by Janice Lynn
“Couples disagree about this all the time. No problem.” The ultrasound tech clicked a mouse a few times, recording measurements. “If you want to know, I’ll walk down to the ER later and tell you, Dr Stanley.”
“I already know,” James confessed, watching the baby seem to look directly at him. Impossible.
Oblivious to the turmoil rolling through James, the tech grinned as he repositioned the device on Melissa’s belly. “I kinda figured you hadn’t missed the perfect view we got. This little one isn’t bashful. The hard part is keeping it a secret when Mom doesn’t want to know.”
Fighting being overwhelmed with emotion, James told himself to grow up. “Mom knows.”
“I don’t.” Melissa shook her head. “Promise you won’t tell me.”
No way could she have missed that view. Not if she’d been looking at the screen. Which meant she hadn’t been. She’d still been watching him. Was that why she stared at him like he’d grown a second head? Because she’d seen his bewilderment? Could she tell how scared he was of a being that was mere inches long?
He didn’t say anything, just went back to watching the screen. Because looking at Melissa, letting her green eyes probe his, made him feel like she could see everything, made him feel impotent and weak. Hell, babies made men impotent and weak, made everyone weak because their lives depended on you and if you screwed up, they died.
Cailee should be whacking him with memories, with regrets, but he couldn’t pull the image forward, wondered why he even attempted to. Instead, he became mesmerized by his baby, who was sucking its thumb.
“So precious,” Melissa whispered, her hand reaching out, clasping James’s.
He couldn’t even acknowledge that she’d touched him. Only that he’d helped create a miracle.
“Yes.” The word came out as a growl. He hadn’t meant it to, but his entire insides had puffed up, including his voice box. That was his baby. His. His and Melissa’s.
The radiologist handed Melissa a paper towel to clean the gel off her belly and her hand fell away from his, unacknowledged. Her mouth formed a tight line and he could tell that his lack of response upset her. Couldn’t she tell how overwhelmed he felt? How he was bursting with joy and pride and scared to death all at the same time?
On the night after her ultrasound Melissa got a call from James. And each night following. They didn’t talk long or discuss any issues. He asked how she felt, if she was eating, if she’d felt the baby move. Fine, yes, yes, came her nightly replies. She wanted to say more, but the right words never came out. Maybe the right words didn’t exist.
James wanted to know what was happening with her pregnancy. He wanted her to be healthy. He may not have wanted a baby, may not even realize the truth, but he’d fallen in love with the precious soul within her. A love that he failed to shield behind the fortress around his heart, perhaps because he hadn’t expected the emotion to hit him. A deep love that she’d never seen in his gaze before.
She rejoiced and ached all at once. She wanted him to love their baby, but hadn’t been prepared for her jealousy. What was wrong with her? She’d never been a jealous kind of person, but these days she practically breathed green fire.
She’d been so lost in watching him, wondering what had caused the color to drain from his face and his hands to tremble, that she’d missed the perfect view. Which was just as well because she really didn’t want to know the baby’s gender. Although if it had been that easy to tell, she suspected their baby must be a boy.
A son. A little boy who looked like his daddy. How would her heart ever take that? He’d surely wrap her around his little finger and she’d never be able to deny him a thing.
Two weeks passed without her seeing James. Just the nightly phone calls.
The pressure of taking off work for her appointment with Dr McGowan and for the ultra-sound put her behind schedule. She still didn’t feel she’d caught up, and although her nausea had passed and she was beginning to eat well again, fatigue set in, making her schedule that much more difficult. Plus, she hadn’t slept well since James moved out. All in all, stress was taking its toll on her body.
Perhaps tonight she’d get home in time for a long, warm bath. Maybe that would relax her enough for sleep.
But before she thought about baths and sleep, she needed to finish seeing her patients for the day. The morning clinic had been full of kids from the local elementary school ill with a stomach virus and this afternoon wasn’t proving any slower.
She glanced at the chart in her hand. Amanda Moss. Way later than the recommended seven to ten days, but no doubt at the office to have her stitches removed.
Guilt hit Melissa. Why hadn’t she thought to drive out to Jamie’s trailer and remove the stitches?
“Hi, Amanda. How’s that knee?” she asked, entering the room. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the pale woman sitting in the chair next to the exam table.
Jamie looked terrible. Much worse than the harrowed reflection that stared back at Melissa each time she gazed in a mirror—and that was saying something.
Jamie’s eyes were puffy and already her eyebrows had become scanty from her chemotherapy. The cheap wig covering her head wouldn’t have fooled a blind man. Her face was swollen. But it was the lost expression in Jamie’s eyes that broke Melissa’s heart.
“It hurts.” Amanda pouted, putting both hands over her knee and giving Melissa a suspicious glare.
Jamie’s sad eyes went to her youngest daughter. “She doesn’t want them taken out. I know I should have gotten her here sooner, but I…” Her voice trailed off. “I just didn’t have the energy to do more than go for my chemotherapy and run the girls back and forth to school.”
“I know you’re doing the best you can,” Melissa assured her, eyeing the tightly embedded sutures.
Deciding to care for Amanda first, as she was the actual patient, Melissa placed the chart on the countertop and washed her hands. After she’d dried them, she sat down on her stool so she wouldn’t tower over the little girl.
Quickly, she assessed all Amanda’s mostly healed bicycle crash wounds. No signs of infection and the edges of the lacerations approximated well, with no gaps or dehiscence. A few sutures were completely covered with a thin layer of skin growth because of how long they’d been in, but with care Melissa could remove them without hurting Amanda too much.
“The stitches have to come out or your knee won’t heal properly.” Melissa put her hand on Amanda’s. “The good thing is that taking the stitches out doesn’t usually hurt. Because of how long these have been in, you may feel a little pinch, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“I don’t want them out.” Amanda started crying loudly, more for her mother’s attention than fear. “Don’t let her take them out.”
Melissa frowned at Amanda’s behavior. She’d understood the girl’s screams when she’d been sutured, but this wasn’t normal behavior for Amanda.
“Amanda, they have to come out. Be good for Dr Melissa,” Jamie’s tired voice pleaded.
“My daddy wouldn’t let her hurt me.” The little girl crossed her arms, big tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked duly pitiful. “He’d never let anyone hurt me.”
Unbelievably, considering how pale she already was, Jamie’s face became even more ashen. “Dr Melissa isn’t going to hurt you.”
Melissa and Jamie both attempted to soothe Amanda, but the little girl wasn’t having any of it. Melissa got Debbie to place Amanda in her lap, pinned her arms, and tucked Amanda’s lower legs between hers in a big hug.
“Shh, it’s going to be OK,” Debbie cooed, trying to comfort the squirming but trapped child. “Dr Melissa is going to help your knee get better.”
“My knee is better. Stop. Stop. Daddy!” Amanda screamed.
Melissa worked quickly to glove up and painstakingly remove each suture with her pickups and suture scissors. Only one bled and, considering how overgrown with skin they’d become, Melissa wasn’t complaining.
&
nbsp; “Almost done,” she assured her unhappy and uncooperative patient.
She cleaned the wound and covered it with a large square sticky plaster.
“Debbie, could you take Amanda to the treasure chest and let her pick a prize for being so brave?”
The nurse gave her a “Brave? Yeah, right” look, but smiled sweetly at Amanda. “Let’s go see if we can find you a pretty ring to match your shirt.”
Amanda recovered with miraculous speed. Skipping, she followed Debbie. “I want a yoyo.”
“I’m sorry she gave you such a hard time,” Jamie apologized the second they were alone. “She stays upset all the time. I can’t make her happy.”
“It’s not your job to make her happy twenty-four hours a day, Jamie. It’s OK if she gets upset from time to time. We all do. It’s how we learn, grow emotionally.”
Jamie’s head lowered. “But I can’t seem to ever make her happy. Or Cindy either.”
“I know better than that.”
“You don’t understand.” Tears streamed down Jamie’s bloated face. “She told me she hates me and wishes I’d been the one to die.”
“She didn’t mean it, Jamie.” Melissa’s heart ached. “Children say things they shouldn’t. I’m not excusing what she said, but she’s a child and doesn’t fully understand the ramifications of what she says.”
“Cindy says the same thing.” Thirteen was a little harder to excuse than five. “If my own kids hate me so much, what do I have to live for?”
How could Jamie’s children be so cruel? They were just children, but couldn’t they see how sick their mother was? How much their words hurt? No, they were kids, even Cindy at thirteen. They only saw that their mother was no longer able to jump through hoops. Hoops Jamie had done her best to leap through since their father died.
“They’re confused. And scared.” Melissa knew her words were the truth even if the girls’ hurtful actions angered her. “Their father died and now they see you getting sick. They’re afraid they might lose you, too, and they’re taking out those fears on you.”
Jamie gave a weak nod. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m just so tired. I asked Cindy to help me, but she won’t. I don’t have the energy to argue with her, and she knows it. She does what she wants to.”
“It’s normal that she’s going to test her boundaries. All kids do.” Melissa squeezed Jamie’s hand. “It’ll be difficult, but you have to stick with what you tell the girls. If they don’t do their chores, take away a favored plaything. If they argue, put them in their room.”
“But they already hate me.”
“No, they just need boundaries set and to know you love them.”
“I do love them.” Jamie shook her head, but didn’t look convinced her love mattered to her girls.
“I know you do.” Melissa squeezed Jamie’s hand. “You’re a wonderful, caring mother.”
“I’m a terrible mother,” the woman sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“No, you’re an overwhelmed mother who is doing the best she can under the circumstances. Cindy and Amanda are dealing with emotions they’re too young to understand. Honestly, they need counseling and so do you.”
Jamie opened her mouth, but Melissa held up her hand.
“I know you’re doing all you can to just get to your chemotherapy. Perhaps the school system can arrange for a counselor to talk to the girls. I’d love them to see a grief specialist, but whatever we can get locally will have to do for now. Until you finish your chemotherapy.”
Jamie’s sobs worsened and her chest shook from her tears. “See, my girls need counseling, and I can’t even get them what they need. What kind of mother am I? They’d be better off without me.”
“That’s simply not true. No one can love Amanda and Cindy the way you do. You’re their mother. They need you.” Never had Melissa known Jamie to be so down, so piteous. “You will make it through this. Once you finish with the chemotherapy, you’ll start to feel better.”
“Once I finish with the chemotherapy, Dr Arnold is going to cut off my breast. I’m not even going to be a woman anymore.”
Melissa wrapped her arms around Jamie and let the woman cry. A good cry could accomplish things that sometimes weeks of therapy didn’t achieve.
When Jamie’s tears slowed, she swatted at her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have laid all this on you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just keep crying all the time. I don’t know why.”
“Honey, it’s normal for you to be depressed. You were still recovering from Roger’s death and coping with raising the girls by yourself. Then the cancer knocks you off your feet. What woman wouldn’t be upset? Maybe we should consider a short-term antidepressant.”
“Melissa?” Debbie poked her head back into the exam room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Cindy just threw up in the lobby. I’ve got her in the bathroom with a washcloth on her forehead.”
Jamie’s eyes glazed over with self-derision. “See, I was focused on me instead of taking care of her.”
Melissa pointed at Jamie. “You stay there. Lie down on the exam table if you’d like. I’ll check on Cindy and tell you what’s going on after I’ve examined her.”
Unfortunately Cindy Moss had caught the stomach virus and had been battling diarrhea most of the day without telling her mother. Jamie couldn’t deal with a sick child, neither did the woman need to be exposed to the germ with her immune system weakened from her chemotherapy.
Melissa’s office wasn’t really set up to double as a hospital ward, but she had on occasion given intravenous fluids via an IV, and kept the supplies on hand.
When Melissa checked the teenager, she was dehydrated. Melissa convinced Jamie to leave Cindy at the office for IV fluids overnight.
Several hours, a shot of Phenergan in her hip, and a bag of normal saline later, the girl was resting in a hospital cot in one of the exam rooms.
Melissa, on the other hand, hadn’t slept at all. She sat in a chair with the back of her head propped against the wall, watching over Jamie’s daughter.
She’d slowed the rate of Cindy’s IV fluids and the bag should last a couple of hours.
So much for that relaxing bath and a good night’s sleep, she thought wryly. Not that she’d probably have slept any better than she had any other night for the past month and a half.
In the dimly lit room, she glanced at her watch. After midnight.
Her hands cradled protectively over her belly, she closed her eyes, meaning to rest them only for a few minutes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” an angry male voice asked.
Melissa jerked awake, her eyes popping open in startled fear. “James?”
“Yes, it’s me, but it could have been anyone. The front door wasn’t locked, Melissa. Anyone could have walked into this office and found you asleep.”
She blinked, trying to open her tired eyes, trying to convince herself that James towered over her, his face an angry red, chiding her for an unlocked door.
“I thought I locked it.” She glanced at her watch. After two, although she’d swear she’d just shut her eyes seconds ago.
“You should have double-checked. It’s not safe for you to be here at night alone with the front door unlocked for anyone to walk in.”
“I’m not alone.” Melissa gestured to the girl lying on the cot. As if sensing she was being talked about, Cindy made a soft moaning sound, but didn’t completely rouse. “Let’s go to my office so we don’t wake her.”
James’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Just watched her. Melissa ached from sitting in the chair so long, but refused to grimace under James’s eagle eye.
She checked Cindy’s IV line, then shuffled to her office, stretching to ease the ache in her lower back.
She needed to kill the intimacy of being in a dimly lit room with James, needed to see him, to know he was really there. She flipped on the light switch.
Although she wasn’t sure she wanted James to see her.
“What the hell are you doing, Melissa?” he ground out. “That girl should be in the hospital if she needs an IV. Not here in your office with you dead on your feet.”
“The hospital wasn’t an option.”
His eyes narrowed, and although he looked angry, his tone lowered. “No insurance?”
“She has TennCare.” Tennessee’s government provided insurance for the underprivileged and needy.
Confusion flickered across his handsome features. “Then why keep her here?”
Melissa inhaled a deep breath, fighting the need to rub her neck. What was he doing at her office in the middle of the night, fussing at her? And why was she letting him?
“Look, James, I don’t have to explain myself to you. My patient needed fluids and I’m giving them to her. End of story.”
Shaking with anger, he glared at her. “You’re determined to push yourself too far, aren’t you?”
“Cindy needed me.”
James swore under his breath. “She needs her parents to take her to Dekalb General so she can get proper care.” He glanced around her empty office. “Where are they, anyway? Shouldn’t they be here?”
“Her father died last year and her mother is at home with her five-year-old sister.” Melissa curled her fingers, putting her clenched hands on her hips and mentally daring James to say anything negative about Jamie. She’d likely punch him if he did.
His gaze dropped to her fists. His mouth twisted with frustration, he appeared ready to strangle her. Instead, he took a deep breath. “If you were going to keep the girl here, you should have made her mother stay to help you.”
Cranky from fatigue, from being woken up, from the surprise of seeing him, and how just looking at him made her heart ache, she didn’t budge from her stance. “Whether or not she should have stayed is none of your business. Just as what I do is none of your business.”
He looked taken aback, like she’d slapped him. What did he think? That he could run roughshod over her life, but she had no say in his world? Hardly.
Yet she hated the disillusionment in his eyes.