Beyond the Breakwater

by Radclyffe

  “Not as glad as me,” Bri said with conviction. “Now that I’m working, I think that the two years until Carre can move back will go really fast.”

  “So, you’re all right with Paris?”

  “It still…scares me some. But I love her.” Bri shrugged and blushed. “And I know she loves me.”

  “You must be really proud of her.”

  “Yeah, I am,” Bri said, meaning it.

  Reese watched the road while simultaneously scanning passing cars, checking out the yards that they passed, and looking over the pedestrians who crowded the sidewalks. Quietly, she said, “I’m proud of you, Bri.”

  “You are?”

  “You made a tough decision when you left school, and you saw it through. You’re a fine officer.”

  “I messed up a few things.” Bri’s voice was pitched low as she stared straight ahead. “With Carre.” She took a breath and turned to Reese. “Out there in the dunes that morning with Morris, too.”

  “No,” Reese said steadily, looking quickly at Bri, meeting her eyes with absolute certainty. “You made some mistakes with Caroline, but you owned up to them, and you worked it out. As far as Morris is concerned, you took care of your wounded. You trusted your partner to cover your back, and Ashley came through. You both did fine.”

  “Thanks,” Bri whispered.

  “Have you heard from Ashley or Allie?”

  “I talked to Ashley the day the final report on the shooting was filed. She said she was headed back to Rhode Island.” Bri grinned. “She also said she expected to be around a fair amount this summer, because Allie is going to be assigned permanently in Wellfleet.”

  “Huh. Guess that worked out too, then.” Reese pulled to the curb and rolled down her window. “Ma’am. You can’t leave your car there. You’re in a yellow zone and the sightseeing trolley won’t be able to get by. There’s a public parking area a quarter mile down Commercial Street on your left.”

  Reese waited until the tourist had dutifully pulled away, then eased back into traffic. “As I was saying, I guess everything tur—”

  The radio crackled to life, and Gladys’s voice filled the car. “Reese?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “There’s an emergency call for you. It’s Tory.”

  “Patch her through to my cell phone.” Reese braked sharply, pulled off the road, and snatched the mobile from her belt. It rang an instant later, and she snapped it open. “Tor?”

  “I just called the paramedics,” Tory reported, her voice tight. “I’m having some bleeding.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Reese jammed the phone back onto her belt, flicked on the lights and siren, and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal.

  When Reese careened into her driveway, the EMS van was already there. She swerved around it, jammed on the brakes, and jumped from the cruiser. As she ran toward the stairs, she yelled back to Bri.

  “Call Tory’s sister. The number’s on my rolodex at the station.”

  The door to the living room was open, and as she pushed through, the paramedics were just strapping Tory onto a stretcher. Just seeing Tory like that made Reese’s stomach twist, and for one terrible second, she thought she might be ill. Then, Tory turned her head, their eyes met, and everything inside of Reese settled.

  “Hey, love,” Reese said gently as she crossed quickly to her lover’s side, reaching for the hand that Tory extended. “How are you feeling?”

  “You need to call Wendy,” Tory said urgently, unable to keep the anxiety from her voice. “She’s going to need to talk to whoever is on call in Hyannis, because I can’t make it to Boston.”

  “I’ll do that while we’re en route.” Reese walked alongside the stretcher as the two men in the blue paramedic jump suits maneuvered it through the door and outside. “But you need to tell me what’s going on so I can tell her.”

  Tory bit her lip and squeezed Reese’s hand so hard that the band on Reese’s ring finger pressed painfully into the bone.

  “Tor?” Reese unsuccessfully tried to keep the panic from her voice. “Baby? What is it?”

  “I’m having…some pain.”

  Tory’s face was white and her skin clammy.

  Reese looked at the two men. “I think we need to hurry here.”

  “Don’t worry,” one of them grunted as he pulled open the back of the ambulance. “We’ll be flying in just a minute.”

  Reese punched in Wendy’s number as the two men engaged the hydraulic lifts on the stretcher, raised it up, and then slid it into the back of the van. She was forced to leave a message when she couldn’t get through to the obstetrician’s office.

  Once the EMTs had Tory secured inside the van, the older of the pair climbed out and ran around to the driver’s compartment. Reese knelt by Tory’s side on the corrugated floor, one hand cradling Tory’s head and the other gripping her hand. Within seconds, they were rocketing east on Route 6.

  “Put the fetal heart monitor on now,” Tory instructed the EMT.

  “Let me get you lined up first,” he said calmly.

  “Check the baby’s heart rate first.” Her tone left no room for discussion.

  “Sure, Doc. Just try to relax, okay?”

  “Hurry,” Tory gasped as another wave of pain began. “Then call ahead and tell them…you have an abruption coming in.”

  The EMT hesitated, his expression darkening. “You sure?”

  Tory gritted her teeth and sweat broke out on her forehead. Finally, when the cramp passed, she gasped, “Yes.”

  “Tory…” Reese was frantic. “What’s happening?”

  “I—” Tory clenched her jaws as another wave of pain coursed through her abdomen. “I think the placenta is separating from the uterine wall. That’s what’s causing the bleeding.”

  Neither of them spoke for a moment as the EMT situated the external fetal heart monitor. The seconds it took for him to get a reading seemed endless. “Heart rate’s normal.”

  “Watch it carefully for decelerations,” Tory instructed as she drew a shaky breath. She looked into Reese’s eyes. “They’re probably going to have to section me quickly, especially if the baby’s heart rate drops.”

  “Can we wait for Wendy?”

  Tory shook her head. “We could try to wait, but there’s a danger for the baby if the hemorrhage worsens.”

  “What about you?” Reese whispered, her insides so tight she could barely breathe. It’s you, Tory. Only you. You’re my heart. My soul.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  The EMT hung an IV bag and connected it to the intravenous catheter he had previously inserted into Tory’s forearm. Then he pumped up the blood pressure cuff on her left arm and checked another reading. “Your pressure’s through the roof, Doc. I’m gonna call for instructions to treat you.”

  “You can’t lower my pressure very much,” Tory objected. “Hypotension will decrease the blood flow to the baby. We can’t risk that now.”

  “We can’t chance you stroking out either,” he said bluntly as he reached for the mike. “You need meds.”

  As he rapidly relayed Tory’s vital signs and medical situation to whoever was monitoring at the base station in the hospital, Reese rested her forehead against Tory’s. Quietly, she murmured, “Tor, we can’t risk something happening to you.”

  “We have to do what’s best for the baby.” Tory placed her palm against Reese’s cheek. “Trust me.”

  Reese had never been so scared in her life. She had to rely on what Tory was telling her, because she didn’t understand what was happening. Still, she had a terrible feeling that Tory’s only concern was the baby, and Reese was terrified for them both.

  “They’ve called the OB guy to come in,” the EMT reported as he pulled a syringe and medication vial from the red tackle box that contained his emergency drugs.

  “What is that?” Tory asked.

  “Mag sulfate.”

  “What’s it for?” Reese felt as if she was in the dark on an unknown battlefiel
d.

  The EMT hung the drip. “Helps prevent seizures from the hypertension and premature labor.”

  Seizures. Jesus Christ. Reese thought her head might explode. “What about her blood pressure?”

  “As soon as I get this drip going,” he said calmly, “I’ll give her a dose of nifedipine. That should take the edge off.”

  “No,” Tory said forcefully. “Not until we’re in the emergency room. If my pressure drops and the baby becomes hypoxic, we need someone who can section me stat.”

  “You’re still bleeding at a pretty good rate.” He regarded her solemnly. “That might settle down some if your blood pressure were a little lower.”

  “We’ll be there soon, won’t we?” Tory’s face tightened at yet another surge of pain.

  “ETA six minutes.”

  “Then we wait.”

  Tory closed her eyes, attempting to gather her strength.

  Reese lifted her lover’s hand to her lips and held a kiss against the pale skin. The only comfort she could find in the nightmare world of the rocking van was the steady, rapid beat of the fetal heart monitor.

  *

  The instant the EMTs shoved the stretcher through the double doors into the emergency room, both men started shouting. Reese was so busy keeping pace with the stretcher and holding on to Tory that she could only catch snippets of what they were saying.

  “…placental abruption…”

  “…hemorrhage…”

  “…hypertension…”

  “…thirty-three weeks…”

  “…OB stat…”

  A tall, thin balding man in a white coat approached on the run. “I’m Dr. Saunders, the emergency room physician. I called the OB attending. He should be here in forty-five minutes.”

  “That might be too long,” Tory gasped. “Is there an OB resident in the house?”

  “A second-year,” the ER physician advised. “Not senior enough for what you need. I consulted the in-house general surgeon, just in case.”

  “I’m expecting her obstetrician to call any second,” Reese stated as several nurses assisted the EMTs in moving Tory to a gurney. “When I tried to reach her earlier, I got her service.”

  “Fine,” Dr. Saunders said distractedly as he instructed one of the nurses to draw blood for a type and crossmatch. He turned to another ER tech. “Alert the operating room to prepare for an emergency Caesarean section. And call in the pediatric intensivist from home. Tell her it’s a high-risk delivery.”

  “What have we got?” a deep voice questioned from behind Reese.

  Reese turned as K.T. O’Bannon’s dark eyes fell on Tory. There was a flicker of recognition, and then something far more personal flashed in the surgeon’s face before the impenetrable professional mask returned. Reese experienced an instant surge of relief. K.T. wouldn’t let anything happen to Tory—she still loved her.

  “She’s bleeding,” Reese murmured quietly, almost choking on the words.

  K.T. nodded to Reese, then leaned over the bed and briefly ran her fingers over Tory’s cheek. Gently, she said, “Hi, Vic. I thought it had to be you when I heard that a pregnant doctor was coming in. I always seem to be on call when you roll in.”

  “Just your luck,” Tory whispered.

  “What’s the situation?”

  “I think I’m getting ready to deliver this baby,” Tory gasped, her green eyes almost all pupil, her brow running with sweat. “I’m bleeding pretty rapidly.”

  “Pressure’s up there too,” K.T. murmured as she quickly scanned the monitors surrounding the bed. She glanced at the OB resident, a freckle-faced, blond-haired boy who looked to be about fifteen, as he hurried up to the bedside. “Can you give me a status check on the baby?”

  With a surprising degree of aplomb, the young man dragged over a portable ultrasound, checked the monitors, and did a quick evaluation. “Can’t tell the extent of the abruption. Fetal heart rate’s good with no dips, though. And there’s movement.”

  Reese rapidly searched the faces clustered around Tory, frantically trying to decipher the medical shorthand. “What does that mean?”

  “It means the baby’s alive,” the resident said flatly.

  Reese felt as if she’d been shot…again. It took her a second to get her breath. “You mean there’s a chance she might not be?”

  “With a moderate to severe placental abruption, the fetal mortality rate is very high,” the resident dutifully reported.

  “Christ, will you shut up,” K.T. snapped. “All I want you to do is stand here and monitor the baby. If you see a problem, tell me. Otherwise, I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

  Purposefully, she turned partly away from him and looked steadily into Reese’s eyes. “The baby’s fine. The baby’s going to be fine as long as we keep a careful watch on things.”

  “What about Tory?” Reese clutched the bed rail so hard her fingers ached. In a strangled voice, she repeated desperately, “K.T., what about Tory?”

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to Tory.” K.T. angled back to Tory. “First, we need to get you hydrated, and then we’ll control your pressure a little bit better. We may not be able to wait for a phone consultation with Wendy. You ready for that?”

  “Yes,” Tory said tersely. “I’m having regular contractions, and I’m still bleeding.” She struggled with pain and fatigue and fear. She took a deep, calming breath. “K.T….can you do this?”

  “Of course I can,” K.T. said with absolute certainty. She tilted her chin toward the OB resident. “I’ll bring Junior here along for backup.”

  “Then go ahead.” Tory closed her eyes.

  “I won’t let you down, Vic,” K.T. murmured. Then she gestured to Reese. “I need to speak with you over here.”

  Reluctantly, Reese released Tory’s hand, stepped away from the stretcher, and followed.

  “I have to take Tory to the operating room very soon,” K.T. said. “She could start bleeding more heavily at any minute, and that’s not only a risk to her life, but also to the baby’s.”

  “Okay,” Reese said hoarsely. “Whatever you need to do.”

  K.T. nodded. “Good. I’ll need you to sign the consents.”

  Reese put a hand on K.T.’s forearm. “If something happens…if you have to…make a choice between them…” Reese faltered, then said steadily, “I want you—”

  “Save it, Sheriff,” K.T. interrupted curtly. “That’s not a choice you’re going to have to make. I don’t plan on losing either one of them.”

  Reese believed K.T. because she had to. Because any other possibility was unthinkable. She walked on wooden legs back to Tory’s side and gently enfolded her hand again.

  “I love you, Tory.”

  Tory’s lids fluttered open. She smiled softly. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted, sweetheart. If…if I—”

  “Don’t.” Reese stopped her with a kiss. When she drew back, her blue eyes were calm. “We’re not saying goodbye. Not now. Not ever.”

  “I lov—”

  “We’ve got a dip in the fetal heart rate,” the OB resident called out.

  “That’s it,” K.T. said firmly, grasping the bottom of the stretcher and propelling it out of the small cubicle as the resident grabbed hold of the other end. “Let’s move, everybody.”

  Reese ran beside the gurney, trying to hold Tory’s gaze. Her lover’s eyes were clouded with pain and worry. The elevator doors slid open, most of the people piled on along with the stretcher, and Reese was forced to step back.

  When the doors closed with a quiet swoosh, she was left alone in the suddenly still hallway. She had never felt so empty in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kate stood in the doorway of a small waiting room down the hall from two windowless, gray metal doors marked with a red sign that proclaimed No Admittance—Labor and Delivery. The beige-carpeted floor, framed prints on the wall, and shaded lamps on matching end tables were a well-meant but unsuccessful attempt to m
ake the space appear less institutional. Her daughter was the only person there.

  Reese sat with her head down, elbows on her knees, fingers laced behind her neck. She was still in uniform, but her bowed figure held none of the command presence she usually projected.

  “Reese?” Kate said softly as she approached. “Honey?”

  “Mom?” Reese looked up, her eyes hollow pits of pain.

  “Any news?” Kate slid onto the vinyl sofa beside her daughter and put an arm around her waist. “They told me downstairs that Tory was in delivery.”

  Reese shook her head. When she spoke her voice was rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bri brought me. She and Caroline are outside in the hall. It helps to know a cop. Bri put the siren on.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Reese whispered. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

  “What happened?” Kate pulled her daughter close, aware that Reese was shaking.

  “Christ, I don’t know,” Reese said desperately, running both hands through her hair. “It all happened so fast. One minute, she was fine. Earlier, we were joking about making love…” She closed her eyes and groaned. “Jesus, what if…”

  “Reese!” Kate’s tone would have snapped a seasoned veteran to attention. “Let’s deal with what we know.”

  “Yes,” Reese said dully. “Okay. Right.” Briefly, she recounted the whirlwind events, then glanced toward the empty doorway. “They’ve been in there half an hour. Shouldn’t they…shouldn’t something have happened by now?”

  “I’m sure they’re all busy, honey.” Kate’s voice was gentle now as she slowly rubbed her hand up and down Reese’s back. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”

  Reese met her mother’s gaze. “I don’t want Tory to die. I don’t care about anything else—God, not even…” Her voice broke, eyes flooding with tears. “She’d hate me if she knew.”

  “No, honey, she wouldn’t. Tory would understand. I know she loves you that much, too.”