
“I don’t feel right,” Gemma said. “I feel …” She opened her mouth to say more, but her words trailed off as if she had forgotten what she was going to say. It was like she had slowed down, everything about her taking a docile pace. Even her breathing became heavy and laboured.
“Gem?” Cade brushed Gemma’s hair back from her face. “Gem. Open your eyes.”
Stephen pushed himself forward, peering over Cade’s shoulder at his sister. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked Jeff. Both men stared at Jeff worriedly. Even Cathy’s heart was thumping wildly in her chest. Had something gone wrong? Had they given her too much? Of course, they didn’t know what was too much. They’d never tried to put someone to sleep slowly before.
Gemma’s head began to loll backwards and her posture slumped. “What’s wrong with my sister?” Stephen demanded. Jeff hushed him and listened.
“Is it the baby?” Cade asked.
“I feel too hot,” Gemma croaked out slowly. “It’s too hot. I can't breathe.”
Jeff put his hand to Gemma’s forehead. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s just a little overheated.” He glanced at Cathy. “Get me a cold cloth?”
Cathy pulled one of the small washcloths from the side table and ran it under the cold tap, soaking it. She handed it to Jeff, but it was Cade who took it. She was feverishly hot. Cathy could see it without even touching her. She got another cloth and wet it just the same, putting it against the back of Gemma’s neck. Cade placed the other one on her forehead.
“I need to listen to the baby properly. Can we lay her back?”
Cade did as instructed without question, lowering the girl back onto the bed. She moaned in his arms, letting out a whimper. “It’s okay,” he soothed as he wiped around her face with the cloth.
Jeff lifted Gemma’s blouse higher to expose her swollen belly fully and then listened to the baby. “Is the baby a mix? Do you know?”
Cade shook his head. “We haven’t had any checks done.”
“Does it matter,” Stephen cut in, “if the baby is a mix?”
“Wolf and tiger? Yeah, I’d say that matters. Both are dominant breeds.” He moved the stethoscope around, listening again before standing up straight and putting it back around his neck. “If the baby is a true mix, if it has both tiger and wolf, it is possible they will fight for control.”
“You have mix children,” Stephen said. “My father told me you had experience with this.”
Cathy shook her head. “I am tiger, he is bear, but both of ours are bear. They didn’t take on any of my tiger.”
“What does it mean?” Cade asked.
“If it is a true mix—a hybrid—her tiger might reject the cub as not being truly hers.” It wasn’t true, of course. Both Cathy and Jeff knew that. The only hope was that these youngsters didn’t know.
“They can do that?”
Jeff pressed his fingers into Gemma’s abdomen, feeling around for the baby. “Well, it’s as rare as having a true mix, but yeah, it can happen.” He turned to Cathy. “The baby’s heartbeat is slow. We need the room ready. I think we need to get this out.”
Stephen pushed forward, and grabbed Jeff by his shoulder to pull him to face him. “What do you mean the baby’s heartbeat is slow an
d you need to get it out?”
“We don’t have much time. The baby’s heartbeat is too slow.” He glanced to Cade. “I’d like to get the baby out now. If that is okay with you both?” Jeff stared Cade straight in the eyes, but Cade tore away and glanced at Gemma. His hand was still firmly holding hers.
He looked back up, worried eyes staring at them as he looked at Jeff and then Cathy. “Do it. Whatever you need.”
Gemma strained in the bed, trying to pull herself up. Cade caught her. “No.”
Cade leaned in closer to her. He stroked her face in such a way that Cathy wished she could send them away. “I’m not losing either of you.”
“There’s nothing else that can be done? Speed the labour up or something?” Stephen was clutching at straws.
Jeff shook his head. “I need to get the baby out.” The baby’s heart was slower, but not for any reason other than it was now sleeping. The drugs were beginning to work on Gemma.
“We’ll be right here with you,” Stephen said to her. “By your side all the way.”
Gemma nodded weakly in response and let her head drop back again. She closed her eyes, and just then, a contraction shocked her back to life. She tried to sit up, but slid sideways, and Cade caught her. Cathy rushed to them to help as Gemma retched. She snatched a bowl from the side of the bed and stuck it under Gemma’s mouth as she vomited. She heaved until there was nothing left to bring up. Her brow was wet and perspiration rolled down her face, her damp hair stuck to her.
“We need to go now.” Jeff rushed to the back of the bed where Gemma’s head was. “We’re going to wheel you into the theatre.” He kicked off the small brake by the casters and pressed the controls to make the bed lower so that Gemma was laid back properly.
Cade gripped the side of the bed, making Jeff stop. “We’re coming with you.”
Cathy unhooked the IV from the mount and rested it on Gemma so that they could take her in. “You two have to stay out there, in the waiting room. No one can come into the theatre.”
Cade’s face was set with hard determination, his bright wolf eyes clearly there, but there was no time for predatory instincts. “This is my baby.”
Jeff stiffened, his face stern. “Either you wait outside while we’re in the theatre, or we don’t go in, and we risk your mate and the baby’s life. It is your choice.”
Jeff was no real match for Cade. Cade was tall and lean, maybe not as big as Stephen, but he would still be faster than Jeff; he had youth on his side, but Jeff wasn’t so small himself—years with his bikes and his friends. He wasn’t just a doctor in the safety of his clinic, he was also a man—a bear—the head of a family.
“We’ll wait outside,” Stephen said, daring to reach for Cade and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“No, this isn’t …”
“We’re just out there,” Stephen placated him. “Let them help. My father said that this is the best clinic.”
Cade ground his teeth as he glared at Cathy and Jeff. The seconds ticked by, and Cathy fought the urge to just move, but she knew that setting off an already alert wolf was not a smart move.
“Fine, but as soon as the baby is born, you come and get us.”
“You can see her in the delivery room.” Jeff pushed Gemma towards the theatre and away from the two watchful men.
This was it now. The final act in their plan—maybe the hardest of them all. This was the climax in their story.
They wheeled Gemma into the room and closed the doors, setting the lock into place.
Chapter Four
It took less than a minute for Gemma’s eyes to flutter closed and then for her to fall into a deep, drug-induced sleep. Cathy couldn’t help but stare at her delicate features with the edges of remorse already seeping into her mind. It was the last moment that Gemma would hold the hope of the promise of her child in her heart. Cathy had to tear her gaze away from her. It would do no good to entertain these thoughts. All she would manage to do would be to pull herself down into a dark pit of self-pity, and then they’d be screwed.
She put the sterile screen up so that they could not see Gemma’s face. It was better that way. To make it an object—a piece of meat in front of them. She set about covering the rest of Gemma up, covering everywhere except for a small window where Jeff would need to work. Cathy moved to cleaning Gemma’s skin before placing the last drape over her belly, leaving only the incision area. It was down to Jeff now. She hoped that he had more courage than her—she had none right now. Her hands shook just trying to work on what was a matter of routine.
“We can do this,” she said—it was as much for him as it was for her. Part of her needed him to nod and confirm that they could do it—that they could cope with this. She pulled on his gloves for him, careful not to touch them and contaminate them. Not that it truly mattered, but it was better to be safe than sorry … That was the saying, right?
He moved himself to stand in position, but his eyes were on Cathy’s. She stared at him, drawing the energy and strength from him for these next few moments. In an hour, everything would be done; in two, these people would be gone from their lives, and it would be over. Malcolm would come and collect the baby and they could forget about it all and move on … she hoped.
Jeff adjusted his kit and picked up his tools. “Are you ready?”
Ready? Would she ever be ready? She nodded, though, and picked up the suction tube, ready for her husband to make the incisions. “I’m ready.” Her hand shook as she tried to hold it still, poised. It wasn’t fear of the job, however. This was the easy part. The hard part was after—the part where she went outside and told the two men on the other side that the baby had died.
Jeff made the cut, neatly and carefully. He made it just below the swell of her bump and opened the girl up. They had done many caesareans before. They were easy enough to do, but this one …
She tried not to think—just stood and watched. It was no different—hands in, stretch the uterus, get the baby. That was all. Except when Jeff did just that, and his hands came out with a small sleeping form, Cathy stumbled mentally. She couldn’t contain her sob as she caught sight of him. So innocent and already his life was a mess. Jeff offered him to Cathy, and she hesitated at taking him. He was so small, so delicate and so vulnerable in this cruel world.
“Cathy?”
She swallowed hard and reached for the baby. She held him as Jeff clamped the cord in two places before snipping it and permanently severing the last connection with his mother.
A boy—a beautiful, baby boy.
A son the girl would never know.
A man that his father would never witness him become.
Cathy left Jeff to deliver the placenta and stitch Gemma up as she took the baby over to the crib.
She had to check him over. They did with every baby. His skin was pink and his heart was beating nicely. She looked down into his little face and tried to disengage her mind from him. He was just a baby—like every other baby they had delivered this way. He was no different.
Yet … he was.
He was so different, and her heart ached at the thought of him alone in the world without his parents to guide him, lost to those whom he mattered to. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to him.
Normally, she sponge-bathed and then fed the babies at this point, giving them formula, but he was sound asleep; still sedated from the tranquiliser. She placed him in the small crib and began to clean him. He had his father’s square jaw—it was subtle just now, but the start of it was there, under his silky newborn skin—and he had his mother’s delicate nose and eyes. He was perfect.
When she was done, she swaddled him in a blanket. It felt so wrong to leave him there in the crib and not take him to his father or to his mother’s waiting arms. She wished that she could hold him tight, but she daren’t. She knew that if she held him too much, she would need to give him to his parents. Her hands trembled as she tried to clean everything else up around him. She couldn’t take h
er eyes from the baby. He was so perfect and so lost to this world. It was just heart-breaking.
When everything was cleaned up and Gemma was placed in the recovery room, Cathy gave the baby to Jeff. He would take the baby to the house and call Malcolm. He would tell him that it was done and wait until Malcolm came. Cathy couldn’t do it. She couldn’t hold the baby and know that she had just taken him.
Even now as she stood, the guilt was too much, too strong—almost enough to make her not want to go through that door and into the reception. She could run, couldn’t she? Vacate to her house with Jeff—they could leave and get away from everything.
Cade was pacing. She watched him through the monitor. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he walked, stopped, and turned back again. He ran his hands through his hair as he walked, agitated. He walked to the door, the one that led to the theatre and stared at it as if he was willing it to open. Every moment he was out there waiting was another moment that he had hope. Cathy could give him one more minute where he believed things—one more minute where he felt the flutter of excitement at becoming a father. Was it wrong to do so? She wasn’t just taking away their child, she was taking away their future, because they would never be the same again after this.
None of them would.
Gemma lay sleeping beside her. They were in the recovery room and she was all cleaned up and stitched. Where her small bump had been, it was flat now, violated and robbed. Cathy made herself stare at the space where the plastic crib should stand. It was empty, like a beacon that taunted her for what she had done. She deserved it. The vast emptiness stared back at her accusingly and she was guilty. She rubbed absently at her arms to warm through a chill that was on the inside.