The Meridians(6)

Then the child closed its eyes, and disappeared from her arms, but Lynette wasn't frightened. She felt cared for, as though she were nestled in the palm of the hand of God Himself, safe and secure.

Then there was a tugging feeling, a pull at her arm, and something said, "Lynny?" and there was a bright light that raided her eyes and left them aching and sore.

"What? What?" was all she could manage.

"Thank God," came the voice. Robbie's voice, she realized. "Thank God, thank you, thank you, God."

"Robbie?" she said, blinking her eyes.

"Yeah, Lynny. I'm here."

"What happened?"

"You got sick. You had a sort of allergic reaction to the baby."

"The baby?" Lynette managed to raise herself up on one arm before falling limply back into the hospital gurney she found herself laying on. Not the same one she had been on in the ambulance, nor was it the one she had been on while in the operating room. This was a roomier version, wider and with manila plastic guardrails that had a variety of controls for raising and lowering the bed, and for controlling the television that no doubt hunched in some corner of the room like a sort of boxy night watchman.

"Shhh," sighed Robbie, pushing her deeper back into the bed. His touch was gentle, as gentle as she had ever felt it, as though he were afraid that she had suddenly transmuted from flesh to something more debilitated or effete. She was no longer human, she was a butterfly wing in woman's shape, and the merest breeze might blow her away.

"Shhh," said Robbie again. "The baby is...." His voice drifted off.

Again Lynette felt herself try to sit up. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her voice surprisingly strong. A cramp bit at her belly as she did so, and she felt a sudden strange slackness there and realized that she must have had a caesarean section. "Where's my little boy?" she said.

"He's in the neonatal intensive care unit," said Robbie.

"The NICU?" asked Lynette, feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach. Robbie nodded. "What's he doing there?"

Robbie inhaled deeply, as though trying to figure out where to start with the answer to his wife's query. "He was born too soon, first of all," he said. "Second of all -" and then he broke off and looked at her intently. "How did you know that the baby was a boy?"

Lynette flashed to the strange dream she had had what seemed only a few moments before: the beautiful boy with the lovely eyes that would not look at her, the strange object in his little hand. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I just do."

Robbie looked at her as though he were contemplating ringing for a nurse to bring a sedative, but then continued, "...and not only was he born prematurely, but he was severely anemic."

Anemia? thought Lynette. Out loud, she said, "That doesn't sound so bad. I had a friend who was anemic, she just ate a lot of spinach."

Robbie grinned, but she could see that his heart wasn't in it. He was still trying to be strong for her, bless him. But she didn't want him to be strong right now. She wanted him to tell her what was wrong with their baby, with little Kevin Angel. "It's a bit worse than that," he said. "I didn't understand everything the doctor told me, but I gathered he was severely anemic. They had to take him to the NICU and give him an emergency transfusion."

"Transfusion?" said Lynette. She didn't even know they did that for babies.

Robbie nodded. "Lucky kid, though, he had the same blood type as you."

"How was that lucky?" asked Lynette. She was AB negative, a blood type that only about one in one hundred seventy people had, so she knew that often hospitals didn't even have the necessary supplies for transfusions of that blood type and had to settle for using O negative, the universal transfusion blood type. And she couldn't imagine that receiving a second-string blood type would be very good for a preemie.

"Because they had several AB negative donors just a few days ago. So you and the kid are getting the very best blood for your bodies." Robbie smiled a little more sincerely, then chuckled. "That was probably the most macabre sentence I've ever spoken," he said.

Lynette started to chuckle as well, then realized anew that her baby was in the NICU, the place for babies who were by definition in some kind of critical condition, and sobered.

She sobered still further when the door opened and a dour-faced doctor came into the room, followed by a nurse and....

"What's going on?" said Robbie.

"Mr. Randall?" asked one of the police officers who had followed the doctor and nurse into the room. "Could you please come with us for a bit?"

"What's going on?" This time it was Lynette asking the question, but neither the doctor, the nurse, nor the policemen seemed very intent on answering. Instead, they took out handcuffs, and placed them on Robbie's thick wrists before leading him out of the room.

"What's happening?" Lynette demanded.

"Please relax, Mrs. Randall," said the doctor. "My name is Doctor Cody, and I need to examine you."

"Examine me for what?" she asked.

Doctor Cody paused, as though unsure how to say what came next. "For the record, I can't conceive of your husband doing what we're worried he might have done. I have never seen a man more beside himself about his wife than your husband was about you. But also for the record, I don't know how we could have possibly found what we found without...." His voice drifted off.