Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(104)

When Marcie was stripped from the waist down, Aiden took a glance at her pelvic floor. He didn’t see anything yet and was grateful. He really wanted to wash his hands, but the washing he could accomplish in as much time as he felt he had wasn’t likely to do enough good anyway. He reached into his bag for new gloves. “Okay, sweetheart, bend and spread your knees for me. Let’s see where we are.”

Marcie obliged and Aiden was on one knee, his one hand on her belly, the other gently moving into her birth canal. What he thought was, Holy f**k! What he said was, “There we go, nice and easy. Pant for me, Marcie.” Then he took his stethoscope from the bag and said, “Quiet for me, please…” He listened, and while it wasn’t the best equipment to get a fetal heart rate, it sufficed—the baby was not yet in distress. “Good. It’s all good.” All the while thinking, Bad, this is all bad.

When Erin brought him what he requested, he placed a large bath towel on top of a spread-out trash bag and asked Marcie to lift a bit so he could slide it under her. “See what I did there?” he said to Erin. “I’m probably going to ask you to do that for me again in a little while—towel on top of the plastic.”

“I don’t care about the bedspread,” she said.

“That’s not the concern. There’s lots of blood and fluid involved in a birth and it can get overwhelming—obscure the field of birth. Easier to keep it as clean as possible. Now dial 911, press the speaker button and put the phone over here on the bedside table for me. Then get me—Do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“No,” she said, doing as he asked.

“Okay, bring the bottle of scotch. And I need string or twine or, failing that, shoelaces. And a bowl—medium-size bowl.”

“Huh?” she asked, putting down the phone.

He looked at her, trying to keep his expression from being panicked or scary. “Please, honey. We move quickly now.”

“Right,” she said, dashing off.

The emergency operator answered and he said, “Aiden Riordan here, I’m a physician—obstetrician. I’m going to need emergency medical transport. Airlift, if that’s an option. We’ll need access to a neonatal intensive care unit.”

“What’s your situation, Doctor?” the operator asked.

“I have a woman in advanced labor with a breech presentation, thirty-five-week gravida one para zero, eight centimeters, membranes ruptured. I’m going to have to deliver. What’s your ETA?”

“I’m showing your location at 400 Moonlight Road, Doctor. Is that correct?”

Erin was back and she nodded. “Correct,” he said. “It’s right on top of the mountain in a nice big clearing. What are you sending? Bus? Helicopter?”

“I’ll let you know in a minute…. Please stay on the line….”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Marcie, I want you to take nice, slow, deep breaths. I’ll breathe with you. Erin, get a basin or pan of lukewarm water and some washcloths. Where’s that string? I need a couple of lengths about six inches long—there’s a scissors in the bag. What are the chances you have a turkey baster?”

“Zero,” she said. “Why?”

“I don’t have everything I need in the bag—suction for one thing. But I can manage.”

The phone came alive again. “We’re sending helicopter medical transport from Redding, Dr. Riordan. ETA about thirty minutes.”

“Be sure they’re prepared to transport a preemie. Thirty minutes puts us over the line to get her to surgery.”

“Can I put someone on the line to walk you through it, Doctor?” the emergency operator asked.

He chuckled in spite of himself. “Very kind of you, thank you. I’ve got it. Can you send sheriff’s department support? Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department?”

“You’re located in Trinity, Doctor…”

“No worries—just give ’em a call, will you, please. Let them know that a woman they’ve been looking for is here. Annalee Kovacevic. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“Can you spell that for me, Doctor?”

“I cannot, I’m busy at the moment…”

“Is that the woman delivering, Doctor?”

“Nope. Ms. Kovacevic is waiting on the patio, I believe. The patient is Marcie Buchanan and she’s—” He stopped talking as Marcie let out a cry of pain followed by a loud grunt. Aiden checked her and he was seeing the backside of a rather small baby boy. Thank God she was early and the baby small. It improved their chances. “She’s ready,” he finished. And at that point, he was done with the emergency operator. He poured a little scotch in the bowl and dropped in his scissors and scalpel to sterilize the instruments. He’d perform an episiotomy if necessary; the scissors was to cut the cord, unless their transport made it first.

“Erin,” he said. “Dampen a facecloth and stay at Marcie’s head for now. Mop her brow, give moral support.” Then to Marcie he said, “Listen to me now—we’re going deliver the baby and—”

Marcie let out another passionate yell, bearing down in spite of herself.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he said. “Get control and listen to me. You have to work with me! I know it hurts, but everything depends on this! Marcie!” She cried out again and in desperation Aiden said, “Erin! Can you help? We need to work together!”