The hospital was thankfully quiet that morning, probably because all the sane people in town were still sleeping. After the Quinns filled out the paperwork for baby Lilah – which only took a few minutes, since they were forced to leave most of the intake pages blank – Stanley and his wife sat down in the waiting room. Marie held the baby to her chest tightly, checking several times a minute to make sure the poor thing wasn’t having another episode. Meanwhile, Stanley kept his eyes glued to his wife, watching her like a hawk for any sign of change to her features. He couldn’t shake the horrible image from before. For a moment, it was almost as if… as if Marie were just a few ragged breaths from her grave. But how could that be? She was twenty-seven years old and had always been as healthy as a horse. As goosebumps erupted across the skin of Stanley’s arms, he rubbed them away feverishly.
When they were finally escorted to a room inside the hospital, a nurse arrived to ask them intake questions.
“How old is your baby?”
Seated in one of the chairs with Lilah sleeping snugly in her arms, Marie looked up at her husband, who squeezed her shoulder tightly. “Well… We’re not exactly sure,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry?” The nurse looked up from her clipboard.
“She was left on the doorstep of the fire station sometime last night. We brought her here for a checkup after we noticed something… odd.”
“I’m sorry… You found this child? And you didn’t think to call the police?”
Stanley shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “We figured you would write up a police report here. Our first concern was the baby’s health.”
Marie gave him an approving smile. “My husband is the new Fire Chief,” she added with a note of pride.
“Congratulations. I’m going to go get the doctor. Don’t go anywhere.”
The nurse ducked out the door quickly, and less than a minute later, a middle-aged man with hair nearly as white as his coat stuck his head in the room. “Mr. and Mrs. Quinn? My name is Dr. Kreuter,” he said, adjusting his spectacles. “Now, Karen tells me that you found a baby outside the fire station, is that right?”
Stanley nodded, somewhat bleakly.
The doctor’s voice was oddly cheerful. “Well, that doesn’t happen every day, now does it?”
“I’m sure there’s a protocol for these types of situations, but I just sort of… panicked,” Stanley explained, a hint of peevishness touching his voice.
Marie patted his arm reassuringly.
The doctor clicked his pen. “You were right to bring her in. Oftentimes children are abandoned by parents who are struggling with addiction, and unfortunately those problems can happen throughout the pregnancy, which can of course negatively impact the health of the newborn.”
Marie paled slightly at that. “Oh doctor, you don’t think—”
“I’m not here to make wild guesses and conjectures, Mrs. Quinn.” Dr. Kreuter raised a weathered hand. “I’m just here to make a diagnosis. Now, it says here that you noticed the baby convulsing? How long ago was that?”
“About an hour ago,” Marie replied, offering no further information.
Stanley forced down the lump in his throat. “W-Well, you see, doctor, it was very odd. My wife was sitting next to the baby at our home when she – the baby, that is – began to go all rigid, like this,” he straightened his arms at his sides to show the doctor. “And then she got this blank expression on her face and started to shake. But the craziest thing of all—”
“Doctor, we’re concerned that Lilah may have some form of epilepsy,” Marie cut in, giving her husband a pointed look. “She appeared to be having a seizure earlier this morning and we’d like you to perform any and all necessary tests to determine whether that’s the case. Now, she obviously doesn’t have any insurance that we know of, but we’ll personally cover any costs that might be incurred. Isn’t that right, dear?”
Stanley nodded helplessly.
The doctor pulled a small flashlight from his breast pocket. He gently lifted one of Lilah’s closed eyelids and shone the light first in her right pupil, then in her left. The baby let out a big yawn when he was finished, then nestled back against Marie’s bosom, falling right back to sleep.
“Pupils look fine.” Dr. Kreuter clicked his pen against the clipboard to write down notes as he spoke. “She seems a bit thin, but there are no obvious signs of malnourishment or neglect. Obviously, you wouldn’t be able to tell me whether she’s been ill recently, but she doesn’t appear febrile. We’ll take some images of her brain and perform an electroencephalogram to verify your concerns.” When he saw Stanley and Marie exchange anxious looks, he added, “That just involves putting some electrodes on her scalp to monitor the electrical activity in her brain.”
“Will she be in any discomfort?” Marie asked, reaching behind her shoulder to squeeze her husband’s hand.
“No, no, the test is quite harmless. We can monitor her brainwaves while she sleeps. It won’t bother her a whit. It’s common for epileptics to have changes in the normal brainwave pattern, even when they’re not having a seizure. In other words, we should be able to get a diagnosis shortly, whether or not she has another episode here at the hospital. In the meantime, I’ll have the nurses come in to give her a sponge bath and a bottle, and I’ll personally perform a head to toe physical to make sure she’s otherwise in tip-top shape.”
“Thank you, doctor, that’s comforting to hear,” Marie smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dear?” She looked up at her husband. “Would you mind getting me a soda from the vending machine while I tell Dr. Kreuter a little more about Lilah’s episode? I’m parched.”
Stanley bit his lip. He desperately wanted to tell the doctor about the other matter that had occurred that morning – the far more pressing matter, in his mind – but for whatever reason, Marie wasn’t having any of it. He sighed in resignation.
“Of course,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. The scent of her shampoo reminded him of how she had looked without any hair, her lovely, heart-shaped face all at once wasted and sickly. Before she or the doctor could see the tears gathering in his eyes, he bolted for the door, feeling around his pocket for a loose quarter.
Marie waited until her husband was out of the room before she spoke again. “Doctor,” she said, keeping her voice low, “there’s something else I’d like you to do for me, while we’re here.”
“Hmm?” His nose was in his clipboard as he jotted down some final notes.
“I’d like to be screened for uterine cancer.”
The doctor looked up from his clipboard, his brow furrowed. “Mrs. Quinn, you appear to be a perfectly healthy young lady. Why in the world would you think you have cancer?”
Marie regarded the baby in her arms, her thoughts wandering to certain uncomfortable details, details she’d been ignoring rather diligently for some time now: the scores of negative pregnancy tests, the weight loss, the recurring pains she’d been hiding from Stanley.
“Call it a mother’s intuition,” she replied, giving Lilah a wistful smile.