“Isabella? Baby? Are you all right?” I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around her as John keeps bargaining with God. Isabella’s eyelids start to twitch, and she rolls into my embrace. “Isabella? You’re gonna be all right, I promise. I promise, baby.” I watch as the blood from her forehead blooms on the fabric of my shirt.
“Colt?” she answers me weakly.
All of my anger is washed away by a tide of relief. Tears spring to my eyes as I lean over her and kiss her face.
“The baby! Oh my God, where’s Lisa? Is my baby okay?” She struggles to communicate her jumbled thoughts.
“Everything is going to be okay. The baby is fine.” I smile and run my hand down over her beautiful belly, but when I look down my smile fades as fear grips my throat.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella tries to sit forward to follow my gaze, but a paramedic stops her.
“Just relax and try not to move around too much, okay?” Two other paramedics are calmly carrying over a bright orange stretcher. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and take care of you and that little one, okay? But I need you to take it easy.” He speaks to Isabella gently, in a practiced calm manner. “Sir, I need you to step out of the way. We’ll take over from here.” His voice firms up and I wordlessly nod, knowing there’s nothing else I can do. “Do you have a preference for the hospital?”
“Yeah, take her to the Presbyterian, please.” I watch as they roll Isabella onto the stretcher. Her eyes are locked on mine and in them I can see her fears.
It seems to take an eternity as they strap her onto the board and brace her neck. However, it isn’t her neck I’m worried about as I watch them easily lift her from the floor and steadily walk her toward the door. She didn’t have any problems lifting her head only moments ago. Luckily, she didn’t lift it far enough to see what I am worried about—the blood soaking the crotch of her pants, billowing upward to her hips and down over her thighs.
I try not to panic as she watches me. I need to keep a poker face and to reassure her it’s all going to be okay. However, with that much blood, I’m not so sure myself.
“Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. We’ll meet you at the hospital. The cops have Lisa, so don’t even think about her anymore. You’re gonna be all right.” I feel like a liar as I follow the paramedics carrying Isabella out to the ambulance. But I don’t know what else to say. Stressing her even more isn’t going to help anything.
“Isabella! Oh my Lord! My baby!” Shirley starts shrieking as soon as we get outside the door.
Police are everywhere, keeping people from getting too close.
“Shirley, hush, she’s gonna be okay.” John walks over to his frantic wife. Madison starts calling me from Shirley’s arms as soon as she spots me.
“Colt, here! I need you!”
I hate Lisa with every fiber of my being. I can’t believe the terror she’s caused my family, not to mention her own flesh and blood. She never deserved any child, let alone one as sweet and loving as Madison.
As the paramedics load Isabella into the back of the ambulance, I make my way over to my niece. The truth is, I need the comfort of her little baby arms around my neck right now as much as she needs me.
As soon as Madison is in my grasp, Shirley collapses against her husband’s chest. Her body is heaving as she sobs loudly, and John rubs his hand over her back the same way I am doing with Madison.
“Colt? Where is Isabella going?” She looks at me wide-eyed. Even at two years old she’s smart enough to know the answer isn’t good.
“Isabella fell down, honey. She just needs to go to the doctor and get a checkup. It’s all going to be okay.” My throat closes tight around my words, as I choke back my tears. My mind is spinning like a cyclone. Not even an hour ago I was talking to John about marrying his daughter. That feels like it was another lifetime ago.
“Mama! Mama, come here!” Madison starts twisting and flopping around in my arms.
I struggle to hang onto her like a trophy fisherman waiting for someone to take a picture of their prize catch.
“Mama, I want my mommy!” She starts wailing, and I look around in confusion until I spot Lisa in the back of a police car. With her head bowed and her body shaking, Lisa is still in her own world filled with delusions and distress.
Anger trembles through me as I watch her sit there, oblivious to the pain she’s caused me and Madison. She hasn’t even noticed her own daughter, who is freaking out to be near the mother who never deserved to raise her.
“Come here!” Madison’s voice is hoarse from screaming, and tears are mixing with snot on her face. There’s no amount of hugging or hushing her that’s going to calm her hysterics. We need to get out of here.
Now.
“Let’s go.” I nod at John. “We need to get to the hospital and get her out of here.”
He nods in response and shelters Shirley with his arms, turning to go.
“No go! No go!” Madison sobs bitterly. “Mommy!” She cries the words so hard it makes me choke back my own tears.
I try to hold her against my chest, but Madison doesn’t understand that her mother can’t take care of her. She doesn’t know Lisa can barely take care of herself. A child can never see anything but the good in their parents. I strain to hold her close to my body as we make our way down the path.
“Sir? Sir!” I turn to see the man calling out to me. A police officer with a round belly and a ruddy complexion is slowly jogging to catch up with us.
“Officer?” What now?
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask that you come with me. There are some forms to fill out and I’ll be needing a witness statement before you can go anywhere.” He puffs out the words like he just sprinted over here.
“Right now? Can’t this wait? I have to get to the hospital, and she needs to get out of here.” I tilt my head toward Madison, who has stopped fighting me and is just crying uncontrollably against my shoulder.
“No, it can’t wait. I’m sorry, sir. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes or so.” He rubs his hand over his neck and stares at my shoes, his cheeks turning crimson as Madison bawls loudly.
“Fine.” I push the words through my clenched teeth. “Lord knows we haven’t been through enough already. What’s another twenty minutes, right?”
“We’ll try to make it as quick as possible, sir. If you want to leave your daughter with…” He looks at Isabella’s parents, uncertain of how the aging seniors are connected to my family.
“My fiancée’s family,” I answer his questioning eyes.
“Yes, if you want to leave your daughter with the in-laws, we can get this done.”
“If you think I’m putting her down, after what she’s been through, then you’re crazy. You can either ask me your questions now and deal with this”—I nod at Madison, who is heaving with each sob as though her heart is truly broken—“or I can come down to the station tomorrow.”
The officer looks at me, then at Madison, then at his shoes. He twists his toe into the dirt path and sighs. “I’ll tell you what. My partner and I will meet you at the hospital in an hour. You go tend to your family, sir. But I do need to get your witness statement today, okay?”
Surprised at his sudden compassion, relief runs through me. “I do understand. Yes. Thank you, Officer.” I turn on my heel and head to the car before he has a chance to change his mind.
39
Isabella
Lights are flashing overhead as people I can’t see flank each side of my stretcher. It’s like the entire staff is surrounding me as they wheel me down the hospital hallway. With my neck braced and my head strapped to this board, all I can do is watch the lights.
My tears slide down the sides of my head as I pray. The voices of the staff are buzzing around me like bees in a hive, and I try to make sense of what they’re saying.
“Vaginal bleeding and head contusion…”
“Emergency sonogram, possible cesarean…”
“The
mother lost consciousness, fetal distress…”
“Do you have any pain in your pelvis, ma’am? Were you struck in your abdomen?” One of the nurses leans over me as we cram into an elevator.
“I fell on my stomach, really hard. I passed out, so I don’t know what happened after that.” My voice squeaks as I try to tell myself to keep faith that everything will be okay.
“How far along are you, ma’am?”
I can’t make out the details of her face with the bright light shining behind her head like a halo.
“I’m twenty-seven weeks.”
The buzzing of voices gets louder as the crowd of medical staff discusses my answer.
“Is my baby okay? What’s happening?” A chill runs through me and for the first time, I realize my forehead is throbbing.
I just want Colt here. I want him to hold me close and tell me everything is going to be okay.
I swear, if that bitch hurt my baby, I’m going to go to jail because I’m going to kill her.
“We’re going to find out soon. I know it’s hard, but try to take some deep breaths and think positive.”
I try to nod, but my head won’t budge. Instead, I’m rewarded with a flash of pain across my forehead. It doesn’t bother me, though. All I can concentrate on is my baby. I try to psychically communicate with my baby to hang on.
When was the last time I felt it move? Did the doctor say vaginal bleeding? I try to take deep breaths, but they’re ragged and heavy.
Within a minute, I’m being unstrapped and transferred onto a hospital bed. In a flurry, my shirt is cut off of me and straps are placed over my chest as cold jelly is smeared over my belly.
Normally, when I feel the gel before an ultrasound, I giggle with excitement. It’s always a thrill to hear my baby’s heartbeat fill the room and watch the outline of my little bean squirm around on the monitor. Now I’m filled with dread, and the monitor is tucked away behind my head, so I can’t even see the screen.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Mom.” The nurse guides me as terror grips my chest. My breathing is shallow, but it’s the only sound filling the room as the doctor pushes a wand into my belly searching for signs of life in my baby.
The nurse holds my hand, and I twist my head to take a look at the doctor’s face, hoping for some kind of indication of what’s going on. However, he’s just squinting at the screen, concentrating as he pokes my belly with the wand from different directions.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. I gasp and cry with fresh tears of joy as my baby’s heartbeat pours out of the speakers. I’ve never heard a sweeter sound.
“Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.” I look at the ceiling toward God and rivers of tears stream out of the corners of my eyes and down to the pillow under my head.
“We’ve got symptoms of fetal hypoxia,” the doctor holding the wand tells his colleague and my heart seizes.
What the hell is that?
“Umbilical prolapse?” someone I can’t see at the end of the bed asks calmly like he’s asking if the doctor likes cream in his coffee.
“No indications of prolapse,” the doctor answers. “How long was the patient unconscious?” he asks the nurse as though it isn’t my stomach he’s doing an ultrasound on.
“Do you know how long you were out for?” the nurse repeats his question to me.
“I’m not sure. It felt like a while, but I don’t know for sure.” My mind flashes back to my struggle with Lisa in the bathroom and then my world slowly fading into black. The next thing I saw was Colt’s face and Lisa being walked out of the room in handcuffs.
How long did it take for the cops to get there?
“She isn’t sure,” the nurse relays my answer back to the doctor like a translator at the UN.
“Okay, let’s get Mom on oxygen and an IV. Also, get someone in here to sew up that gash.” He waves at my head, reminding me of the throbbing pain in my forehead. “Put a belt on her and get a steady readout. I want an update every twenty minutes unless it changes, then come get me straight away.” He barks orders like a drill sergeant and the nurses and aides around him scramble like they’re private recruits in the army.
“Excuse me! What is going on with my baby? What’s happening?” I yell, tired of being treated like I don’t exist.
“Joanne, you take care of this.” He snaps off his rubber gloves, tossing them into the garbage can, and leaves the room without acknowledging me.
Prick.
There is another flurry of activity as someone clips a thin belt and sticks what look like tiny suction cups to my belly. A printout begins to start on a machine the belt is attached to, and she watches it for a while, pushing some buttons. Another nurse pokes an IV into my hand and tapes the tube against my skin.
“What’s going on?” I beg. “Is my baby going to be okay? Someone tell me.”
“Everything is gonna be just fine,” the nurse by my side, the only one who has been treating me like a human the entire time, assures me. “Your baby is just a bit shaken up right now, so we need to get it to calm down. We see this all the time. It’s nothing to worry about. The best thing you can do for your baby right now is try to relax.”
The aide who just taped the IV to my hand is holding an oxygen mask in front of my face. “Okay, so I just need you to keep this on and take deep, steady breaths.”
I nod and lean forward so she can slip the strap over my head and secure the mask to my face.
“Don’t worry. I know it feels impossible, but just try to relax. Someone will be up here shortly to stitch up your head. In the meantime, deep breaths and relaxation are the best things you can do, okay?” my angel nurse reassures me.
As the room clears out, my head is spinning. My body is covered in straps and tubes, and I have no idea what’s going on with my little bean. My mind keeps flopping back and forth between relaxing and flipping the fuck out. I lay my head back into my pillow and close my eyes, silently communicating with the baby inside me.
You can do this! Please, keep fighting. I can’t bear to lose you now!
40
Colt
It feels like an eternity before we find Isabella’s room. Between the Manhattan traffic and tracking down a damned parking spot, I’m certain it’s been more than an hour since we left Central Park. When we finally find the right door, I almost wish we stumbled into the wrong room.
On the bed, Isabella has tubes and wires running out of her. With the taped cut on her forehead and the oxygen mask on her face, she is breaking my heart with how rough she looks. As soon as she sees us, she begins to cry, and Shirley rushes to her side to sob along with her.
“What’s that, Colt?” Madison looks around the room in wonder and points to the monitor registering a heartbeat next to Isabella.
“That’s a machine for the doctors.” I carry her on my hip and try to hold her so she can’t grab at things as I look down at Isabella. Now that I’m closer, I can see the cut on her forehead is swollen and stitched up.
“Has the bleeding stopped?” I’m afraid of the answer. I know that by now she must be aware of the blood stain I watched spread over her pants.
The tears in her eyes spill over and hit the mask covering her nose. She shakes her head and despite my best efforts to stay calm, my own eyes sting as they mist up.
“We’re going to get through this.” I squeeze her hand as my voice wavers. “No matter what, we’re family. We will pull through this.” My voice trembles unconvincingly.
Isabella’s father sits on the couch against the wall and holds his hand out to his wife. “Shirley, now isn’t the time for your tears. Sit here and pray with me.”
She peels herself off of Isabella like a child ripping open the Velcro on their shoe and sits next to her husband. Wiping the trails of tears from her eyes, she bows her head over her folded hands and joins John in prayer.
“Is Isabella wearing a costume?” Madison points her chubby finger at the oxygen mask and then looks at me wide-eyed. She’s trying to m
ake sense of all of this, but it’s impossible to explain to a two-year-old.
“No, honey. She needs that mask so she can breathe better. The doctors want her to wear it so she’ll get well quickly.” I do my best to explain in a way that won’t scare her. I’m sure the beeps and whirs of the machines are overwhelming for her. I know it’s overwhelming me.
“I love you.” Isabella’s voice is barely a whisper under her mask. But my heart heard her words even before my ears, swelling up in my chest as I look down on her. She is truly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and nothing, not even a monster like Lisa, can take that away from her.
“I love you too. I love you so much.” I choke back my emotions, but the tears I’ve been struggling to hide finally break free and drip down my face.
“Knock, knock!” A stern-looking doctor enters the room carrying a chart. He barely glances at us as he reads his paperwork and glimpses at the monitors. We’re all watching him, collectively holding our breaths, as we wait to hear an update.
“Okay, so, Miss Franco, it looks like the oxygen and IV are working their magic. The baby is starting to move around again, and the heart rate is returning to normal.”
“Thank you, Lord!” John exclaims, and the doctor frowns at the interruption.
“As I was saying, you’re not quite out of the woods yet, so we’d like to keep you here for a few days under observation to make sure everything stabilizes and remains that way. Does that sound okay?”
He looks at me for confirmation instead of Isabella. “Of course, whatever needs to be done,” I answer, and Isabella nods in agreement.
“All right then, the nurses will be checking in with you regularly. And if you need some pain medication for your head, don’t be a hero, let them know. It won’t cross the blood stream and harm the baby, okay?” He glimpses at Isabella but doesn’t wait for her to respond. “Perfect. I’ll check up on you again tomorrow then.” He clicks his pen and thrusts it in his coat pocket and disappears from the room as quickly as he came in.
His Promise Page 16
