Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) (23 page)

I’m weighted down, like I’m sinking underwater.

Pain.

Everything hurts.

I thought death would be painless, but my body is in agony.

My abdomen feels like it’s caught in a vice and the squeezing pressure takes my breath away.

I need to climb out of my body.

This is excruciating.

“Beth, baby—don’t you dare leave me! Do you hear my voice? Hold onto it. Stay here!”

The disembodied voice breaks off in a sob… it sounds like David, but that can’t be right.

The rocking movement jars my body and I want to cry, but no sound comes out.

Help me, David.

Mike and I load both women into his truck. He gestures back toward the house—“Go, I’ll catch up with you!” He tosses me his cell phone, “They’ll get you to the chopper. Hurry—this storm won’t hold back much longer.”

I don’t need another reminder—I navigate the dirt roads, every bump in the road causing sounds of anguish from both Katya and Beth.

The 911 operator remains calm, guiding me toward help. Beth is lying across the front seat with her head in my lap. Every little moan or sharp exhale is a reminder that she’s still holding on, but for how much longer?

I glance up into the rearview mirror and see Katya staring blankly ahead, trembling every so often. I can’t even begin to fathom what she went through for the last four months—if it’s anything like what Beth went through in the last half hour, it’s a damn miracle she’s even alive.

I turn off the dirt road and back onto the highway when I see police roadblocks. I pull up just as the helicopter touches down onto the roadway and I feel myself choking up.

I throw the truck into park and gently slide Beth’s head off my lap. One of the officers runs over, “Is the pregnant patient in the front or back seat?”

I numbly point at the front and he shouts over to the trauma team exiting the helicopter. Within moments, they have her on a stretcher and are getting vitals.

“BP is dropping!” One nurse calls out to another and I jog after the stretcher.

“Sir, you’re going to have to follow us. There’s not room.”

“My wife—that’s my wife and son.”

The officer places his hand on my arm, “We’ll escort you to the hospital. I understand we have another female victim though?”

I pinch the bridge of nose. Jesus—Katya. I open up the back door and the officer directs me to the seat next to her. “Can you ride back here with her? I’m going to get you to your wife as fast as possible.”

I sit down next to Katya, unable to process what’s going on around me.

I didn’t tell her goodbye.

I just let them take her. What if that’s the last time I see her—I can’t let myself finish that thought.

Katya surprises the hell out of me when she reaches across the seat to take my hand in hers.

It doesn’t matter how fast the cop up front is driving—I feel like I’m playing beat the clock.

Did I give them enough information?

What if they can’t treat her without me there?

“We almost there?”

He nods, “I’ll have you there in five minutes. Hang tight, man.”

“Female, age thirty-one. Twenty-eight weeks pregnant… possible placental abruption. In route.”

I drift off again. It hurts too much to stay awake. I’m being poked and prodded—
why won’t they leave me alone?

“Elizabeth, can you open your eyes and look at us?”

I try to force my eyes open, but they remain closed. I shake my head at the voice.

“ETA less than five minutes. We’ll need a team prepped and ready to go. Patient has lost a lot of blood…signs of fetal distress.”

Little man.

I’m so sorry, baby.

I failed you.

Another contraction hits me and I lose my breath. It eases up, only for another one to hit.

I can’t catch my breath.

I feel the darkness pulling me under and I’m so tired of fighting it.

I’m just about to give in when I hear his voice as clearly as if he’s sitting right next to me,
“Elizabeth Marie, don’t you dare stop fighting! You keep breathing, in and out. One breath at a time. Keep fighting for my grandbaby in there. He needs his mama to be strong and brave. You hold on and when you pull through, tell that son of mine that I was always proud of him. Always, Elizabeth.”

John?

“Elizabeth? We’re landing and we’re going to get you help. Hold on!”

They pull me from the helicopter and into the frigid cold. I can hear voices all around me. It’s as if the entire hospital is up here on the roof.

The voices that were just with me yell out information to the voices that are taking me.

I try to stay alert, but I fade out.

“Elizabeth, breathe in. This is all going to be over soon.”

I don’t have a choice.

The darkness takes over.

I hear beeping and struggle to open my eyes. The lights damn near blind me so I immediately close them again.

“There you are! Here let me grab the lights.” The lights dim and I open one eye slowly. When it doesn’t cause piercing pain through my skull, I open the other one.

I look over at a nurse wearing a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been to Hell and back tonight, haven’t you?”

I hear a soft hissing sound and realize I’m on oxygen—again. I try to open my mouth, but find that I can’t. I ask through my teeth, “D-David?”

I wince from the pain it causes and the nurse comes closer, “Bless your heart. Your jaw was broken and it took the surgeon a little bit of time to get it realigned. Unfortunately, they had to wire your jaw shut so it will heal properly.”

I nod and see my right index finger is splinted. The nurse follows my gaze, “Your finger was broken, along with three of your ribs. You most likely have a concussion as well.”

I nod again, not knowing what to say. I place my hand on my belly and that’s when I realize, I’m no longer pregnant.

My eyes fill with tears and I try to brush them away, but my entire face is bruised and the slightest touch sends a jolt of pain from my head down to my toes.

The nurse steps closer to me, “You had an abruption—your placenta detached from your uterus during the trauma.”

I think I’ve heard enough. I know she probably means well, but I can’t handle this. The tears fall freely down my face and I let the darkness pull me back under again.

I rushed into the
Covenant
emergency room, desperate for information. When a nurse pulled me into a consult room and told me that Beth was undergoing an emergency C-section, I dropped to my knees in anguish. 

I begged and pleaded to be taken to her, but was denied due to the severity of her injuries. When the nurse began listing the preliminary trauma that had been discovered, I came so fucking close to throwing a chair through the window.

They put me in a family waiting room, where Lauren joined me in pacing. Her face was splotchy from crying, “She’s gotta be okay, David. She’s so strong.”

I bit my lower lip and looked down at the floor. I noticed my hands and clothes were stained red with her blood and that’s what finally sent me over the edge.

I sank into a chair and wept. I cried for Beth and the pain she had to endure—pain I should’ve been able to keep her safe from. I also cried for my little boy. He must’ve been so scared.

I bowed my head and prayed.

I prayed that he didn’t suffer and then I bargained for my wife’s life.

“Mr. Greene?” A nurse walks over to me.

I stand back up, “Is she okay? Can I see her?”

She places a hand on my arm, “She came through the surgery like a champ. She’s in recovery right now, but as soon as I can—I’ll take you up to her room.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“And Mr. Greene?”

My eyes meet hers. “Yes?”

“Congratulations—you’ve got a son. He was born right after midnight. He weighs two pounds, eight ounces—but he’s a fighter. They’ve transferred him to the NICU. As soon as I have more information for you—I’ll be back.”

I raise my face to the ceiling, “Thank you.”

My family is safe.