The ER's Newest Dad

The pale man shook his head. “You do it.”

Ross had delivered quite a few babies during his residency, had cut the cord numerous times. But since he’d discovered he was a father, that a baby he’d help create had entered the world, he’d done neither.

Who had been in the delivery room with Brielle? Who had coached her and comforted her? Who had cut Justice’s cord?

Most likely her brother had, but it should have been him. He should have been at her side, feeding her ice chips, wiping her brow, reminding her to breathe.

Justice had been two months premature. Had his birth been a complicated one? Had he been delivered vaginally or by Cesarean section?

Had Brielle wished that he had been there or had she been grateful that he was out of her life?

* * *

Brielle watched Ross snip the umbilical cord and tried not to think about the fact that she’d just helped deliver a baby with him. Who would have believed that they’d work together to help bring a baby into the world? That she’d share the miracle of birth with him?

The miracle of birth that she’d wanted to share with him when Justice had been born.

That miracle she’d endured alone. The plan had been for Vann to be with her, but she’d gone into labor early at seven months and had needed to have an emergency Cesarean section.

Cindy came into the room with warm towels, took one and swaddled the baby in it then handed the baby girl to her mother.

“She’s so precious,” the woman said, obviously still in a great deal of pain but no longer caring. “Look, she’s beautiful.”

The man had moved to the head of the bed and gazed down at his little girl in awe, then at his wife with more awe. “You were amazing, honey. Absolutely amazing.” He bent and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I love you.”

Feeling as if she was intruding on a very private momen

t, Brielle’s eyes watered and she fought sniffling. This was how it should have been.

Ross should have been at her side, holding her hand, helping her bring Justice into the world.

He shouldn’t have been in Boston, living it up with some other woman, while she’d brought their son into the world alone, while she’d lain in the hospital bed watching her son be whisked away for immediate medical treatment because of his premature lungs.

All the emotions she’d felt during those moments—the loneliness, the fear, the hatred—came rushing back, making her feel weak.

She glanced toward where Ross worked, delivering the placenta. As if sensing her gaze, he glanced up, met her eyes, and seemed shocked by the animosity she aimed at him.

“You should have been there,” she mouthed, unable to completely fight back the words. The new parents were so caught up in their new baby they failed to notice, but Cindy did.

“Sorry to do this, but I have to get her to the nursery for her to get a thorough once-over,” Cindy said, gently taking the baby.

“Do you mind if I do that and you stay and help Dr. Lane?” Brielle asked, her eyes pleading with her friend to co-operate. She couldn’t explain it, but she had to get out of this room, had to get away from Ross.

“Sure,” Cindy agreed, glancing back and forth between her and Ross as if expecting to see something tangible. She wouldn’t, of course. The only thing tangible between Ross and herself was the wonderful little boy who was at preschool while his parents worked.

* * *

Ross congratulated the couple once more as Cindy rolled the woman’s bed out of the emergency department. Labor and Delivery had a bed available and she was being transferred for the obstetrician to examine her and to take over her care.

He glanced around the emergency department, spotting Brielle at the nurses’ station, charting. He was glad that things had once again calmed down to a lull. It was only about an hour until shift change and he hoped things remained slow. Usually he did just fine, but today he felt exhausted. Perhaps not so much physically as emotionally.

Brielle’s mouthed “You should have been there” had continually played through his head.

He should have been there.

He would have been there.

Had he known.