Save Her Child by CJ Lyons (best historical biographies txt) 📗

they had no records of her medical history. Beth appeared exhausted, her face almost as pale as the snow-white sheets that cocooned her.

“Just wanted to look in on you before I left,” Leah told her, taking the visitor chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Beth glared at her, lips pressed tight and for a moment Leah thought she wasn’t going to speak. Then she said, “They took my baby.”

“They usually bathe the newborns, check them for any problems, give them vitamin K and warm them up. I can go see how long it will be, if you want.”

Beth nodded, her eyes closing tight as if, by avoiding seeing the world around her, she could deny it entirely. Leah knew the feeling of yearning for the rest of the world to simply pause, give her time to catch up. After Ian’s murder, she’d been so terrified that something might happen to Emily. The constant vigilance and fear had taken their toll—and she was still paying the price with sleepless nights and anxiety.

“Everything changes when you have a child to protect,” Leah said in a soft tone.

Another nod from Beth, but at least this time she opened her eyes, even if she was staring at the ceiling, her hands tugging the sheet higher up as if the thin cotton was a shield against reality.

“So many decisions, choices,” Leah continued. “Your son. Does he have a name yet?”

Beth shook her head slowly, a silent tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it dry.

“Is there anyone you want me to call? Your son’s father? Grandparents? A friend?”

“No. No one.” Beth slumped against the pillow. With the sheet tucked up beneath her chin, she looked so young and vulnerable. “He’s gone.”

Before Leah could ask anything more, a soft knock came at the door and the nurse poked her head inside. “I wanted to let you know that your little boy is fine. He was a little chilly, so we have him under the warming lights, but let me know when you’re ready to visit him and I’ll take you to him.”

“He’s okay?” Beth asked.

The nurse smiled. “He’s just wonderful. Now, don’t try to get up on your own, not with that IV. Call me, okay?”

Beth nodded, her gaze distant again. The nurse waited a beat, then shrugged at Leah, and left.

“Beth,” Leah said. “It’s only the two of us. Please, tell me. Why are you so afraid? I can help, I want to help.”

Eyes still closed, Beth shook her head. “No, you can’t. No one can.”

Leah sighed, waited to see if the younger woman changed her mind, then stood. She slid one of her cards for the Crisis Intervention Center from her wallet and wrote her cell phone number on the back. Then she tucked it into Beth’s hand. “Please. Call me if you need anything. Even if you just want someone to listen. I promise you, I can help.”

Beth’s only response was to squeeze her eyes shut even tighter. But she kept the card, so Leah counted that as a step in the right direction.

She walked down to the nursery and watched the nurses through the observation window. Beth’s baby boy was under warming lights and his nurse was checking a heel-stick blood sugar test. The monitor at his Isolette showed good vitals. When the nurse had finished, shucking her protective gown and washing her hands, Leah tapped at the window to get her attention. The nurse smiled and a minute later unlocked the door to invite her into the charting area. “Checking on our new addition?”

“Yeah. I just saw the mother. How’s he doing?”

“Good. Quiet, though. I’ll take him to mom as soon as his temp is stable.”

“She wasn’t sure of her dates, said he was a month early—”

The nurse shook her head. “Not so early. On exam, I’d put him at thirty-six to thirty-seven weeks.”

“That’s good.” It meant much less risk of complications, even without prenatal care and an unconventional delivery. “What’s your take on mom?”

The nurse hesitated. Once babies were delivered, the nursery team cared for both mother and child as a family unit, facilitating bonding. “Not sure yet. She seemed in shock.”

“Denial is more like it.” Leah explained how Beth had hidden at the fairgrounds. “She was terrified. I think she was running from someone. But she won’t talk to me.”

“Then no way will she talk to the police. Let me try—and if I can’t get anywhere with her, we’ll put a call in to social services.” The nurse sighed. “Think she’s incompetent to make decisions about herself and her baby? Should we get psych involved?”

“I don’t think she understands that by not talking she’s actually making things harder on herself.”

“Even though she’s fine, they both will probably be here a few days. We’ll need to wait on cultures for the baby.” Observing babies at high risk for infection for forty-eight to seventy-two hours in the hospital was standard procedure. “Plus, I’m not sure we can even discharge her or the baby since we had to register her as a Jane Doe—well, Beth Doe.”

“Could you let me know how it goes? Or if I can help—or one of the CIC’s staff.” Leah’s position as medical director for the Crisis Intervention Center gave her access to the best-trained social workers and interviewers in the county. It was the reason that they’d forged their new partnership with the police, to assist with vulnerable witnesses and victims as well as offering forensic, trauma-based interviews.

The nurse nodded. “I’m seven to seven today and tomorrow, so I’ll call you after rounds in the morning. Hopefully she’s only in shock, needs a little time. Knowing her baby is healthy will help as well.”

“Thanks.” Leah left, going through the multiple secured doors that made the nursery floor the safest area in the hospital. Only nursery staff and parents wearing special electronic wristbands paired to their infants could take a baby beyond the ward without triggering an alarm. Even hospital staff like Leah needed