Though she didn’t have another appointment for ten days, Dr. Emma Earl’s file lay on Dr. Pavelski’s coffee table. Ever since that morning when Becky Beech dragged her out of bed to treat Emma’s knife wounds, Dr. Pavelski had looked at Emma’s file at least once a day. At first she tried to tell herself it was professional interest as a doctor. Then she tried to tell herself she was doing her Christian duty, though she hadn’t gone to a service since medical school; she never seemed to find time to drag herself over to the Ukrainian Orthodox church across town.
In the end she had to tell herself she was just plain worried about this woman. It wasn’t just the knife wounds she had suffered, though those were certainly odd enough. There was the whole aura of secrecy that surrounded Emma. She had scars on her body. She frequently came in with bruises. She wouldn’t talk about the father of her child. Becky Beech said the man’s name was Jim and hinted that he was a drunk. Something about this didn’t jive with the woman she had met. Despite her shyness, soft voice, and habit of addressing her feet most of the time, Emma didn’t strike her as the type who allowed herself to be bullied, even by someone she loved.
As Dr. Pavelski considered this, the entire living room exploded in white light. Dr. Pavelski cried out and blinked futilely to clear her vision. Bright green blobs continued to burst in front of her as she heard a woman say, “We need your help, Doctor. Emma’s in trouble.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s gone into labor.”
“Labor? But she’s not even eight months yet—”
“I know, dear.”
The “dear” jogged something in Dr. Pavelski’s memory. Her vision cleared enough that she could see a blond woman in front of her, a blond woman who looked twenty-five but often talked like Dr. Pavelski’s grandmother. There was something in her eyes too that belied the age in the rest of her face. “You’re one of Emma’s friends, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Agnes Chiostro. Now, I hate to give you the bum’s rush, but we must hurry.”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Great. Does she have someone to drive her to the hospital or does she need an ambulance?”
“I’m afraid she can’t go to a hospital.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s in Ireland right now.”
“Ireland? Is she on vacation or something?”
“Or something.”
“They have hospitals there. Good ones, too.”
“I’m afraid the nearest hospitals are too far away.”
“Where exactly is she?”
“I suppose the best way to describe it would be to say she’s in a cave.”
“A cave? Why is she there?”
Agnes Chiostro sighed and then said, “Because her life was in danger.”
“There must be someone else. I mean, by the time I got there—”
“It won’t take more than a few seconds, dear. Grab what you need and then we can go.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The short version is to say that I am a witch, not like the storybooks with eating children and such nonsense, but I can work magic. That’s how I got here.”
Dr. Pavelski thought of the flash of light that had blinded her followed by Agnes’s sudden appearance in the living room. “You teleported here? From Ireland?”
“Quite so, dear. And if you hurry, I’ll teleport us back there.”
“Can’t you just teleport Emma here? I could get a room for her at St. Joe’s—”
“They might not both survive the trip.”
“So you want me to go to Ireland to deliver her baby?”
“Yes. Now, if you’ll hurry—”
“I still don’t understand why she’s in Ireland.”
“There were some nasty people after her. We thought it would be safe for her until she was due.” Agnes shook her head. “I never thought she would go into labor so early. Now, could you please hurry? The poor girl is in a lot of pain.”
Dr. Pavelski nodded. This was all very weird, but in the end it all came down to a patient who needed her help. She didn’t need a class on ethics to tell her the right decision. “I’ll get my bag.”
***
Being bludgeoned nearly to death by three Black Dragoons was more painful than the contractions, but that knowledge wasn’t much comfort as the next wave of pain wracked her body. Nor did all the reading she had done on childbirth or the breathing exercises she had practiced with Akako help her to deal with the feeling that someone was trying to cut her in half with a very rusty saw. Her scream echoed through the first floor of the archives; it faded long after it had escaped her lips.
“You’re doing fine,” Akako said. She clutched Emma’s hand. “Hang in there.”
“I’m trying.” A small part of her mind, the part that remained rational even through the pain, told her that much of her discomfort was psychological. Louise was coming much too early. Not even eight months yet. Maybe Isis didn’t have anything to worry about.
She had her eyes closed eight minutes later for the next contraction when Aggie reappeared in the archivist’s quarters, where Emma lay on Akako’s bed with her legs spread apart. Dr. Pavelski accompanied the witch; her eyes widened for a moment. “This is pretty nice for a cave,” she said. Then she reached into her bag for a pair of rubber gloves. “Well, how’s my favorite patient doing?”
“It hurts.”
The doctor nodded and took Akako’s place at her side. Her rubber glove brushed along Emma’s sweaty forehead. “It’s going to hurt. A lot. If we could get you to the hospital I could give you something, but your friend thinks that’s not a good idea. So we’ll have to do this the natural way.”
“Don’t worry, dear, I gave birth to three little ones the natural way,” Aggie said. She knelt down beside the doctor. “You’re much stronger than I was, I know that much.”
“Thanks.” She closed her eyes and tried not to feel the usual burn of shame as Dr. Pavelski examined between her legs.
“Looks like you’re about halfway there.”
“Only?”
“Well, at least your sense of humor is intact.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Aggie took Emma’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine, dear. Just try to relax while you can. Do you want me to get Rebecca?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Just be strong, dear. It’ll be over soon.”
While Emma waited for the next contraction, Dr. Pavelski enlisted Akako’s help to turn the bedroom into a delivery room. They sanitized instruments and found some clean sheets to put down around Emma, as well as some for the baby, whenever she came—if she came.
In the future, Emma hadn’t looked up Louise’s birth records to find out if she had been born early or not. Joanna had told her that the future she saw might not be what actually happened in any case. She had also told Emma not to lose hope, to focus on the young woman she had met there.
“Stay with me, baby,” she mumbled to herself. “Stay with me.”
Becky arrived in mid-scream and took Emma’s hand in hers. “How are you doing, kid?”
She waited until the pain faded to say, “I’ve been better.”
Becky turned to Dr. Pavelski. “Can’t you give her anything?”
“I’d rather not unless I have to. This situation is already messed-up enough without worrying about drug reactions.”
“I can do it,” Emma said.
Becky wiped the sweat from Emma’s forehead and smiled at her. “I know you can.”
Once she’d regained her breath, Emma said, “You have to promise me something.”
“Anything, kid.”
“If something happens to me—”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine. Both of you.”
“If something happens to me, promise you’ll take care of Louise. Don’t let anything happe
n to her.”
“Of course I will. I’ll take as good care of her as I did with you. Look at how well you turned out.”
Despite the pain, weariness, and soreness, Emma laughed at this. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
Becky held her hand through the next contraction; she didn’t even wince as Emma squeezed nearly as hard as with the Scarlet Knight’s armor on. After this contraction, Dr. Pavelski said, “You’re fully dilated, Emma. It won’t be long now.” Then her face paled and she whispered something to Aggie.
“What’s wrong with my baby?” Emma asked.
“She’s breeched,” Dr. Pavelski said.
From her research, Emma knew this meant that Louise was pointed the wrong way, with her feet down instead of her head. This was probably because she was coming out prematurely. Aggie patted Emma’s knee and flashed her a smile. “It’ll be fine, dear. My second one was breeched. He came out just fine.”
“Your friend’s right, Emma. I’ve delivered dozens of breeches.” The doctor changed her gloves for a fresh pair. “I’m going to stick my hands in here and try to give her some help. Stay very still.”
Emma closed her eyes and squeezed Becky’s hand again as she felt the doctor reach into her. She heard Dr. Pavelski mutter, “Oh shit.”
“What is it?”
“The umbilical cord is around her neck.”
“Is she—?”
“I’m not sure. I’m going to try to get this untangled. Stay very still, all right?”
Emma focused on staying completely motionless; any sudden movement now might kill Louise before she was ever born. This became more difficult as she felt another wave of pain wash over her body. Becky put a hand on her chest to help her keep steady.
Emma nearly cried out with joy when she heard the doctor say, “I’ve got it.”
“Is she alive?”
“I don’t know.” The doctor pulled her hands out of Emma’s womb and then began to put on another set of gloves. “I’m going to need you to push now, Emma. When you feel a contraction, you push as hard as you can, all right?”
“I will,” she said. She found this much easier to say than to actually do. When the next contraction came, she cried out in pain while she simultaneously pushed as hard as she could.
“Come on, Emma, I know you can do better than that,” Dr. Pavelski said. “The next one I want you to really push. Push like Louise’s life depends on it, all right?”
“I will.” For the next one she tried to put the pain out of her mind and focus on Louise’s face as she remembered it from the future. She focused on those last moments, when Louise had dropped the Sword of Justice instead of killing Isis and how proud Emma had been of her.
“She’s out!” Dr. Pavelski said.
“You did it,” Becky said. She patted Emma’s shoulder.
Emma kept her eyes closed and silently prayed to any god who chose to listen until she heard her daughter’s first cries. Only then did she open her eyes to see a tiny, bloody child wrapped in a pink bed sheet. “Can I hold her?”
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time,” Dr. Pavelski said. “We’ve got to get her to a hospital.”
“Is she sick? Is she going to die?” Emma would have tried to leap to her feet, but Becky held her down.
“She’s very weak. We need to get her to the NICU right away.”
“Don’t worry, dear, I’ll take them. Everything will be all right.” Yet as Aggie vanished with Dr. Pavelski and Louise, Emma noticed the sadness in the witch’s eyes.
Chapter 33
It was another two hours before Emma joined Louise at St. Joseph’s in Rampart City. First there was the afterbirth to deal with; the bloody placenta slid out onto the spare sheets Akako had laid down. Emma lay on the bed even after this; Aggie told her she should rest a little before she vanished to the hospital.
She tried not to focus on the fact that her room looked exactly like the one in the future where she had been taken after the Dragoons crippled her. “At least it’s not the pediatric wing,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” Becky asked.
Emma told her about her trip to the future, where she’d met Louise and where Isis had first crippled Emma and then turned her into a child to toy with her. She left out what she’d seen of Becky; she didn’t want to tell her friend how they had become estranged after Becky went to Washington. “You were in Congress,” was all Emma said.
“Congress? I don’t even want to run for dog catcher.”
“I’m sure you’ll make a great congresswoman.”
Becky’s face fell slightly as she must have put some of the pieces together. “If Dan’s still working for the museum and I’m in Congress then I guess we never got married.”
“I’m sorry, Becky. It’s not written in stone. Maybe you can change things.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s meant to be.”
“Don’t think like that, Becky.” While much of the future had worked out well enough for Emma, her relationship to Becky was one thing she hoped she could alter. She didn’t want to gain a daughter only to lose her best friend. “There’s still time.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. This was twenty years from now, wasn’t it? Lots of time.” Becky faked a smile and then squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “I should probably call Dan and tell him to get the nursery ready. We did a little redecorating while you were gone.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Sure I did. I can’t have my niece living in a drab room.”
“I’m sorry about the shower. You were only trying to be nice and I spoiled everything.”
“Hey, come on, it wasn’t your fault. I should have listened to Megan. She said you wouldn’t like me making a big deal about it.”
“How is Megan?”
“Fine.” In a lower voice Becky said, “Whatever you did with the armor must have worked. No one’s taken your place—yet.”
“That’s good news, I suppose.” There was a moment of silence, before Becky said, “Do you want me to try getting a message to Jim? I know you said he doesn’t want to see you, but maybe one of his friends could give him a message.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll talk to Pepe later.”
“It’s not a problem—”
“No, it’ll be easier if I do it.”
“All right, if you’re sure.” Becky let Emma’s hand drop onto the bed as she stood up. “I’m going to call Dan and the others. Anything you want me to bring from home?”
Emma thought back to her stay in the future and then smiled. “Do you have any Nancy Drew books?”
“Gee, I’m not sure. I didn’t think fiction was your thing.”
“Just thought I should get in practice.”
“I’ll check around.” She bent down to kiss Emma on the forehead. “You did good, kid.”
“Thanks.”
After her best friend left, Emma leaned her head back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. Dr. Pavelski had finally given her something to help with the pain; the medicine kicked in at last to lull her to sleep. When she woke up, she hoped the doctor would let her go down to see Louise, who was recovering from her own ordeal in the neonatal intensive care unit. Dr. Pavelski had already told her it might be weeks before Louise could come home, until they could be together.
As Emma fell asleep, she imagined Louise warm and safe in her arms.
***
No amount of training could fully prepare a doctor for that awful moment when a patient died. Dr. Pavelski had gone through it a number of times and it never got any better. It was especially bad in her occupation, where the patients were either babies or pregnant women. No matter how many times you went through it, no matter how you prepared yourself, there was no way to cushion the pain of telling someone they would never see their loved one again.
For that reason, Dr. Pavelski was on her knees in the NICU; she sobbed as if she had lost a loved one. One of her colleagues put a hand
on her shoulder. “Laura, maybe you should go home. Get some rest—”
“No, I have to tell her.” Dr. Pavelski got to her feet. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her arm. “I’m her doctor.”
The pain only got worse as she rode the elevator up. The common expression in this circumstance was to say they had done everything possible. In this, Dr. Pavelski knew she had done so, that no board of inquiry could find her guilty of any wrongdoing. She had done everything possible for Louise Earl, to the point she had tried to breathe air into the little girl with her own lungs. That was the point when a nurse dragged her back and said, “Doctor, she’s gone.”
The knowledge that she had done everything possible didn’t make Dr. Pavelski feel any better. It actually made her feel worse to know there had been nothing she could have done, nothing that could have saved the child. There was only the cold logic that sometimes children died and no one could stop it.
Dr. Pavelski was careful not to go anywhere near the waiting room. Emma’s friends were all there to wait for news. She had told them they could go home, but they refused. Though it was against hospital policy, Dr. Pavelski told the nurses of the floor that Emma’s friends could stay as long as they wanted. The only condition was that she wouldn’t allow more than two to go into Emma’s room and not for more than five minutes; she wanted the new mother to get plenty of rest.
When she opened the door to Room 537, she knew this would be more difficult than she had thought. Emma slept on her back, a Nancy Drew paperback folded on her lap. Her best friend Becky sat beside the bed, to silently watch over her. Becky turned to her and immediately put both hands to her face. She plucked the book from Emma’s chest and then ran silently from the room.
Dr. Pavelski sat on the edge of the bed and took Emma’s hand in hers. “Emma, wake up.”
Emma mumbled something and then opened her eyes. She looked around the room for a moment in surprise, as if to remember where she was. “Oh, hi,” she said. The softness of her voice almost made Dr. Pavelski cry again. “How is she?”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 103
