Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife

by Fiona McArthur

They’d moved back away from the birthing couple to the sink to strip off their gloves and wash their hands. Tammy nodded. ‘Do you think it would have made much difference if we’d clamped and cut and moved the baby to the resuscitation trolley?’

  ‘Not with an adequate heart rate like that.’ He paused and she wondered if he was comparing this with other occasions he’d known. ‘Actually, no, and I can see advantages. It is always good to see differences in the way things are managed in other hospitals, let alone other countries.’

  They waved to Misty and let themselves out. The parents were absorbed in their new daughter and waved absently.

  Tammy smiled at the man walking beside her. ‘It was good to know you were there. If those shoulders had been more stubborn we would have had a baby in much poorer condition, and in resuscitation the more hands the better.’

  ‘The maternal positioning worked very well. My memories of shoulder dystocia were always fraught with a dread that was missing tonight.’ He smiled.

  ‘You were both remarkably calm.’

  ‘There’s some anxiety when you see a very large baby like Trina’s. But we do drills for that scenario at least once a week so if there’s a delay we can move straight into the positions. Because we knew Trina’s baby was larger, Misty would have spoken to her about what to do if needed and good positions to try. But it can happen with small babies too.’

  He dropped his arm around her shoulders, and it was companionable, not sexual. Not something she would have believed possible earlier. ‘You must be very proud of your team here.’

  ‘We are.’ His arm felt warm and heavy but not a heaviness she wanted to shrug off. A heaviness of wanting to snuggle in and encourage more snuggling. She shifted away from that concept quick-smart and he picked up the tiny movement and slid his arm away. She pretended she didn’t miss it. ‘And the women and their families love the centre and the choice it gives them. We’ve quite a clientele from the larger centres coming here to birth and then going home from here.’

  They were crossing the car park to Tammy’s car and Tammy suddenly realised how at ease she felt with this big, quiet Italian. How she’d just expected that if Trina’s baby had been compromised by a long delay before the rest of her body was able to be birthed, that Leon would be there to help. Despite his denial that he’d had much to do with new babies, she had unshakable conviction that his skills would be magnificent.

  You can’t tell that, a voice inside her insisted. But just like she knew that Misty could see things without proof or concrete evidence, she knew that Leon Bonmarito would be a great asset in Lyrebird Lake. Not that there was much chance of him hanging round.

  She paused beside her car to speak and he took the opportunity to open her car door for her. She frowned. No one had done that for her for years and she wasn’t sure she liked the warm and pampered feeling it left her with. As if abdicating her independence. But that uneasiness didn’t stop her invitation. ‘Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow night. If you find yourself at a loose end after Paulo’s in bed.’

  He inclined his head. ‘Three in a row? What will people say?’ At her arrested expression he laughed softly and looked around at the sleeping town. ‘Your townspeople bed early, I doubt anyone is awake to notice.’

  What would they notice? There was nothing to see. She’d done nothing wrong. Nobody could construe otherwise but it was as well he reminded her. She’d vowed to remain squeaky clean and the soul of discretion once she’d had Jack. Lyrebird Lake had given her tarnished youth a brand-new, shiny start, and there’d never been any hint of wayward behaviour to jeopardise that from Dr Ben’s daughter.

  She looked up at him, confident she’d done nothing wrong, nothing remotely possible to compromise her good name, and her chin lifted as she peered up at him in the dimness. Unexpectedly she perceived the unmistakable glint in those bedroom eyes of his. The breath caught in her throat and she moistened her lips to make the words, at the very least, sound relaxed. ‘Notice what?’

  ‘Perhaps this?’ His hands came up and cupped both cheeks to prevent her escape, not with force but with warmth and gentleness and definite intent. His head bent and his chiselled lips met hers with an unmistakable purpose that spun her away from streetlights and neighbours and petty concerns of her good name, until she kissed him back because that was more natural than breathing, more satisfying than a heartfelt sigh, and kindled the smoulder of heat in her belly he’d started with a dance two days before.

  When Leon stepped back she swayed until he cupped his hand on the point of her shoulder and held her steady.

  Her hand lifted to her mouth of its own accord—suddenly sensitive lips tingled and sang—and she could feel the sleepiness in her eyes until she blinked it away. She glanced at the silent streets. The only lights shining were the street lamps. And no doubt her eyes.

  Where had all these feelings come from? How could she feel so attuned and connected to this man she barely knew? How could she be tempted in a way she hadn’t been since Jack was conceived? The depth of her response scared the pants off her. And she knew what had happened last time she’d felt like that.

  He’s right, she thought with convoluted logic, this was dangerous, and she’d need to think what she was doing before she ended up as the latest discussion point at the local shop.

  She moved back another step. ‘I could see how people could form the wrong idea,’ she said wryly, and then she swallowed a nervous laugh as she slipped past him into the car. She stared straight ahead as she turned the key. ‘Thanks for the reminder and for being there for all of us tonight.’ And for the kiss, but she wasn’t saying that out loud.

  As an exit line it wasn’t bad. Showed she had presence of mind—something she wouldn’t have bet on one minute ago. ‘If you visit, maybe you could walk to my house tomorrow night, instead of driving. More discreet.’

  As she drove away she decided the invitation had been very foolish. And not a little exciting. She was a sad case if that was how she got her thrills.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LEON glanced in the oval hallway mirror beside the door and grimaced at the five-o’clock shadow that darkened his jaw. His watch said it was too late to shave again this evening. And no time to walk.

  Paulo had been unsettled tonight and Leon doubted Tamara would appreciate a ten-o’clock visit. If he didn’t know better he would say he was wary of upsetting her.

  Little firebrand. He could feel the tilt of his mouth as he remembered the wedding and her not so veiled threats of violence to his person. And the kiss last night under the street lamp. That had been bad of him. The man in the mirror smiled. Not that he wouldn’t do it again if he had the chance. The result had far exceeded his wildest expectations and the ramifications had disturbed his slumber again for much of the night. It was fortunate he’d never required much sleep.

  She amused him, intrigued him, but most of all she burned his skin with Vesuvian fire whenever he touched her and that should be enough to warn him off. He couldn’t deny the danger but then she was so different than the women he was used to.

  There was no fawning or attempts to use guile. He laughed out loud as his hired car ate up the short distance to her house—she did not know the meaning of the word subtlety.

  Though no doubt she’d prefer he walked and with less fanfare of his arrival, and he needed to remind himself this town was different to Rome. Even Gianni had told him that. Perhaps he would walk tomorrow if he was invited again.

  Another smile twitched at his lips. That would be two days before they left and each day he was becoming more interested in the concept of his new sister-in-law bringing her friend to visit his homeland.

  When he knocked quietly on the door, it wasn’t Tamara who opened the door, but her father, Ben, with his grandson standing behind his back. The degree of Leon’s disappointment was a stern warning of how quickly he was becoming accustomed to Tamara’s company.

  ‘Evening, Leon. Tammy said you might call. She’s over in th
e birthing unit with Misty.’

  Another crisis? ‘Do they need a hand?’

  Ben shrugged but there was tension in his smile. ‘Haven’t asked for one but you could hang around outside on standby. Misty said it was good having you there last night. Or you could wait with us?’

  ‘Perhaps I will return to the hospital and check. It will be too late for visitors when she’s finished anyway.’

  ‘I’ll give her a quick ring and let her know you’re available, then.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He nodded at Ben and turned away. He could hear Tammy’s son asking why he had come. Perhaps a question he should be asking himself. But at the moment he was more interested in his instinct that he be there in case Tamara needed him.

  Leon had intended to poke his head into the birthing room and then wait at the nurses’ station until he heard the sound of a well baby. What he did hear when he arrived was the sound of the suction and oxygen and the murmur of concerned voices. When he opened the door his eyes caught Tammy’s and the urgent beckon of her head had him beside her before he realised he’d moved.

  ‘Will you tube this little guy, please, so we can have a look? He’s not responding as well as I’d like.’ She had the equipment ready to hand him, the laryngoscope, the endotracheal tube and introducer, even the tape. ‘I thought I was going to have to do it myself but I’d rather you did.’

  Easily, but that would not help her next time. ‘Then go with that thought. You do it and I’ll help. Better for when I am not here.’ She swallowed and nodded and he tapped the dispenser of hand cleaner on the side of the trolley and quickly cleaned his hands before handing the laryngoscope to her.

  ‘No rush,’ he said conversationally, and steadied her hand with his as she fumbled a little. ‘His colour is adequate so your resuscitation has maintained his oxygen saturation but a direct vision and an airway into his lungs is a good idea if he’s not responding.’

  He handed Tammy the equipment in order as she gently tilted the baby’s head into the sniffing position as she’d been taught, and viewed the cords with the laryngoscope.

  Misty murmured background information to fill Leon in. ‘A true knot in his very short umbilical cord and it must have pulled tight as he came down.’ They all glanced at the manual timer on the resuscitation trolley as the second hand came around to the twelve. ‘So quite stunned at birth. Heart rate’s been sixty between cardiac massage, and he’s two minutes old. We’ve been doing intermittent positive pressure since birth and cardiac massage since thirty seconds. He’s slow to respond.’

  Tammy passed the suction tube once when the laryngoscope light bulb illuminated a tenacious globule of blood that must have occluded half of the baby’s lungs from air entry.

  ‘That will help,’ she murmured. This time when they connected the oxygen to the ET tube she slid down his throat, his little chest rose and fell and his skin quickly became pink all over.

  ‘Heart rate one hundred,’ Misty said when she ceased the chest compressions to count, and they all stood back as the baby began to flex, wince and finally attempted to cry around the tube in his throat.

  ‘I love the way all babies wish to live,’ Leon murmured. ‘It is their strength.’ He nodded at Tammy and gestured with his hand. ‘Slide the tube out. He doesn’t need it now.’ He felt the pride of her accomplishment expand in his chest and smiled at her as the little boy began to wail his displeasure. ‘Well done.’ He nodded his approval of her skill. ‘How did that feel?’

  Tammy’s voice had the slightest tremor that matched the one in her fingers now it was all over. ‘Better now I’ve done it again. Thanks.’

  Misty lifted the crying babe and carried him back to his mother, who sat rigidly up in the bed with her empty arms outstretched to take him.

  Tears ran down her face and even her husband wiped his eyes as their baby cried and the mountain of fear gradually faded from their eyes like dye from new denim.

  ‘Don’t do that to Mummy, Pip,’ the dad said as his wife’s arms closed over her baby and she hugged him to her chest. Her husband’s arms came around them both and their heads meshed together in solidarity. The baby blinked and finally settled to squint at his parents through swollen eyelids.

  The dad looked across at Misty. ‘He’ll be all right, won’t he, Misty?’

  ‘He’s good, Trent.’ She glanced at Tammy and Leon to include them. ‘A clot of blood was stuck in his throat. We’ll watch him for the next twenty-four hours but Pip responded well once the airway was clear. No reason to think otherwise.’

  ‘That was terrifying,’ the mother said with a catch in her voice.

  Leon smiled. ‘Yes. Always. Of course this is the beginning of many frights this child will give you.’ He smiled again. ‘I know. I have a son.’ He bent and listened with the stethoscope to the baby’s little chest. ‘Your son sounds strong and healthy, and obviously he was born under a lucky star.’

  His mother shivered. ‘How’s that lucky?’

  ‘A true knot in the umbilical cord is dicing with danger. The knot could have pulled tight much earlier when there was nothing we could do but he waited until it was safe to do so. And in such a good place as this.’

  Misty and Tammy smiled and the parents looked at each other as if to say, Thank goodness we have a clever child.

  ‘If you excuse me, I’ll leave you to enjoy your family.’ He leaned across and shook the father’s hand, nodded at the mother and smiled at Misty.

  ‘I’m ready to come with you,’ Tammy said as she glanced at Misty for confirmation.

  ‘Go. I’m fine. Thanks again. Both of you.’

  They left, shutting the door behind them, and when they reached the outside, Tammy inhaled the night air deep into her lungs and let it out as if her very breath had been hung with lead weights. ‘I hate that floppiness in a compromised infant.’ She shuddered with relief.

  He could see that. Clearly. ‘Of course. Everyone does. You did well,’ Leon said quietly at her shoulder, and to his surprise he realised she was wiping at tears. Instinctively he pulled her gently into his chest and held her safe against him with her nose buried in his shirt. This time only for comfort and he was surprised how good it felt to be able to offer this.

  But Tamara in his arms was becoming a habit. She felt warm and soft and incredibly precious within his embrace and the fragrance of her filled his head. His hand lifted and stroked her hair, hair like the softest silk, and the bones of her skull under his fingers already seemed familiar. He accepted he would find her scent on his skin when she was gone. Like last night. And the night before. And the night before that. The thought was bittersweet. ‘You did beautifully.’

  Her head denied his approval and her voice was muffled by his shirt. ‘I should have done it earlier.’

  ‘You could not know there was an obstruction there. To decide to intubate is no easy decision. And the time frame was perfect because he was well per-fused while the decision was made.’

  She unburrowed her head from his chest. Obviously she’d just realised she was in his arms again and wondering how that happened. He couldn’t help the twitch of his lips.

  ‘This is becoming a bit of a habit.’ She said it before he could.

  ‘Hmm. So it is.’ He could hear the smile in his voice as she stepped back.

  ‘I’ll be more confident next time.’ There was no amusement to spare in hers. His arms felt empty, like the mother must have felt before she was given her baby, but he felt anything but maternal towards Tamara. Probably better that she stepped away because his thoughts had turned from mutual comfort to mutual excitement in a less public place.

  He forced himself to concentrate on her concerns. ‘Do not disparage yourself. I’m impressed. Intubation is a skill that not all midwives have and very useful for unexpected moments. It was very brave of you to conquer your fears.’

  She straightened and met his eyes. ‘I felt better once I knew you were there as backup.’

  He was glad he could help.
The streetlight illuminated the delicate planes of her face, the shadows lengthened her already ridiculously long neck and his fingers tensed inside his pocket where he’d sent them to hide because he itched to cup her jaw. Already his mouth could imagine the taste of her, the glide of his mouth along that curve that beckoned like a siren, but a siren unaware of her power. He drew a low breath and looked away. ‘I’m glad I was there.’

  ‘So am I.’ He felt she avoided his eyes this time and maybe it was better. ‘I should get home to Dad and Jack. They’ll be worried.’

  He wasn’t sure either of them would be worried but he could tell she was uncomfortable and maybe a little aware of the danger she was in. Her night had been stressful enough without him adding pressure. ‘And I will see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Tamara.’ He wouldn’t.

  ‘Tammy,’ she corrected automatically. And then she smiled. ‘Goodnight, Leonardo.’ He liked the sound of his name on her lips.

  The next afternoon Tammy and Misty stood beside Pip’s wheeled cot and stared down at him as he slept. ‘Lucky little guy.’

  Misty shook her head. ‘It’s always when you least expect it. The labour was perfect, Pip’s heart rate all the way was great, and then I just started to feel bad, edgy for no reason, and I had to call you.’

  Tammy gave a quick squeeze of her stepmother’s arm for comfort. ‘Your instinct has always been terrific.’

  Misty rolled her eyes. ‘I did wonder if Trina’s birth from the night before had given me the willies and I was losing my nerve. You know, doubting myself by wanting to call you.’ She looked at Tammy. ‘You were great. I’m really pleased you came.’

  ‘Your turn to intubate next time. I’m pleased that Leon came as well. I know that if we do what we did, just keeping the oxygen and circulation going until they recover, we’re going to be fine. I know babies want to live.’

  They stared down at Pip and Tammy went on. Voicing what they both knew. ‘The horrible thing is that every now and then, for their own reasons, babies don’t do what we expect. On that day I want to know we did everything we could. Maybe we could ask Leon about the latest resuscitation techniques before he leaves?’