C.J. Carmichael - Leaving Enchantment

No longer concerned about her physical safety, Kim set the three-hole punch on the empty reception desk, next to Trish Linden’s silly snow globe of Venice. The middle-aged receptionist had never ventured out of New Mexico. What was she doing with a souvenir of Italy of all places?

Kim followed the hallway around the curving counter. One of the birthing-room doors stood ajar. A faint light slipped out into the hall.

The sobbing was louder now. Raw and unrestrained.

All Kim’s instincts told her to walk away. She did not want to get involved with this. But what if the person crying was Lydia? Kim would do anything for Lydia.

Lydia Kane had founded The Birth Place when she was a young mother herself, many decades ago. Though she was now in her early seventies she still worked full-time as a midwife. The only sign she gave of easing up was her recent resignation from the board of directors. Kim guessed she’d made the move under pressure, for reasons Kim could only speculate about.

She peeked through the open crack in the door. Sure enough it was Lydia. She’d changed out of the trousers and shirt she’d been wearing for the labor, earlier. Her long gray hair now hung down the back of a forest-green caftan. Kim watched the older woman pull a beautifully patterned quilt over freshly plumped pillows. As she worked efficiently, briskly, her crying continued.

Lydia’s typical self-control and natural dignity made this a most incongruous sight. Again Kim’s instincts warned her to back away. But then she inadvertently pushed on the door and the hinges squeaked. Just a little, but enough.

“Who’s there?” Lydia straightened and turned to face the door. “Kim?” She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Just some late-night accounting.” She didn’t share her worries about the finances. It wouldn’t be news to Lydia, anyway. They were all used to the center being short of funds, though Kim had been working to rectify the situation since she’d been on board. One of her first projects had been the renegotiation of their contracts with the various health-care providers.

“You work too hard.”

Kim stepped into the room. “What about you? Surely this could wait until morning.” She knew some of their contracts required the midwives to file notice of a baby’s birth within twenty-four hours. But that was paperwork. Why was Lydia cleaning the room?

Lydia compressed her lips and turned away. The old woman’s long, lean body shook with the effort of controlling her tears.

“Did something go wrong with the delivery tonight?”

A sob escaped Lydia. A sob filled with deep, wrenching grief.

Oh, God. What was she going to do? There was no one else at the center to deal with this. “Lydia, can I get you something?”

“No. Nothing.” She sat on the edge of the bed, and Kim perched beside her.

“Want to talk about what happened?”

“No.” She shook her head, then sighed. “Yes. Do you remember Mary Davidson and her husband, Steve?”

Kim nodded. She’d never met the couple, but she’d processed the initial payment from their insurance company. Then Steve had quit his job to start his own company and been taken off the company health plan. Their account had been on her receivables listing ever since.

“I still can’t believe it happened. But I lost her tonight, Kim. I lost Mary and the baby. In all my years of midwifing, it’s never happened like this before.” Lydia’s hand trembled as she plucked a tissue from a box on a nearby end table. Kim picked up the entire box and placed it on Lydia’s lap.

“I thought I heard some commotion—around seven o’clock?” She’d been heating up soup in the microwave for her dinner when she’d noticed Gina dashing down the hall.

“Yes. We ended up transferring Mary to the hospital. I had a feeling something was going wrong, even though there didn’t seem to be a problem. In the beginning Mary progressed so normally, you see. Every indication was that this would be an uncomplicated birth.

“But as labor progressed, I began to feel anxious. Over the years I’ve learned to trust my instincts. And so I drove Mary to the hospital. Steve followed in his vehicle. Oh my God, if only he’d ridden with me…” Lydia pressed a tissue over her mouth, stifling a ragged sob.

Kim shivered as an awful suspicion prompted her to ask. “Did something happen to Steve?”

Lydia nodded, her hands covering her face again. “After—” She paused for a strengthening breath. “After he heard about Mary and the baby he took off. About an hour later, he was rushed back to the hospital in an ambulance. Dead. Oh, Kim, he had an accident on Switchback Road!”

Kim starred blankly at Lydia, stunned by the massive dimensions of this tragedy. The older midwife continued to take big gulps of air and eventually regained some composure.

“It’s all so senseless. Mary Davidson was a healthy woman. She never should have died. As for her baby— I saw his face before the trouble started. He was so dear, so precious. A big baby, a healthy boy.”

“Tell me what happened.” Kim wasn’t keen to hear the details, but it might help Lydia to talk. For sure, the older woman wasn’t ready to go home.

Step-by-step Lydia went through the stages of Mary Davidson’s disastrous labor and delivery. Kim didn’t stop her for explanations of medical terms or procedures that she didn’t understand. She just let Lydia talk and talk, second-guessing each decision, going through all the options that had been open at the time.

Finally she fell silent.

“If a similar circumstance presented itself to you tomorrow, you’d make the exact same decisions,” Kim said.

Lydia’s eyes opened wide, then she allowed her stiff shoulders to slump. “Probably. For the life of me, I can’t see where we went wrong. Mary had a proven pelvis. She was healthy and strong. Right up to the end, the baby was doing so well….”

“Lydia, the situation was out of your control.”

“It’s so difficult to accept. In all my years, I’ve never lost a baby and a mother. Poor Sammy!”

Kim had no idea who Sammy was. Now didn’t seem the time to ask. If only she could say something, do something to help. Another person might put an arm around Lydia, murmur comforting words. But for Kim that wasn’t possible.

“May I make you some tea, Lydia?”

The older woman shook her head and pulled yet another tissue from the box. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

“I’d love to help.” Kim felt hopelessly inadequate. If only Trish were here. The receptionist had such a gentle, caring way about her.

“Oh, Kim, I wish…”

Desperate to be of some assistance, Kim leaned forward. “Yes?”

“I’d really like to talk to my granddaughter.”

Kim drew in a breath. What? How? Then she realized that of course Lydia was referring to Devon Grant in Albuquerque. Devon was in the medical profession, too. And she’d recently joined the board at The Birth Place. In fact, she’d taken her grandmother’s position on the board. She would be able to understand Lydia’s pain so much better than Kim could.

“Do you know her number? I’ll place the call if you’d like.”

“Oh, it’s too late.”

“I’m sure Devon wouldn’t mind.” In the other woman’s shoes, Kim knew she wouldn’t. She led Lydia back to the reception area, where she punched in the number Lydia gave her. The phone rang many times. But there was no answer and no message machine, either.

“Devon must be on a night shift.”

“Which hospital?” When Lydia told her, Kim dialed directory assistance and soon the line was ringing again.

“May I speak to Devon Grant, please. Her grandmother, Lydia Kane, wishes to speak to her.” She passed the receiver to Lydia, then prepared to leave to give Lydia her privacy. Her hand was on the door leading back to the admin area, when she heard the older woman speak softly.