Send the Snowplow (8 page)

Brad struggled to sit upright. He clasped his wife’s hand.

“It’s okay, just breathe and don’t push. The cord’s around the baby’s neck.”

Valerie struggled to hold still, but couldn’t. “Oh, God, no! I can’t lose them both.”

Chris moved closer to Jaycee as she first tried to lift the cord from around the baby’s head, then clamped the two pairs of metal forceps onto the umbilical cord and cut between them. She needed to get the baby out. “Push, Valerie, push!”

Valerie screamed as she pushed. Jaycee helped guide the baby’s shoulders. Another gush of fluid, and the body emerged, limp and blue. She grabbed one of the makeshift blankets and scrubbed his back while holding him head down. “Why isn’t he crying? Oh, my God, he’s dead. Please, no. No, no, no.”

Valerie’s wails tore through Jaycee’s consciousness, even as she worked with the limp newborn. She clapped his back, then turned him over and blows a couple quick puffs into his mouth. “Come on, come on.” She flipped him back over, head down again, as Valerie sobbed and Brad tried to console her. She glanced up at Chris, who stood frozen in place as the overhead lights flickered. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

After what seemed like an endless eternity, the baby let out a loud wail. Jaycee blew out a deep breath. She tied the cord with the string and cut it again, this time closer to the newborn’s body. His screams were a welcome sound to her ears, and each time he took in a deep breath, the dusky blue hue to his skin lightened to a healthy pink.

Jaycee grabbed a fresh blanket and wrapped the baby in it. She didn’t have a baby warmer, and even in a heated hospital delivery room, hypothermia was a problem for brand-new babies. Getting him next to Valerie would help keep him warm, too. She placed the newborn in Valerie’s outstretched arms. “Oh, God, thank you.”

While Valerie cradled her son, Jaycee returned to the foot of the bed. Chris stared at her with a renewed sense of panic. “I thought there was just one?”

Marilyn’s voice came from the other side of the privacy divider. “Afterbirth, you moron.”

“Oh, yeah. I knew that.”

Jaycee hoped he did, but she had her doubts.

Marilyn piped in again, “Can I have it? I could put it in a jar, like an appendix, or amputated toe.”

“No!”

“Some people eat the afterbirth. It’s full of iron.”

Walter’s voice raised at least an octave. “Cannibalism? Disgusting.”

Oh, for the love of God, these two would be the death of her yet. “Would you two please shut up?”

“Gladly!” Walter practically snarled the word.

The placenta slid out, and Jaycee gave it a quick inspection as she placed it into a basin. She handed the metal bowl to Chris, who gagged. He put the container onto a nearby rolling tray, then ran to a trash can and barfed.

Jaycee stood up, took off her gloves, and went to check on the baby. Valerie handed the newborn to her. “Let Brad hold his namesake.”

She took the newborn and placed him in Brad’s arms. She propped him in place with pillows. “Brad Junior? Perfect name choice.”

Brad touched the baby’s cheek and kissed his forehead. He reached out and takes Valerie’s hand. “This is the best Christmas, ever.”

Jaycee slipped her cell phone from her pocket and snapped photographs of the new family. “These are great—” Her face froze as she looked up from the screen to see Brad’s limp, dusky hand slip from Valerie’s grasp. Molly whined and nuzzled the lifeless fingers. She ran to Brad’s side and bent down to feel his neck.

“Brad?” Valerie whispered her husband’s name.

Jaycee choked back a sob. She lifted the baby from his father’s final embrace and handed him to Chris, who managed an awkward hold. As much as it ripped out her heart, she looked into the new mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Valerie let out an anguished wail. The feral sound reminded Jaycee of a wounded animal. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the emotions that had to be overwhelming her right now. Even though everyone knew Brad’s death was imminent, she couldn’t fathom losing a spouse and ushering a new life into the world at the same time. Derek’s face as he held Clarissa in the delivery room flashed through her mind. As annoying as he was, and even though they weren’t together, she couldn’t imagine a world without Derek now. 

Words seemed like meaningless gestures, so Jaycee didn’t even try. Instead, she lowered the side rails on both beds and shoved them closer together so Valerie could scoot closer to her husband. She deserved the opportunity to be close to him one last time. Valerie cradled Brad in her arms and stroked his head. Silent streams of tears flowed down her cheeks. 

Sobs came from the other side of the privacy dividers. Walter’s gruff voice broke. “There, there, Marilyn, It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Not even Chris could keep the tears from his face. Valerie looked up at Jaycee. “He was terrified he wouldn’t live long enough to meet his son. Wouldn’t get to spend a last Christmas with me.” 

Jaycee brushed the damp hair from her forehead. “I know. I know.”

“How much more did he suffer by refusing his pain meds because I wanted to keep him alive as long as possible? I was so selfish.”

Jaycee took the baby from Chris and placed him into Valerie’s arms. “There’s nothing selfish about wanting to have every moment you can with the man you love.” She cradled the newborn’s head. “And this little man already loves you.”

The sound of the generator shuddering filled the room as the lights flickered. Jaycee stood up as they went out completely. She grabbed a flashlight and heads to the hall. “Great. We need more blankets.”

Chapter 15

Yeah, they needed more blankets, and more flashlights, and more...well, everything. But what Jaycee needed most was air. It was as if every atom of oxygen had been sucked from her and sent to some alternate universe. One where young fathers didn’t die on Christmas day within moments of their baby’s birth. Where Christmases weren’t spent stranded in snowstorms, helpless to do anything except hold someone’s hand as the worst scenarios played out like horror movies in front of her. Where husbands didn’t abandon their families for no apparent reason, and children didn’t have to spend the holiday with a babysitter so their mother could work.

She gathered blankets and supplies in the dark supply closet, illuminated by the beam of her flashlight, and piled them on a nearby cart. Doing something—anything had to make it better, right? She paused, then slumped to the floor overcome with racking sobs. No. It didn’t make anything better.

Jaycee didn’t know how long she cried it out, but there were people depending on her. She had to collect herself. There would be plenty of time to lick her own wounds later. The needs of those other people trumped anything else. She shoved the tears away and pushed the cart into the hall.

Jaycee returned to a subdued commons room. Marilyn and Harold held hands, their heads bent close together in one corner. Chris and Walter sat near a table while Diana tucked a blanket over Mrs. Abadie.

Brad’s bed was now hidden behind the privacy screen. Valerie had the head of her bed elevated. She cradled her newborn, Brad Junior, rocking him while he nursed, his head covered with a blanket. Her soft soprano voice pierced the void. “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright, round yon virgin, mother and child...”

Tears threatened to overtake Jaycee again, and she had to fight the urge to run back into the hallway. Chris motioned her over. She hesitated, then joined them. “There’s a kerosene heater in the maintenance shed. We might need it later.”

Jaycee frowned. Harold snorted. “Let me borrow your cell phone! YouTube. It’ll go viral when you fall on your butt again.”

Chris’s face puckered like he’d eaten a lemon. “Shut up!” He turned back to Jaycee. “Seriously, it’s going to get cold in a hurry.”

Yeah, she knew that. But there were other considerations. “Kerosene fumes and flames with oxygen don’t mix.”

Chris frowned. “I don’t like the idea of freezing to death, either.”

If they had to resort to the kerosene heaters, it would mean turning off Mrs. Abadie’s oxygen. What if she died as a result? Yes, this was hospice, and yes, Mrs. Abadie was going to die sooner rather than later, but Jaycee wasn’t sure she could ever recover if that moment was hastened by a decision she had to make. She thought back to the military officers she’d cared for over the years. Men forced to make those type of decisions every day. Responsible for sending young men into battle, knowing many wouldn’t make it back alive. She’d listened as some of those hardened military men crumbled with guilt repressed sometimes for decades over decisions they’d made in the thick of circumstances they held little control over.
Please, don’t let this be one of those.
“I can’t...” Jaycee blew out a deep breath and let her shoulders slump. “Let’s give the snowplows a chance.” She tossed Chris a blanket. “In the meantime, you and Harold can share body heat. Survival training, right?”

Her heart beat so loud in her chest, Jaycee couldn’t believe everyone in the room wasn’t staring at her. She had to do something—anything—to get her bearings straight. She went for the only thing she knew to do, grateful the half-darkened room allowed her to hide her sorrow in the shadows as she made her way around the room checking on patients, and offering them blankets and reassurance she hoped they believed more than she did in her own heart.

Chapter 16

Red and blue flashing lights flooded the commons room as the door burst open and an assortment of ambulance attendants and law enforcement officers poured inside. The newcomers flew into action tending to the patients and family members. One of the officers made his way to her. “You must be Jaycee. The plan is to relocate your patients into Memorial Central until the crews get the power lines fixed out here.” He glanced over at Valerie holding Brad Junior and extended a hand to her with an expression of pure respect. “Nice work. I’ve been through some interesting Christmases, but you just made it to legend status.” 

 She doubted anyone who’d been part of the past couple of days would soon forget this Christmas, but her heart ached for the ones she knew wouldn’t be around next year to remember it. Marilyn, Harold, Walter? Even though they seemed spry, by this time next year, all of them would join Brad as distant memories. It was the nature of hospice. Brad Junior and Valerie? For them, the holiday would always be the best and the worst rolled into one, but it would certainly come with some special Christmas stories.

Jaycee assisted with Valerie and the baby as they moved onto a transport cart. She hugged the new mom and kisses the downy hair on the top of the newborn’s head as attendants prepared to load them into the back of a waiting ambulance.

A familiar voice caught Jaycee’s attention. She turned and gasped as Derek, Jake, and Clarissa entered amongst the bustle of workers and flashing lights. The kids carried wrapped presents. And not the ones she’d put under the tree, either. What was going on? Clarissa and Jake spotted her and dropped the gifts as they rushed into her arms. Jaycee hugged them close and gave Derek a questioning look.

Her estranged husband approached and took a deep breath. “My plan was to surprise you at home. The timing got fouled up.”

The sweet tang of Clarissa’s shampoo filled Jaycee’s nostrils as she buried her head in her daughter’s embrace. “It usually does. I’m sure the kids are glad you made it.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s not just about the kids. I need you. More than work. More than anything. Will you stay married to me?” He got down on one knee and pulled out a ring box.

Clarissa and Jake hugged each other as they watched her reaction.

Jaycee hesitated. Yes, she’d spent months alternating between wishing for this exact scenario and fearing it. But now that it was right in front of her? The pain of nine months alone clawed at her heart. Chris’s words echoed in her mind.
What you decide to do now is your choice.
The nightmares, all the suffering, it closed around her as if to suffocate her.

She had no idea how long she’d stood there, frozen in place until Jake nudged her. “This is where you’re supposed to say yes, Mom.”

Marilyn, Walter, and Harold gave her encouraging motions from across the room. Jaycee took the ring out of the box and turned it in her hand. Derek’s expression looked hopeful. Jaycee put the ring back into the box and handed it to him. His shoulders slumped.

“Mom! You’ve been moping for months.” Clarissa stomped her foot to punctuate the words.

Jaycee gave her a stern glare then turned back to Derek. “I didn’t get a voice in the decision when you left.”

Derek broke in before she could continue. “I know, and I’m so sorry about that.”

Jaycee raised a hand in the air. “It’s been nine months. I’m not the same person I was then.”

“How can I make it right?” His eyes plead with her even more than the tone of his voice.

Clarissa and Jake looked crushed. Jaycee softened. “How about we start slow. Maybe dinner?”

Derek grinned. “Italian?”

Jaycee glanced at the remnants of the spaghetti. “I’ll think of something.”

He took out his cell phone and pulled up the photos from their vacation. Dancing on the beach. The same ones she had on her own phone. “How about a repeat vacation?”

Jaycee smiled. Perhaps he deserved a second chance. He’d had nine months to change, too. Maybe she’d like the new Derek, and he’d like the new her. “Besides, I never wear my wedding ring at work.” She pulled a chain out from under her scrub shirt. Her wedding ring dangled from it. “I’m not saying no, I’m saying let’s take the time and get it right.”

Derek jumped up and hugged her. The kids threw themselves around her so tight she really had trouble catching her breath—and she didn’t care one tiny bit.

As they released, Walter and Marilyn hugged. The CEO pointed to Valerie and the baby, who were getting the final blankets tucked around them and straps tightened for their ride into Memorial General. “That little guy won’t want for anything. I’ve got money, and I can’t take it with me.”