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One of the OB nurses said, “Contraction coming.”
Helena watched Marcy’s face tighten. She reached for Helena’s hand again. She took it. Marcy’s grip was so weak.
“After this one I’ll go after the cord,” Elijah announced. “Let me know when it’s over and the next one starts. I’ll work between them.”
Helena watched the monitor as Elijah went into action. She glanced away long enough to see the intense expression on his face as he operated by touch to save a small life. Helena glanced at Marcy then back at the monitors.
“Contraction starting,” the OB nurse announced. Helena looked at Elijah, hope filling every fiber of her being. He just had to do this.
Elijah sat back, relief written on his face and smiled at her. “Got it. Put out a call for the neonatologist on call. We’re going to need one.”
Relief flooded her as well. Elijah had no way of knowing he’d become her hero.
“How’s the mother doing?” he asked.
“Temperature is still low, but heartbeat stronger. Warmer, vitals are stable,” Helena said.
He looked at her. “Apply pressure at the next contraction. She’ll need help. Let’s get this baby into the world.” Elijah’s focus returned to the infant.
“Marcy, I’m going to have to help you some. Listen to the nurse and she’ll tell you when to push.”
“Is my baby coming?” The words were little more than a whisper from Marcy.
“Yes, almost here.” Helena already had her hands on Marcy’s epigastric area.
Seconds later the OB nurse said, “Contraction starting.”
While watching the monitor for Marcy’s vitals, she pushed as the line indicated the top of the contraction.
“Head’s out.” Seconds later Elijah held a dusky, tiny baby in his large capable hands.
“Marcy, you have a baby girl,” he announced, lifting her up high enough for the girl to see. He had a tender look on his face. His gaze met Helena’s. He smiled. There was something special about the moment.
“A girl,” Marcy said softly.
Helena’s knees went weak. Only by force of will did she remain standing. She returned Elijah’s smile and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Elijah nodded, his eyes letting her know he was pleased as well.
The OB doctor rushed into the room, drawing on gloves.
“Glad you could join us,” Elijah quipped as he handed the baby over to the other doctor.
The alarm of the heart monitor attached to the mother went off. Helena’s attention was jerked away from Elijah and the baby to her patient. “She’s in V-fib. Get the defibrillator and start CPR.”
Over the next few minutes Helena’s attention was absorbed by the mother. She forgot her personal problems and focused on saving Marcy’s life. She did register the infant’s feeble cry as she and the other staff members labored to stabilize the mother. By the time the monitor showed a steady beat again Elijah and the baby were gone. Had the baby survived?
“She’s stable. Let’s get her up to ICU,” Helena ordered.
* * *
Half an hour later she returned to the ER. Helena’s shoulders slumped. She was wrung out, both emotionally and physically. The young girl was so ill. It would be weeks before she was healthy enough to take care of her child. If the child lived. All Helena wanted to do was find a place to hide and try to recover. The horror, the memories, the guilt flooded her. She paused at the unit desk long enough to say to the secretary on duty, “I need to take a few minutes.”
The trip to an on-call room was a blur, not registering if she passed anyone or not. All she could think about was hiding behind the door and letting flow all the emotion she’d been controlling. She closed and locked the door. The tears she’d been holding in check started to fall. With her back pressed against the door she sank to the floor, letting her head drop to her knees. She cried for the teen and her baby, and for the girl she’d been when she had lost her own child. Helena grieved like she never had before until there was nothing left in her. No tears, no thoughts, just emptiness.
She needed to get up. Return to work. There would be patients to see. She only had an hour before her shift was over. Then she could go home, climb into bed and disappear. There she could struggle to pack the memories, anger, hurt back into the suitcase in her mind so that she could cope with the next pregnant patient she had to care for.
The doorknob rattled. Elijah called, “Helena, are you in there?”
She wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks with her finger. He didn’t need to see her like this. Despite the intimacy between them she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle her job. She didn’t want him to know she fell apart with every baby she saw delivered.
The knob was jiggled again. “Helena, I know you’re in there. Let me in or I’ll call Security.”
She had no doubt that he would. Elijah could be that determined. “Go away. I’ll be back on duty in a few minutes.”
“Please let me in.” He was pleading, yet with an undercurrent of steel. Elijah wasn’t going away.
“I’m fine.”
“I’d like to see that.” He shook the handle once more. “Open the door.”
She unlocked the door then headed for the bathroom. If she could help it he wasn’t going to see her red-rimmed and puffy eyes. As he entered, she turned on the cold water and splashed it on her face.
He pushed into the tiny space behind her. “Are you ill?”
Helena continued to apply water, hoping it would ease her swollen eyes. She glanced into the mirror. Elijah watched her with a look of concern she could only attribute to someone who truly cared. It wasn’t just the typical look of a doctor—it was the concern of a lover.
“I’ve told you three times I’m fine. I guess those Christmas goodies didn’t agree with me.” It was a weak lie but it was the best she could do without revealing more. She patted her face with a towel off the stack on the shelf.
His cellphone buzzed. After looking at it, he said, “I’ve got to go. Are you going to be all right?” He searched her face. “The shift is almost over. You can head home now, if you need to.”
“I’m feeling better. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He gave her a long searching look that implied he wasn’t convinced. “Okay. If you change your mind, let me know.”
She squared her shoulders and said, “I won’t.”
After Elijah left she ran her hands through her hair and considered her eyes. Thankfully they were now pink instead of red. Helena straightened the collar of
her lab coat and opened the door. She could do this. All she had to do was put a lock on that suitcase.
With a determination she’d practiced from the time she’d lost her baby, she stepped out into the hall and walked with her head held high back to the ER.
* * *
Elijah didn’t believe for a minute that Helena’s problem had anything to do with the cookies they’d shared. He knew better. She’d been crying. A lot. But why? She obviously didn’t want to tell him but he planned to find out.
He’d seen the stricken look on her face as he’d been delivering the baby. Cases like that were always tough. Especially when a choice between the mother or the child had to be made. Helena knew that, had been trained to make those decisions. So why this case? They had worked equally hard ones before.
She returned to the department soon after him but she still wouldn’t meet his gaze. When he thought they might have a minute to talk she saw to it that she was busy elsewhere or someone was nearby. Elijah couldn’t remember the last time he’d been glad to see his shift come to an end. He was worried about her. Since when did he get this troubled over a woman he was dating? Something was happening to him that he hadn’t counted on.
Thankfully the doctor who was his relief arrived early. Elijah gave him report then went to his office to take care of a few details before he could go. He was confident Helena had every intention of leaving without speaking to him and no intention of seeing him. That wasn’t going to happen.
His timing was perfect. As he entered the locker room she was headed out. “Hey, wait up and I’ll walk out with you.”
“I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” Helena tried to push past him.
He caught her wrist, stopping her. “Don’t do this, Helena.”
She looked beyond him. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are. It was a tough shift. Come home with me. We’ll order in. Talk or not. But don’t run from me.” Why did this matter so much to him?
“I don’t—”
“Come on. You can be under a hot shower in ten minutes versus forty if you come to my place. No pressure. You don’t even have to talk to me.” She gave him a weary look but he could tell she was weakening.
