When we get into the rig, Noah says, “I’m going to call my mom when we get back to the station. Maybe she can find the cleaning lady’s number so I can apologize.”
“Sounds like a fine idea,” I say.
“Anything you’re gonna do?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Yeah, there is.”
I check the time to see how many hours we have left on shift, because as soon as it’s over, I’m going to find Ivy. I’m going to find her and make her listen.
En route back to the house, a call comes over the radio. “Engine 319, EMS 64, respond to OB emergency, 547 Parker Drive.”
My stomach turns. “Shit. That’s Ivy’s shop. Duck, get us there fast.”
“On our way,” he says, turning the rig around.
Debbe radios that they’re stuck in traffic.
I radio back. “This is the real deal, Deb. I think someone might be having a baby. We need you there.”
“It’s gridlock at the hospital,” she says. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
I take off my gear in the truck, ready to hop out as soon as we pull up. When we do, I’m out the door and into the shop in record time.
“Ivy!” I shout.
“Back here,” someone calls.
I go into the back room where a very pregnant Ivy is lying down on some towels. Towels with too much blood on them.
My fucking heart sinks.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Ivy
“Bass!” Holly runs over to him. “She’s in labor. There’s blood. It happened so fast. She said it hurts too much to move. Her water broke a few minutes ago.”
The other firefighters walk in behind Bass as he gets down on the floor with me. When I look at him, my eyes go wide. He’s covered with black soot.
“Oh my God. You came from a fire?” I ask, grunting through my contraction. I reach out to touch his face, getting soot on my fingers. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. When did your labor start and has there been bleeding other than what I see here?”
“I think it started this morning,” I say. “I don’t think there was any more blood.”
“This morning? It’s three o’clock, Ivy.”
“I know. I thought it was just a stomach ache. But—” I stop talking and grit my teeth through another contraction.
Bass grabs my hand and lets me squeeze him until it’s over.
“I feel pressure,” I say. “I think the baby is coming right now. But it’s different. This doesn’t feel like last time. It hurts so much, Bass.”
“Hold tight, Ivy. We’re going to help you.”
I hear one of the firefighters talking over the radio. A woman on the other end tells him they will be here in ten minutes.
“This may all be over in ten minutes!” Bass shouts at them over his shoulder.
Bass tries to stand up, but I don’t let him go. “Don’t leave me.”
He brushes a stray hair behind my ear. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I just need to wash up so I can deliver your baby.”
“You?” I ask, terrified about delivering here on the floor of the shop.
“If I have to,” he says. “I’m a paramedic, remember? I’ve delivered sixteen healthy babies.”
I nod, looking at him through my tears. “Okay.”
Bass uses the bathroom to wash up as he tells Holly what he’s going to need. By the time he’s back at my side, the guys have set up as sterile an area as they can around me.
“You sure you want to do this?” someone asks Bass. “I’d be happy to step in.”
“I’m doing it, Captain.”
I scream in agony when it feels like something rips through me. I look up at Bass. “Something’s wrong.”
From where he’s standing, he looks between my legs and his face goes ashen.
“What is it?” I ask, my whole body trembling.
“Just a little blood,” he says, glancing at the other firefighters.
But I can tell by the look on his face—on all their faces—that there’s more to it than that.
Bass gets down on his knees and gloves up. “Ivy, it’s possible that you’re experiencing placental abruption.”
“Oh, my, God,” Holly says behind me. “What’s that?”
“The placenta could have a tear in it,” he says. “Or it could be separating from the uterine wall.”
I reach down and grab his gloved hand. “I’m scared.”
“I’m here, Ivy. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you and the baby are all right. But right now, I need to check and see where the baby is, okay?”
I nod, beads of sweat running down the sides of my forehead.
He does a vaginal exam. “I can feel the top of the baby’s head. Good. At least he’s not breech.”
When he pulls his hand out, I can see that it’s covered in blood and clots. He turns around and tells his captain, “Call ahead to the hospital and have some O-neg waiting. They may need to do a transfusion.”
I’m not sure if the sobs I hear are coming from me, or from Holly.
Bass leans over and grabs my hand when the next contraction comes.
“Ivy, you’re fully dilated. I’m going to need you to push. Holly, sit down on the floor behind her and give her something to push against.”
When the contraction is over, I’m exhausted.
I hear one of the firefighters whispering to Bass. “You have to get the baby out. And fast. If the abruption is as bad as I think it is, they are both in danger. Ivy could suffer from massive blood loss, and the baby will be deprived of oxygen.”
“Oh my God! Bass,” I cry.
“I’m going to get you through this, Ivy. Have you called Eli yet?” he asks Holly.
She nods. “He said he’d call everyone else and meet us at the hospital. I thought we had time.”
“Sebastian,” I say, feeling more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life. “I was wrong. I don’t want to do this without you.”
“I was wrong, too, sweetheart. In fact, I was going to come find you today and tell you that very thing. I’ve been a fool to stay away.”
I feel a gush, but my water already broke. “Was that blood?” I ask in horror.
“Ivy, you have to push hard. I know you’re tired and hurting. But your baby needs you right now.”
I can hear sirens getting closer.
“Do you hear that?” he asks. “They’re coming to take both of you to the hospital. But we need to get the baby out so we can help him.”
I push so hard I think I might pass out. And I scream. I scream loud.
“That’s it. I can see his hair,” Bass says.
“What color is it?” Holly asks.
“I, uh … can’t tell,” he says, looking at me sadly.
“Why?” I ask, gasping for air. “Why can’t you tell? What’s wrong?”
“There’s just a little too much blood on his head and the hair is all matted.”
I collapse back onto Holly. “I can’t do this.”
“Sit her up straighter,” he says to my sister. “Look at me, Ivy. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you are the only one who can save your baby right now. He’s not getting enough oxygen. You need to push him out. You need to push him out right now. You can do this.”
I scream once more as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and give it everything I have with one final push. Then I watch as Bass pulls a small, lifeless baby out of me.
Two paramedics run into the room. One tends to me while the other falls to her knees, taking the baby from Bass. She clears the baby’s mouth and massages his chest.
I can feel my world ending for the third time. “He’s not breathing?” I cry.
“Give it a second,” Bass says.
When the baby starts to cry, I cry. And everyone in the room breathes an audible sigh of relief.
“Is he okay?” I ask in a panic.
Bass takes off his gloves and scoots over to my head, rub
bing a gentle hand down my hair. “She,” he says. “You have a baby girl.”
“It’s a girl?”
He nods, tears pooled in his eyes. “It’s a girl.”
“Is she okay? Did you check her kidneys? Are they firm?”
“All of that will be checked at the hospital,” he says, looking more than a little concerned. “Right now, we need to get you both in the ambulance.” He looks over his shoulder at the guy who must be in charge. “Captain?”
“Go,” the guy says. “We’ve got you covered.”
Bass turns to Holly. “If I go, there’s no room for you.”
“You go,” she says. “Help them. I’ll meet you there.”
As they lift me onto a gurney, I catch a glimpse of the baby. She’s so pale and her little lips are almost blue. “Oh, God.” I use a hand to cover my sobs, right before everything goes black.
“Ivy? Ivy, can you hear me, sweetheart?”
I hear a siren. And I feel hands on my stomach. I open my eyes and see Bass’s face above me. “What happened?” I ask from under an oxygen mask.
“You fainted,” he says. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He nods to my belly. “I’m doing something called fundal massage that will hopefully help your uterus contract and reduce the bleeding.”
I look over at the paramedic holding my baby. I see her little hand moving, so I know she’s alive.
“Ryan is giving her some oxygen,” Bass explains. “He didn’t have to intubate, but she might need an umbilical catheter to give saline and maybe blood.”
“Blood?” I say, my heart racing. “She needs blood? Give her some of mine.”
He shakes his head. “You’ve lost too much yourself. And you might not be a match. They’ll type and cross her as soon as we pull up.”
“Is she … is she going to be okay?”
He smiles at me. But it’s not a happy smile. “It was a tough delivery, Ivy. But we’re hoping for the best.”
I close my eyes, clearing the tears that pooled in them. “It was just like my dreams,” I say.
“Your dreams?”
“I dreamed of you being there, helping me have the baby. And I dreamed of the baby being blue when it came. And it was a girl. In my dreams, she was a girl. I dreamed this, Bass.” My throat tightens. “And you were so mad at me because I made you love her and then she … she—”
“Shhhh,” he whispers. “It was just a dream, Ivy. I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you for making me love her.” He looks over at the baby then back at me. “And I do. I love her. Because she’s a part of you. And I love you.”
More tears fall down the sides of my face as I reach out to my daughter. The paramedic holds her closer to me so I can touch her hand. “I love her, too. And I love you, Sebastian. I never stopped. I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, too. I should have fought harder. But none of that matters now. We need to focus on you and your daughter. Everything else can wait. Because I’m not going anywhere, Ivy Greene.”
“Thank you,” I say, just as the ambulance stops and the doors open.
“They’re going to take her up to the NICU now,” Bass tells me. “And you’ll probably stay in the ER until the bleeding stops.”
“Go with her,” I beg. “Please.”
One of the doctors in the ambulance bay hears my request. He starts to wheel the baby away but then turns to Bass. “Are you coming?”
“Are you sure, Ivy?” Bass asks. “Maybe Eli should be with her.”
I can tell he’s torn between staying with me and going with her. But I need him with her. “I need you to be with her. I know you’ll protect her.”
They wheel the baby away and Bass follows, looking at me as they walk through the ambulance bay doors.
“Tell her I love her,” I call out after them.
And then I do something I haven’t done since Dahlia died. I pray.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Sebastian
I’m sitting outside the NICU, waiting for news when Eli walks around the corner. I stand up and shake his hand.
He looks at our clasped hands. “The last time I saw you, you wanted to kill me.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I say. “I guess I didn’t have all the facts.”
“Well, you’re here now. Holly gave me the rundown on what happened. Do you think the baby will be okay?”
“I hope so. It’s hard to tell if she was deprived of oxygen or not. And I haven’t heard anything on the ARPKD either. In fact, I’m pretty much in the dark right now. I’ve been pacing back and forth for ten minutes out here waiting for someone to tell me something.”
“What happens if she didn’t get enough oxygen?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’m not a doctor, Eli, but I know it’s not good. There’s a guy who works at a firehouse in Manhattan whose son has cerebral palsy because he was oxygen-deprived at birth.”
“Oh, shit.” He rubs his hand over the scruff on his jaw. “I’m not sure we could take any more bad news.”
“Well, let’s not jump the gun until we find out.” Then I nod to the doctor I see coming toward the door. “And I think we might be about to find out.”
“I’m Dr. Moran,” he addresses me. “Her heel-stick hemoglobin shows that she’s anemic. We’ve got her on saline through an umbilical I.V., but if her oxygen saturation doesn’t improve quickly, we’d like to give her whole blood.”
I motion to Eli. “Dr. Moran, this is Eli Snow, he’s the baby’s father.”
“Oh. The mother wanted you to be with the baby, so I just assumed …”
“He’s the boyfriend,” Eli says. Then he turns to me. “Right?”
“Yeah. Of course. Yes.”
“Well then, Mr. Snow, do I have your consent to give blood if needed?”
“Yes. Do it. Do you need my blood?”
“Possibly. If you’re a match, that is,” he says. “The hospital is short on O-neg, which is what we would normally give her, so we’re waiting for the type and cross to come back. It should be any minute now.”
“I’m a universal donor,” I tell the doctor.
“You’re O-negative?” he asks.
“Yes. And I’m on the registry. I donate several times a year.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Don’t go very far.”
“I’m AB and Ivy is B,” Eli says.
The doctor raises his brows, surprised Eli would know that.
“We’re both ARPKD carriers, but we didn’t know it until our second child got sick. We had a lot of genetic testing.”
“That’s tough,” he says. “Are the children both sick?”
“They both died,” Eli says.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dr. Moran says. “I didn’t see any kidney abnormalities in my examination, but I’ll add that test to her bloodwork just to be sure.”
“Thank you.”
A nurse comes out of the NICU, handing Dr. Moran an iPad. “The type and cross results, Doctor.”
He looks at the iPad and then he asks the nurse, “Are you sure this is for baby Jane Doe?”
“Baby Jane Doe?” Eli asks.
“Since they were brought in by ambulance, we didn’t have time for an admit,” he says, still studying the results.
“I’m sure, Doctor,” the nurse says.
The doctor looks at Eli. “Mr. Snow, are you absolutely sure about the blood types of you and the mother?”
“I’m one hundred percent sure,” he says. “We only had about a thousand tests back then. Why, is something wrong?”
“Well, according to the baby’s blood typing, there is no way her parents could have AB and B blood types.”
“What?” Eli asks.
“The baby’s blood type is O-negative,” the doctor says. “And because we know for sure who the mother is, assuming she really is type B as you said, there is no statistical chance a man with type AB could be the father.”
I back up against
the wall, feeling like I just got punched in the gut. “The baby is O-negative?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
There are so many emotions going through me right now, I’m not sure which to express.
“Oh, shit,” Eli says. “You just said you’re O-negative.” A smile crosses his face. “Well, damn. Congratulations, Dad.”
I sit on the bench next to me and put my head between my knees.
“Wait, now he’s the father?” the doctor asks.
Eli pats me on the back as I struggle to catch the breath that just got knocked out of me.
“I guess I am,” I say, both elated and saddened at the same time.
I have a child? A child who needs blood and might have been deprived of oxygen. I stand up and hold out my arm. “Give her my blood. Do it now.”
The doctor motions for the nurse to come back out. “Type Mr. …” He looks at me.
“Briggs,” I say. “Sebastian Briggs.”
“Type Mr. Briggs to be sure, then set up for a transfusion for Baby Jane Doe.”
“Baby Briggs,” I say.
“Right,” the doctor says. “Please follow Gabby, she’ll get things going.”
“Wait,” I say. “What about the oxygen? You said her saturation was low. And she wasn’t breathing for a minute at birth. Can you tell me what we could be looking at?”
“The paramedic told me the baby cried shortly after delivery and had good reflexes,” he says. “There are no guarantees, but based on my initial exam, she looks good. She’s still crying and very responsive. She’s a bit pale because of the anemia. But I think once we get that under control you’ll be the father of a healthy, full-term baby girl.”
My heart stops beating for a second.
I’m a father.
I have a daughter.
I’m in love with her mother.
We can be a family.
In the turn of two minutes, my entire world has changed, and I realize that this is the happiest moment of my life. Ivy’s baby—my baby—isn’t sick. There won’t be dialysis machines or kidney transplants. No funerals with tiny caskets. No trips to Hawaii to forget.
Before I walk away, I shake Eli’s hand again. “I’m sorry, man. I guess I don’t know what this even means for you. I’m sure you already bonded with the baby when Ivy was pregnant.”
Igniting Ivy (The Men on Fire Series) Page 27