Yes, they had met, but to Kathleen it seemed more of a confrontation. That first morning set the tone of each subsequent encounter she had with Hazel Kirchoff. Since Hazel was general manager of the store, her path crossed Kathleen’s often. Whenever they were alone together, she was aloof and snide, but within Seth’s hearing, she was charming and gracious.
Kathleen had never seen a temperament more deadly than Hazel’s and kept her dealings with the woman at a minimum. It didn’t take long to observe that Hazel was disliked by most of the employees at Kirchoff’s. She was critical, capable of reducing even the staunchest personality to tears with her vicious tongue. But that same tongue dripped honey when Seth was around. For her brother, she smiled and praised his ideas, which she scorned outside his hearing.
She was fiercely possessive of him. Even George took a backseat when Hazel was around to see to Seth’s needs. Often, the handicapped man seemed embarrassed by her constant coddling, but he never berated her for it. He accepted her unwanted help with the kindness that characterized all his dealings with other people.
As his sister was disliked, Seth was adored by his employees. It was difficult to pity a man who didn’t pity himself. He joked constantly about his wheelchair, referring to it as his chariot. He flirted with the women employees, shared a camaraderie with the men, and made even the newest clerk feel important to the company. He paid his people well, and they knew it. In return, he expected diligence from them, and they gave it. For this reason, patrons of Kirchoff’s were faithful and were treated with a deference that other department stores could learn from.
Those first hectic days, Kathleen and Seth spent mostly in his office going over the books, checking orders that the former buyer had placed, seeing what goods had been received and which were still forthcoming for the holiday season. Some were not too bad, others were atrocious, and Kathleen and Seth groaned in despair.
“We’ll make do the best we can. In October, I want you to make a trip to New York and buy to your heart’s content for spring. That’s when we’ll make our first big breakthrough.”
“In the meantime,” Kathleen said, “I’ll call some of the houses I’ve bought from and ask if they can send me a few of their better pieces. I hope it’s not too late.”
He agreed and Kathleen set about to learn the “personality” of the store. She and Seth visited it together, riding there in his specialized van. George escorted them out the front of the office building to the van, parked in a reserved space only a few feet from the doors. The converted van was painted silver and had a black interior. A hydraulic lift raised Seth’s wheelchair into it. The van was luxurious, and Kathleen commented on it as she sank into the rich leather upholstery while George locked down Seth’s chair.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Seth conceded dryly. “I wanted a Ferrari, but the damn chair wouldn’t fit in one.”
Kathleen laughed easily.
* * *
Much to Seth’s surprise, Kathleen asked that a small storage room on the ground floor of the seven-story building be given over as her office rather than the one he had designated as hers on one of the upper floors.
“It’s much more convenient. Really,” she argued convincingly. “I can catalogue goods as they come in, check them against the manufacturers’ invoices and inspect them before they’re ever sent to their departments.”
“But, Kathleen,” he protested, “we have subordinate employees who do all that.”
“I know. They can help. But I like to do most of it myself, or at least supervise.” In the end, she got her way.
The first week of October was upon them and she was anticipating the trip to New York scheduled for the end of the month. She was unloading a box of evening gowns, hanging them on hangers to be steamed before consignment to the after-five department, when a wave of dizziness assailed her.
For a moment, she gripped the edge of a nearby table and shut her eyes, hanging her head in an effort to supply it with the needed blood. Finally, she straightened up slowly and took a deep breath.
The girl operating the hissing steam machine had noticed. “Kathleen? Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“N—No. I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. I think I may need to start eating a bigger breakfast.” Sometimes she became so involved with her work that she delayed lunch or forgot it altogether, so that toward the end of the day she was shaky with weakness. The problem was that she had never been a big breakfast eater, and lately, the last thing she wanted in the morning was food.
Only this morning when she was brushing her teeth, the flavor of the toothpaste nauseated her to the point of gagging. Besides the morning queasiness, an annoying indigestion had plagued her evenings. Each afternoon, it seemed that her stomach enlarged, crowding her lungs and making her feel stuffed when she was really hungry.
Kathleen hadn’t put all these symptoms together until they persisted and had now developed a pattern that couldn’t be ignored. Almost blacking out at work for the third time in one week brought them to the forefront. For the rest of the day, she took things easy and went to bed as soon as she got home, determined to feel better by the time she woke up the next morning. But the moment she opened her eyes, she knew she wasn’t well.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she had murmured to herself as she stared down perplexedly at the meter on her scale, which indicated she had lost another two pounds. Then her eyes glazed as she looked at her ten polished toenails and they multiplied to twenty before her blurred eyes. Slowly, her eyes traveled over the bathroom fixtures until she was looking at her own pale face in the mirror over the small sink. “No,” she mouthed. “No, it can’t be.”
Instinctively, she placed her hands on her abdomen and felt only the flat, taut muscles that were usually there. But she knew that something was vastly different. It was no longer supple, but turgid. She had thought her swollen, tender breasts were harbingers of her long-overdue period.
Her period! When had she last had one? June? July? Yes, the first of July. She remembered that she was having one during the Fourth of July celebration at Mountain View.
And Erik had arrived a week later. The middle of July. And she hadn’t had a period since then. She had attributed its absence to the emotional turmoil she’d been through.
She looked at herself in the mirror and raised a frantic hand to smother the small scream she felt on her lips. Then she forced out a laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears. “You’re being silly, Kathleen Haley. Hysterically jumping to the wrong conclusion. Things like this don’t happen to grown-up women like you. They just don’t. It’s something else. Besides, everyone knows that you gain weight when you’re—It’s something else.”
But it wasn’t.
She telephoned a gynecologist she found in the Yellow Pages, not wanting to ask for a recommendation from one of the ladies she worked with for fear of stirring up curiosity. Luckily, the doctor had an appointment open the next day at noon. She took it, glad that she could go on her lunch hour and be back in the office for the rest of the day.
The next thirty hours were the longest Kathleen had ever spent, with the possible exception of the long hours she had sat waiting in the hospital emergency room in Arkansas.
Almost in defiance of her upset stomach, she ate a huge dinner that night at a Chinese restaurant that had been praised as one of the best on Grant Avenue. It was a stupid thing to do. Because of the volume of food, one should never go to a Chinese restaurant alone. But she cleaned the silver serving dishes they brought her after eating all of the wonton soup and two egg rolls as an appetizer.
Feeling that she had proven her worst suspicion was just that, she drove home. But her confidence was short-lived when she raced to the bathroom the moment she opened the front door and emptied her full stomach with violent spasms. Depleted and sick with worry, she went straight to bed, already dreading to hear the doctor’s verdict.
Lunch hour finally came, and she took her car out of the garage and drove straight to the doctor’s office only a few blocks away. She hadn’t eaten since her bout with nausea, and her hands were trembling as she gripped the wheel.
She walked into the comfortable office in the high-rise medical building, introduced herself to the nurse behind the glass window and then sat down to fill out the forms required of all new patients. When that was done, she returned them to the nurse, who said, “Thank you, Ms. Haley. We’ll send for your records in Atlanta soon. Now, if you’ll have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.”
It was another nurse who opened the door and called her name. Kathleen jumped in startled reaction. She had been watching a young woman with a very active toddler sitting in her lap. The mother was trying to read a Raggedy Andy book to the restless little boy, but he was more interested in terrorizing the gold fish in the aquarium.
Kathleen followed the nurse down the hallway and went into the room with a large red “2” stenciled on the door. “Are you having any problems, Ms. Haley? Or is this a routine checkup?”
“I think…” She bit her lip. “No, a routine checkup.” As ludicrous as it was, she thought it better not to bring up the subject of pregnancy. It was a childish game—to deny what one didn’t want to believe.
The nurse made a notation on the chart in the folder. “Why don’t you undress, and then we’ll do all the preliminaries before the doctor comes in. There is a drape in the cubicle.”
Kathleen went into the small enclosure, undressed and pulled the square of printed cotton over her head. It barely covered her hips. “Charming,” she muttered as she stepped from behind the curtain.
“Let’s weigh you first,” the nurse instructed her. When that was done and her weight duly noted on the chart, the nurse took Kathleen’s blood pressure and a sample of blood out of her pricked middle finger. Her hands were so slippery with perspiration that the nurse teased her about being nervous and commissioned her to relax. Kathleen smiled weakly.
“Are your periods regular?” the nurse asked as she leaned over the chart.
“Yes.”
“Your last menses?”
Kathleen blanched. “Uh… let’s see… I can’t remember exactly. Maybe two weeks ago.”
She was then directed to collect a urine specimen in the tiny adjoining bathroom. She handed the nurse the plastic cup, hoping that the contents wouldn’t be incriminating.
Left alone for several minutes, Kathleen tried to calm her rapid breathing and slow her heartbeat, but to no avail. By the time the doctor bustled in, she was quaking with nerves.
“Ms. Haley, I’m Dr. Peters. No wisecracks about my name, please. Most of my associates often suggest that I should have been a urologist.” He laughed at his own ribald joke, and Kathleen smiled. Who could be afraid of a kindly, middle-aged man with white hair, half-glasses that continually slipped down his nose and the countenance of Santa Claus? She was grateful for his blustery attempt to put her at ease.
The examination was routine. He listened to her chest, felt the glands in her neck, looked into her ears and throat, then had her lie back on the table while he did a rudimentary examination of her breasts.
“Are they sore?” he asked her.
Her throat closed around the lump that had suddenly formed there. Erik had asked her that. The following morning. She could still hear the gravelly inflection of his voice, the concern as he touched her…
“A little,” she replied.
The doctor stuck his head out the door and called to the nurse, who came in to assist Kathleen in placing her legs in the stainless-steel stirrups. They were cold against the soles of her feet.
“I’m sorry about that,” the doctor said as he heard her slight gasp. “I’ve asked my wife to knit some booties or something for those, but she’s too busy playing tennis. Now just relax while I open your legs a little more. Scoot down just a tad. There, that’s fine. Now relax.”
Again. Erik. He had whispered that in her ear, even as he took her virginity. Relax. Relax. While I’m being unfaithful to my wife and deceiving you, relax.
The speculum was cold, too, and when it opened inside her, Kathleen cringed and gripped the loose cloth over her breasts, clenching her jaw. She didn’t release her fists until the doctor’s gloved fingers were withdrawn.
Finally, he was done. He didn’t say anything except, “When you’re dressed, I’ll see you in my office,” before he went out, his coattails sailing after him.
She dressed while the nurse chatted as she cleaned up the examination table and prepared it for the next patient. When Kathleen told her where she worked and what she did, the nurse was impressed. “What a wonderful, exciting job!”
Yes, Kathleen thought. And not exactly made to order for a pregnant lady. But then, she wasn’t pregnant or the doctor would have said so. She took a tissue and dabbed at the perspiration on the palms of her hands.
“Come in,” the doctor called as she timidly knocked on his office door. In a courtly gesture, he stood up as she entered and indicated the chair opposite his desk. When he was sure that she was comfortable, he folded his hands on his desk and looked at her disarmingly over the tops of his lenses.
“Ms. Haley, forgive me for being so blunt, but did you suspect that you were pregnant?”
The words hit her like a shot from a cannon. The energy seemed to seep out of her body slowly, like air leaking out of a balloon with an insufficient knot at its end. She was deflated by slow degrees until she felt that there was nothing left inside her. But there was. Erik’s baby was inside her.
She bowed her head as tears spilled over her lower lids. “Yes,” she admitted in a low voice.
“When was your last period?” he questioned gently, knowing that she had lied to the nurse.
Putting pretense aside, Kathleen said, “The first week of July.”
He did some silent mental figuring, then said, “That adds up. I estimated by the size of your uterus that you are about ten weeks pregnant.” He cleared his throat delicately, giving her time to assimilate what he had said. “Everything seems perfectly normal. Your blood sugar is right, although I think you’d better start eating and gain some weight. You should deliver—”
“I can’t have the baby,” she blurted out before she lost her nerve. She swallowed hard and dashed the tears off her cheeks with balled, impatient fists. “I want an abortion.”
Dr. Peters was somewhat taken aback by the resolution in her voice and the stubborn set of her chin. She didn’t look the type to make a hasty decision, especially about something as important as this. “Is this your first pregnancy, Ms. Haley?”
She laughed bitterly. Little did he know that it had been her first time with a man. It had never occurred to her that she should be protecting herself against disease and pregnancy. Good Lord, most teens were more sexually responsible! What had she been thinking? Kathleen laughed again, and the brittle sound caused the doctor’s brow to crease. She certainly hadn’t been thinking about getting pregnant. “Yes, this is my first pregnancy.”
“Then are you sure of your decision?”
She looked down at the soggy tissue in her hand. “As sure as one can be about killing something.”
“Ms. Haley, you have a couple of weeks, no more than that, to reconsider before you make up your mind to terminate the pregnancy. Perhaps you should consult with the father—”
Her head came up instantly. “That’s impossible. Besides, there’s nothing to reconsider. I must have the abortion. Will you do it? Or must I go somewhere else?”
He stared at her for a long moment, thinking that much of her determination was contrived. She seemed so helpless, so vulnerable, so innocent in spite of her age. He sighed heavily. “Very well.”
He picked up the telephone on his desk and asked his receptionist to make an appointment for Ms. Haley. “D and C. Termination of pregnancy.” When he replaced the receiver in its cradle, he said to her, “Check with Maxine on your way out. Until I see you, you can always change your mind, you know.”
She walked to the door, but didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she turned around and faced the doctor again. This time, the tears ran unchecked down her face. “Please don’t think I take what I must do lightly, Dr. Peters. I have no choice. You see,” she sniffed back her tears bravely, “the child’s father is married to someone else.”
* * *
Saturday morning. Two days. Could she wait that long? The nurse named Maxine had informed her that she wasn’t to eat anything Friday evening past midnight and that she was to go to the hospital that night and have all the lab work done. Dr. Peters, it was explained to her, always had his patients put to sleep to spare them even the most minor discomfort. So she was to have a chest X-ray at the hospital at the same time they did the blood test.
Seth called her on Friday afternoon and asked her if she would go to dinner with him. Her nerves were jangling. Hazel had come to the store that day and had countermanded an order that Kathleen had issued. The poor clerk who was carrying out Kathleen’s innovative method of checking inventory came under Hazel’s waspish tongue and was reduced to tears.
“Does Seth know what you’re doing down here?” Hazel had demanded when Kathleen interrupted the scene. “We’ve always handled the inventory my way.”
Kathleen resisted giving her opinion of Hazel’s archaic system and answered levelly, “Yes, and he approves.”
Hazel sized her up with those deadly eyes before she turned away. Her straight back and imperious footsteps were grim indications of her hatred for Kathleen.
Now, Seth’s kind voice was coming to her over the telephone, and his tone was so friendly and confidence-inspiring that she was momentarily tempted to pour out her whole sordid story.
But though they had become close during the past several weeks, Kathleen knew that she couldn’t burden him with her problems. If she couldn’t call Edna and B. J., she couldn’t tell a virtual stranger. Guilt at the way she had deserted the Harrisons gnawed at her. Not only had she forsaken their friendship and support, she had abandoned them in the middle of the summer when they still had two sessions of the camp to contend with. And she wasn’t being falsely modest when she realized that finding someone with her experience to fill her shoes wouldn’t have been easy for them. Additionally, her fund-raising attempts had been temporarily suspended. She would resume them, of course, but later. When she had healed emotionally. Now she had quite enough to deal with.
She ached with the longing to talk to the Harrisons, but was afraid some mention of Erik might be made. At this point in time, she wasn’t ready to handle what they might have to tell her. It was better to wonder if he had sought her out after his recuperation than it was to know for certain that he had never come looking for her at all.
“After dinner, we can go dancing.” Seth’s pleasant voice brought her back to the present. “Of course, it’s hard for me to dip.”
Kathleen smiled into the telephone. How could she feel sorry for herself and wallow in this miasma of self-pity when someone in Seth’s condition could joke about his plight? “That’s okay,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “I can’t dip either.”
“But I’m a devil at cha-cha. Push forward twice. Brake. Back one-half spin. Brake.”
Now he had her laughing. “You’re crazy, Seth Kirchoff.”
“Yes, I am. About you.” His voice became quieter now, more serious. “Fortune smiled on this old crippled boy the day you walked into my office, Kathleen. You’re perfect for the job. You’re smart as a whip. You’re beautiful and wonderful to have around just to delight the eye. And on top of everything, I like you. Now why won’t you have dinner with me?”
“Seth—”
“My conduct will be above approach, I promise. If I get too far out of line with a lady, George won’t empty my tee-tee bag.”
“Oh, Seth, how awful!” she cried, but she was laughing.
“Please, Kathleen.”
“No, I really can’t tonight, Seth. I have other plans.”
“A date?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” she rushed to assure him. “I… It’s some personal business.” She’d better cover her bases now. “As a matter of fact, I’ll be tied up all weekend.”
There was a long pause before Seth asked, “Is everything all right? Work? Money? Everything?” The concern in his voice touched her heart. Being as he was, he would naturally be attuned to someone else’s pain.
“Yes, Seth. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Okay.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” She was just about to hang up when she heard his voice again. “Kathleen?”
“Yes?”
“You know that if you ever want anything, all you need do is ask. I’m your friend.”
So simple. No questions. No strings attached. No qualifications. Unconditional friendship. Love. Her throat tightened painfully. “Thank you for that, Seth. Goodbye.” She replaced the telephone before the tears that had gathered in her eyes could burst free.
* * *
After the blood was drawn and the X ray taken and she had filled out the necessary forms, Kathleen was told to go home to bed and to report to the reception desk at six-thirty the next morning.
She followed the instructions but was unable to fall asleep, no matter how exhausted she was. In her mind’s eye, she could see the instruments that Dr. Peters would use on her to rid her of the “products of conception.” Not “the baby.” Not even “the fetus.” The products of conception.
Her limbs felt like lead but her head seemed too light to hold onto her pillow as she tossed and turned through the night. Her brain refused to release her from consciousness. It forced her to remember, to speculate, and to fear.
Long ago, she had vowed that before having children, she would be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mate was her mate for life. She knew the pain of growing up without parents and had promised her as-yet-unconceived children that they would never have less than two parents, a real home, a complete family unit. If she were to call off the abortion and decide to have the baby alone, she would be breaking her promise, robbing her child of a parent. No. Never.
What would Erik think if he knew that she was carrying his baby? Would he even want to know? Would his reaction be one of anger at her for not being mature or responsible enough to take birth-control precautions? Would he feel pity and offer to help her by absorbing half of the financial burden? God! She couldn’t have stood that.
Or would his reaction be quite different? Would his blue eyes fill with that warmth that she had read in them as he looked at her body and caressed it lazily, exploring it with inquisitive hands while his eyes worshiped it with appreciation?
Would he kneel before her, cupping her hips with his strong hands, drawing her to him and pressing his face against her abdomen in silent communication with his baby? Would his lips plant thankful kisses into her skin while he nuzzled her? Would he glory in the maternal fullness of her breasts?
No! No! Why was she torturing herself this way? A baby might mean nothing special to him. He might already have one. For all she knew, he and his wife might have an entire family of little Gudjonsens that meant no more to Erik than fidelity did.
Kathleen tried to blot out the euphoric fantasy, but it wouldn’t go away. Rather, it expanded. She saw herself being wheeled down a hospital corridor toward the delivery room with an anxious Erik striding beside the gurney, clasping her hand and declaring his love.
Then they were standing at the nursery window, looking down in adoration at their son. Son? Yes. Erik would have to have a son.
Then they were walking down a tree-shaded lane, each holding the hand of their sturdy toddler. He had blond hair, slightly waved and defying control. His eyes were a piercing blue. Just like his father’s…
* * *
Kathleen was still awake when the alarm went off beside her convertible sofa. She pulled herself up with tremendous effort. The only good thing about this morning was that it spelled the end of the hellish night she had spent, and at the end of this day, her ordeal would be over. She would be rid of the last remnant of Erik and could begin to live her life again.
At least that’s what Kathleen told herself as she went through the routine steps of dressing. Without conscious thought, she drove herself to the hospital, parked the car and checked in at the reception desk. She was directed to the third floor, where she checked in at another desk.
“I’m Kathleen Haley,” said the automatic voice that Kathleen didn’t recognize as her own.
“Good morning, Ms. Haley. Come right this way.”
She followed the nurse, sickeningly fresh and pert for this hour of the morning, down the hallway to a room with six beds in it. Only two other patients were already there.
The nurse slipped a clear plastic identification bracelet on Kathleen’s arm. “Undress in there and put your personal belongings in the locker. There is a hospital gown in there for you. Be sure to take off your jewelry. And use the commode if you have to. I’ll be back to start your IV.”
She was gone and Kathleen was left alone with the other women in the cold room. One was younger, seventeen at the most. Was she in here for the same reason Kathleen was? Her heart went out to the girl, but the worldly-wise, insolent eyes that met hers didn’t seem too upset. The other woman was older and weeping softly into a handkerchief. No doubt her D and C was therapeutic. Her abortion had been forced by nature. How awful.
Kathleen went into the bathroom and did as the nurse had told her to. I won’t think, she told herself. Don’t think about what you’re doing. Just do it and get it over with.
She climbed into the high hospital bed and lay back on the rock-hard pillow. In a few minutes, the nurse came in carrying a bottle and a tray.
Without speaking, she bathed the crook of Kathleen’s elbow with alcohol. Thankfully, it was the opposite arm from where they had drawn blood the night before.
She had always had an aversion to needles. As a child, she had been terrified of getting shots. As an adult, her fear wasn’t much different. She turned her head away and winced as the nurse sought a vein, and then, after finding it, jammed the needle in and taped it to her arm.
“What is this?” Kathleen asked timidly.
“A pre op,” the nurse said succinctly. “You’re scheduled for seven forty-five so just take it easy for a while.” Then she raised Kathleen’s hand before dropping it back to the bed impatiently. “You’ve got on nail polish. We can’t put you to sleep if you’ve got polish on your nails.”
“I’m sorry,” Kathleen apologized meekly. “No one told…”
Her voice trailed off. The nurse had already gone out the door.
* * *
One patient, the woman who had been crying, had been wheeled out. The other girl was chewing gum and flipping through a Rolling Stone magazine. Just when Kathleen was about to break the silence and ask the girl if she knew the time, the door opened and Dr. Peters came in.
He had on a green surgical suit. The mask had been untied from around his nose and hung on his chest. His hair was comically mussed, but his eyes were kind and bright.
“Ms. Haley,” he said softly as he took her hand. At least he hadn’t said “good morning.” He wasn’t that hypocritical.
“Hello, Dr. Peters.”
“Are you feeling well under the circumstances?”
“Yes. Hungry.”
He chuckled. “You can eat all you want tonight.”
“She took off my nail polish.” Kathleen was dismayed that her bottom lip was quivering. She thought she had suppressed all those emotions.
“That nurse who brought you in here?” Dr. Peters asked. When Kathleen nodded, he leaned over and whispered, “She’s a real bitch.” He coaxed a smile from the tremulous lips. “But it is required that you take off nail polish before surgery. Otherwise, if you shouldn’t be getting enough oxygen and your nails were to turn blue, we couldn’t see it.” Unnecessarily, he checked the IV. “Are you feeling drowsy?”
She wanted to answer “yes.” She begged her mind for oblivion, but she was wide awake and told him so.
“Well, we’ll get you under so you won’t feel any discomfort. I promise. Briefly, I want to go over the procedure with you, so you’ll know what’s happening.”
He hitched a hip to the side of her bed and partially leaned, partially sat on it. “First, we dilate the cervix. That’s the opening to your uterus.” She nodded. “Then, when you are dilated, I’ll insert a hollow tube into the cervix. It’s attached to a vacuum—”
“No,” she gasped, and reflexively gripped his hand. “No, please, don’t tell me.” Her breathing had accelerated to an alarming pace and she felt a blackness closing over her as though she might faint at any moment.
“Ms. Haley—”
“I don’t want to know. Just do it. When will it be finished?”
He covered her hand with his and patted it gently. “Not very long. You’ll probably wake up in a couple of hours, and then, when you feel it’s safe enough to drive, you can go home. I’ll try to get as much of the lining of your uterus as is safe, so you won’t have too much residual bleeding. But use napkins. No tampons until your next period.” He hesitated over the next question. “Would you like to discuss birth-control methods?”
Birth control? For what reason? A hysterical laugh almost escaped her lips. Maybe the IV was working after all. She suddenly felt giddy. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“I suggest using condoms. And not only for birth control.”
“Of course.” She couldn’t understand herself why she hadn’t taken commonsense precautions before, so she didn’t try to explain her carelessness to Dr. Peters.
“I’ll see you in the OR in, let’s see,” he checked his Japanese, stainless-steel wristwatch, “in about twenty minutes.”
Thirty-five minutes went by before the orderlies came in with the gurney and needlessly moved Kathleen onto it. She felt capable of getting up and walking around but knew that that was out of the question. Self-consciously, she glanced at the girl in the other bed.
She surprised Kathleen by speaking for the first time. “It’s no sweat. Really.”
Had she been through this before? Stunned, Kathleen could only murmur, “Thank you.” They pushed the gurney through the door.
The lights on the corridor ceiling rolled past her. They turned the corner and Kathleen gripped the edges of the gurney, dizzy, afraid that she was going to fall onto the floor. She was wheeled through two sets of double swinging doors, then left to rest in the pre op room.
A nurse checked the bracelet on her wrist. “Ms. Haley?”
“Yes.”
The nurse smiled. This one wasn’t so bitchy. Maybe she understood. “I’m going to give you a little more juice,” she said as she adjusted a clamp on the IV tube. The bottle had been moved with her. “You’ll be getting very sleepy soon.”
Indeed she did. Seemingly within a matter of seconds, the room began to tilt and images loomed largely close and then receded to the size they are when one looks into the wrong end of binoculars.
No discomfort. Dilate. The products of conception. Vacuum. Vacuum. Kathleen tried to move her hand protectively over her abdomen, but wasn’t sure she made it.
Not the products of conception. A person. A baby. Hers. Erik’s.
Erik. Erik. Erik, where are you? I loved you! I still love you. And they’re going to kill our baby. Why aren’t you here to protect me?
Why aren’t you here to see your son born? Your baby. But there will be no baby. A vacuum.
The nurse leaned over and said something to Kathleen, but she couldn’t hear her. She saw the ceiling moving again, and then she was in another room and the lights were extremely bright. Someone was draping her knees over the high stirrups at the end of the table. Her legs were so heavy. She flinched against the cold bath someone was giving her genitalia.
Dilate. No baby. Erik’s baby. She loved him. Would it be so wrong to want the results of that love? She could live with his deceit if only she could have something of value from their time together, something that would make the pain of loss more bearable. What could be a better testimony to the love she had borne the man than to have his baby? A baby would love her back.
A blond baby. A boy. She knew it was a boy. Blue eyes. Erik’s eyes. Erik’s baby.
Some disembodied voice was crooning to her and covering her nose and mouth with a mask. She couldn’t breathe. She refused to. She heard someone screaming over and over and realized it was she. “No!” She fought the restraining hands. “No, don’t touch me.”
“Dr. Peters,” an alarmed female voice said from beside Kathleen.
“Leave me alone. I love him. I want the baby. I’m not asleep. I’m not delirious. I’m awake and I want my baby.” Her panicked voice sounded maniacal to her own ears, but she had to convince them. In desperation, she repeated the words with all the force and conviction she could muster.
“Ms. Haley.”
She knew that voice and turned her thrashing head toward it. “Dr. Peters,” she gasped. How could she make them understand? They mustn’t take the baby. She tried to pull her knees together, but something kept them wide apart. “The baby, don’t hurt it. My baby. Erik’s. I love him. It’s a boy. I know it is. I want my baby. Erik… Erik…”
The dark oblivion that Kathleen had craved she now anathematized. Nonetheless, it blanketed her, black and absolute.