Page 42 of The Librarians
Sophie groans again and packs a small bag for herself.
The three-hour drive turns into five with traffic and Sophie becomes increasingly antsy.
Jo-Ann should have regained consciousness long ago. A conscious Jo-Ann would have asked for her phone in short order. She would have asked for it to be plugged in if the battery had died. And she would have asked with such amiability and wide-eyed gratitude that the nurses would have been delighted to help.
So why hasn’t she called yet?
Midway through the drive Sophie veers into a rest stop and calls Jo-Ann. It goes to voice mail yet again. A chill creeps into Sophie’s heart. Potential disaster is the language she speaks most fluently, having been raised to consider risks arising from all quarters every step of the way. Yet now, as she merges back onto the highway, for the first time in her life, she finds herself reasoning the way Jo-Ann must.
What can possibly happen to Jo-Ann? Nothing, that’s what. After the agony of labor, the strain of an abrupt operation, the joy and relief of learning that the daughter she’s yearned for has arrived safely into this all-too-imperfect world, Jo-Ann must be sleeping, completely knocked out by the events of the day and the painkillers sloshing through her system.
That’s it. No catastrophic scenarios. Occam’s razor all the way.
Occam’s razor all the way has Sophie sweating despite the AC in the car blasting on the highest setting. When she finally reaches the hospital, she nearly clips another vehicle in the parking lot. Jo-Ann still doesn’t pick up her phone. Sophie grabs a couple of random items from the gift shop and charges up to the maternity ward.
“Hi, I’m here to see Jo-Ann Barnes. She was in room 435 earlier, but she had to undergo an emergency C-section and I haven’t heard from her since. Do you know if she’s back in the same room?”
The young Black woman at the nurse’s station does not even look up. “Let me check for you. What’s the name again?”
“Jo-Ann Barnes.”
“Oh, honey!” exclaims a voice from behind Sophie.
Sophie turns around to see a South Asian nurse in her forties, the nameAmiru J.on her badge. “She was calling you and calling you. We barely managed to take the phone from her right before the operation started.”
Guilt, sharp as teeth, sinks into Sophie at the woman’s gentle yet weary statement. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice breaking a little. “I had a job interview today. And then I had to drive five hours to get here. Can you tell me if she’s still in 435?”
Nurse Amiru shakes her head. She turns to the young woman behind the nurse’s station. “I’ll take this one.”
Then she beckons Sophie. “Come with me.”
Sophie scampers in her wake. “Is everything okay? Is her baby okay? Last I heard, the baby was in distress and they were going to do an emergency C-section.”
“The baby is fine—I’m taking you to see her now. Her bilirubin is a bit high but that’s not uncommon for newborns. Everything else looks good and she should be strong and healthy. She’s really cute too.”
They turn the corner and come upon a nursery. Behind the large window, there are half a dozen babies in bassinets.
“There she is, second row on the left,” says Nurse Amiru.
All the babies are tiny. The nugget that is Elise seems even smaller than the rest, a barely there bundle with a scrunched-up little face. Sophie is only halfway through her breath of relief when a new worry pummels her. “She isn’t premature, is she?”
“She might be a couple of weeks short of her due date but that’s considered full-term, so no worries there. She doesn’t need to be in the NICU or anything like that.”
Sophie sets one hand on the wall next to the window. “That’s wonderful. So Jo-Ann can take her home when she’s discharged?”
Her shoulders are as tight as clenched fists from driving all tense for so many hours. Her right calf too threatens to cramp. But at least Elise is doing well. Now Sophie just needs to drop off the gifts she’s bought for the sweet little nugget and—
“I’m afraid that’s what I need to talk to you about,” says Nurse Amiru. “Ms. Barnes—your sister—she won’t be able to go home from the hospital.”
“Oh?” Sophie tears her eyes from Elise. She’s never been a baby person but she wants to cradle Elise with infinite care and gaze at her for hours—she’ll have trouble saying no to Jo-Ann if Jo-Ann wants to come over with Elise. “Were there complications from the C-section?”
“Yes, great complications.”
A prickling sensation spreads from between Sophie’s shoulder blades. She is suddenly four years old, listening to her mom tell her that her firefighter dad won’t ever come back home from work again.
“Is—is she okay?”
The nurse shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”
