“I put some clothes in a backpack, along with some energy bars and a few bottles of water. I packed a small first aid kit and my cell phone—I wasn’t yet convinced that it wouldn’t come in handy. Then I rode my bike over to Claire’s house.”
“Oh, so you knew each other before?” Mitch asks.
I nod. “Yes. She is Jeff’s mom. I waited there for a few hours thinking that she and Jeff’s dad had gone to church. Claire didn’t work and Jeffrey was a surgeon. I was sure that with his seniority, he wouldn’t have been at the hospital on Easter Sunday. I ended up leaving a note, telling them where I had gone and asking them to come as soon as possible.
“The bike ride was as bad as I thought it would be. I had read a few books back in high school about the aftermath of war and thought I might come across terrible things, but it still didn’t prepare me for what I saw. I ran into some people on the back roads who had abandoned their useless cars. I told them about Camp Brady and a few said they would head that way. Everyone was in a state of panic and a couple of men tried to grab my bike away from me. After that, I didn’t stop for anyone or anything.
“I saw a few houses on fire along the way. I heard pleading cries from countless people on the side of the road and it gutted me to not stop and offer help. I even saw one man with a tire iron robbing a helpless family. Then I rode past the horrific wreckage of another plane crash. By the time I got here a few hours later, I was numb. I was sure it was all a bad dream that I would soon wake up from. In a state of shock, I collapsed into Austin’s arms at the front gate.”
I turn to Mitch. “So, that’s it. That’s how I got here.” I attempt to slow my breathing as anxiety tries to take control of me. Then I realize that Mitch is holding my hand. He must have taken it in his to comfort me.
“And Claire’s husband?” he hesitantly asks.
“No. Turns out he was in the hospital after all.” I lower my eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Mikayla. That must have been so awful for all of you.”
I remain quiet for a minute, lost in the sensation of his thumb rubbing soothingly across the back of my hand.
“I’m sorry too, Mitch,” I say to him, turning on my side so that we are face-to-face. “I’m sorry you can’t remember what happened. I’m sorry you don’t know how you got here and that you have no idea who or what you were looking for.” I give his hand a squeeze and ask, “What’s it like for you—losing two years?”
He thoughtfully regards my question. “I guess it’s kind of how you described your ordeal. It’s like being in a dream. I’m completely numb.” He slides closer and whispers in my ear, “Except when I’m with you.”
In the moonlight, our eyes lock together. Our faces are inches apart. My heart is ready to explode with emotion. Mitch leans over and presses his forehead to mine. Our hot breath mingles. He stares into my eyes and everything else in my world is forgotten.
He pulls away smiling and leans up to press a kiss on my forehead. As his lips part from my skin, sensations flood my body and I momentarily wonder if one can orgasm without so much as a touch, but with only this desperate feeling of intense wanting.
I shake away the thought and ask, “Have you had any more bad dreams?”
I realize my faux pas when he arches a brow and looks at me curiously. “How do you know I have nightmares, Mikayla?”
Crap. I can’t think up a quick lie, so I come clean. “I kind of witnessed one the other night.” I bite my lip and wrinkle my nose.
“And . . . ?” he asks.
“And, I kind of threw a shoe at you to wake you up.”
“You threw a shoe at me?” he asks, reaching up to feel the bruise under his eye.
“Well, a boot, actually. I was aiming at your chest,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “But you moved and it hit your face instead. So, if you think about it, it’s kind of your fault.”
Suddenly, I’m trapped beneath him as he rolls me onto my back and sits on top of me, his legs straddling mine. “You did this to me?” he asks, playfully.
“Not on purpose, Matheson,” I squeak out, surprised that I can complete a coherent sentence considering our bodies are touching in such an intimate way.
He looks down into my eyes as he holds my hands captive on the sides of my head. He stares at my lips. Then he shakes his head and closes his eyes like he’s having an internal struggle. “So, what now?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Mikayla. We are both unsure of what is out there waiting for us . . . who is out there waiting for us.” He sets my hands free and I find myself placing them on his thighs. He looks at where they have come to rest on him. “It’s obvious we have this connection,” he says. “We can keep fighting these feelings, or . . .”
“Or what?” I ask, nervously chewing on my bottom lip.
He reaches down and pulls my lip out from between my teeth. Then he runs his thumb over my mouth. “Or we can see what happens next. No guilt, no pressure, no strings.”
“I, uh . . .”
“You don’t have to decide right this minute,” he assures me. “I just wanted to put it out there.” He moves himself off my lap, back to his original position of lying next to me.
We both concentrate on the stars again. Then he says, “Cereal.” I turn to look at him in confusion and he laughs. “No more nightmares, but I did dream of cereal.”
“Oh,” I say. “For me, it’s pizza. God, I’d kill for a slice of deep dish with extra cheese.”
“Yeah, but the strange thing is—I don’t even like cereal,” he says. Then he gets up to leave, turning around one last time when he says, “Goodnight, Mikayla. Sweet dreams.”
I watch him turn into a silhouette shrouded by moonlight as he walks away into the dark of night.
An hour later, I go home and write a letter before I collapse with exhaustion.
Dear Jeff,
I can hear you now. If you could see me on crutches, you’d say, “I told you so, Kay.” You were always telling me to be careful when I insisted on biking to the hospital every day. I remember the day my pager went off and I took my eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, and that’s when I hit the parked car. God, I was humiliated when they brought me into the ER strapped onto a backboard.
Well, everything turned out okay then, and everything will be okay now. My ankle will heal, just as the bump on my head, along with my pride, healed then. But, I’ll not give up riding horses as I gave up biking. I think that if you don’t take chances in life, you’ll simply miss out on all life has to offer.
Are you taking chances? Are you trying to find a boat that will bring you back to me? Are you exploring new and different things to enrich your life while we are apart? Are you letting another woman into your life and your heart?
I wish I knew what to do. You—you’re the smart one. You always have an answer for everything. What would your answer be to this?
Until next time. All my love,
Kay
Chapter Ten
I arrive at work late today, courtesy of my late-night stargazing and letter writing. Sometimes I wonder how anyone gets anywhere on time these days without alarm clocks and cell phones telling us when to get up. As I hobble through the clinic doors, feeling marginally rejuvenated after my six hours of sleep, I see a gathering of people in one of the patient rooms. I walk over to see Kelly Nelson in bed, clearly in labor. I rush into the room as fast as my crutches will allow and ask, “Why didn’t anyone come and get me?” I send a nasty look to Jamie, who was the nurse on call last night.
“Relax, doctor,” Jamie says, pulling me out of the room. “If you recall I did four years as a labor and delivery nurse. Kelly is doing fine. She came in around midnight and is still only about seven centimeters dilated.”
She motions over to Mitch who is talking with Kelly and her mom. “He wouldn’t let me wake you, said something about you not getting enough sleep, whatever that means,” she huffs. She rolls her eyes and giv
es me a full report on Kelly. Then she goes to say goodbye and wish luck to our patient. It doesn’t escape me that when she says goodbye to Mitch, she runs her fingers down his arm rather seductively. However, I’m pretty sure I was meant to see it since she was looking right at me as if to say game on.
Mitch comes over when I’m checking out Kelly’s chart. He says, “Morning, Mikayla. Did you sleep well?”
His smile fades when I spit out, “Mitch, you shouldn’t have kept Jamie from sending for me. What if something went wrong? And you certainly don’t need to give her personal details about my sleeping habits.”
“What? Uh . . . did I miss something?” he asks. “We were perfectly capable of monitoring Kelly until you showed up. I promise, if anything had concerned me, I would have sent for you. Is everything okay, Mikayla?”
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I realize I’m pissed at Jamie and merely taking it out on Mitch. “I’m fine,” I tell him with a small smile. “Thank you for letting me sleep in, it did me some good. Sorry I scolded you.”
“Scolded me?” He raises an eyebrow suggestively. Suddenly I’m thinking of last night when he threw me on my back and straddled my lap. I feel the blush creep up my face. He whispers, “I’d give anything to know what you are thinking about right now, doctor.” Then he walks out of the room leaving me a melted mess.
I take longer than necessary going over Kelly’s chart to calm myself down; then I enter her room and proceed to examine my patient.
~ ~ ~
Hours later, Kelly’s water breaks and her contractions are only a few minutes apart. She’s nine centimeters dilated and almost fully effaced so it won’t be long now. I send Kelly’s friend to find either Nancy or Holly so we can have a nurse present when the baby arrives.
Kelly has her mom here, and some friends have come and gone over the course of the afternoon, but conspicuously absent is Captain Fields, the baby’s father. Rumor is his wife forbade him from being present at the birth. They have been trying to re-build their marriage since his momentary indiscretion almost nine months ago. And while I commend him for trying to fix his marriage, I’m not altogether on board with him not being here to support Kelly. After all, he was partly responsible for what happened. It’s not the first time someone strayed from his partner around here. You would think a disaster would bring couples closer together. However, if you listen to the rumor mill, affairs were running rampant those first few months after the outage. Some people were turning to just about anyone for comfort and solace. I’ve often wondered if the same thing happened overseas. Maybe it was worse, all those people thinking they might never get back home.
I hear Kelly scream so I limp into the room. I feel terrible that I can’t give her an epidural, but Dr. Jacobs and I agree that having an epidural could increase her chances for a C-section and we can’t take the risk. We are simply not equipped for major surgery here. We have no anesthesiologist, no blood for a transfusion, not to mention I’ve never performed a C-section before. We can only pray for an uncomplicated delivery and a healthy baby.
Mitch is a big help. He has either delivered or assisted in the delivery of dozens of babies. Over in Afghanistan, the medics would help deliver the babies of local women who had gone their entire pregnancies without ever seeing a doctor. He gives me a nod and says, “I think she’s ready to push.”
My heart rate accelerates and I take a few calming breaths, knowing this will only be the third baby I’ve ever delivered. Mitch and Jamie had already set out all of the supplies that we could possibly need. Mitch and I gown and glove up and clear the room of everyone except Kelly’s mom who has been Kelly’s rock throughout her pregnancy.
Holly and Nancy both arrive to help. Nancy has had years of experience as a neonatal nurse which puts me slightly at ease. With a lack of proper delivery stirrups, the nurses each take one of Kelly’s legs to hold while she pushes. Holly counts to ten each time Kelly pushes, and every time she pushes, I get a glimpse of dark hair before the head again recedes.
Mitch must notice my shaky hands and sweating brow. He pats my head with a towel and leans down to whisper, “Relax, Mikayla. This is the good stuff.”
Yes, I think. He’s right. This is the good stuff. In our world of destruction and devastation, bringing in a new life should offer us joy and hope for the future. I grasp onto that as I watch a precious new being enter the world. As Kelly pushes harder and harder, the tiny body emerges from her womb into my hands. I quickly suction the mouth and nose before putting her new little boy on her belly. Mitch cuts the cord among the tears of all of the women present in the room. I look up through my own blurred vision to see him beaming at me.
“Pretty great, huh?” he says.
All I can do is nod at him.
While I finish up with Kelly, Mitch and Nancy take the baby over to another patient bed we had brought into the room. The tiny cries from our newest resident bring laughter and more tears from all of us.
When Kelly has been tended to and all cleaned up, I turn to look at Mitch who is holding the new swaddled baby. His eyes glisten as he smiles down at the perfect little human that has just entered the world. I think to myself that a man holding a newborn baby is just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Mitch hands the baby over to Kelly. Holly grabs my elbow and says, “Kay, why don’t you take a minute. We’ll monitor them for a while. They are both doing wonderfully.”
Leaving my crutches, I gingerly walk into the other room, removing my bloody gown and gloves along the way, and I go to wash up. In the back, I’m overcome with emotion and I lean against the wall as tears run down my face. The door opens, letting light into the dimly-lit room as Mitch walks through it.
“You okay?” he asks, shutting the door behind him, making the room go dim once again.
I nod, unaware that he can’t see my gesture in the relative darkness. He comes closer and puts a hand on my cheek. Feeling my tears, he wipes them away then runs his hands down my arms. He doesn’t talk. He simply stands here and comforts me as I go through a range of emotions.
I finally say, “That was . . .” I can’t finish because there are no words.
“Exhilarating? . . . Intoxicating? . . . Life-affirming?” he completes my every thought. He stares into my eyes, and even in the dim light of the room, I can see his blue irises becoming darker under his hooded gaze. My breathing accelerates along with my heartbeat, which I’m positive must be audible. He reaches around my head and removes the elastic band from my hair, causing it to flow freely over my shoulders. Then he pulls my hair away from my face and leans in to put his lips lightly on mine. “Mikayla,” he whispers against my lips, right before he feathers kisses along my mouth. My eyes close and my head falls against the wall behind me as he trails kisses along my jaw up to my ear where he sucks on a spot on my neck that sends shivers down my spine.
His lips slowly work their way back to mine as my hands come up around him to run through his hair. I tug on his hair lightly, prompting him to deepen the kiss and run his tongue along my bottom lip. I open my mouth and our tongues weave together, exploring each other, tasting each other. One of his hands lowers from my head to caress my lower back and press our bodies even closer, and I can no longer hold back the pleasurable cries that my body demands I make.
He moans into my mouth as our kisses become more heated. More demanding. More desperate. It’s as if we need this to continue breathing, to feel alive. Mitch grabs my thigh and pulls my leg up, causing even more delightful friction against our pleasure centers. His hips grind into mine with abandon and I willingly accept every stimulating thrust.
His hand runs up under my shirt, leaving a trail of flames against my bare skin. When he grabs my breast, my body shudders involuntarily against his and I feel his lips smile against mine. “Oh, God,” I moan.
He pulls back and leans his forehead to mine, speaking softly and out of breath when he says, “I was wrong. This is life-affirming.” Then his thumb pu
lls the cup of my bra down and his fingers find my nipple.
“Miiitch,” I say, drawing out his name while arching my back into his hand as tingles of pleasure shoot through my body under his expert manipulation.
“God, Mikayla. I’ve never heard anyone say my name that way,” he says, kissing another trail up to my ear. “You are so sexy. So beautiful.” He sucks on my earlobe before he says, “I want you so much.”
In this moment, I feel exactly the same way. I’ve never wanted anything as much or as desperately as I want him. His hand works its way to the top of my jeans where he slips his fingers underneath the material to caress my stomach. I want him to go faster. I need him to go faster. I’m building up so quickly I feel I will explode. I’m about ready to tell him to rip off the buttons when a strip of light blinds me from a cracked doorway.
“Oh, sorry,” an embarrassed Nancy covers her mouth in surprise and turns to hurry out and shut the door.
Suddenly, I remember where we are. Ashamed of losing such control at work, I push Mitch away and try to quickly fix my disheveled appearance. The reality of what we almost did weighs heavily on me as I smooth down my hair. Why has my body betrayed my mind like this? How could I have let this happen? What about Jeff?
“I, uh . . .” I’m at a loss for words after what I just experienced. Not able to find my hair tie that he removed, I pull another one from my wrist and hastily secure my hair into a new ponytail. “I have to go check on everyone.”
I hobble the few steps to the door before I hear him call out, “Mikayla?”
I keep walking, refusing to acknowledge him and what happened. I return to Kelly’s room only to get curious stares from Holly and Nancy. Everyone else, however, was seemingly taken with the new baby and didn’t even notice our absence.
Finding Mikayla Page 9