Hazel's Theory of Evolution

by Lisa Jenn Bigelow

  “It’s important for us to have as much information as we can. More questions now mean fewer questions when EMS reaches you. Speaking of, can you hear sirens yet?”

  “No—I don’t know—I’ll check.” I opened the door to the chill air and stood very still. Nothing for a moment—then, sure enough, I heard it: the distant, yet distinct, whine of an emergency vehicle. “Yes! I hear them! They sound kind of far away, but I hear them.”

  “Great! You and your mom hang tight. Stay on the line.”

  Then I heard another sound, and my heart stuttered. It was the howl of a train.

  As the warning bells began to clang, I held my breath and willed the ambulance to bounce over the tracks just before the red-and-white-striped gates swung down to cut it off. Maybe, like Mom’s books talked about, I could manifest it if I concentrated hard enough.

  But the gates lowered with no sign of the ambulance. A second later, the locomotive blasted through the crossing, cutting off everything beyond as hundreds of cars began to flash by. Its whistle was a deafening scream.

  My hand holding the phone dropped to my side. A muffled voice came from the speaker, but I couldn’t understand the words. All day—all fall—I’d felt like a pot simmering with the lid on, quaking as the water inside me heated up. Now it was too much. I was ready to boil over.

  “Hazel!” Mimi’s voice, floating down the hallway, was weak. “Are they here?”

  Leaving the door ajar, I drifted toward her. She was still slumped on the powder room floor, her skin eerily pale. “No.” I sounded to myself like I was talking underwater. My voice bubbled in my ears. I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “No, they’re not. There’s a train.”

  Mimi shut her eyes. “Doesn’t it figure. Of course there’s a train. I bet it’s right on time.”

  The dispatcher’s voice buzzed again, but I couldn’t understand it, not with my ears full of steam.

  “You should have gone sooner,” I told Mimi. “All day you’ve been saying, ‘It’s nothing, it’s nothing.’ Instead you waited until things were so bad you couldn’t drive yourself to the hospital, and now there’s a train, and the ambulance can’t even come!”

  “It’s still coming.” Mimi’s voice was barely a hiss. “Just another five minutes.”

  Faintly, the dispatcher said, “Deep breath, Hazel. Stay calm and strong for your mom.”

  But I was done being calm and strong. I’d tried to be calm and strong all fall for Mimi’s sake, and the baby’s, and for what? It hadn’t stopped us from arriving at this point, with Mimi pained and puffy on the bathroom floor. By the time the train passed, the baby might be dead. And Mimi—a sob choked me—what if Mimi died, too?

  “You should never have done this!” I croaked. Mimi stared up at me too tired and sick to argue, which only made me feel worse. “You should never have gotten pregnant again. It wasn’t worth the risk. You should have been satisfied with Rowan and me.”

  “Hazel!” the phone buzzed. “Listen to me.”

  I hurled it away. It crashed against the wall and the battery compartment popped open. AA batteries clattered across the hardwood. Then a pounding began at the front door, and Arby started barking, and a deep voice called, “EMS, is anyone home?”

  I hadn’t heard the ambulance pull up over the rumbling of the train and my own yelling. It had come from the opposite direction. Of course. Why hadn’t I considered the possibility?

  Immediately I cooled. “Mimi, I—I’m—”

  “Go to the door,” she said, exhausted.

  Two EMTs in blue uniforms were already halfway inside. I stepped sideways and pointed to the powder room. A pale woman sped down the hall carrying an emergency kit, her dark braid bouncing on her broad shoulders. The other tech, a skinny man with brown skin, paused. He was carrying a stretcher. “I’m Jared. Are you Hazel? Are you okay?”

  Besides my shame and humiliation? “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Is there anyone else here with you?”

  “No, it’s just me and Mimi. And Arby, our dog.” Poor Arby. She was so confused. She pushed anxiously at my thigh with her snout, and I reached down to stroke her ears.

  Jared nodded. “Well, try not to worry. Emily and I’ll take good care of your mom.”

  I hovered in the hall outside the bathroom. The EMTs asked Mimi questions and talked to each other, but I only caught snatches. I kept hearing the words blood pressure.

  Soon, though, Jared popped his head out. “Why don’t you get your mom’s purse and coat? Get her a pair of shoes, too.”

  “Is she going to have the baby right now?”

  “Not this minute, if we can help it. We’ll do everything we can to get her safely to the hospital and let the baby experts take over.”

  I grabbed Mimi’s coat, shoes, and go bag from the foyer closet. In movies, criminals hid backpacks stuffed with fake passports and thousands of dollars in cash under the floorboards in case they had to skip the country at a moment’s notice. Mimi’s go bag was a duffel packed with a spare set of clothes, a nursing bra, clothes for the baby, and some toiletries. I found her wallet, phone, and keys, and met everyone outside. It was quiet now, except for the cawing of a lone crow. The train was long gone. Even the herd was peaceful.

  Mimi was already lying in the back of the ambulance. The doors were still open, and I wanted to climb in and hug her, but I wasn’t sure it was safe. I wasn’t sure she’d want me to, either, not with the way I’d behaved. I shivered in my sock feet.

  “Get your shoes and coat,” said Jared. “No dogs allowed, I’m afraid.”

  I started to follow his instructions but stopped. I looked at my watch. 4:53. “I can’t.”

  “Jared,” called Emily. She’d hopped in back with Mimi, ready to go.

  “Just a sec,” he told her, then turned to me again. “What do you mean, can’t? Of course you can. You’ll ride up front with me.”

  “I have to milk the goats at six o’clock. I won’t be back in time.”

  “Milk the . . .” He looked lost. “Seriously?”

  “The rest of my family is away. I’m the only one who can do it.”

  Jared didn’t look happy. “I can’t let you stay here alone. You’re a minor. I can call and get you a police escort, but—”

  He didn’t need to finish. I knew what he was going to say: we didn’t have time.

  “It’s fine,” I muttered, even though it really wasn’t. Nothing was. Mentally apologizing to the goats, I said, “I’ll be ready in thirty seconds.”

  Hurriedly I put Arby inside, tugged on my coat and shoes, and locked up the house. As I ran for the ambulance, I glanced regretfully back toward the pasture. I didn’t like leaving the herd unsecured when I had no idea how long it would be before we returned home. But they could go in the barn if they got cold, and Pax would protect them from predators, and besides, I didn’t exactly have a choice. I climbed into the passenger seat.

  A minute later we were zooming over the rolling, tree-lined roads to the hospital. I knew the route. It was the same one Mimi took to work. The difference was this time I was riding high in the front of an ambulance with its lights flashing and siren blaring. But as loud as it was, it couldn’t drown out the pleading patter of my brain: Please let Mimi be okay, please let Mimi be okay. I guessed it was a prayer, even though I wasn’t sure who I was asking or whether there was anyone to answer. I just needed it to be true.

  Jared glanced at me from the driver’s seat. “Do you want to call your dad or whoever? Do you have a phone?”

  “I don’t have a dad,” I said automatically before remembering Jared didn’t need a rundown of my family tree. “I guess I should call my other mom.” I pulled out Mimi’s phone.

  Mom’s phone rang several times before she picked up. “Mikayla?” she asked. She sounded breathless but cheerful. I already felt guilty for ruining that for her.

  “No, it’s me.”

  “Hazy! Hey, hon. What’s up? Rowan and I are packing up the booth for the nig
ht, but I can sit down for a minute if you want to—”

  “We’re in an ambulance.”

  The phone went so quiet I thought the connection had dropped. Then Mom said carefully, “Tell me what happened.”

  “I . . . I don’t know exactly. Mimi was having contractions, and she said they were just Braxton Hicks, but she was really puffy, too—not just her feet, it was all over—and she had a headache, and she went into the bathroom and was throwing up. So I called nine-one-one, and they picked us up, and we’re on our way to the hospital.”

  “Okay,” Mom said, again with the super-calm voice. “Listen to me. You did everything you could do. Mimi and the baby are in good hands.”

  “Okay.” I snuffled. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

  “Once we’re packed up, I’ll have Rowan take me somewhere I can get a rental car, and I’ll come home. He can finish up with the bazaar tomorrow. That just leaves you. I don’t think you should be alone tonight, do you?”

  “No.” I sniffed again.

  “Call someone. It can be Aunt Keisha, or Heidi or Paul, whoever you feel comfortable asking to stay with you. Can you do that? Or do you want me to arrange things?”

  I’d caused more than enough trouble for one day. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Call me when you know what you’re doing. I’ll see you before you know it.”

  I disconnected and pressed the phone against my bottom lip, thinking. There were the people I could call, and the people maybe I should call, but who did I want to call? Who could I trust to be kind, when I could barely keep it together? Carina and even Yosh sprang to mind, but they were on their maybe-date, and besides, they didn’t know Mimi’s history. They didn’t know how badly things might end up.

  There was only one person who’d understand—who knew me as well as my own family, who loved my family almost as well as her own. The question was whether she’d forgive me long enough to help. If she’d even answer my call once she saw my name on the caller ID.

  I didn’t give myself time to second-guess further. I dialed, holding my breath until Becca’s familiar, tentative voice came on the line. “Hello? Hazel?”

  I breathed out in a long, slow hiss. “Hey, Becca. I know we’re fighting. But something bad has happened. Can you please help me?”

  Chapter 24

  The drive to the hospital usually took half an hour, but we got there in twenty-two minutes. Nobody expected ambulances to do the speed limit. Still, they were probably the longest twenty-two minutes of my life.

  When we arrived, Mimi was whisked away on a gurney to a room in the OB unit, and I was deposited in its waiting room. It was filled with families holding teddy bears and waiting for good news. Balloons bobbed in the air. I sat in a chair in the corner, clutching Mimi’s belongings in my lap.

  I hadn’t been waiting long before Mr. Blumberg and Becca slid in the door. They’d probably driven the speed limit but must’ve left their house right away to get to the hospital so quickly. I stood and gave a tentative wave. Mr. Blumberg strode across the room and opened his arms to hug me. “Hazel, I’m so glad you called us. How are you holding up?”

  I stepped back after a polite moment. “I’m okay. Thank you for coming.”

  Becca shifted from one foot to the other, looking stiff. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold from outside or because of me. “Hey.” She tugged her knit cap lower over her hair, not meeting my eyes.

  “So, what’s the word?” Mr. Blumberg asked. “How’s your mom doing?”

  “I don’t know. No one’s told me anything.” It was awful. I wasn’t a fan of not knowing things to begin with. But not knowing whether my own mother and new baby sister were okay was the worst kind of not-knowing of all. “I think they’ve forgotten I’m here,” I admitted.

  “Well, that’s easily remedied,” Mr. Blumberg said. “Let’s go ask for an update.” He turned and made his way to the counter. His voice rumbled too low for me to hear the words, but his patience and kindness rolled back across the room, and I started to feel calmer.

  Becca didn’t say anything. When I’d called, she’d said, “I’ll tell my parents,” but then she’d handed off the phone to her dad. The truth was I wasn’t sure what to say to her either.

  Mr. Blumberg returned. “They’re going to send someone out in a few minutes.”

  The three of us sat silently as other families milled around, chatting, bringing in cardboard trays with multiple cups of steaming coffee and tea and chocolate and passing them around, waiting for someone to call their name. Eventually Mr. Blumberg took out his phone and started fiddling with it. After a moment, Becca followed suit. I took Mimi’s out of her bag, but now that I had my hands on a phone for the night, I didn’t feel like using it. I put it back in her bag.

  Finally, a man in magenta scrubs appeared in the room. “Brownlee-Wellington family?”

  “That’s us,” Mr. Blumberg said, standing in a hurry and shoving his phone into his coat pocket. “Well, it’s Hazel. We’re here for moral support.”

  The man stepped over. “I’m Greg. I’m Dr. Cousins’s PA, and I’ll be looking after your mom for now.” His dark eyes, focused firmly on mine, were soft and kind.

  “Is the baby here? Is she”—I gulped, afraid to ask—“alive?”

  The physician’s assistant—Greg—looked taken aback. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yes. I should have said that right away. Everyone is alive. More than that, everyone is okay.”

  My knees sagged. Mr. Blumberg stretched out an arm, and I slumped against him. “So, she’s here? She’s born?”

  Greg shook his head. “Not yet. We’ve induced labor, though, so it won’t be long. Could be a couple of hours. Could be a couple of days. But soon.”

  “But it’s too early!” I said. “The baby’s not due for over a month.”

  “Your mom has a condition called preeclampsia. It happens when a pregnant woman’s blood pressure is too high. It can be very dangerous for both mother and baby. In severe cases, it’s safest to deliver the baby as soon as possible. And yes, it’s early, but it’s not too early. At thirty-four weeks, the baby’s chances of making it are extremely good.”

  My mind reeled. “But Mimi’s okay? Can I see her?” I needed to see her for myself.

  “I’m sorry, Hazel,” Greg said. “She’s not in much shape for a visit right now. I’d be happy to give her a message, though, when she wakes up.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I said miserably. “I mean, just that I love her, I guess. And can you please take this to her?” I held out the go bag, bulging at its seams with the addition of Mimi’s coat and shoes.

  “Of course,” Greg said, taking it. “Do you have someplace to stay tonight? Besides this waiting room, that is?”

  “Absolutely,” said Mr. Blumberg. “Hazel, you can stay with us as long as you need to, okay? Isn’t that right, Becca?”

  “Yeah,” Becca said, her eyes flickering toward me and away. She clearly wasn’t thrilled.

  Greg nodded. “You hang in there, Hazel. I predict we’ll have very good news for you soon.” He patted my shoulder and bobbed his head at Mr. Blumberg before disappearing back through the doorway into the OB ward.

  “All righty then,” Mr. Blumberg said. “Let’s go home and get some grub. Have you had dinner, Hazel? Because we haven’t, and I’m starving.” The mention of dinner prompted a growl from my stomach. Mr. Blumberg laughed. “I guess that answers that question.”

  Then I remembered. “I need to take care of the herd. It’s way past time to milk them.”

  Mr. Blumberg’s brow creased. “Couldn’t they go one night without?”

  I was about to answer when Becca broke in. “You’ve got to do it twice a day, Dad. Plus, milking’s when they get their grain. Besides, what about Arby? She’s probably hungry, too.”

  I glanced at Becca with surprise and gratitude. She didn’t look at me, but it was hard to know whether she was avoiding my gaze or simply holding her father’s.
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  A moment later he nodded. “I’ll call your mother and tell her we’re stopping for food on the way home. Food and goat milking.”

  “And dog feeding,” I added.

  “And donkey feeding,” said Becca, and this time she offered me a small sidelong smile.

  Phoneless once more, I borrowed Mr. Blumberg’s and texted Mom with the news about Mimi and my plans for the night. Immediately she responded, Thank all the goddesses! I just got keys to the rental.

  Don’t get caught speeding, I wrote. That would be counterproductive.

  I’ll keep my eyes peeled for state troopers. She finished with three hearts.

  We left the hospital and headed for the nearest drive-through. My fries were hot and crispy, the way I liked them, yet I barely tasted them. Now that I knew Mimi and the baby were okay (probably), I couldn’t help reliving the day leading up to this moment. A flush crept up my neck. This morning I’d been so proud of myself for milking the goats on my own. That had been nothing. When Mimi got sick, I’d completely fallen apart. I’d failed her when she needed me most.

  Back home, Becca and I went out to the barn while Mr. Blumberg went inside to take care of Arby. It was cold, clear, and dark, the sky pricked with what must have been thousands of stars, and the herd had already taken shelter inside. Of course, Kali began caterwauling as soon as I flipped on the lights, bursting with righteous indignation that I’d messed with her schedule.

  Becca laughed. “Some things never change.”

  We barely spoke as we took care of the milking. Becca played my assistant the way I did when Mom was in charge, handing me wipes and equipment, weighing the milk and straining it into the five-gallon bucket. The process went a lot faster than it had in the morning.

  We stowed the milk in the soap shack for Mom to deal with when she got home. Finally, we topped off the herd’s water and hay one more time. I made sure the barn doors were firmly latched. I still didn’t like leaving the herd, but there was nothing to be done about it.