Captain O'Reilly's Woman - Ashes of Love 1 (11 page)

He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her fiercely as they walked. “And you are mine,” he whispered into her fragrant, unbound hair then led her into the emergency room.

David drew up short at the controlled chaos inside. Just about every available seat had someone sitting in it, some in obvious discomfort. Most with a friend or relative sitting with them. Two harried nurses—each somewhere between forty and fifty years old—were moving around quickly behind the admissions desk. From further down the draped corridor came the sound of an old man moaning.

But Samantha seemed to take it all in her stride and, his hand still in hers, she walked up to the admissions desk and waited politely.

One of the nurses looked up at her quickly. Even David didn’t miss the quick, assessing look she gave her. The nurse smiled thinly when she saw that Samantha wasn’t spurting blood from any vital areas of her body. “How can I help you?”

“Captain David O’Reilly—here for an eleven o’clock appointment with your administrator?”

The two nurses looked over her shoulder at David and they both smiled broadly. “Captain O’Reilly,” they shouted happily. One came out from behind the desk and wrapped him up in a tight hug. “And the splitting image of your father,” she declared when she released him, patted his cheek affectionately then stepped back. “Too bad, actually, considering how beautiful your mother was.”

“True,” the other nurse added sympathetically.

Samantha laughed, enjoying his discomfort.

“Listen, you two take a seat over there. I’ll call up the administrator. Bit of a mad-house today,” she added as she picked up the receiver. “Bad farming accident. Both ERs tied up,” she said to no one in particular as she punched in some numbers and waited for the connection to ring through.

They found two empty seats at the back of the room. As they waited, people started milling over to say hello to David, welcome him back and to be introduced to Samantha. It felt like they assumed she was now one of them, as irrevocably tied to their community and David as they were. And, perhaps, they weren’t entirely wrong.

Cheryl arrived and greeted them warmly. Then she too, sat down to wait for the administrator.

“Now don’t forget the farmer’s market is on Saturday mornings now,” one elderly man chastised David firmly then shook his hand. “I’ll tell my daughter to expect you. She’s still got some of last year’s black current jam and she’ll sell it to you at a good price.”

“Thanks. It’s practically impossible to get good jam in an Army mess hall.”

David’s conversation was interrupted when the emergency room doors burst open and a man, maybe in his mid-thirties, rushed in. He was supporting a skinny, disheveled and extremely pregnant woman. “
Hey
. Some help here,” he shouted.

One of the nurses came around the desk and took the woman’s other arm, looping it over her shoulder.

“How far apart?” she asked. The man stared at her blankly.

“Two, maybe three minutes,” the pregnant woman huffed. The nurse hustled her into the treatment area and one of the four cubicles in the place.

“How long have you been in labor?”

The pregnant woman huffed again. “Started three days ago. Let up some yesterday morning but started up again.”

Samantha’s head came up and she looked at the woman closely. She was young, maybe even younger than her although her worn, ill-fitting clothes and the pinched, malnourished look of her made it hard to tell. Samantha’s best guess was that she was maybe fifteen. Fifteen and three days in labor. It didn’t bode well.

As they disappeared into the cubicle, Samantha overheard the man with her. “Took me eighteen hours to get her here. Roads where we come from is bad.”

David squeezed her hand and looked down at her with naked love. She could practically hear what he was thinking. That he’d make sure she was never in a position like that. That she and their children would always have enough food and easy access to medical care. Samantha had no doubt David would always provide for her and their children.

But that didn’t help the young woman in the cubicle.

The nurse came back out and walked behind the desk. She picked up a phone and Samantha, after squeezing David’s hand, stood and casually walked over.

“No, we need him down here now.” The nurse was whispering urgently into the phone. “A C-section, probably.” There was a pause. “As soon as he’s finished, then.” She hung up the phone with more force than necessary and when she looked up and saw Samantha watching her, she smiled thinly. “We’ve got a Gynie on staff but he’s tied up in the OR. She’ll be okay.”

But Samantha saw through her lie. “Need a hand?” she asked although it wasn’t really a question. She turned and started to walk down the short hallway where the cubicles were. The nurse, her brow furrowed, looked up at David. When he saw where Samantha was headed, he hesitated for only a second before nodding, then took a slow, deliberate breath as the two women disappeared into the cubicle.

“Hello,” Samantha called out in her practiced, professional and cheerfully nonchalant voice. “Is this your first?” she asked happily. She lay her hand on the woman’s abdomen and looked down at her watch.

“Uh huh,” the girl nodded, then let out a hoarse, shuddering groan.

Still checking her watch, Samantha moved her hand around the woman’s taut, distended abdomen. When the woman’s abdomen unclenched, Samantha smiled. “Good girl. Let’s see if we can’t make you more comfortable, hmm?”

She turned back to the nurse. “A dressing gown and size small gloves, please. And a stethoscope if you’ve got one to spare.” Samantha glanced up and saw David and Cheryl, lurking by the doorway, peeking in. She returned her attention to her patient. “We’ll need to get your clothes off,” Samantha said gently but matter-of-factly. She drew the curtain and helped the girl raise her tattered dress. “Are you the father?” she said, addressing the man for the first time.

“Yeah,” he replied with bluster...but a bluster that didn’t quite disguise the anxiousness in his voice.

Samantha handed him the woman’s dress then helped her with her panties and thread-bare shoes. She didn’t react noticeably to the smell of the woman’s unwashed body. After thirty-six hours of labor, she was entitled to a little sweat. “All right,” Samantha said brightly as the nurse returned with a clean gown and a box of sterile gloves, and handed her the stethoscope hanging around her neck. After warming it, Samantha held it to the woman’s abdomen, shifting position again and again. She straightened and smiled. “You slip this on and sit back,” she said, handing the gown to the girl. “We’ll be back in a minute.” Once outside, she drew the nurse aside. “She’s dehydrated and her contractions are weak,” Samantha whispered. “The baby’s breach. She needs a C-section and soon.”

“I know but our Gynie’s assisting with one of the young fellows that was brought in this morning from that farming accident. He’s wrist-deep in somebody’s guts and can’t be here for at least an hour. Maybe two.”

Samantha’s mouth thinned but that was her only reaction. “Well, while we’re waiting, we’ll need an IV and an emergency obstetrics tray. Glove me,” she said quietly and the nurse followed her back inside, past David who had gone noticeably pale and Cheryl who simply gaped down at her in astonishment.

There was a sink in the room and Samantha washed her hands thoroughly. “First baby, hmm?” she called out brightly over her shoulder. “Have any names picked out?”

While the couple argued about names and the woman’s voice grew perceptively weaker, the nurse handed Samantha a sterile towel then held the gloves open for her to slide into.

“Thanks. I’ll do what I can. I’ll call if I need help.”

Yeah, like a board-certified obstetrician and a fully staffed OR, Samantha thought wryly but kept her thoughts to herself.

The nurse left and, again, Samantha palpated her patient’s abdomen carefully, hoping against hope. As she worked, she looked over the baby’s father. He was a rough-looking fellow with bad teeth and too skinny, like the woman. But his boots were solid, made from rough-cut leather, likely reinforced with steel. They were made to do a lot of damage if he ever unleashed them on someone. The unmistakable, warn spot on his belt-loop and pant leg showed where a long knife-sheath usually rested. That, the bulge in his pocket the size of a .38 automatic and his weighted gait told Samantha, all too clearly, he was heavily armed.

Samantha took a breath and turned to the two of them. “What’s your name?” she asked the woman.

“Rebecca,” she answered weakly.

“All right, Rebecca. The baby’s in a breach position. That means it’s lodged in the top of the birth canal bum first. There’s not enough room for it to come out that way.”

“I knew it,” the man said hoarsely. “Three days is too long.”

Samantha nodded. “The baby can’t be born without some help. We’ve got two options. The first one I’m going to try now, with your permission. I’ll try turning the baby around inside you so it can come out head first. It’ll be painful and it may not work. But the second option is a Cesarean section—do you know what that is?” They shook their heads dumbly. “It’s an operation. A surgeon will make an incision across the bottom of your belly and lift the baby out through it.”

The woman blanched then groaned as another contraction hit. Samantha timed it and felt her abdomen. “Pick up a pillow from over there,” she instructed the man evenly. “Stand beside her and use it to prop up her shoulders while she’s having a contraction. It won’t hurt as much if she’s sitting up.” He did his best to comply but was obviously well out of his comfort zone.

When the contraction was over, Samantha continued. “There is a two-hour wait for a surgeon.”

“Well that’s too long,” the man blurted out. “Who’s saying she ain’t as important as any of them?” he shouted, gesturing in the direction of the waiting room.

“The surgeon is currently wrist-deep in some kid’s guts, trying to save his life. He’s not more important than your wife, but he’s already in the operating room and will stay there until they’re finished.” Samantha spoke calmly, deliberately, and as forcefully as she could.

“Well then
you
do it,” he insisted. “You...cut her belly,” he added with barely contained horror.

“I’m not qualified to do that. I might kill her and the baby.”

“Try that turning thing then. I’m just about done in so more pain isn’t going to make any difference,” Rebecca spoke up weakly.

Samantha nodded then pulled out the stirrups and set the woman’s feet in them. Her hand on Rebecca’s abdomen, Samantha began an internal examination. Sure enough, she felt the soft, flaccid flesh of an infant’s buttock wedged in the mouth of her womb. The good part was no cord was hanging down and no limbs were protruding into the birth canal. If the mother was strong enough to handle it, they just might be able to save both of them the risk of surgery.

Another contraction hit the woman and Samantha eased her hand out of her vagina. “Cheryl?” she called out over her shoulder.

“Um, yes?” Cheryl’s pale face appeared around the curtain.

“In that drawer,” Samantha said, nodding to the far wall, “you’ll find gauze and scissors.” Hopefully, the emergency-room staff had left the place set up like the Army had left it.

Cheryl’s brown eyes widened but she crossed the room and opened the drawer. “Got ‘em.”

“Good. Now cut a twenty centimeter length of gauze and bring it to me.”

Her eyes still wide, Cheryl nonetheless did as she was asked.

“Um, here,” Cheryl said quietly. Samantha felt more than saw the smile she offered the pregnant woman.

“Good. Now, tie my hair back. Good and tight. Great, thanks.” The contraction ended and Samantha returned her full attention to her patient. “Deep cleansing breath now.”

“What’s that?” the woman gasped.

Samantha deliberately didn’t let her worry show on her face. No pre-natal care. Malnourished. Underage. Breach presentation. It would be a miracle if this baby—and its mother—survived.

“Show her, Cheryl.” But Cheryl simply gawked at her. “You know how,” Samantha prodded her calmly. “Cheryl has three children. She’s an old hand at this and she’s going to coach you through it. Right?” she added pointedly, staring up at Cheryl.

“Um...sure. Sure.” Cheryl said. Her voice was deliberately firm now. She stood on the woman’s other side. “Big inhale in through your nose, then out through your mouth.”

The nurse returned with two IV bags and set them on a tray beside Samantha, tied a tourniquet on the woman’s arm and slapped it lightly with the backs of her fingers. Again. And again. “Veins have collapsed.”

“What’s she mean by that?” the man barked. His voice was high-pitched and wavering.

“It means Rebecca is dehydrated. We’re going to give her some fluids from those bags.”

“She’ll need a cut-down,” the nurse said evenly. She moved quickly around the room, set up a sterile tray and wheeled it into position beside the patient then stood aside, looking at Samantha pointedly.

“I’m not a doctor. I’m a medic,” Samantha said, again feeling the women’s abdomen and pressing lightly on the baby’s bum, trying to see if it would turn that way.

“Then you can do this. I can’t.”

“What do you mean...a medic?” the man blurted out. He drove his hand into his pocket—the one with the gun in it. “You’re Army—ain’t you?” he asked in a low, venomous tone.

“Yes,” Samantha answered evenly. “And I need you to do something for me,” she said, moving to the cut-down tray and, using a generous amount of solution, disinfected the patient’s wrist. “You said you drove here?”

“Yeah...but what has that got to do with anything?” he answered suspiciously.

“You’re carrying at least two handguns. I need you to go out to your car and leave both of them in the trunk. And any other weapons you might be carrying.”

“You’re nuts if you—”

“You’re going to get rid of your weapons because if you’re armed, I’m paying more attention to you than her,” she interrupted him as she injected the cut-down area in several places with local anesthetic. “It’s human nature. And I’m going to keep paying more and more attention to you. Whether I want to or not. Besides, there’s no place for guns in a room with your wife and baby in it.”