Page 32 of One Last Storm
She lifted a shoulder. The nurse moved in to take her pulse, her blood pressure. Flynn stepped back.
“So, we have the contractions under control, and I’m going to prescribe you antibiotics for the bladder infection. And of course, you’re a little anemic, so we’ll need to get that under control. You’ll need to take it easy.”
“Pulse is still a little high,” said the nurse.
Tillie hadn’t moved.
Flynn stared at her, then the doctor. And…wait. “Doc. Is the baby okay?”
He frowned. Glanced at Flynn, back to Tillie. “Yes. We got a heartbeat. So far…yes.”
Flynn looked over at Tillie, who hadn’t really moved. “Tillie, did you hear what he said?”
She looked at Flynn, then at the doctor. “What?”
Flynn took her hand. “You didn’t lose the baby, Tillie. It’s still…there.”
Tillie blinked at her, then looked at the doctor. “What?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you last night?”
She shook her head. “I was in ultrasound, and then I came back here and they said they’d send someone in, but then…I don’t know. I never…no.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m so sorry. With the emergency last night—I’m so sorry.” He glanced at the nurse, back to Tillie. “You have a bladder infection, and it’s quite swollen. That’s what caused a tear in your uterine wall. But the placenta is intact, and the baby is fine.”
“But I had cramps?”
“Your body, reacting to the stress of the bleeding. You weren’t in labor, although we did have to give you a muscle relaxant.”
A bare smile. “No wonder I felt so tired.”
“No, honey, I think you’re tired because you’re three months pregnant,” said Flynn.
And now Tillie smiled. “I’m still pregnant.”
“Yes. And due sometime this summer. Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” He turned to his tablet?—
“No!” Tillie held up her hand. “Sheesh—maybe I should tell my husband that we’re expecting, first.”
He grinned. “Yes. Maybe you should.” He put a hand on her leg, and squeezed. “I’ll be back later. Get some rest. We’ll discharge you later today.”
Flynn sank into a chair as they left.
“We’re going to have a baby,” Tillie said.
“Yes, you are.” And for a second, that miracle just sat between them.
A commotion in the hallway made both women look toward the door. Voices—urgent and familiar—growing louder as they approached.
“Sir, you need to show ID before?—”
“I’m EMT with Air One. Axel Mulligan. I’ve got clearance.”
Flynn’s heart hammered against her ribs. That voice. Rough with exhaustion and cold but unmistakably alive. She was on her feet, instinct pushing through the door and into the hallway.
Axel stood at the nurses’ station. Ice crusted in his dark hair and light beard, his winter gear still steaming from the subzero cold outside. His face was windburned and hollow with exhaustion, but his eyes were bright. Searching.
They landed on her, and time stopped. Oh, see…despite the tragedy, despite the terror…there was still light.
