Radclyffe - Crossroads

“She’ll need training wheels, right?”

“It depends on her balance and how comfortable she is on the bike.” Hollis smiled. “But she inherited your touch—I was watching her color. She’s got really good coordination. I think she’ll pick it up pretty quick.”

Annie’s heart fluttered. She hadn’t believed it could do that—not unless she was on her way to the ICU. Hollis had noticed Callie color. Hollis really looked. Hollis saw her. The fluttering settled lower in her belly, grew heavier. More insistent. She thought of Hollis’s hand on her neck and a pulse tripped between her thighs. She took a breath, kept her voice light although she trembled everywhere. “I guess I’ll probably have to get a bicycle too, then.”

“It’s a great way to spend time together.” Hollis smiled. “Once Rob taught me…”

Hollis’s smile faded. There was no mistaking the look, the same one she’d seen on Hollis’s face in the stairwell at Linda’s. Pain, raw and untempered. “Rob?”

“My oldest brother.” Hollis averted her gaze. “He taught me—well, pretty much everything.”

“He sounds great. Is he—”

Hollis’s chin shot up. Her eyes were two dark pools, completely opaque. “He’s dead. He was in the South Tower.”

“Oh God, Hollis. I’m sorry.” Annie took Hollis’s hand. Her fingers were icy. She pulled Hollis’s hand into her lap and cupped it between both of hers, rubbing gently as if that would help. She knew the cold was somewhere much deeper than she could touch, but she had to try. “I’m so sorry.”

“He wasn’t even supposed to be anywhere around, but I…” Hollis shuddered.

“What?” Annie moved closer and brushed her fingers through Hollis’s hair. “What?”

“I was supposed to meet him for breakfast, and we were going to go house hunting. His wife was pregnant and he wanted a bigger place.” Hollis leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I canceled at the last minute. I’d spent the night at my girlfriend’s and we were still… I figured Rob and I could always go another day.”

“You couldn’t know—”

“Rob was always there for me. Always.” Hollis’s jaw clenched. “But I couldn’t drag my ass up to meet him, so he went to the fire station to hang with the guys. He rolled out when the call came. He was probably one of the first on scene.”

Hollis’s anguish ripped at the fabric of Annie’s soul. She didn’t have words to ease that horrible pain, but she ached to try. She stroked Hollis’s hair. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

“I’m okay.” Hollis pulled away. Her eyes were wounded, haunted.

“Hollis—let me come inside. I’ll fix us some lunch.”

“No,” Hollis whispered. “I’m not good company now. I’ll see you in clinic.”

“Hollis, wait—”

Hollis pushed open the door and a few seconds later, she was gone.

Annie understood Hollis wanted to be alone, didn’t want to let Annie or anyone inside. She shouldn’t care, but she did. Being shut out cut deep. She hadn’t thought she’d ever let anyone get close enough to hurt her again, but she knew Hollis could. She drove away, grateful for the pain—taking it as a warning. She’d lost sight of all she’d learned for a short time, but she was clear now. She wasn’t going to give anyone the power to hurt her, not even Hollis.

Chapter Twenty

Floor rounds were running late, and Hollis didn’t have time to think of Annie or dwell on the wounds their conversation had opened. Every time Annie’s face, soft with sympathy and, later, hurt, swam into her consciousness, she grabbed another chart and concentrated on taking care of other people’s worries. That had worked to keep her pain at bay when things got bad for almost ten years, but not today. Today she had to struggle to block Annie out. She had three post-op checks left when she got a STAT page. She grabbed a wall phone and dialed the extension. Ned’s secretary picked up.

“Hold just a moment, Dr. Monroe,” the secretary said. “He’s right here.”

“Hi,” Ned said. “I’ve got a near-term mother in the office with placenta previa. Can you see her?”

“Is she bleeding?”

“A little spotting—that’s what brought her in. No contractions.”

“The previa is new?”

“Yeah—this is her first baby, but she’s had a couple of misses.”

“Send her to the ER and have them call me. I’ll be down as soon as she arrives.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

An hour later one of the ER attendings paged her. “Got Ned’s patient here. She’s not bleeding now but we typed and crossed her. Just in case.”

“Good. Tell the blood bank I want four units standing by. I’ll be down in five minutes.”

“Name’s Ellen Goodwin. Bay twelve. Thanks, Hollis.”

Hollis found Ellen, a thirty-five-year-old African American woman with bright deep brown eyes, waiting anxiously with her partner, Sheri, a fortyish blue-eyed blonde with a quick smile.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Monroe—Dr. Williams asked me to stop by and see you.”

Introductions were made and she did a brief exam. “I’m just going to review your MRI and I’ll be right back.” Five minutes later she returned and pulled a stool over to the bedside. “You have what we call placenta previa. Part of the placenta—the vascular tissue that carries blood and nutrients to the fetus—is lying so low in the uterus, it’s covering the cervix.”

“Is the baby in danger?” Ellen asked in a surprisingly calm tone.

“Not yet,” Hollis said. “But there’s a risk of more bleeding, and if that happens… Do you know the sex yet?”

Ellen smiled. “Yes—we’re picking out boy’s names.”

“He could be in trouble if you start bleeding and don’t stop.”

“What about Ellen?” Sheri asked.

“We never like to have a mother bleeding—and uncontrolled hemorrhage is a risk in this situation.”

Ellen took Sheri’s hand. “What do you suggest?”

“The baby is close enough to term to be delivered. I recommend an elective C-section first thing in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Sheri breathed the words as if in shock.

“Yes. This way we can control the delivery and get the placenta out before there’s a lot of blood loss—usually. You need to know there’s still a risk we’ll lose more blood than we’d like.”

“And then?” Ellen still looked and sounded calm.

“Then you may need blood transfusions or, worst-case scenario, I’ll have to remove the uterus to stop the bleeding.”

Sheri’s face went white. Hollis pulled over a chair. “Why don’t you sit down, Sheri.”

“I’m fine,” Sheri said, sitting abruptly.

“We want more children,” Ellen said.

“I understand,” Hollis said. “That would be my last option.”

Ellen nodded. “Fine. Let’s go ahead.”

“All right.” Hollis stood. “You’ll be admitted tonight. I’ll schedule you for eight a.m. Bright and early tomorrow you’ll have this baby.”

“Thank you,” Ellen and Sheri said together.

By the time Hollis had filled out the paperwork, it was close to seven. She grabbed a pizza from Giovanni’s on the way home and ate it out of the box on the back porch. The house was dark and still. Her mother kept telling her to get a dog. Maybe she should.

After wrapping the remains of the pizza in foil for breakfast, she changed into a sleeveless T-shirt and cut-off jeans and went to work. She kept busy until almost eleven, working on the house. She tore out a wall where she’d mentioned to Annie she wanted to put a powder room, pounding at sections of old plaster and lathe that left her coated in a fine white dust, and shored up the sagging beams with new vertical posts. She quit when her back was too stiff to swing the hammer and heft the chunks of debris out the back door any longer. She’d worn gloves to protect her hands, but her forearms ached and she needed to rest them before surgery the next day. She took a long hot shower, hoping the pulsing water would relax her. It didn’t.