28. Liam
CHAPTER 28
LIAM
T he second I get to the hospital, I go over to the woman at the desk who usually handles caseloads and smile nicely at her. She looks up at me, and I can just tell she’s thinking , Oh God, what does this guy want now? Not unreasonable, I suppose, given my reputation.
“I… uh… I need your help,” I say.
“With what?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“There’s a case I need transferred to another doctor.” She raises an eyebrow in question. “I have a… personal issue,” I say, not wanting to divulge too much about me and Emma. “One that’s going to stop me from doing my best work with this.”
“A family issue?” she asks, cocking her head ever so slightly to one side. Mabel, it says on the desk. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before. I don’t suppose I’ve ever had much reason to consider what her name is.
I never used to think stuff like that mattered.
“Davenport is the last name,” I say. “She gave birth today, at home.”
“And you were there?”
“I was.”
I brace myself for further questions, but to my great relief, none come. God alone knows what Mabel’s imagining in her head now, but I don’t care. As long as this gets resolved, she can say what she likes to the others.
“All right, so you were set to be on the schedule for follow-up care, but I suppose I could bump that to Dr. Cole’s list. If you would be willing to take on a couple of extra cases, that is.”
“No problem,” I say, letting out a smile. “Perfect, actually. Thank you.”
She blinks at me, taken aback. Emma’s ghost is haunting me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so polite to this woman in my life, and for sure she wasn’t expecting it. She probably thinks I’ve been swapped with an alien.
But I’m starting to think that maybe Emma was right. I wasn’t rude to Mabel, and she gave me exactly what I wanted. Better than, even.
I decide to double down, hoping this might get me more good stuff in the future. “Thank you, Mabel. You’re appreciated.”
With that, I walk away, not wanting to give her any time to be smug about my new personality. I’m sure all sorts of rumors will be flying in the staff room after this, but I don’t care. I’ve never been much one to care about gossip.
All I’m here to do is my job.
After that, I head up to the maternity ward. Babies aren’t actually my specialty — I concentrate on pregnancy and birth — but I’ve been around them a lot lately because my coworker Eric has been going through a tough time. His wife is having a lot of health issues, and he’s needed to take time off to support her.
And because I have an impeccable work ethic, I have been more than happy to cover for him.
It’s been an interesting learning curve. It’s not something I would normally think of doing or want to do, but this last year has been incredibly informative. More than anything, I love to learn new things. It keeps my brain from stagnating.
Eric’s not in today, again, so I’m in charge of checking on all the mothers and their babies, making sure they have everything that they need and aren’t in any distress. The night passes quickly, and though I should be exhausted, I’m not.
At the end of the day, I enjoy it — the work, the babies, seeing life come into the world. Even if the bad days do hit hard, the highs of the maternity ward are sweet like nothing else is.
Today, though, seeing all the babies keeps reminding me of the news Emma delivered. I feel certain that was not the way she intended for me to find out, which makes me wonder if she meant for me to find out at all.
A baby. My baby.
I can’t work out what she was trying to tell me with the face she made when she saw me again. Surprise? Sure, but was there some trace of wanting me still? Was it pure betrayal, or was there some tiny hope of sadness that I left?
Because I think it is my fault. I pulled away from her. I pushed her away. I did it on purpose, but now I can see it was wrong.
At the very least, I should have been outright with her, told her the truth and my reasons for it instead of being a coward. I should have told her that I was calling it off instead of letting it fade away like some sort of limping rabbit, waiting for the day it couldn’t walk anymore.
And then that thought is too morbid, so I have to go and look at a baby to cheer myself up. Which just makes me think about my own baby inside Emma right now, my son or daughter. My child.
Our child.
I’m contemplating going for a nap on my break when I get an alert from a nurse that I’m needed. Suddenly any sleepiness vanishes from me, and I snap into action.
I rush over to the woman who needs me. She’s in labor. “Hey, there,” I say. “I’m Doctor Liam. I’m here to help.”
I examine her, quickly figuring out the problem. The baby’s in the wrong position. I tell her this and add, “It looks like we might have to perform a C-section.”
“No, please. I don’t want to. I want my baby to be natural.”
As gently as I can, I explain that it won’t make it less natural, but it might just save her life. But she desperately doesn’t want to do that, so all I can do is sit with her, supporting her, keeping an eye on all of her vital signs to see if there’s any way that we can give her what she wants without costing her dearly.
The hours drain by and she’s not getting better.
Her husband comes to sit on the other side of her, telling her he loves her, that she’s brave and strong. He might be right, but I feel like I’m facing the inevitable here.
“I’m sorry,” I say in the end. “I want to help you, but it’s getting critical. I need to get you to the operating room as soon as possible.”
The patient is exhausted, weak and drained, and she turns to her husband. They discuss it in low voices, and then with tears in her eyes, she turns back to me and nods. “If it’s for the best, I trust you. Look after my baby.”
I prepare everything to go, and when we wheel her away, her husband gives us this terrified look, like he’s preparing himself for all the ways it could go wrong. Like he would lose everything if he were to lose his wife.
That face lingers with me as I perform the surgery, moving more quickly than normal now that the situation is urgent. When I pull the baby from her womb, alive and healthy, I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m not going to have to deliver bad news to this family today.
The feeling when, finally, I can put the baby in the husband’s arms and watch as his face splits into complete joy, total delight is like nothing else. Tears spill down his face as he clutches his baby to his chest. “Thank you, doctor.”
“It’s my pleasure,” I say, and I get that ecstatic pang deep in my chest, which reminds me why my job is worth it.
Seeing this shows me just what a family can be. I have made a difference to them. I have changed their lives.
And without knowing it, their love, their bond… it’s changed mine.
I leave the family for some alone time, and for the first time in hours, I allow myself to think about Emma. I walk to the break room, and I allow myself to imagine my own baby in my arms, holding her hand as she undertakes the miracle of life. Looking into my baby’s eyes.
For the first time, I let myself imagine losing her.
That’s the moment when I’m sure, surer than ever, that I’ve made some terrible, horrible mistake. I should never have let Emma Rodriguez go.
I don’t want her to raise our baby alone. I don’t want to be the kind of parent that mine were. I want to be better.
I haven’t known Emma for very long, but she’s shown me how to be better. Because of her, I’m so much more than I was before. As all these realizations hit me, I sink down to the floor, cradling my head in my hands. I’m so exhausted that the tears can’t help but flow.
Being a family isn’t asking me to give up on my job. I can see that now. It’s asking me to be a part of something bigger than I am.
Emma’s shown me that she’s willing to be patient with me, to keep giving me chances, but I don’t want her to have to keep forgiving me. I want to prove that I’m worth all the chances she’s already given me.
I don’t want anything more than I want her.
Now I have to find a way to prove that to her. I just hope to God that she wants me back.