Page 7 of Close Pursuit

The girl moaned and he glanced at his watch, noting the time.

Doused in wet gel, his hands went numb fast and his fingernails turned blue. How was he supposed to deliver a baby safely in these primitive and unsanitary conditions?

An argument broke out inside the shelter and Katie eventually called out to him, “She doesn’t want you to examine her or help unless things go badly.”

He ducked back inside, donning a pair of surgical gloves. “How am I supposed to know things are going badly if I can’t examine my patient?”

Katie sighed. “She wants you to tell me what to do.”

“That’s absurd. While I appreciate that you do have obstetric experience, I’m the doctor.”

“That’s what I told her. But she’s adamant.” Katie lowered her voice to add, “She’s embarrassed.”

“She also doesn’t speak a word of English,” he pointed out dryly. “No need to lower your voice.”

That earned him an eye roll. Katie said. “She’s a young, terrified girl who has zero understanding of what’s happening to her body, right now. I’ll bet she doesn’t even know how she got pregnant. Cut her some slack.”

“Why did she come here if she’s not going to let me help her?” he demanded low.

Katie came over to stand directly in front of him. Her blue eyes were beseeching as she answered, “Because she’s scared her baby will die.”

“It’s my job—my sworn duty as a physician—to save them both.”

Katie turned and repeated what he’d just said to the girl.

The patient said clearly in Zagan, “No care for me. But save my baby. You promise me?”

He looked over at Katie, who stared back at him worriedly. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You’re the doctor,” she replied soberly.

Tremendous weight was packed into those three little words. Responsibility for this girl’s life. For that of her unborn child. To his Hippocratic Oath. To his medical license. Hell, to himself. When he got out of prison, he’d vowed to live in a way that he could look himself in the mirror every morning.

He huffed. “This sucks.”

“Welcome to life as a female in the twelfth century,” she said lightly.

“We’ll do it her way for now. You and I both know she’s not going to give a damn who sees her private parts when she hits late-stage labor.”

“True,” Katie murmured.

“All right then. I’m confident you know how to do this. But, to ease our patient’s fear, I should probably go through the motions of telling you what to do.”

Katie nodded and smiled encouragingly at him.

He assumed a lecturing tone. “Step one is to see if the baby’s presenting head first. You’ll may need to use a flashlight since it’s so dark in here.”

While Katie gently explained what she was going to do before she did it, he turned his back and busied himself lighting the second propane stove. They didn’t have enough fuel to burn both stoves for the whole time they were scheduled to be on the road. But tonight was an emergency.

The patient moaned again, and he glanced at his watch. The contractions were a few seconds under two minutes apart.

“How far is she dilated?” he asked Katie.

“About seven centimeters.” She added lightly, “We’ve got a problem. The baby’s breech.”

He swore under his breath. “It’s way late in her labor to turn the baby. And she she’s on no painkillers, but you’ve got to talk our reluctant patient into letting me try.”

Katie really did try to convince the girl. But to no avail.

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