A Baby for the Flying Doctor

by Lucy Clark

  ‘What? No. That can’t be a push.’ Phemie looked stunned.

  ‘It was,’ Gemma grunted through clenched teeth.

  ‘But it’s going to be another half an hour at least until Melissa and Iris get here.’

  ‘Tell that to the baby,’ Gemma remarked.

  Phemie pulled on a pair of gloves and did an internal examination. ‘You’re fully dilated, Gem. I guess this baby’s coming now despite knowing the specialists are on their way.’

  ‘How long is it since either of you delivered a baby?’ Gemma asked between pants, her question directed at both Phemie and Gil.

  ‘Uh…a while.’ It wasn’t the fact of delivering a baby that had Phemie on edge but more the fact that Gemma’s pregnancy hadn’t been easy. What if something went wrong with the birth? What if there was something wrong with the baby? She silently wished for her colleagues—colleagues with years of experience in these matters—to hurry.

  ‘A longer while,’ came Gil’s reply. He looked at Phemie and she could almost feel him reading her thoughts. If everything ran to course, they’d be fine. It was all the unknown variables that concerned them.

  ‘OK, then. Well, as it’s not been that long since I went through this,’ she panted. ‘I’ll talk you both through each step.’

  ‘No one’s doubting your experience but I have to say there’s nothing like having the experienced mother to talk the doctors through the procedure. I think I’m going to need to write this experience up in a medical journal otherwise no one will believe me,’ Gil murmured, and received a laugh from Gemma.

  ‘I like this one, Phemie. Good-looking and funny. Can we keep him?’

  Phemie instantly raised her eyes to meet Gil’s and found him watching her with equal intent. Could she? Could she keep him here with her? In the outback? Would he stay? She hadn’t even thought of that before. Would he give up his life in England, his prestige and fame to become an outback doctor? If he stayed, though, what would that mean for her?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  WHILST Gemma’s pregnancy had endured quite a few ups and downs, it appeared the delivery was going to be straightforward and for that alone Phemie was thankful. It also helped that Rajene, midwife extraordinaire, was there, guiding them in confused English. A few times, though, she would revert to Tarparnese when she couldn’t think of the right description in English and Phemie was exceedingly grateful that Gil was there to converse easily with the woman in her native tongue.

  ‘All right, Gemma.’ Phemie positioned herself at the bottom of the bed, protective gown over her clothes, gloves on her hands and a prayer in her heart. ‘Push when you’re ready.’

  Gemma grunted and groaned as another contraction hit and, straining against Rajene on one side and Ron on the other, she pushed her hardest.

  ‘The head is crowning,’ Phemie announced. ‘That was great, Gemma,’ she encouraged once the contraction had passed.

  Rajene slipped a few pillows behind Gemma so she could rest between contractions and conserve as much energy as possible. Ron spoke words of encouragement and Phemie was peripherally conscious of the Etherington children hovering outside in the hallway. For the older ones, it wasn’t the first time they’d seen the birth of one of their siblings. Gemma had delivered the last four of her brood here in this very room. However, Phemie was well aware that Melissa had organised to induce Gemma’s pregnancy in two weeks’ time to hopefully avoid any delivery and post-partum complications. That, it appeared, was not meant to be.

  While waiting for Gemma’s next contraction, Gil checked the baby’s heartbeat and monitored Gemma’s blood pressure. He was also in the process of setting up an area to receive the newborn baby. With confidence, he’d gone through Phemie’s medical bag, pulling out what he needed and laying down blankets and freshly laundered towels on a small coffee table, which had been brought in for that purpose.

  It was interesting to be sharing this experience with him—a man she barely knew. It was as though he’d waltzed into her life and changed it for ever.

  He made her feel gooey inside and every time he looked at her it was all she could do not to catch her breath and sigh. He was so incredibly handsome, of that there was no doubt. She liked his thick brown hair and, even though he wore it short, she itched to run her fingers through it. She could look into his gorgeous and mesmerising eyes for ever and each time, she knew, they would turn her insides to mush. She wanted to touch his taut, firm body which, as he was now only wearing a polo shirt rather than the usual business shirt, showed off his gorgeous arm muscles.

  Phemie remembered all too well what it had been like to have those arms around her, holding her close, keeping her safe. He’d protected her on the train when the emergency brake had been pulled. He’d offered comfort when she’d cried after Mary had left the crash site. He’d tenderly caressed when he’d been showering her with mind-melting kisses.

  She felt safe with Gil. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her, just as she would never intentionally hurt him. She knew she could trust him, just as she hoped he found her worthy of that same quality. She not only admired his intellect but the way he used it and she’d felt unworthy of his praise when he’d called her smart.

  He may have been through his own personal trauma with the death of his wife and baby but he had gone on with his life. He’d chosen to share his research and experiences with medics around the world and the fact he’d done all this whilst carrying such a personal hurt deep down inside only made her respect him even more.

  ‘Sardi’s just called through,’ Peter, Gemma and Ron’s oldest son, announced from the doorway. ‘They’ve just left Didja.’

  Phemie brought her thoughts back into focus as Gemma had another contraction. ‘That’s it. Push. Push. Keep pushing. The head is almost out. You’re doing great.’

  When the contraction ended, Gil once more performed the observations. ‘Blood pressure is fine. Baby’s heartbeat is still strong and healthy.’

  Rajene and Ron were adding their words of praise, sponging the very hot and tired Gemma and giving her sips of water. Gil came around and knelt down next to Phemie, the warmth of his body so close it caused her skin to tingle. It was utterly ridiculous the way this man could affect her.

  ‘I’m happy to take care of the baby once it’s delivered but what if the baby requires oxygen? I know we brought the oxygen cylinder from the plane and I have a mask to give it to Gemma should she require it, but what about the baby? We don’t have a humidicrib or an oxygen tent or any other pieces of equipment.’

  Phemie nodded, understanding his concern. She kept her voice low but clear. ‘This is outback medicine, Gil. If we don’t have what we need, we improvise. You’re a highly intelligent man, Professor Fitzwilliam. Think of a way to make what you need.’

  As she watched, it was as though she saw his brilliant mind absorb her words and then click into action. He moved to the side of the room as Gemma had another contraction, this one so strong she was able to push the baby’s head out.

  Phemie knew there was no way Melissa and Iris were going to make it in time. Given that this was Gemma’s seventh child, her body knew the cues, when to push, when not to push. Phemie checked to see if the cord was looped around the baby’s neck but thankfully there was nothing there.

  ‘The shoulders are rotating so when you’re ready, some nice big pushes,’ Phemie instructed.

  ‘I thought you didn’t know what you were doing?’ Gemma quizzed, and Phemie smiled, pleased to see the mother’s sense of humour was still intact. ‘You’re a big liar, Euphemia Graing—’ Gemma pushed as the contraction hit.

  When she was finished, Phemie looked at her friend. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t know what I was doing. I merely said it had been a while since I’d delivered a baby.’

  ‘Plus with all the problems Gem’s had with this pregnancy,’ Ron added. ‘We don’t know what—’ He cut himself off and looked out the window, as though wishing the RFDS plane to instantly materialise. />
  ‘Whilst I think we’ll all be happy when the cavalry arrives, we’re all doing extremely well as it is.’ Gil’s voice was filled with reassurance and strength. ‘Especially Gemma.’ He smiled at the woman lying on the bed, panting between contractions, and Phemie couldn’t believe how in that one instant any worry lines that had been etched on the labouring woman’s brow lifted.

  Not only was Gil a fantastic medical specialist, a great researcher and an excellent writer, he also had the ability to connect with his patients, to put them at ease and to leave everyone feeling as though everything would, indeed, be all right.

  From then on a wave of determination filled the room. Phemie was conscious of Gil going over to speak to Peter, asking him for a few different things. When Peter returned, it was with his arms bundled with Gaffer tape, kitchen plastic wrap and a set of small plastic rods, which usually snapped together to form a platform to dry woollen jumpers.

  Phemie wanted to watch whatever it was Gil was up to. She’d told him to improvise and it looked as though he was doing just that. However, Gemma and the baby required her attention and as Gemma continued to push, Phemie guided the small baby into the world.

  Ron was there, watching the final moments of the birth, and finally was ready to announce in a loud booming voice that they had another daughter. Gemma laughed and collapsed back against the pillows, Rajene tending to the mother.

  Gil had finished whatever it was he’d been doing and was by her side with a warmed towel to accept the newborn, his big hands forming a secure platform. Phemie retrieved two pairs of locking forceps from her bag and clamped the umbilical cord. Then she held out some scissors to Ron.

  ‘Doing the honours, Dad?’

  ‘Try and stop me.’ Ron was elated and when it was done, Phemie looked at the baby, wiping her mouth and nose. A mild cry came out and Gemma sighed with relief.

  ‘She’s OK.’

  Gil and Phemie waited as the little bundle started breathing, trying to find her rhythm. Phemie quickly administered an injection of vitamin K then frowned as she watched the rise and fall of the little chest more closely. ‘Those breaths are a little fast.’ When she looked at Gil, she realised he was counting the breaths.

  ‘Ninety,’ he said after a minute had passed.

  ‘Rajene.’ Phemie looked at the wise midwife. ‘Would you mind helping Gemma with the last stage of labour, please?’

  ‘What…what’s wrong?’ Ron asked, his gaze darting around the room, to his wife on the bed, to his other children in the hallway, to his new little daughter who was being closely watched by the two doctors.

  ‘Peter, check on the plane,’ Phemie called. ‘If they’re close, drive out to the airstrip to meet them.’

  ‘Right.’ The seventeen-year-old headed to do as he was told.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Gemma asked, concern touching her voice.

  ‘The baby’s breathing a little too fast, trying to suck in as much air as possible,’ Phemie said, taking the baby closer to Gemma. ‘See? Her nostrils are flaring and you can see her ribs as her lungs try to work as hard as they can.’

  ‘That’s bad?’

  ‘It’s an indication of HMD—hyline membrane disease. We need to get her saturations stabilised.’

  ‘Good call,’ Gil said as he placed the baby down on the table he’d set up. There were heaters on either side so they could keep the baby warm and finally Phemie was able to see what it was he’d been constructing.

  ‘An oxygen tent.’ She shook her head in wonderment. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Her skin’s pale and mottling.’

  ‘Let’s get her hooked up.’ With Gil’s improvised oxygen tent, they’d be able to apply the oxygen and improve the saturations in no time.

  ‘Yolanda…’ Ron was calling to his oldest daughter. ‘Call through to the base so they can get a message to the plane that it’s HMD.’

  ‘Is she all right?’ Gemma asked, her tone watery and scared. Rajene was busy delivering the afterbirth but was keeping a close eye on the mother.

  ‘We’re working on making sure she is.’ Gil was the one to answer and again his words had a distinct ring of authority that would put even the most sceptical person at ease.

  Gil turned the oxygen on and Phemie put the tent—a crude frame of plastic pipes held together with tape and then covered with plastic wrap—over the baby. The oxygen slowly filled the tent, Gil monitoring the saturation levels and both of them watching the baby’s response.

  ‘What are you going to call her?’ Phemie asked, glancing over at Gemma, who was lying back with her eyes shut.

  ‘We’re letting the children choose her name,’ Ron announced when Gemma didn’t say anything.

  Phemie smiled and glanced at the wide stares of the children in question peeping around the doorframe. ‘Fantastic. So,’ she addressed the children, ‘what names have you come up with for a girl? Was it a unanimous decision?’

  ‘It was,’ Selena, the third eldest, announced.

  ‘And what shall she be named?’ Phemie asked.

  The children all looked at each other then back at the doctors, their eyes bright with delight. ‘We’re going to call her Rajene Paris.’

  Phemie turned to look at the midwife, whose eyes were wide with unexpected delight.

  ‘You name babe after me?’ Her tone was filled with complete awe.

  ‘You’ve looked after Mum and the baby so well,’ Selena continued, standing proudly as she spoke. ‘We all decided it was the best name ever—if it was a girl,’ she added with a little smile.

  ‘Well,’ Gil announced to all and sundry, ‘I’m happy to report that Rajene Paris’s colour is improving, her skin is becoming less mottled and her little lungs aren’t having to work so hard to suck in air.’

  ‘Oh. Oh!’ Gemma said happily, and then promptly burst into tears. ‘Oh, my darling baby is all right.’

  The children all clapped, and the little ones, the youngest of whom could only be about three years old, jumped around excitedly. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at Yolanda, who had come back.

  ‘Can I play now, Landa?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, Lee. All of you can go play. I think Mum and Rajene Paris need some quiet,’ Yolanda announced. Once the younger ones had run off, she looked at the adults. ‘Peter’s just radioed through to say the plane has landed. Melissa and Iris are on their way.’

  ‘That’d be right.’ Ron chortled. ‘Now that the drama’s all over and every thing’s as right as rain, they finally get here.’

  Gil looked at Phemie and when he smiled she couldn’t get over the way his gaze encompassed her. Together, they’d been able to care for mother and baby, which was their job. In that look, though, there was more. Gil’s eyes radiated his happiness, his pride at what they’d done as a team.

  Half an hour later, as they stood on the verandah looking at the land as dusk started to approach, Gil put his arm about her waist and drew her close. Phemie didn’t stop him. She wanted to be held by him, to cap off this special day by being close to the man she was most certainly in love with. Seeing the way he’d cared for that baby, especially knowing how his own baby girl had been taken from him, her heart churned with love.

  She loved him. She loved Gil and whilst she knew it was so incredibly wrong, that it could never be, she wanted this moment. Melissa and Iris were taking care of mother and baby, the Etherington children were helping to tidy up and make dinner and Rajene had been ordered to sit, relax and have a cup of tea. All seemed to be right with the world.

  ‘We did it, Euphemia.’

  ‘Yes, we did.’ She snuggled back into him and sighed, covering his arms with her own. Gil dropped a kiss on the top of her head as they both simply stood and stared, absorbing the serenity. ‘When I first heard the baby’s cries, I thought everything was going to be fine. I thought, We’ve done it. And then she started…’ Phemie stopped and shook her head slightly. ‘And then I turned and you’d set up your makeshift oxygen tent. Genius, Gil.
Pure genius.’

  ‘I’m sure you would have come up with something even better. You’re amazing at thinking outside the square box.’

  She laughed without humour. ‘I disagree. I don’t see that in myself at all.’

  Gil looked at her with a quizzical furrow on his brow. ‘Well, then, I must disagree with your disagreement. On the train, for example, you were the one to get the RFDS organised.’

  ‘I had a phone that would reach them.’

  ‘And with Mary, in Sydney, you were the one who came up with the best way to move her.’

  ‘Mary.’ She sighed again, although this time it was one of remorse. She pulled Gil’s arms around her, needing to feel more secure. He was more than happy to oblige and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘You are not to blame for her death.’ Gil’s words were adamant.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry about that night, Gil. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you.’ Phemie angled her head so she could see him better and couldn’t help smiling when he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  ‘No need to apologise. You shared an amazing time with Mary and I’m positive you’ll never forget her. You are quite a woman, Euphemia Grainger. You care. You give. You put yourself on the line for everyone else. Isn’t it time you did something for yourself? Accepted your reward?’ He turned her in his arms and without waiting pressed his mouth to hers. Phemie kissed him back with all the love in her heart, wanting him to know, to feel, just how much she appreciated him, how much she needed him, how much she wanted him. ‘I want to know everything about you,’ he murmured against her mouth, punctuating his words with kisses. ‘I want to spend my precious time here, chatting to you in every spare moment we have. I want to hold you, to kiss you, to simply be with you.’

  ‘Sleep with me?’ she asked, and he didn’t miss that hint of hesitation in her tone.

  A small smile touched his lips and he raised both eyebrows. ‘I am a red-blooded male, Euphemia.’ His voice was deep and filled with repressed desire. ‘However, given the time constraints and other…geographical factors, I don’t think such a course of action would be advisable.’