Page 57 of Joker's Ghost
Cobra nods toward Derek and Deana. “We’ll stay here till we hear from you.”
I jerk my chin toward the front hall where they put the Nomad. “Keep him alive.” I lock eyes with Cobra, and my meaning is clear.
We tap fists. “Go take care of your wife and baby.”
They lock the stretcher into the ambulance, then take seats on either side of Daisy while I sit at her feet, helplessly willing her eyes to open. Another IV is started, and the driver takes off, sirens blaring as they radio the hospital.
“This is Ambulance 2. We are currently en route to Henderson Hospital. We have a lights and siren emergency. Unconscious female, age thirty-two, with hypovolemic shock brought on by postpartum hemorrhage after a vaginal delivery. BP 90/60 and dropping. ETA ten minutes.”
Then they spit out more words and phrases I don’t understand as the ambulance speeds toward the hospital. I long to hold her hand and let her know I’m here with her, but right now she needs the medical professionals more than me.
The short ride to the hospital is filled with promises, pleading and outright bargaining, anything to make Daisy wake up, but nothing helps. Her skin is the color of the sheet covering her, and the fear comes flooding back.
No matter how hard I try to resist, my brain triggers all the bad in my life, then plays it out like a slow-motion horror show. Losing Desiree, Daisy’s kidnapping, then her months of depression. I thought we put all the bad shit behind us, but life has a way of twisting you up and spitting you out when you least expect it.
I’d always been able to pull myself up and move forward, but if things go wrong this time, I’m afraid I won’t have any fight left in me. How many times can a person be beat down until they just stay down? How much guilt can one person bear before it breaks them? The fear of not being the man Daisy wants or the father the kids need hits me hard. I push my palms against my jean-covered thighs to calm the shakes vibrating through my body.
We pull up to the emergency room, the doors bang open, and the paramedics spit out numbers and phrases to the hospital staff as they lift the stretcher out of the ambulance and wheel Daisy’s unconscious body into the first bay.
One nurse takes her vitals while another one calls for the OB/GYN on staff.
Then they hit me with a barrage of questions. “What is your relationship to this woman and the baby?”
“She’s my wife, and this is my child.”
The question pisses me off, and I can’t help thinking it was asked because of my cut and overall appearance.
“Does your wife have any allergies? Is she diabetic? Is she on any medications? Any history of high blood pressure or heart disease? Does she smoke or do drugs? Her age and overall health.”
After answering all their questions, I add, “My wife doesn’t smoke or do drugs. She’s in perfect health.”
Except for strapping herself down with an outlaw biker who wasn’t even there when she needed me most.
One of the nurses eases the baby out of my arms. “I’m from pediatrics. We just need to examine her.” They carry my little girl out of the cubicle, and I’m torn. Not wanting to let her go, but not wanting to leave Daisy either.
“I’m Dr. Jonas.” A middle-aged woman in blue scrubs and a no-nonsense expression introduces herself. “I’m going to ask you to step out while I examine your wife.”
She slides down the glasses perched on the top of hershort gray hair and gives me an obvious once-over from my scuffed boots and frayed jeans, up to my scarred face. It’s quick but thorough, and for the only time in my life, I wish I were in a three-piece suit.
I step on the other side of the curtain, and my mind spins with questions that have no answers. Once again, Daisy was on her own when she needed me. Once again, I let her down. Then the what-ifs.
What if this causes her to slip into another depression like after Deana’s birth?
What if she blames me and never forgives me?
And worst of all—What if she never wakes up?
I push the unbearable thought out of my head, hating it could be a possibility.
A few agonizing minutes later, Dr. Jonas draws back the curtain, and I snap to attention.
“I examined your wife, and everything concerning the delivery seems fine. The afterbirth was delivered intact, and there are no signs of infection, but?—”
I grip the back of the plastic chair at the end of Daisy’s bed.
“She’s lost a considerable amount of blood. Had she been in the hospital, we would’ve been able to control it.” She shifts her feet. “Did your wife sustain a fall right before she went into labor?”
“I wasn’t home when she went into labor.”
