Chapter 4 - A Cry That Didn't Come

I remember the operating room in pieces: cold air, a blue curtain, Dean wearing a paper cap that made him look unbearably young.

"I'm right here," he said from beside my head.

"Don't tell me to relax," I whispered.

"Wasn't planning to."

Somebody laughed softly. Then a doctor announced an incision, and the room became nothing but measured voices.

The anesthesiologist asked whether I could feel pain. I shook my head. I could feel pressure, though, and a strange pulling that made me think of a door opening somewhere I couldn't see.

"Baby's out," a nurse said.

I waited for the angry cry I'd heard when Ivy was born.

Nothing.

"Dean?" My throat tightened. "Why isn't she crying?"

He stood halfway out of his chair. Beyond the curtain, hands moved around a small motionless shape. Someone said the words respiratory support. Another person asked for the neonatal team.

"Please," I said. "Please make some noise, Mae."

Dean was crying openly now. That frightened me more than anything.

A tiny, ragged sound finally rose over the machines. Not much. Barely a protest. But it was hers.

"There she is," Dean whispered.

A nurse lifted a bundled little face into view for less than a second: dark hair plastered down, skin pink in places and pale in others, eyes tightly shut.

Then they took her to the neonatal intensive care unit.

Dr. Ellis finished the operation while I watched a ceiling tile above me. She told me the bleeding had been serious but was under control. She told me I had done the right thing by getting help quickly.

I hadn't gotten help. Dean and Dalia and a stranger on the ballroom floor had gotten it for me. A room full of relatives had stood waiting for permission.

When I woke in recovery, Dean was sitting beside my bed. He had a scrape on his knuckle. His jacket was gone.

"Mae's alive," he said at once. "She's breathing with help. They say she's strong for how early she came."

I cried without making a sound.

Then Dean showed me his phone. A message from Maren filled the screen.

For everyone's sake, tell Laurel we need to agree that she lost her balance. Evelyn says the police are asking questions.

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Beneath it was a second message, sent only minutes later.

And tell her I've already spoken to our attorney about her mental state.