Before I Let You Go(39)

“Hi, Lexie—we’ve had a call from the hospital. Your sister’s condition has changed. They suggested you come right in.” The receptionist is hesitant and apologetic.

“What happened? What did they say?”

“That’s all. But it sounded urgent.”

I hang up, and I turn to the patient. I’ve forgotten her name. I know she’s here to get her antidepressant script refilled. Where were we up to? I try to flash her a calm smile, but I know I’ve failed to hide my state of mind when she says hesitantly, “Dr. Vidler? Are you okay?”

I look to the screen. Kerrie Nichols. Have I already asked her about side effects? How long has she been taking these meds? Is it time to review her dosage? What other medication is she on? Is she still depressed?

Your sister’s condition has changed. They suggested you come right in.

It sounded urgent.

I’ve forgotten my patient’s name again. I look at the screen. Kerrie Nichols.

I can’t make a decision about her medication now; panic has wrecked my concentration.

“I’m really sorry, Nicole,” I say. “There’s been an emergency.”

“It’s Kerrie,” she corrects me, and she’s confused and annoyed as I rise.

“I’m really sorry,” I say again. “I have to go. Please reschedule your appointment—there’ll be no fee for these consultations.”

I can’t leave her alone in my office, so I have to stand at the door while I hurry her out, then I run to the staff room. I unlock it with my swipe key and think of Annie and the time she used this very swipe key to try to rob this place, and how that almost ruined my career, and here I am using it two years later to run out to her—but what if she’s really sick, and what if the baby is in trouble?

It must be bad for them to ask me to come right in. Or does the staff at the hospital not realize I’m working, and how many people will be inconvenienced by this?

“What do you want us to do with your patients, Lexie?” the receptionist asks at the door as I’m pulling my jacket on.

I look at her blankly then say, “I’m going to have to reschedule all of them. All of them. I’m so sorry—I don’t think I’ll be back today. Please tell the patients I’ll do all of their consults for free when they return and please tell Oliver he can take it out of my salary and please—”

“Lexie, it’s going to be okay. I’ll squeeze your emergency patients in with someone else, and I’ll talk to Oliver and tell him what happened, okay? Just go to the hospital,” the receptionist interrupts me, apparently having had enough of my anxious ramblings.

I speed all the way to the hospital, and I double-park behind Sam’s dedicated parking space when I finally arrive. I run through the halls to Maternity, but her room is empty, so I run straight back to slam my palms down on the reception desk and ask the nurse behind it, “Where is Annie? Annie Vidler?”

“Are you Lexie?”

“Yes. What’s going on?”

Another nurse appears. She’s carrying a set of surgical scrubs, and my stomach drops all the way to my toes.

“She’s being prepped for surgery,” the nurse murmurs as she passes me the scrubs. “They’re going to do a C-section—Dr. Rogers is just securing consent.”

“Consent?” I repeat, and the nurse nods.

“She’s on the phone with the baby’s guardian ad litem. As soon as he gives the go-ahead, she’s going to start, so we need to hurry.”

I can hear my pulse in my ears. Annie wasn’t even allowed to consent to her own C-section, and that is maddening—but that’s not even the issue that matters most. Something has obviously changed with Annie’s condition, and for these drastic measures, it must be serious.

“What happened?” I ask as I follow the nurse to a bathroom.

“The baby went into distress. I’m not sure of the details.”

I pull the scrubs on in record time and run through the corridor after the nurse to the operating room. Annie is on the table—the epidural is already administered—and Eliza is behind a curtain, preparing for the surgery.

I have made it just in time, and I can’t believe that the peaceful weekend I spent with my sister has given way to this rush of chaos. Annie is sobbing, and I’m desperate to know why this C-section is being done, but I don’t want to ask until I calm her down. I take my place beside her face and perch upon the stool that a nurse hastily presses in my direction.

“Everything is going to be absolutely fine, Annie—just try to stay calm.”

“But they said the baby was in distress.” Annie is panicking, and I can hear the too-fast rhythm of her heart on the monitor. I squeeze her shoulder and force an entirely artificial smile.

“Let’s take some deep breaths, okay? I’ll take them with you. Let’s breathe in . . .”

Annie locks her eyes onto mine and inhales deeply, then exhales with me. After a few breaths, she closes her eyes and then nods to herself.

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Lexie.”

“Of course you are,” I whisper to her, and then I stand briefly to glance over the curtain. Eliza is moving very quickly, and I scan the faces of the other staff assisting her. It’s some seconds before anyone even notices me standing there—but when a surgical nurse does, she points downward and gives me a firm look. I fix a smile onto my face as I sit and focus my attention on my sister. “What do you think . . . girl or boy?” Annie’s teeth suddenly start to chatter and she shoots me an alarmed look. I squeeze her shoulder. “It’s just the epidural. It’s okay.”