Standoff (9 page)

"You're doing fine. Great, in fact."

And Tiel could have said the same for him. One had to admire the calm, competent manner in which he was dealing with the frightened girl.

"Are you okay?"

Tiel had been staring at him with overt admiration, but she didn't realize he was addressing her until he glanced up. "Me? I'm fine."

"You're not going to faint or anything?"

"I don't think so." Then, because his composure was contagious, she said, "No. I won't faint."

Sabra cried out, jerked into a semi-sitting position, and grunted with the effort of expelling the baby. Tiel rubbed her lower back, wishing there was more she could do to relieve the girl's suffering.

"Is she all right?" The anxious father was ignored.

"Try not to push," Doc reminded the girl. "It'll come now without your applying additional pressure. Ride the pain. Good, good. The head's almost out."

The contraction abated and Sabra's body collapsed with fatigue. She was crying. "It hurts."

"I know." Doc spoke in a soothing voice, but unseen by

Sabra, his face registered profound regret. She was bleeding profusely from tearing tissue. "You're doing fine,

Sabra," he lied. "Soon you'll have your baby."

Very soon, as it turned out. After all the concern the

child's slow progress had given them, in the final seconds it was eager to make its way into the world.

During the next contraction, almost before Tiel could assimilate the miracle she was witnessing, she watched the baby's head emerge facedown. Doc's hand guided it only a little before it instinctually turned sideways. When Tiel saw the newborn's face, its eyes wide open, she murmured,

"Oh my God," and she meant it literally, like a prayer, because it was an awe-inspiring, almost spiritual phenomenon to behold.

But there the miracle stopped, because the baby's shoulders still could not clear the birth canal.

"What's happening?" Ronnie asked when Sabra screamed.

The telephone rang. Donna was nearest to it and she answered. "Hello?"

"I know it hurts, Sabra," Doc said. "The next two or three contractions should do it. Okay?"

"I can't," she sobbed. "I can't."

"This guy name o' Galloway wants to know who got shot," Donna informed them. No one paid any attention to her.

"Doing great, Sabra," Doc was saying. "Get ready. Pant."

Glancing at Tiel, he said, "Be her coach."

Tiel began to pant along with Sabra as she watched

Doc's hands moving around the baby's neck. Noticing her alarm, he said softly, 'Just checking to make sure the cord wasn't wrapped around it."

"Is it okay?" Sabra asked through clenched teeth.

"So far it's a textbook birth."

Tiel heard Donna telling Galloway, "Nope, he ain't dead, but he deserves to be and so does the damn fool that sent him in here." She then slammed down the receiver.

"Here we go, here we go. Your baby's here, Sabra."

Sweat was running into Doc's eyebrows from his hairline, but he seemed unaware of it. "That's it. That's the way."

Her scream would haunt Tiel's dreams for many nights to come. More tissue was torn when the child's shoulders pushed through. A small incision under local anesthetic would have spared her that agony, but there was no help for it.

The only blessing to come of it was the wriggling baby that slipped into Doc's waiting hands. "It's a girl, Sabra.

And she's a beauty. Ronnie, you have a baby daughter."

Donna, Vern, and Gladys cheered and applauded. Tiel sniffed back tears as she watched Doc tilt the infant's head down to help clear her breathing passages since they had no aspirator. Thankfully, she began crying immediately. A

wide grin of relief split his austere face.

Tiel wasn't allowed to marvel for long because Doc was passing the infant to her. The newborn was so slippery she feared dropping her. But she managed to cradle her and get a towel around her. "Lay her on her mother's tummy."

Tiel did as Doc instructed.

Sabra stared at her bawling newborn with wonderment and asked in a fearful whisper, "Is she all right?"

"Her lungs certainly seem to be," Tiel said, laughing.

She ran a quick inventory. "All fingers and toes accounted for. Looks like her hair is going to be light like yours."

"Ronnie, can you see her?" Sabra called to him.

"Yeah." The boy was dividing his glance between her and the Mexicans, who seemed totally disenchanted by the wonders of birth.

"She's beautiful. Well, I mean she will be when she's all cleaned up. How're you?"

"Perfect," Sabra replied.

But she wasn't. Blood had quickly saturated the pads beneath her. Doc tried to stanch it with sanitary napkins.

"Ask Gladys to bring me some more of those. I'm afraid we're going to need them."

Tiel summoned over Gladys and gave her the assignment.

She was back in half a minute with another box of pads. "Did you get that man tied up?" Tiel asked.

"Vern's still working on him, but he won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

While Doc continued to work on Sabra, Tiel tried to distract her. "What are you going to name your daughter?"

Sabra was inspecting the infant with blatant adoration and unqualified love. "We decided on Katherine. I like the classic names."

"So do I. And I think Katherine is going to suit her."

Suddenly Sabra's face contorted with pain. "What's happening?"

"It's the placenta," Doc explained. "Where Katherine's been living the past nine months. Your uterus contracts to expel it just like it did to get Katherine on her way. It'll hurt a little, but nothing like having the baby. Once it's out, we'll clean you up and then let you rest. How does that sound?"

To Tiel he said, "Get one of those garbage sacks ready, please. I'll need to save this. It'll be examined later."

She did as asked and again distracted Sabra by talking about the baby. In a short time, Doc had the afterbirth wrapped up and out of sight, but still tethered to the baby by the cord. Tiel wanted to ask why he hadn't cut it yet, but he was busy.

A good five minutes later, he peeled off the bloody gloves, picked up the blood-pressure cuff, and wrapped it around Sabra's biceps. "How're you doing?"

"Good," she said, but her eye sockets were sunken and shadowed. Her smile was wan. "How's Ronnie holding up?"

"You should talk him into ending this, Sabra," Tiel said gently.

"I can't. Now that I've got Katherine, I can't risk my

Daddy placing her up for adoption."

"He can't do that without your consent."

"He can do anything."

"What about your mother? Whose side is she on?"

"Daddy's, of course."

Doc read the gauge and released the cuff. "Try to get some rest. I'm doing my best to keep your bleeding at a minimum. I'll be asking a favor of you later on, so I'd like you to take a nap now if you can."

"It hurts. Down there."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said weakly. Her eyes began to close. "You were super cool, Doc."

Tiel and Doc watched as her breathing became regular and her muscles relaxed. Tiel lifted Katherine off her mother's chest. Sabra mumbled a protest but was too exhausted to put up much resistance. "I'm only going to clean her up a little. When you wake up, you can have her right back. Okay?"

Tiel took the girl's silence for permission to take the infant away. "What about the cord?" she asked Doc.

"I've been waiting until it was safe."

The cord had stopped pulsing and was no longer ropy, but thinner and flatter. He tied it tightly in two places with shoestrings, leaving about an inch between them. Tiel turned her head aside when he cut it.

The placenta now completely free of the baby, Doc tightly sealed the trash bag and once again relied on

Gladys's help, asking her to put the bag in the refrigerator before continuing to minister to the new mother.

Tiel opened the box of pre moistened towelettes. "Do you think it's safe to use these on the baby?"

"I suppose. That's what they're for," Doc replied.

Although Katherine put up little peeps of protest, Tiel sponged her with the wipes, which smelled pleasantly of baby powder. Having had no experience with newborns, she was nervous about the task. She also continued to monitor Sabra's gentle breathing.

"I applaud her courage," she remarked. "I also can't help but sympathize with them. From what I know of Russell

Dendy, I'd have run away from him too."

"You know him?"

"Only through the media. I wonder if he was instrumental in sending Cain in here?"

"Why'd you hit him over the head?"

"Referring to my attack on a federal agent?" she asked, making a grim joke of it. "I was trying to prevent a disaster."

"I commend your swift action and only wish I'd thought of it."

"I had the advantage of standing behind him." She wrapped Katherine in a fresh towel and held her against her chest for warmth. "I suppose Agent Cain was only doing his duty. And it took a certain amount of bravery to walk into a situation like this. But I didn't want him to shoot Ronnie. And, just as earnestly, I didn't want Ronnie to shoot him. I acted on impulse."

"And weren't you just a little pissed to discover that

Cain wasn't a doctor?"

She looked at him and smiled conspiratorially. "Don't tell."

"I promise."

"How'd you know he wasn't a medical man? What gave him away?"

"Sabra's vitals weren't his first concern. For instance, he didn't take her blood pressure. He didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of her condition, so I began to suspect him and tested his knowledge. When the cervix is dilated eight to ten centimeters, all systems are go. He flunked the test."

"We both might get sentenced to years of hard labor in federal prison."

"Better that than letting him shoot Ronnie."

"Amen to that." She glanced down at the infant, who was now sleeping. "How about the baby? Is she okay?"

"Let's take a look."

Tiel lay Katherine on her lap. Doc folded back the towel and examined the tiny newborn, who wasn't even as long as his forearm. His hands looked large and masculine against her baby pinkness, but their touch was tender, especially when he taped the tied-off cord to her tummy.

"She's small," he observed. "A couple weeks premature,

I'd guess. She seems okay, though. Breathing all right. But she should be in a hospital neonatal unit. It's important that we keep her warm. Try and keep her head covered."

"All right."

He was leaning close to Tiel. Close enough for her to distinguish each tiny line that radiated from the outer corners of his eyes. The irises of his eyes were grayish green, the lashes very black, several shades darker than his medium brown hair. His chin and jaw were showing stubble, which was attractive. Through the tear in his shirtsleeve, she noticed that blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage.

"Does your shoulder hurt?"

When he raised his head, they almost bumped noses.

Their eyes were engaged for several seconds before he turned his head to check his shoulder wound. He looked

at it as though he'd forgotten it was there. "No. It's fine."

Hastily he added, "Better put one of those diapers on her, then wrap her up again."

Tiel ineptly diapered the baby while Doc checked on the new mother.

"Is all that blood…" Tiel purposefully left the question incomplete, afraid that Ronnie would overhear. Since Tiel had never witnessed a birth, she didn't know if the amount that Sabra had bled was normal or cause for alarm. To her, it appeared an inordinate amount, and if she was reading Doc right, he was concerned.

"Much more than there should be." He kept his voice low for the same reason she had. Draping the sheet over

Sabra's thighs, he began massaging her abdomen. "Sometimes this helps curb the bleeding," he said in reply to

Tiel's unspoken question.

"If it doesn't?"

"It can't go on for long before we've got real problems.

I wish I could've done an episiotomy, saved her this."

"Don't blame yourself. Under the circumstances and given the conditions, you did amazingly well, Dr. Stanwick."

CHAPTER

7

It was out before she could recall it. She hadn't intended for Doc to know that she recognized him. Not yet, anyway.

Although maybe her slip of the tongue had been subconsciously intentional. Maybe she had addressed him by name just to see how he would react. Her reporter's yen for provoking a response to an unexpected question or statement had goaded her into tossing out his name to see what his spontaneous, unrehearsed, and therefore candid reaction would be.

His spontaneous, unrehearsed, and candid reaction was telling. In sequence he looked at first astonished, then mystified, then irked. Finally, it was as though a shutter had been slammed shut over his eyes.

Tiel held his stare, her steady gaze virtually daring him to deny that he was Dr. Bradley Stanwick. Or had been in his previous life.

The telephone rang again.

"Oh, hell," Donna grumbled. "What do I tell 'em this time?"

"Let me answer." Ronnie reached for the phone. "Mr.

Galloway? No, like the lady told you, he's not dead."

Sabra had been roused by the ringing telephone. She asked to hold her baby. Tiel laid the infant in her arms.

The new mother cooed over how sweet Katherine looked now, how good she smelled.

Tiel stood up and stretched. She hadn't realized until now how taxing the final hour of labor and the birth had been. Her fatigue couldn't compare to Sabra's, of course, but she was exhausted nonetheless.

Physically exhausted, but mentally charged. She took stock of the present situation. Gladys and Vern were sitting together quietly, holding hands. They looked tired but content, as though the night's events were being enacted for their entertainment.

Donna was hugging her bony chest with her skinny arms and picking at the loose, scaly sacks of skin that passed for elbows. The taller, leaner Mexican man was focused on Ronnie and the telephone. His friend was watching the FBI agent, who showed signs of coming around.