Silver Dawn

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled contritely. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No,” she agreed. “Not your brightest moment. How is Gabi this morning?”

  I wasn’t capable of putting a gentle spin on my reply. “They’re putting her into a coma,” I said bluntly. “Things are getting worse, not better.”

  She nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

  The word ‘sorry’ had been bounced around too many times in the past couple of days. It was an empty sentiment that meant nothing to me.

  “You’re a nurse, Hannah,” I pointlessly reminded. “You know the score. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, and don’t ask me how she is.”

  “Okay.” She took a step back, completely unruffled by my bad attitude. “I’ll ask a different question. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied mechanically.

  “Good.” She pointed to the nursery. “You can go in there and spend some time with your son then.”

  ***

  Spending time with the baby was completely different to sitting with Gabrielle. The level of agitation and worry was low, but the feelings of guilt and inadequacy never left me. My son never seemed to notice. He was always placid and calm, except when he was being bathed.

  He was awake for a change, wide-eyed and quietly checking out his surroundings through the clear plastic box.

  “So, you’re alone in here again?” I asked, leaning forward in the chair to peer over the edge of the crib. “I’d be making the most of it if I was you, mate. The Davis kid will be in here soon.”

  If he was worried by the prospect, it didn’t show.

  “I wish I had better news for you today,” I mumbled. “Your mum isn’t doing very well. I don’t know what to do.”

  No one seemed to know what to do. That was the worst part. I certainly wasn’t going to get any answers from the baby, but he was a good listener.

  “I can’t even think straight any more,” I confessed. “And today I feel old and tired.” I brushed my hand over his dark hair. “That’s probably not what you want to hear, huh? If it makes you feel any better, your sister had a rough start too and she turned out okay. I wasn’t old and tired then, though. I was just young and stupid.”

  I’d had no clue what I was doing when Charli was born. I’d bluffed my way through her entire childhood, trying to keep her on track as best I could by grasping anything that would keep me in the little girl loop. I hadn’t anticipated ever being ready for another child, mainly because I’d spent years having my arse kicked by the first one.

  As frustrating as it was for Gabrielle, the long process of getting pregnant had probably helped ease me back into parenthood. My mind was totally in the game this time around. I was ready and excited – right up until everything went haywire on the day he was born. Now I couldn’t even get my act together enough to hold him. It was just too cruel to comprehend.

  I sat for a long time, paying attention to every single move he made. Conversation was sparse, but I didn’t beat myself up over it. There’s a limit to what you can talk about when it’s one-sided, and I’d covered a lot of subject matter over the last few days.

  My eyes drifted to the card stuck on the end of the crib. Every detail of his short life was written on it. His weight, length, and birthday were correct. His name was only half right. “Blake baby,” I said aloud. “That’s what they’re calling you?”

  I tore the card off the crib and headed out to the nurse’s station. Hannah didn’t notice me swipe a pen off the desk. She was on the phone.

  “We need to find you a name, little man,” I said, sitting back down beside him. “Blake baby won’t do.”

  I peered down at my son, trying to figure out what to call him. All I knew for certain is that he was no Pierre-Auguste, and Lionel was definitely out of the question. “My little boy in the box,” I whispered.

  He began to stir and let out a funny little groan. My grand effort to settle him came in the form of a gentle pat on his back. “Okay, okay, I won’t call you that any more,” I promised. “You could be Jack in the box. What do you reckon?”

  As expected, he didn’t protest.

  I said the name a hundred times in my head, and a couple of times out loud. It wasn’t a name Gabi and I had discussed, but I liked it.

  I wrote it down on the card. “Just so you know, you’re not out of the woods yet. Your mum will probably call you Jacques.”

  He groaned again, and would probably do so every time his mother put her French spin on his name.

  “Jack Blake,” I announced, pushing the card back into the slot on the front of the crib. “Perfect, classic and strong.”

  Hannah poked her head around the doorway. My first instinct was to hide the pen I’d swiped, but she wasn’t there to talk stationary.

  “I’ve just had a call from upstairs,” she said quietly. “You can go back to ICU if you want to.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. I’d been sitting with Jack for well over an hour. I was almost proud of the accomplishment.

  I nodded. “Will you come with me, please?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, just give me a minute?”

  Hannah smiled briefly. “Take as long as you need.”

  She closed the door as she left. I hadn’t noticed her do that before. Perhaps she thought I didn’t need supervision any more.

  I half-heartedly fussed with Jack’s blankets before gently brushing the back of my hand down his chubby cheek.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  18. CASUAL AND CALM

  Hannah dutifully escorted me back to the ICU, just as she’d done the day before. We stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind us. “She’s just going to look like she’s sleeping, right?” I asked.

  I’d already seen the horrible machines they were monitoring her with. In my mind, there was nothing else they could inflict upon her poor body.

  Hannah glanced across at me. “It’ll be a little different, Alex,” she quietly replied. “You just have to remember that she’s not in any pain, okay?”

  I managed a stiff nod. I might’ve even pulled off a calm expression, but I was terrified to the point of nausea.

  Moving slower than I’d ever done in my life, I walked from the doorway to Gabi’s bed.

  It was naïve to think things couldn’t get worse. The leads on her chest were still in place, so was the cuff on her arm and the thing on her finger. I could deal with that. What I couldn’t deal with was the tube that had been forced down her throat. I asked Hannah what it was. If I’d been thinking clearly, I wouldn’t have needed an explanation.

  “It’s a ventilator,” she replied solemnly. “It’s helping her breathe.”

  “Do you think she’s going to get better?” I hoarsely whispered.

  “She’s a fighter, Alex,” she replied. “Gabi likes a good fight. Remember when Flynn cut back the bougainvillea on the fence line? I thought she was going to knock him out.”

  I huffed out a strange noise that could almost have passed as a laugh. “She wanted to,” I shakily confirmed. “I held her back with custard.”

  “You know she’ll fight,” she encouraged. “You just have to be strong too.”

  I wondered if I could do it, and quickly realised I couldn’t. A scorching wave of heat washed through my whole body. “Hannah,” I mumbled. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  I got as far as the corridor, put my hands to my knees and doubled over.

  Hannah was right behind me. When she thrust a plastic basin under my chin I threw up for the first time in years. I heaved and I sobbed. Then I apologised and heaved some more.

  “Vomit doesn’t bother me, Alex,” she reassured. “I’ve seen worse.”

  It bothered me but I didn’t have a whole lot of humility left at that point.

  After a long few minutes, another nurse appeared. She handed me a warm washcloth. In return, Hannah gave her a bowl of v
omit. She slipped away without saying a word. I couldn’t even find the strength to thank her.

  “You don’t have to go back in there if you don’t want to,” said Hannah.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m okay now.”

  “Is there anything you need me to do?” she asked.

  I glanced across at her. “Just look after Jack.”

  “I like that name.” She smiled. “Anything else?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  She put her hand on my upper arm. “If it gets too much, come back downstairs,” she instructed. “I’m rostered on until six if you need me.”

  ***

  Heading back into the room was no less traumatic the second time, but at least I managed to do it without throwing up. I sat down next to Gabi’s bed and reached for her hand. She didn’t feel clammy any more – just warm.

  While she was awake I’d tried desperately hard to keep conversation casual and calm. For some reason, I still worked at convincing her that things were okay. “What’s going on, Gabs?” I croaked. “You usually shy away from attention. All eyes are on you now, babe.”

  In a perfect world, she would’ve woken up and cut me down with one of the French expletives she was so fond of. I even paused to give her time.

  That was the moment I noticed that her chest was softly rising and falling in perfect sync with the ventilator.

  She was so close to being gone I couldn’t stand it. Casual and calm was getting harder to do.

  I brought her hand to my mouth. “Please, please don’t leave us,” I begged. “If I can do better, I will. I’ll do anything, Gabi.” I laid her hand gently on the bed and rested my forehead against her palm. “Just stay.”

  I sat with Gabrielle for hours. When I started mentally counting the beeps of the machines, I began to worry that I was losing my mind. Solo conversations tend to make you feel crazy too, and I’d been having a lot of them lately.

  “I saw Wade earlier,” I told her. “Jasmine had a baby boy. They called him Lachlan.” I went on to explain his nonsense rhyming theory, and his ridiculous made up grievery word.

  I left out the part about me collaring him at the elevator. It wasn’t something I was proud of, and Gabrielle would’ve been appalled.

  I’m not a jealous man, but it was impossible not to feel envious of Jasmine and Wade. Their family was safe and intact. Mine was hurt and hanging by a thread.

  Whoever the higher power was who dealt that hand had a lot to answer for.

  Charli

  19. BABY BROTHER

  I’d been secretly planning a trip back to the Cove to meet my baby brother for weeks. All I’d been waiting for was the news that he’d arrived. It was Floss who called me, and the announcement wasn’t entirely joyful.

  Pressing her for information was useless. She really didn’t have any. All she could tell me was that there had been complications.

  “The baby is fine,” Floss told me. “Gabrielle had some drama, but she’s recovering.”

  I packed my bags while we were talking. Adam booked me a flight online and I was on a plane four hours later.

  I’d never been away from Bridget for longer than a night, but the decision to leave her in New York with her dad came easily. The kid wasn’t a good traveller. Long haul flights were a nightmare, and trying to cope with four days of jetlag afterwards was worse. I missed them both already but for now, the excitement of meeting my baby brother was winning out over pining.

  Being back in Australia was also a treat. The June weather seemed colder than usual after leaving New York in the midst of summer. It was a strange transition, but a lovely reminder that I was back on home soil.

  I hadn’t managed to get hold of Alex in days, but figured the best place to catch him would be at the hospital. I picked up a cab at the airport and headed straight there.

  ***

  If lugging a heavy bag of luggage through the hospital foyer seemed odd, no one questioned it. I didn’t need to ask for directions. I was more than familiar with the maternity ward. I was also familiar with the crotchety nurse that met me as I got out of the elevator.

  Nurse Nasty hadn’t mellowed in the years since Bridget was born. She hadn’t grown an inch either. She was still tiny and mean. “No visitors before one,” she barked. “Mothers and babies need their sleep.”

  I didn’t get a chance to plead my case. A nurse swooped in out of nowhere and saved me. “I’ll take care of it,” she offered. “Leave it with me.”

  Nurse Nasty nodded stiffly. “See that you do, Micky.” She marched off down the corridor in her clunky white orthopaedic shoes.

  “Your name is Micky?” I asked, turning to my rescuer.

  She grinned. “Short for Michaela.”

  I smiled back, strangely impressed that I’d met another woman who lived with the pain of being burdened with a boys name – or a mouse’s depending on how you looked at it.

  “Thanks for saving me,” I said appreciatively. “You’re really brave.”

  She was really pretty too. For a quick moment I considered packing her into my suitcase and taking her home to Ryan. No one on earth appreciated gorgeous blondes more than him.

  “Her bark is worse than her bite,” she assured. “At least that’s what they tell me.”

  “Good to know.”

  “So who are you here to see?” she asked.

  I followed her as she walked toward the nurse’s station, dragging my bag behind me. “My brother,” I replied. “He’s new here.”

  “Awesome,” she beamed. “I don’t usually work on the maternity ward. Give me a minute and I’ll find out where he is.” She sat down at the desk, clicked the mouse and brought to computer screen to life. “What’s his mum’s name?”

  “Gabrielle Décarie.”

  Micky typed in her name and seemed to spend an eternity reading the screen. When she finally turned her attention back to me her cheerful expression was gone. “She’s in ICU.”

  I forced myself not to panic. I knew there had been complications. Perhaps she’d been sent to ICU to recover. “She’s okay though, right?” I asked.

  Micky leapt out of her chair. “I’ll find someone who can bring you up to speed,” she offered. “I’ve only just come on shift.”

  She’d dodged my question like a pro, which made me extremely nervous. She then dodged me by taking off down the corridor, but only got as far as the elevator.

  Hannah Davis stepped out as the doors opened. I was relieved to see her. The maternity ward was her stomping ground. If anyone would know what was going on, it was her.

  Micky obviously thought so too. Even from a distance, the conversation looked tense, and when she pointed back at me, I was sure I wasn’t going to enjoy being brought up to speed.

  I used the minute alone to try calling Alex. It went straight to voicemail, just as it had every time I’d tried calling him in the past few days.

  I ended the call as Hannah approached and tried my best to greet her with a smile. I hadn’t seen her in six months so it seemed like the polite thing to do. “How are you, Hannah?” I asked.

  She nodded, and quickly moved on from the pointless pleasantries. “Have you spoken to your dad today?” she asked.

  “No.” I pointed to my luggage. “I just got off a sixteen hour flight.”

  She nodded again, frowning this time. “Do you want to take a seat?” She pointed to a small lounge area to my left. “We’ll have a chat.”

  I followed Hannah’s lead and sat down on the small sofa, and she wasted no time in getting down to business. The no-nonsense way she explained Gabrielle’s condition left no room for misinterpretation. The Parisienne was in dire straits. “The next twenty-four hours are crucial,” she said gently. “We’ll know more tomorrow.”

  I read between the lines whether I was supposed to or not. “She could die?”

  “She’s a fighter, Charli,” she replied ambiguously. “You know that.”

  I wondered how much fight it took t
o stay alive when your body was hell bent on shutting down. It was impossible to get my head around.

  Gabrielle was young and fit. She was also a Décarie. That alone meant that she would’ve played by every pregnancy rule in the book to ensure her baby got here safely.

  She’d been a tyrant while I was pregnant. Alex had saved me from her wrath more than once after being sprung eating cereal for dinner. Alex’s approach had been much more laid back. His whole approach to life was laid back. It made me wonder how he was dealing with this nightmare. “How’s my dad?” I asked.

  “He’s not coping very well,” replied Hannah. “With Gabi or the baby.”

  I expected to hear that he was overtired and distraught. I wasn’t expecting to hear that he’d barely had anything to do with the baby. When Bridget was born he’d been attentive and loving and desperate to see her. “He’s never held him?” I asked, almost certain I’d misheard her.

  “I’ve tried to push the issue a few times, but he just gets irate,” she explained.

  My thoughts turned to the tiny little boy whose entrance into the world had been so rough and traumatic. He deserved so much more than he’d had so far.

  I stood up. “Where’s my brother?”

  Hannah pointed toward the nursery.

  “I need to be with him,” I replied, already heading for the door.

  “You’re not supposed to be in there, Charli,” said Hannah quietly. “Only parents are – ”

  I rudely cut her off as I turned back. “Where are his parents, Hannah?” I asked, throwing my arms wide. “The way I see it, I’m all he’s got right now.”

  She pointed at the door again. “Go,” she permitted. “You’re fine.”

  I wasn’t fine. I was as scared as I’d ever been, but I didn’t want the baby to pick up on my angst. I somehow slowed my roll and calmed myself down before going in.

  I’d often wondered what he’d look like. I’d also wondered whether he’d be feisty like Gabrielle or calm like Alex. I quickly decided that the little bundle who was fast asleep in the plastic crib was a hundred percent his father’s son. He didn’t wake when I scooped him up. He didn’t even stir when I brushed my hand over his head, admiring his lovely spiky dark hair. The kid couldn’t have cared less that his only sister had just travelled ten thousand miles to meet him.