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Tory moaned.
Holding as tightly as she could to her own fear, Phyllis wiped away the tears that slipped from Tory’s closed eyes and slid down her cheeks.
She’d gladly suffer every bit of this for Tory. The young woman had been through enough. Didn’t deserve this, too. Especially not without Ben by her side.
It dawned on Phyllis, as she stood there, trying every calming technique she knew, for herself and for Tory, that she wasn’t as far away from Tory’s suffering as she’d thought. In a few short months she could be the one lying there, struggling to bring her baby to life….
“The baby’s turned and I can’t get her to turn back,” Dr. Anderson said. “The cord’s around her neck. We’re going to have to do a C-section before she goes into distress.”
“She’s okay for now?” Phyllis asked.
“She is.”
The doctor’s words instilled a confidence Phyllis had badly needed. Dr. Anderson glanced at Tory, who was fading in and out of awareness as the pain racked her body.
“Would you like to stay with her?”
“Yes.” Phyllis didn’t hesitate for a second. There was no way she was leaving Tory alone if she didn’t absolutely have to.
The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to get prepped….”
Phyllis followed the nurse Dr. Anderson had pointed out, leaving Tory for only as long as it took to get herself ready. By the time she returned to Tory, wearing scrubs, a mask and gloves, the younger woman looked a little better. Tory’s color was back, her face a bit more relaxed. She’d opted to stay awake for the surgery, choosing a local anesthetic rather than a general. They’d already put something for the pain in her IV.
“I sure don’t do things by half measures, do I?” Tory asked as Phyllis approached the delivery table and took Tory’s free hand in her own. People were working down at the other end of the table, but Dr. Anderson had not yet reappeared.
“You sure don’t,” Phyllis agreed with a grin, “but you do them very well.”
Tory’s eyes clouded. “I sure hope so.”
“The baby’s fine, Tor,” Phyllis said insistently. And prayed silently that she was right. God, she wished Ben was there.
“Ben’s going to be so mad…” Tory licked her dry lips.
Wishing she had an ice cube to rub along Tory’s lips, Phyllis leaned closer, calling up the sternest expression she could.
“You stop right there, Tory Sanders. That man couldn’t get mad at you if he tried, he’s so damned in love with you.”
Tory grinned, a small, weary grin. “I meant he was going to be mad at himself,” she whispered. The nurse rubbed a dark orange liquid—antiseptic—over the huge mound of Tory’s stomach and even that little bit of pressure was too much. Tory groaned in agony.
The painkiller was working some, but obviously not enough. Phyllis hoped Dr. Anderson arrived soon—and got this thing over with.
Tory’s eyes were starting to look a little wild again.
It went downhill from there. They had to administer the epidural that would numb the lower half of Tory’s body for the surgery.
That was difficult, too, and Tory was in so much pain Phyllis wished they’d just knock her out. She insisted one of the nurses do that, but there were procedures to be followed. People to call in.
It would take a minute or two.
They placed a tentlike structure around the lower half of Tory’s body, blocking any actual surgical procedure from view.
“I can’t do it….”
“Yes, you can.” Phyllis’s voice was stern, her grip tight on Tory’s hand. One of the nurses looked up, concerned.
“The doctor will be here in a second.”
“Just let me go, Phyl…” Tory’s voice was strong and then faded to nothing. “I’m too tired…”
