Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(83)

Mel went back to her position, donned fresh gloves from her bag and began to massage the uterus. She heard the trailer door close behind her and glanced over her shoulder. On the short counter in the galley she saw a dishpan of water.

Mel’s patient was able to direct her to supplies from newborn diapers to sterile wipes. She found clean sheets and peri-pads, washed up the baby and mother, then sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, holding the baby. Her patient reached over and held Mel’s hand a couple of times, giving a grateful squeeze, but they didn’t talk. An hour after the birth, Mel looked in the refrigerator. She rummaged around for a glass and poured the woman some juice. Then she brought a plastic container of water near the bed. She checked her patient’s bleeding, which was normal. She got her stethoscope out of the bag and listened to the baby’s heart, then the mother’s. Coloring was good, respirations normal, mother exhausted and the baby, sleeping contentedly. All was complete.

“Tell me something,” Mel said. “Is the baby going to have drug issues?” The woman just shook her head, letting her eyes close. “All right—there’s a small clinic in Virgin River. I work with the doctor there. He won’t ask you about yourself or the baby, so you have nothing to worry about. He likes to say he’s in medicine, not law enforcement. But you both should be looked at to be sure everything is okay.”

Mel picked up her jacket off the floor. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked her patient. The woman shook her head. “Plenty of fluids tonight, for the breast milk.” Then she went around the narrow space to the head of the bed and leaned down, placing a small kiss on her head. “Congratulations,” she whispered. Then wiped a couple of tears gently from her patient’s cheeks. “I hope everything works out for you and the baby. Be very safe and careful.”

“Thank you,” the woman said softly. “If you hadn’t come…”

“Shhhh,” Mel shushed. “I came. And you’re fine.”

Mel realized, not for the first time, that it didn’t matter if her patient was a happily married Sunday-school teacher who’d been waiting years for her first baby, or a felon handcuffed to the bed—a birth was the great equalizer. In this vulnerable state, mothers were mothers, and it was her passion to serve them. Helping a baby safely into the world, its mother accomplishing the experience with health and dignity, was the only thing that mattered. Even if it meant putting herself at some risk, she was bound to do what she could. She couldn’t control what became of a mother and child after she left them, but when called upon for this, she was unable to refuse.

Her chauffeur was waiting at the SUV as she came out. He opened the passenger door for her. “They’re okay?” he asked anxiously.

“They seem to have come through very well, considering. I guess you don’t live there with them?”

He shook his head. “That’s why I didn’t see she was pregnant. I only come around sometimes and I dealt mostly with her man. I guess he left her when—”

“When he realized you’d dealt with her a little, too?” Mel finished for him. She shook her head and got into the car. When he was in beside her she said, “I want two things from you, and the way I see it, you owe me. I want you to go back there tonight, stay with them, so you can get them to the hospital if anything goes south in the night. If there’s any real heavy bleeding, or if the baby has problems. Don’t panic—they seem good—but if you don’t want to take any unnecessary chances, that’s what you do. Then, in a couple of days, two to four days, bring them to the clinic to be checked over. Doctor Mullins in Virgin River won’t ask any questions, and all I care about right now is that they stay healthy.” She looked over at him. “You’ll do that?”

“I’ll get it done,” he said.

She leaned her head back against the seat and let her eyes close. The hard and fast beating of her heart now was not from fear, but from the rapid decompression of adrenaline that always followed an emergency. It left her feeling weak, a little shaky, slightly nauseous. If the conditions had been different, she might have felt even more alive than before the birth. This one, however, had been rife with complications.

When he pulled up in front of her cabin, he held out a wad of bills toward her. “I don’t want your money,” she said. “It’s drug money.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, putting it in the front pocket of his jacket.

She stared at him for a second. “If you’d left her to deliver herself, if I hadn’t gone with you, that baby wouldn’t have—You understand about the cord, right? Wrapped around his neck?”

“Yeah, I get that. Thanks.”

“I almost didn’t go with you. Really, there’s no reason I should have trusted you.”

“Yeah. You’re a brave little girl. Try to forget my face. For your own sake.”

“Listen, I’m in medicine, I’m not a cop,” she said. Then she gave a weak huff of laughter. She’d been used to having the backup of L.A.P.D., but tonight it had been down to her. There was no backup. And if she hadn’t been there, it could have been down to Doc, who was seventy. What was going to happen five years from now? To her chauffeur she said, “Now keep it in your pants or use protection—I don’t really feel like doing business with you again.”