Sylvain Reynard - Gabriel’s Redemption

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said, sounding panicked. “But I can still feel pain. I’m afraid that I’ll feel the incision.”

Dr. Rubio repeated her test, pinching and twisting at Julia’s skin, and Julia insisted with increasing anxiety that she could feel every pinch.

“We have to put her out,” announced the anesthesiologist, moving swiftly to prepare a general anesthetic.

“It’s hard on the baby. Give her something else,” Dr. Rubio objected.

“I can’t give her any more. She’s had an epidural and a top-up. I’m putting her out.”

Julia looked up into the kind eyes of the anesthesiologist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The anesthesiologist patted her shoulder. “Honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I do this all the time. Just try to relax.”

Gabriel began asking questions as the surgical team buzzed around him.

Julia squeezed his hand as if willing him not to lose his temper. She needed him to be calm. She needed him to watch over her while she slept.

She barely noticed what the doctors were doing, or the anesthesiologist’s instructions. The last thing she heard before she drifted into the darkness was Gabriel’s voice in her ear, assuring her that he would be with her until she woke up.

Damn it.” Dr. Rubio released a current of rapid-fire demands and instructions, and her team sprang into action.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel’s grip on Julia’s limp hand tightened.

Dr. Rubio jerked her head toward Gabriel, without making eye contact. “Get the husband out of here.”

“What?” Gabriel stood to his feet. “What’s happening?”

“I said get him out of here,” Dr. Rubio barked at one of the nurses. “And get the surgeon on call down here. Stat.”

The nurse began herding Gabriel toward the door.

“What’s going on? Tell me!” He raised his voice, directing his questions at the medical team.

No one answered.

The nurse took his arm and tugged.

Gabriel took one last look at Julia, her eyelids taped shut. Her skin pale. Her body still.

She looked as if she were dead.

“Will she be all right?”

The nurse led him through the swinging door and out into the surgical waiting room.

“Someone will be out to speak to you soon.” The nurse nodded encouragingly at Gabriel before returning to the operating room.

He slumped into a chair, his mind spinning. One minute they had been preparing for the cesarean section and the next . . .

He pulled the surgical mask from his face.

Panic and fear raced through his veins. All he could see was Julia’s face, her arms stretched out from her body as if she were on a cross.

In Gabriel’s mind he was in the backyard of his house in Selinsgrove, walking toward the woods. He’d trod that path a thousand times. He could navigate it in the dark. Now it was daylight.

As he approached the woods, he heard a voice calling his name.

He turned around to see Grace standing on the back porch, beckoning him.

“Come back.”

He shook his head, pointing in the direction of the orchard. “I have to go get her. I’ve lost her.”

“You haven’t lost her.” Grace smiled patiently.

“I have. She’s gone.” Gabriel’s heart rate quickened.

“She isn’t gone. Come home.”

“I have to go and get her.” Gabriel scanned the trees for any sign of Julianne before entering the woods. His steps quickened until he was running, branches snapping and scraping at his clothes and face. He stumbled to his hands and knees just as he entered the clearing. He scanned the area quickly, and an anguished cry escaped from his lips as he realized Julianne was nowhere to be found.

I can’t believe we lost one.”

“Neither can I. Two emergency c-sections at the same time. At least only one went south.” The voice sighed. “I hate nights like this.”

“Me, too. Thank God our shift is over.”

It took a few minutes for Gabriel to open his eyes. Had he been asleep or . . .

He rubbed at his chin. He didn’t know. One minute, he was in the woods behind his house, the next he could hear nurses talking.

His head began buzzing as his memory of Julianne lying on the table, pale and unmoving, came back to him.

The nurses must have been talking about her.

I can’t believe we lost one.

He fought back a sob as he heard footsteps, his eyes focusing on a pair of ugly shoes. It was grossly inappropriate, he knew, but he couldn’t help but notice how thick and unflattering they were. As if they were made of wood.

What a waste of a perfectly good podiatric opportunity.

He lifted his head.

The nurse, whom he hadn’t seen before, gave him a restrained smile. “I’m Angie, Mr. Emerson. Would you like to meet your daughter?”

He nodded and stumbled to his feet.

“I’m sorry you were sitting there so long. Someone should have brought you to her before, but things have been really busy and we’ve just had a shift change.”

She led him into an adjoining room, where a bassinet was situated. Another nurse was standing nearby, writing on a chart.

Gabriel walked over to the bassinet and looked down.

A little bundle of white lay motionless. He saw a reddish face, and black hair that was partially covered by a tiny, purple knitted cap.

“She has hair.”

Angie stood next to him. “Yes, lots of hair. She’s almost nine pounds and nineteen inches long. She’s a good-sized baby.”

Angie picked up the child, cradling her. “We’ll give you a wristband that matches hers so we know she’s yours.”

The second nurse affixed a white plastic wristband on Gabriel’s right wrist.

“Would you like to hold her?”

He nodded, wiping his cold, clammy palms on his green surgical scrubs.

Angie gently placed the baby in his arms. Immediately, the child opened large, dark blue eyes and looked up at him.

Their eyes met and Gabriel felt as if his entire world stopped.

Then she yawned, her tiny rosebud mouth expanding greatly, before she closed her eyes again.

“She’s beautiful,” he breathed.

“Yes, she is. And she’s healthy. It was a difficult delivery, but she’s fine. You’ll notice that her face is a bit swollen, but that will come down.”

Gabriel lifted the baby so she was inches from his face.

“Hello, Spring Roll. I’m your daddy and I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time. I love you so much.”

He held her close, listening to her tiny breaths, feeling her little heart beat through the swaddling material.

“My wife,” he croaked, not bothering to blink away the tears that had re-formed in his eyes.

The nurses exchanged a look.

“Did Dr. Rubio talk to you?” Angie asked.

Gabriel shook his head, holding the baby tightly.

Angie looked to the other nurse, who frowned.

“She should have spoken to you by now. I’m sorry about that. It’s been very busy, as I said, and there was a shift change.” Angie gestured to a nearby chair. “Why don’t you sit down with your daughter, and I’ll go see if I can find the doctor.”

Gabriel did as he was told, holding his daughter close to his heart.

The nurses’ expressions said it all.

There would be no happy reconciliation.

There would be no vision of Julia holding their child.

He’d lost her. As surely as Dante had lost Beatrice, he’d lost his beloved.

“I’ve failed you,” he whispered.

Hugging his daughter close to his chest, Gabriel cried.

As Gabriel sat, holding Spring Roll, time seemed to have no meaning. Images flashed before his eyes. He saw himself taking the baby home from the hospital. Feeding her in the middle of the night. Walking down the hall to the empty master bedroom.

He was so alone.

He’d loved one woman in his life. At first, he’d loved her like a pagan, eager to make her an idol and worship her. Then he’d recognized that some things were more important than his love for her—her happiness, for example.

In his mind’s eye he could see and hear her clutching his hand, whispering, “I don’t regret getting pregnant.”

She’d regret it now. He’d taken her life.

His shoulders shuddered as a sob overtook him.

His beautiful, sweet Julianne.

He had his cell phone but didn’t feel like talking to anyone. From the texts he’d received, he knew that Richard and Rachel would be arriving soon. Rebecca was readying the house for the guests and the baby. Kelly had texted to say that she’d ordered flowers and balloons, which were on their way to the hospital.

He hadn’t had the will to tell them Julianne was gone.

He stared at the face of his daughter, wondering how he was going to parent her alone. He’d relied on Julianne for so much. And ultimately, it was his selfishness that ended her life.

He was lost in his own grief and exhaustion when someone entered the room and stood before him. Once again his eyes focused on a pair of very ugly, sturdy shoes.

“Professor Emerson.”

He recognized the voice of Dr. Rubio and lifted his head.

She looked tired.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We had several emergencies all at once and I couldn’t get away. I’m sorry it took me so long to—”

“Can I see her?” Gabriel interrupted.