Page 64 of Stone Vows

“The baby is really kicking today,” she says. She looks up to see me studying her belly. “Do you . . . do you want to feel it?”

“Can I?”

She takes my hand and places it underneath hers. Then I feel a hand, foot, knee, or elbow poke me and I find it hard to keep my emotions intact. There is a person in there.

I know this. As a doctor, I know this. And almost daily, especially working in OB, I see babies coming into the world. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling overwhelming emotion at the thought of there being a little version of Elizabeth in there.

My other hand finds a place on her stomach and I sit on the bed next to her as we both feel her child kick and squirm inside of her.

“Pretty great, huh?” she asks, looking into my eyes.

I’ve touched her before. When I’ve put the monitor on her. When the baby had the hiccups. When she held me after Rosita died. But this, this is the most intimate moment we have shared. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her so badly it physically hurts me.

I glance at the open door to her room, weighing my options. But at this point, I’m not sure I even care if anyone sees. I want her to the very core of my soul. My job, ethics, the line I’m about to cross, they can all be damned as I lean in closer to her.

Then, suddenly, she looks up at me with wide eyes. Scared eyes. And I admonish myself for misreading the situation. Maybe she doesn’t want this. Maybe I was about to take advantage of her in the worst way.

“Kyle! I just felt a pop,” she says. “I think my water just broke.”

I pull my hands away as my heart starts racing. “Did you feel a gush?”

She squirms around. “Yeah, and it’s still coming. I feel like I’m wetting the bed.”

I get up off the bed. “Elizabeth, I need to look at the sheet under you to see if there’s any blood.”

She nods, scooting up a little so I can see the wetness. It’s clear. I’m thankful for that. I press the call button for the nurse just as the fetal monitor shows increased fetal heart tones.

Elizabeth looks terrified.

I grab her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “You’re just a few days from thirty-seven weeks.”

“I’m not ready,” she says, a tear running down her cheek.

I reach out and wipe it with my thumb. “I know you’re scared. I promise I’ll be there with you.” I take her face in my hands. “You’re going to be an incredible mother.”

“That’s not it,” she says, her chin quivering as she swallows hard. “I’m not ready.”

Not ready for what, I wonder? To have the baby? To leave the hospital? To leaveme?To face her past?

I hear footsteps out in the hallway, and I remove my hands from her just as Abby appears in her doorway. “Do you need me, Dr. Stone?”

“Elizabeth’s water broke. Clear fluid. Prep her for surgery and page Dr. Redman.”

“Yes, Dr. Stone.”

Elizabeth cringes as her hands grasp her belly. I look at the monitor that confirms she’s having a contraction.

“Elizabeth, we need to do this now. We don’t want the placenta tearing as your cervix opens. I have to go get ready for the surgery. It’ll all be okay. You can do this.”

She nods, more tears streaming down her face. I want to hold her, comfort her, kiss the tears away. But more than that, I need to do my job so she and the baby are safe. And it takes everything I have to walk away from her.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Twenty minutes later, I enter the OR to see Elizabeth draped and ready. The epidural has been administered. The instruments are all in place. A nurse is adjusting her nasal cannula.

I follow the nurse’s movements as she clips the pulse-ox sensor onto the finger of Elizabeth’s left hand. My eyes come to a stop when I see that Elizabeth’s chunky bracelet has been removed to reveal the tattoo that was underneath it.

As Dr. Redman talks to Elizabeth, I take the opportunity to get a closer look at the tattoo. On the inside of her left wrist, there are intertwining hearts with a name scripted over them.

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