Crossroads

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.

She lay in bed in the dark, with only a sheet covering her hips and the windows open to catch the faint currents of air. The temperature outside hovered in the low seventies and sweat soon misted her skin. She stared at the ceiling, at the wavy patterns of light and dark made by moonlight filtering through the branches of the hemlock outside her window. She thought she could make out the shape of a monkey riding a tricycle.

She’d managed not to think of Annie for twelve hours. She thought of Rob almost every day, but in a distant way, as if through a curtain of rain. The instant her mind conjured up his face or a conversation or a memory of time they’d spent together, the curtain thickened and images dissolved, shielding her from the full force of the pain. Her shields had failed her when she’d seen the photographs of Linda’s family and remembered her own family and the special bond she’d shared with Rob. That little break in her defenses had been the beginning, maybe, but Annie was the one to break through all her barricades. Annie crossed her barriers like they weren’t even there, and that scared her. She was in danger of becoming attached, seriously attached, and attachments could be deadly. When they broke, or worse, were severed by random tragedy, they left you bleeding with no way to stop the hemorrhage. She’d vowed never to put herself in that position again, and she was in very real danger of doing just that.

She tossed and turned, too hot in the warm night air. Finally she got up and took another shower, and still, she couldn’t relax. She pulled on a T-shirt and blue-and-white-striped boxer shorts and walked barefoot down to her front porch in the dark. She sat in an Adirondack chair with a worn canvas cushion, alone in the night. Cars occasionally passed, and now and then she heard the distant peal of laughter or a deep rumble of conversation from an open bedroom window. She ached, as lonely as if she were marooned on some faraway planet.

She wasn’t alone—she had family she could call, but what could she say? Everyone grieved over Rob. Everyone bled. But only she carried the guilt. She dropped her head to the back of the chair and rubbed her eyes. She’d told Annie things she’d never told anyone. She’d made her last confession a week before the world exploded and hadn’t been back to Mass since. She might be forgiven her sins, but she wasn’t ready to accept absolution. Rationally, she knew she wasn’t at fault for what had happened to Rob, but she’d played a part in the tapestry of fate that had put him there that morning, all because she’d put someone first over him, because she’d taken him for granted. He’d always been there, and she’d just assumed he always would be. The next time would be time enough—and she never had another time. She’d never be able to say all the things she’d felt her entire life but never thought she needed to say.

Still, she’d confessed to Annie—the words pouring out as if from a stranger’s mouth. Why, she didn’t know. Annie would offer her forgiveness, not recognizing the magnitude of her transgressions, and maybe that was why she’d confessed what she’d never said out loud.

Annie. Annie with the understanding eyes and tender touch. If things were different, would she have taken Annie to meet Rob? Look at the woman I found—isn’t she amazing? Rob would have flicked her a high sign behind Annie’s back—Yeah, you did good, Monroe. But things were what they were—Rob would never see his own child, and Annie didn’t deserve her ghosts.

Rob’s loss had left a huge gaping hole in her life, a sorrow she couldn’t put aside. So she’d done the only thing she could—she’d withdrawn into a self-protective shell and buried herself in her work. Now Annie had cracked the shell, and she wondered if all the careful artifice of her life would fracture next.

Finally, exhausted, she made her way up to bed and lay face-down on top of the sheets, naked, alone, and accepting she had no answers.

*

The next morning, Hollis stood in a lukewarm shower until the grogginess was gone. She had a cup of coffee and was at the hospital by seven, alert and with nothing on her mind but Ellen Goodwin. At seven thirty she went to see her in the pre-op area.

“Hi, Ellen. Sleep okay?”

“Fine. How about you?”

“Like a rock.” Hollis smiled at Sheri. “How are you doing?”

Sheri rubbed Ellen’s arm. “I’m fine. We’re excited. It can’t be too soon.”

Ellen squeezed Sheri’s hand. “We’ve tried and tried and didn’t think it was ever going to happen. Now we’re almost there.”

“Good. Not much longer.” Hollis signed some of the paperwork on Ellen’s chart and placed it at the foot of the stretcher. “The anesthesiologist will be coming to take you back in just a minute. I’m going back to scrub, but you may be asleep by the time I get into the room. They’ll start an epidural, but you’ll be sedated so you may not remember everything that happens.” She looked at Sheri. “As soon as things quiet down a little in there, I’ll have the nurses call out to let you know how things are going. Don’t be concerned if you don’t hear anything for forty-five minutes or so. Sometimes we get a slow start.”

“I understand. Take as long as you need. I just want them both to be healthy.”

“Good enough. I’ll talk to you as soon as I come out.”

“Thanks, Dr. Monroe.”

Hollis squeezed Ellen’s knee. “Ready?”

“More than ready.”

“Me too.”

Hollis walked back to the OR and told the nurses she was ready.

“I’ll page anesthesia,” Sue Gregory, the scrub nurse, said. “Anything special you need?”

“I don’t think so. Who’s on call for neonatology?”

“Karl Provik.”

“Good. I’ll let you know when to call him.”

“Okay, Hollis, thanks.”

Hollis scrubbed, Sue gowned and gloved her, and as soon as anesthesia was ready, she stepped up to the table and Sue passed her the scalpel. She made the Pfannenstiel incision just above the pubic symphysis at the junction with the lower abdomen. She cut down through subcutaneous tissue and divided the rectus. The uterus looked fibrotic, somewhat pale, as if it hadn’t been getting enough blood. She was glad they hadn’t waited. She made the incision in the uterus and Sue sucked up the amniotic fluid as it gushed out. The color was good—clear, no signs of fetal distress. She widened the incision with one hand inside and palpated the baby’s head. She delivered the baby and clamped the cord.

“You can call Karl,” Hollis said and passed the baby boy to the waiting nurse. When she turned back, blood filled the uterus and poured over into the abdomen. The surgical field leapt into sharp focus, as if a color TV show had suddenly switched to black and white.

“We’ve got bleeding,” Hollis said. “Better get up another suction and start the Pitocin.” Sweat broke out on her brow and she blinked it away. “Kelly clamp.”

Someone wiped her face. The bleeding slowed but didn’t stop. “Load up the number two silks and have someone get her partner on the phone.”

“Do you want the hysterectomy tray, Hollis?” Sue asked.

Hollis looked up at the clock. “In a minute.”

*

At noon, Annie decided Hollis wasn’t going to call about meeting her for lunch before clinic. She was surprised. She’d known all along they were asking for trouble trying to build some kind of personal relationship—she hesitated to call it friendship, whatever lay between them had seemed from the onset to be something different—when they had to work together under such stressful, volatile conditions. But she’d assumed Hollis could handle it—just as she was handling it.

True, she’d had a lousy night’s sleep and been grumpy at breakfast. She’d just managed to put on enough of a smile to fool Callie, and fortunately all she’d had scheduled for the morning was paperwork. No one minded when she bitched about that. Now she sat at her desk watching the clock, giving Hollis another five minutes to call. Four minutes had passed when she finally rose, disgusted at herself for putting all the power in Hollis’s hands. She needed to be in clinic if she was going to make a decision that she hadn’t wanted to make in the first place, and she was damn well going to have the information she needed. She closed down her computer with a few sharp punches to the keyboard, snatched up her shoulder bag, and spun around, nearly colliding with Barb.

“Going to a fire?” Barbara asked with a faint smile.

“Something like that,” Annie muttered.

“Should I ask?”

“No,” Annie said with a sigh. “Nothing major, really. Just a slight miscalculation on my part, corrected now.”

Barb gave her an uh-huh look. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

“I’m going over to PMC for clinic. Unless something comes up, I won’t be back this afternoon.”

“No problem. Let’s get together the beginning of next week and talk about how this is going.”

“Sure,” Annie said.

“Don’t forget, if you’re running into roadblocks, I might be of help with that.”

“Nothing like that,” Annie said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

She hurried away, not in the mood to talk about Hollis. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Barbara about the tangle the two of them had created when both of them should’ve known better. Well, she couldn’t speak for Hollis, but she could certainly speak for herself.

She drove and parked in the hospital parking lot, thinking as she backed into a space of the morning she’d almost run over Hollis. Of the insolent way Hollis had planted herself in front of her car and refused to move until she’d gotten Annie to agree to have dinner with her. The way her deep blue eyes had sparkled with a touch of arrogance and a hell of a lot of charm. Did she have to be so good-looking? Did she have to be so damn nice? Annie switched off the engine and rolled down the windows, making the most of the halfhearted breeze. Hollis was charming. And Hollis hadn’t done anything she wouldn’t have done, given the circumstances. Hollis had suffered a terrible loss, and there was no statute of limitations on grief. Her pain had been palpable. So dense and fresh all she could think about was putting her arms around Hollis and holding her, getting between her and the memories that hurt her so much.

“As if I could,” Annie muttered. “As if she wanted me to.”

That’s really what had put her in such a bad mood—Hollis didn’t want her close. Perfectly understandable. She was the same way. So what was the problem?

“Absolutely nothing.”

Annie grabbed her keys, pulled her bag from the car, and locked up. Striding rapidly toward the hospital, she vowed that when she saw Hollis, she was going to act as if absolutely nothing had happened between them—because really, nothing had. They’d each shared a few things they probably wished they hadn’t, but that was over—in the past now. She could do this.

She got directions to the clinic from the guard at the door and found the clinic area a few minutes later. A pile of charts stood on a high counter and several pregnant women sat in a nearby waiting area watching television, corralling children, and talking amongst themselves. Annie glanced up and down the hall but didn’t see any sign of Hollis. A red-haired man in a lab coat and scrubs sat behind the counter making notes in a chart.

“Excuse me,” Annie said, “is Hollis Monroe here?”

“No, she’s held up with a patient. Can I help you?”

Annie tugged her lip with her teeth. No telling when Hollis would be back. “I’m not sure. I’m Annie Colfax, from the birthing center. I was supposed to see patients here with Hollis this afternoon.”

“Well,” he said, rising, “I’m Ned Williams.” He held out his hand, giving her a look as if he knew her. “One of the obstetricians in the group. I’m filling in for her this afternoon. You’re welcome to join me.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“Okay,” Annie said, storing her bag underneath the counter. She followed Ned down the hall to the first room, where he passed her a chart and gave her a brief summary of the patient.

The afternoon passed quickly. Ned was friendly and informative, although he lacked the personal charm that allowed Hollis to have such instant rapport with her patients. And she really needed to stop thinking about Hollis. Close to five, she gathered her things and waited while Ned took a call. She heard him say, “Thanks, Hollis,” and she pretended not to notice her pulse jump.

“Thanks again, Ned.” She held out her hand. “This afternoon was great.”

“Glad to have you along.” Ned shook her hand and leaned on the counter. “I’ll tell Hollis you were here. She spent most of the afternoon in the OR with one of my moms in trouble. I definitely had the better day.”

“Thanks, but I imagine I’ll catch up with her tomorrow sometime.”

“Good enough. Have a nice night.”

“Yes,” Annie said absently, “you too.”

She glanced at her watch on her way out to the parking lot. Too late to do much cooking tonight. She needed to pick up Callie in twenty minutes. She wondered how long Hollis would be at the hospital. She wondered if she’d eaten.

“Hollis can take care of herself,” she muttered, unlocking the car. But she couldn’t forget the pain in Hollis’s eyes.

She slid into the car, pulled out her iPhone, and instructed Siri, “Find me the number for the restaurant Casa Ranchero.”