by Dianne Drake
Twisting, Dinah looked into her rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator, but all she saw was an up-close image of a truck’s shiny silver bumper…and the truck was already backing away from her. Right off, she opened the car door, ready to hop out regardless of the rain and see to the damage, but the man behind her beat her to it by stopping then jumping from his truck and running forward. He was a big, imposing man in a bright yellow slicker, the dress of choice for most of the people she’d seen here so far. Except he didn’t come forward to her door like she’d expected he would. Rather, he got as far as the front of his truck, surveyed his bumper then hers, and that was as far as he went.
“Any damage?” she shouted, wishing she had one of those yellow rain slickers.
If he answered, she didn’t hear him. But the rain was noisy, so were the road noises. So, after she’d fumbled an umbrella from the back of her car and opened it overhead, she tried calling to him again. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
He didn’t answer this time, either, so she tried once more. Admittedly, getting a little perturbed. “Did it cause any damage?”
His only response was a wave on his way back to his truck…waving with one hand, clutching a cell phone to his ear in the other. “I can’t stay,” he yelled, and she did hear that. “Jason, the man in the car ahead of you, said he’ll take care of it, and…” The rest of his words were gobbled in a clap of thunder, and by the time it had rumbled on through, he’d jumped back into his truck and pulled around, stopping briefly at the car in front of her.
“You arrogant…” she yelled, slamming shut her car door and marching straight forward to catch him before he sped away altogether. She didn’t need this today. Just didn’t need this. And now, with this added delay, she was even more worried that Angela would try to get out in this storm on her own.
“You OK, Jason?” the man from the truck called to the man in the car she’d hit, who was beginning to climb out of his front seat. He, too, was dressed in a yellow slicker.
“What about me?” Dinah yelled, catching up to his truck and running to the window on the driver’s side. “Don’t you want to know how I am?”
The man who’d hit her did turn around in his seat, giving her a long, hard stare. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No, but—”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I can’t deal with this right now. Like I told you before, Jason will take care of the details because I’ve got an emergency, and I’ve got to get back.” He paused then smiled. “I’m really sorry about this.”
He seemed sincere enough, his smile was…nice. But she didn’t trust nice smiles, and sincerity was easy to fake. If anybody knew those two things, she did! Yet as she was about to shut out that nice smile altogether and demand he step out of the truck regardless of what his other obligations were, a gust of wind caught her umbrella, turned it inside out, then ripped it from her hands. Unfortunately, it tumbled end over end across the road, leaving Dinah standing in water up to her ankles, with her long, auburn hair soaked and shaggy, and nothing to protect her. She was barely even noticing the rain, though, because at this point she was too angry. “You can’t just leave the scene,” she yelled at the man. He was going to leave, though. That’s what men did. They left. And she couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop any of them. Father, husband, fiancé, brother-in-law, strangers…all alike.
Before the stranger pulled away, though, he handed an umbrella out the window to her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this right now. So, please, step back. I don’t want to splash you…” He took a good look at her waterlogged state and grimaced visibly. “Don’t want to get you any wetter than you are.”
Well, she could step in front of his truck and stop him, or grab hold of the handle on his door. But there was something in his eyes…a look she knew. Not a malicious one, not even a little mean-spirited. For an instant, something so deep there grabbed hold of her senses, willed her to step back. So she did, immediately regretting that, once again, she’d let herself be taken advantage of by a goodlooker. In her life, trust amounted to betrayal. She almost counted on it, and that was a huge regret, too.
The proof of her regret was in the blow of black smoke from his tailpipe as he sped away from her, while she remained standing in the downpour, watching him, gripping his umbrella in a stranglehold, getting wetter and wetter.
“I’m glad Gabby has been such a good friend to you, especially since I haven’t been of much use these past months,” Dinah said to her sister.
Angela laid her hand on Dinah’s. “Not your fault. We all have our problems to solve. And I’ve been doing fine here on my own. Good friends, good care. Nothing to worry about.”
Except a cheating ski-bum of a husband who’d run away from Angela the moment he’d heard the word pregnant. “I’m your sister and I’m entitled to worry anyway. But like I said, I’m glad you’ve had Gabby here to help you get through.” Dr. Gabrielle Evans. Angela’s friend, and her doctor, who was on the verge of giving birth right this very moment, fully in labor. “So, how are you doing, Gabby?”
Gabby nodded, panted, grasped the edge of the bed while Angela wiped her forehead with a cool, damp cloth and Dinah positioned herself to see how dilated Gabby was. Dinah had been a pediatric nurse, but she’d had good experience in obstetrics. While there was supposed to be a doctor on the way to deliver this baby, and since taking Gabby to the hospital in this weather in her condition would be a crazy thing to do, Gabby was ready to deliver this baby right here, right now, doctor or not. And it was beginning to look like Dinah might have to come out of her self-imposed retirement to bring the baby that Gabby was already calling Bryce into the world.
“Can I do anything else?” Angela asked.
“Just sit down and relax. I don’t want you getting worked up and going into labor yourself,” Dinah said, truly concerned about the effect the strain of all this excitement could have on her sister. Two women on the verge of motherhood. She envied them. Once, a long time ago, she’d thought that’s what she’d wanted most in the world. But the marriage hadn’t worked out, and she’d gone in another direction with her life. Then, years later, along had come Charles, the man she’d hoped would be…well, it didn’t matter what she’d hoped. She’d been wrong about him, too.
Still, with all these babies coming into the world…“Relax, Gabby,” she said, as another contraction gripped the woman. “I think this is going to be over with pretty soon. Bryce is in position and he’s about to make his grand entrance.”
“I hope so,” Gabby forced out as the contraction came to an end. “Because I’m tired of this part of it.”
Dinah laughed. “But you’ll be a much better obstetrician for having gone through it yourself. At least, that sounds good in theory, doesn’t it? And now, when you tell your patients you understand, you really will.” She laid a hand on Gabrielle’s belly, felt the amazing stirring of a new life just under her fingertips. Suddenly, she was glad she was there, being part of it.
“Angela tells me you’ve quit nursing,” Gabby gasped. She was finally relaxing back into her pillows. But not for long, if her progression towards the birth remained this consistent.
“For now. I came here to cook for Angela while she’s off on maternity leave, then I’ll decide what I want to do after that.” Dinah’s sister was the executive chef at the lodge on one of the Three Sisters and, like Angela, Dinah had also gone to culinary school. But she’d quit part way through to go into nursing. Culinary school, like her first marriage, had been a hasty decision, and not the right one. But nursing…she loved it. Missed it already.
Right now, though, with so many unresolved issues, she had to step away. The reasons were complicated, and she didn’t trust herself to make the right decision while she was still feeling the sting.
“I’m glad you can deliver a baby, because I didn’t want to do this by myself,” Gabby said, as another contraction hit. “And I was afraid I might have to.”
/> The contractions were coming fast. In the hour they’d been there they’d sped up considerably, telling Dinah that Gabby was in an unusually fast labor. It was time to get her in position and hope the doctor arrived in time, that the floodwaters outside wouldn’t hold him back. Or do what she had to do if he couldn’t get through.
Funny, how she’d quit nursing, not sure she could ever go back to it. Yet here she was, doing what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do again until her life was in better control, if that were even possible now, and wondering if she’d made yet another bad choice by leaving the thing she most loved doing.
Which was the reason she’d had to leave. Because these days she was just…confused.
And sad.
Dr. Neil Ranard arrived in time to deliver Gabby’s baby, and the first thing Dinah saw was just how much he loved Gabby. Angela had already told her that the baby wasn’t Neil’s, but deep down Dinah believed that Neil would raise that baby, because the look she saw in Gabby’s eyes the instant Neil ran into the room said everything. It was nice. But what was even nicer was seeing that it was out there…true love did exist. Maybe not for her. But it was nice for others who were luckier than she was. Or smarter.
“Just one more push, Gabrielle,” Neil urged. “That’s all I need. One more push and you’re a mother!”
Dinah propped Gabby up into position, enjoying what she was doing, even if it was a little outside her nursing expertise. It was good to be useful again, good to help. For a while, the ache of missing it was eased a little.
“Bear down, Gabrielle, and push,” Neil said.
“I am,” Gabby gasped.
“Breathe,” Dinah said. “Come on, Gabby. Take a deep breath, then push that baby out.”
“He’s waiting for you, Gabrielle,” Neil prompted. “Bryce Evans is waiting for you.”
Gabby bore down for a final time as Dinah helped her through her final contraction. Then, suddenly, it was over. Bryce was here. But…dear God, he was blue. Dinah saw it immediately, felt her stomach roil, and exchanged a quick look with Dr. Ranard. A look that said everything.
“Let me see him,” Gabby said to the deathly quiet room. “My baby…”
Dinah eased Gabby back into a flat position on the bed, propped a pillow under her head then ran to the end of the bed to see what she could do for Dr. Ranard. Or for the limp little newborn in his hands.
“He isn’t crying,” Gabby gasped, fighting to sit back up. Thrashing wildly, she was trying to toss off the sheets covering her. “Neil, he isn’t crying! What’s wrong?”
“Take care of Gabrielle,” Neil whispered to Dinah. “Don’t let her see…”
Even before he’d finished speaking, Dinah positioned herself between Neil and the bed, so Gabby couldn’t see Neil’s resuscitation attempts and the next minutes went by in a blur as she tried to calm the grief-stricken mother and help the doctor with the baby.
“Did he aspirate?” Dinah whispered to Neil, although she didn’t believe so. As a pediatric trauma nurse, her first guess was something cardiac, or related to the lungs, judging from the baby’s listlessness and bluish pallor.
Not again! Dear God, not again! How could she face another newborn dying? Bryce had a chance to survive, Molly never had. She had to stay focused on that! This was the baby who needed her now. This was Bryce Evans, not Molly Collins.
“Is he alive?” Gabby screamed. “Neil, you’ve got to tell me, is he alive? I’ve got to get to my baby.” She launched herself up, but Dinah stopped her, applying a firm hand into her shoulder.
More minutes ticked by, and Bryce still struggled. Outside, the floods were getting worse. The hospital had promised to send a medic with supplies, but each second seemed like an hour—a frantic, futile hour in which they were losing a battle. All the while, Dinah was forced to physically restrain Gabby from flying across the room to Neil. Neil didn’t need that. Neither did the baby, who was not improving. She hated doing that. Hated it more than anyone could imagine, because she knew how it felt. Knew how Gabby felt, needing desperately to get there and being pulled away against her will.
Then suddenly Bryce quit breathing and Dinah was thrown back to that day when baby Molly had died in her arms. Regret, instant and brutal, assaulted her, causing a feeling of panic to rise up and strangle the breath from her. For a moment she was back there in that hospital room, struggling and crying like Gabby was, begging them not to take Molly away from her.
“Is that CPR?” Gabby cried, snapping Dinah back into the moment. “Is Neil giving him CPR?”
More minutes blurred in the battle as Bryce began showing signs of reviving. Bryce had Neil to fight for him, and Neil loved him. That was so obvious. There’d been no one to care for Molly. No one had loved her. Except her. And in the end, that hadn’t been enough.
Now the melancholia threatened to pull her under.
“You!”
The voice from the doorway startled Dinah from her thoughts of Molly, and she jumped. “You!” she snapped right back at him. Of all the people who could have come, it would be him, Mr Hit-and-Run himself. And he was standing there, holding out a pediatric oxygen mask.
Dinah yanked the mask from the man’s hands, and rushed to put it on Bryce. Then the medic opened the oxygen tank valve once the mask was in place.
“It was a slight tap,” he said. “No damage.”
“And you didn’t stop to see if you’d damaged my car, or injured me,” Dinah snarled under her breath to keep her problem with this man quiet, as she pulled a pediatric IV needle from the bag of supplies he’d brought and prepared to insert it into the baby’s thread-sized vein. It’s what she did, no one had to tell her. No one had to help her. It’s simply what she was trained to do, and did instinctively.
As she set about her work, she noticed that Bryce was already pinking up. Not enough to think he was out of danger, but enough to be encouraged.
“You take care of Gabby,” the medic whispered to Neil. “She needs you right now, and I’ll take care of the baby.”
Neil handed off the responsibility without hesitation, and the two men exchanged quiet words for a moment. “Thanks, Eric,” Neil finally said, then ran to Gabrielle.
“You’re a doctor?” Dinah asked.
“Eric Ramsey, pediatric surgeon, with a secondary in trauma.” He pulled a bag of fluid from his supplies and hooked it to the line once Dinah had inserted the IV catheter. Then he adjusted the drip of fluid into the baby’s veins, and immediately listened to Bryce’s chest.
The next few minutes they worked side by side in total silence, both doing what they knew needed to be done to stabilize their tiny patient.
“He’s a fighter,” Eric finally pronounced, turning around to Gabby. “We’ve got him as stabilized as we can, so now I need to get him to the hospital. But I want you to hold him first.”
She took her baby, and the way she clung to him nearly broke Dinah’s heart. No one had loved little Molly like that…someone should have. She couldn’t bear watching, the memories were too painful and she had to turn away.
“I was in a hurry…emergency.” Eric stepped up behind her. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have driven off like that.”
“What?” Dinah asked.
“The accident. I had an emergency. I’m sorry, but—”
“But we all do what we have to do, don’t we?” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter what we do to the people around us, as long as it’s good for us. I get it. You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do.” Eric took a step back, shook his head. “Look, Neil thinks Bryce’s problem might be TGV.” Transposition of the great vessels, where the two main arteries leaving the heart were reversed. Normally, blood from the heart’s right ventricle was carried by the pulmonary artery to the lungs, and blood from the left ventricle was taken by the aorta to the body. In the case of TGV, it was just the opposite, leaving the oxygenated blood meant to circulate through the body being pumped back into the lungs. “And at this
point, I have no reason to disagree because the symptoms fit. Things may turn out differently once we get the baby—”
“You think it’s TGV, too?” Dinah’s mind raced through the procedures. There would be a first surgery, called a septostomy, to do an immediate, life-saving correction. In that, a hole was literally opened up to allow better flow of the blood. It was a temporary measure to be followed by another surgery to make the permanent repair. She’d treated babies who’d had the surgery, seen good outcomes, seen bad outcomes.
“You’ll drive.”
“Where?” she asked.
“To the hospital. You’ll drive, I’ll take care of the baby.”
The tension in the cab of the truck was so thick Dinah could have sliced through it with a scalpel. They’d been en route five minutes now, taking a back road that skirted the valley. It was muddy and slick, but it wasn’t washed out. And it was on higher ground, which was what made it a safer bet than taking the road down below the house, where the water was at least as high as the bottom of the truck door. Flash-flood warnings were out now, and all the lower roads were being closed. So she and Eric were driving along what amounted to little more than a fire trail, and Dinah was so nervous that her grip on the steering-wheel hurt. All the while, neither she nor Eric had spoken a word to each other since his initial instruction to her on getting to the hospital.
Yet in his defense, Eric was busy tending to Bryce, holding him in his lap and continually checking his pulse, his respiratory status, being so tender, so caring with him while she was fighting to stay straight and to avoid the bumps and ruts, most of which she couldn’t even see.
It crossed her mind that he was the doctor Molly should have had. He would have cared more than Charles had, even when hope had died. Charles, the man she’d almost married. How could she have been so wrong about him? Even thinking about it made her cringe.
