by Janet Miller
In a swift movement Sarah grabbed the towels and dumped them on a nearby gurney. “You work on my floor and I decide what your duties are. You come here, and I’ll deal with our chief-of-staff.” She pulled the younger woman into the cramped labor room. Its walls and ceilings were the same ugly gray-green as the rest of the hospital, but enlivened by old paper posters of flowers and animals, Sarah’s attempt to cheer up the otherwise barren environment. One wall held the diagnostic panel, the only sign this room lived in the twenty-fifth century. With a practiced eye, Sarah checked the screen for the progress of the labor, the amount of dilation. It would be hours yet before this baby would be born.
The laboring woman on the narrow bed reached out a hand to them. A ripple passed along her swollen belly and she cried out, eyes wide in alarm.
Andrea instantly grabbed the woman’s hand. “There, there, it’s going to be okay. Breathe with me.” She began a slow pant, coaxing the frightened woman into doing the same. They breathed in unison and a sense of calm entered the room. Andrea glanced back at Sarah, her concern over the towels gone. “Go on, Dr. Johnson. I’ll stay with her.”
Sarah smiled her relief. “You’re in the best of hands, Maria. Andrea will let me know when I need to take over.”
She re-entered the corridor and glanced at the slightly disheveled pile of towels. Maria was the third woman to arrive alone today. Dr. Masterson had to stop purloining her aides. She needed them for patients. It was bad enough she had to help these poor women without drugs or equipment too expensive for the state supported hospital to afford.
Sometimes she felt like she might as well be practicing medicine in the twentieth century for all the advances made in the past five hundred years. Only a laboring woman in serious jeopardy would be allowed a transfer to the few rooms where more costly equipment was available.
Of course dissatisfaction with her job was only part of her problem. Lately her whole life seemed to lack…something.
Down the hall someone called for her. Putting aside her contemplative thoughts, Sarah ran to answer them.
Several hours later, Sarah exited Maria’s room, pulled off her gloves and gown, and dumped them down the sanitizer chute outside the door. A baby girl, Maria had a baby girl. Surprisingly healthy, too, for an unplanned pregnancy. Leaning against the wall, she tried to relax and ignore her nagging discontent. Was it that she envied Maria? Could she be jealous of that small bundle of life, or envy Maria the dark-haired man who’d shown up just in time to see his daughter born?
A baby of her own, a man of her own. Maybe that’s what she was missing, why she kept feeling this odd restlessness. Wanting to move, go somewhere else, do something besides….
“Dr. Johnson!”
She cringed. Do something besides play stupid power games with her boss. She straightened to face him. “Dr. Masterson. Did you want something?”
“My towels. I asked for fresh towels over two hours ago.”
Sarah nodded to the stack still sitting on the gurney nearby. “There they are.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And the aide? Where is she?”
An inward groan almost escaped her. Of course, Andrea’s blond prettiness--towels indeed! “She’s where she should be, with her patients. We had six unplanned deliveries today….”
He gave an impatient wave of his hand. “Your problems are not my concern, Dr. Johnson. But when I want something, I expect to get it.” He glanced down her body, a leer on his face. “You could be replaced, you know. There are three obstetricians to every post these days. Not too many people having babies anymore.”
“If there are so many out-of-work doctors, then why not hire more? I could use some help.”
“We can’t afford it. Staffing is over-budget as it is.”
Right. She’d seen the budget and there’d been an increase in spending. Where was the money going--to Masterson’s new office with attached full bath, perhaps? But even she didn’t dare say anything about that.
His leer deepened. “You know, Sarah, I might be able to find more help for you, but I’d have to make cuts elsewhere. Maybe you could have dinner with me tonight and discuss it.” He came closer, reached out to stroke her cheek. “You have such nice skin.”
Her stomach churned and she jerked away. “I don’t like being touched, Doctor!”
He withdrew his hand, fingers slowly folding into a fist. A look of contempt crossed his face. “Yes, I remember. Pity. You’re not a beauty, but there is an appeal. Oh, well.” He turned to leave.
“Dr. Masterson.” Sarah’s voice was subdued.
“Yes?” He glanced back, sudden interest in his voice.
“Don’t forget your towels.”
Promises To Keep - The first Gaian story, available at most digital distributers.