Crimson Eve (28 page)

“Now it’s time I told you the truth . . .”

SEVENTY-ONE

Tanya clenched her jaw as sixteen-year-old Carla Radling thrashed. Head thrown side to side, moaning, legs churning against the delivery room bed. And the worst of her labor was yet to come. Carla was only four centimeters dilated, with contractions five to six minutes apart, but in the last two hours, the pain that lashed her body had brought her no closer to giving birth.

Tanya gripped Carla’s fingers. “It’s all right. This one’s almost done now.”

Soon the girl’s writhing slowed, then stopped. Carla swallowed hard and gazed at Tanya, her deep brown eyes full of fright. “How much longer?”

Tanya tried to smile for her. “It’ll be a few hours yet. But we’ve paged the anesthesiologist. Once you have an epidural, it’ll be so much better.”

Carla’s brows knitted with weariness. “How long before he comes?”

Tanya’s heart panged. This young girl was so brave even in her fear. Sixteen was too young to give birth.

“Soon, I hope.”

In truth, it would be longer than that. This was no big Seattle facility. At the small Terrin Hospital anesthesiologists were hardly a dime a dozen. And the one they needed right now was tied up in surgery.

And where was Dr. Hughes? The man had come in and out of the room twice, looking harried, mind elsewhere.
Not that he was needed yet, with so little happening. Still, Carla should have the comfort of knowing her doctor was near. She wasn’t some woman in labor with her fourth child. She was no more than a
kid
.

Carla licked her lips. “I’ll be okay. This is for Rebecca. I can’t wait to hold my baby. Seems like I’ve waited forever.”

Before Tanya could reply, Dr. Hughes strode in. He went immediately to the bottom of the bed to examine Carla with a mere “How we doing here?” Tanya bit back her disapproval. What was wrong with him? He usually had far better bedside manner. He could have held Carla’s hand for a minute, looked into her eyes. Let her know he saw her as a person, not just a pair of spread legs and uterine contractions.

Dr. Hughes felt around, then pulled back, holding his gloved hand out from his side. He shook his head. “She’s not progressing fast enough. I want to start Pitocin.”

He moved toward the door with a jerk of his head for Tanya to follow. Silently, she padded out behind him. She had her reservations about the Pitocin. It would be given intravenously, monitored until contractions came more frequently. That would still take awhile, but it could also mean some very hard labor. Speedy dilation came with a price. Tanya wanted to make sure the anesthesiologist would show before it was too late.

In the hall, with the door to Carla’s room closed, Dr. Hughes spouted his orders. When she started to question, he cut her off with a finger pointed in her face. “Get the IV —
now
.”

Seething inside, Tanya scurried to obey. Nobody crossed Dr. Hughes. Soon Carla was hooked up to a bag. The monitor indicated the baby was doing fine.

The Pitocin worked. Over the next hour and a half, the contractions increased. Carla was barely hanging on. Her fingers dug into the bedcovers, sweat standing on her forehead. “Please, please,
please
,” she sobbed. “I can’t
stand
it.
Do
something!”

Tanya wished she could take the pain for her. When the anesthesiologist finally showed, Tanya nearly cried. The epidural brought fast relief to Carla. She eased back against the pillows, breathing hard. Shivering started. Epidurals affected some patients that way. Tanya did her best to keep her comfortable.

“Soon.” She stroked Carla’s arm. “Soon you’ll be a mom. Rebecca is a beautiful name.”

“I know.” Exhausted, Carla gave a feeble smile. “Rebecca.”

A contraction set in. The monitor showed its progress and peak. Carla, numbed below the waist, watched the screen, clearly feeling nothing. When it passed, she focused on Tanya. “Please tell me the pain won’t come back. I thought I was going to die.”

“It won’t. We’re watching your medication, and we won’t let it.”

Tanya left Carla for a moment to visit the waiting room at the end of the hall, telling Carla’s very worried boyfriend that she was doing better and in no more pain. His gratitude nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Back in Carla’s room, Dr. Hughes hurried in, all business. He greeted Carla distractedly, said he and “Nurse Evans” had to step outside for a minute. Before Tanya knew what was happening, he’d guided her all the way down the hall into a private office and shut the door. He gestured toward a chair. “Sit down.”

Tanya sat, her heart tripping double-time. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good. Had she done something wrong? Her thoughts fled to her seven-year-old son, Curt. She couldn’t,
couldn’t
lose this job.

Dr. Hughes stood by the door, hands clasped, feet apart. The white coat, the grayed hair of his sixty-plus years, the furrows in his forehead were as Tanya had always seen him. But the raw grimness on his face scared her to death.

“What’s about to happen stays here, understand?” He raised his eyebrows for emphasis. “I won’t have to spell out the consequences if it doesn’t.”

He stabbed Tanya with a stare. She managed a nod.

“Good. We have little time, so I want you to listen to me, then
do what I say.
” His words came clipped and low. “In a little while I will be calling Bryson Hanley’s wife to tell her that tests I took this morning have indicated she needs to come in immediately for a C-section. She’s three weeks early. She came into my office for an exam this morning, mentioning she hadn’t felt the baby kick in a while. I was concerned enough to do the ultrasound myself. It appears the baby is dead.”

Tanya’s jaw unhinged. “Oh,
no
.” Like everyone else, she had followed the Hanley’s happy story of pregnancy after so many years of trying.

“I managed to distract Catherine enough that she didn’t realize what was happening. I wanted to inform Bryson first, let him break the news. No question it would devastate Catherine. I told Bryson we should take the baby as soon as possible, but at the moment I had to hurry and get back here to check on Carla. Bryson hadn’t known she was in labor.”

Tanya frowned. Why should it matter? Did he know Carla?

A shadow crossed Dr. Hughes’s face, as if he was about to speak the unspeakable. He swallowed — and in that horrible moment, Tanya had a crazy thought.

No. No way. Bryson Hanley, protector of the family and children, could never do such a thing.

“At the news about Carla, Bryson decided not to tell Catherine her baby is dead.”

Tanya could hardly breathe. Her mind filled in the horrific blanks. No, no, no. This couldn’t
be
. But she saw the truth. As much as she and all the other staff at Terrin Hospital kowtowed to Dr. Hughes, he served the state’s Golden Boy.
She pictured the scene. The serendipity of fated timing turning over in Bryson Hanley’s brain. The dawning idea of salvation for him and his wife. His silver-tongued words to convince the doctor . . .

Dr. Hughes’s jaw flexed defensively, as if he saw her horror. “As soon as Carla’s baby is born healthy and well, I will call Catherine and tell her the ‘tests’ indicate her baby may be in danger and should be taken now. Everything will happen very quickly and with as few people knowing as possible. I will insist on that, saying it’s to protect the senator’s privacy. I will use the largest operating room — you’ll soon see why. Carla will be medicated — nothing to hinder labor, but to make her woozy at the birth. Catherine will be under full anesthesia. You will bring Carla’s baby to the Hanleys and take Catherine’s baby away.”

Nausea hit Tanya. In that moment she saw it all. Her helplessness, her bleak future. She couldn’t refuse, or she’d lose her job. And Dr. Hughes could make sure no one else hired her. How would she provide for her son? But the guilt she would bear if she went along! Tanya pictured the grief in Carla’s eyes. How could she let that young girl believe her baby was dead?

How
could Bryson Hanley
do
this? The politician that everyone loved and trusted. What kind of
monster
was he? And how could Dr. Hughes ever agree to it?

Tanya pushed to her feet, throat nearly swelling shut. “I
will
not
do it. You can’t make me!”

Fear and anger blackened Dr. Hughes’s expression. Tanya knew he was already in too far; there was no letting her off easily now. He closed the space between them in three steps, his face thrust in hers. “You
will
do it. And you
will
keep quiet. I can’t do this alone. I will inform Bryson you had to know. You’ll be well rewarded.”

She stared at him, stupefied, then laughed bitterly. “You think this is about
money
? How about morals? A clear conscience for the rest of my life. I
won’t do it
.”

A terrible stillness came over Dr. Hughes. He glared at her with the fierceness of a demon. “You will.” His words turned to gravel. “And here’s why. Because Bryson Hanley is the father of Carla Radling’s baby.”

Tanya froze. She ogled him, unable to speak.

“Yes, Tanya, it’s true. Bryson told me himself today. He brought Carla Radling to me in the first place — it all fits. I should have seen it before. So we are simply giving the baby to her
own
father. Which set of parents do you think can better raise that child? An unwed mother from the wrong side of town, or Bryson and Catherine Hanley? You want the baby uneducated and neglected, or loved and nurtured — and likely one day the daughter of the president?”

Tanya’s head shook back and forth, back and forth. She couldn’t believe this. Bryson Hanley — and sixteen-year-old Carla? It was too awful to imagine.

“I can’t. I just
can’t
.”

Dr. Hughes clenched his teeth. “Yes, you can. And you will. And let me make this
very
clear — if you walk out this door and spout off, Bryson and I will absolutely deny it.
No one
will believe you. You’ll be out of this hospital before the day is over, and I’ll make sure you never nurse again, anytime, anywhere. And
that
” — he stabbed the air with a finger — “is the end of this argument.”

Defeat weakened Tanya’s knees. She pulled her arms across her chest and stared at the floor, mind numb.

“Look at me now, and listen.”

Somehow she raised her heavy head. Dr. Hughes proceeded to tell her exactly what she would do. “Got that?”

She nodded dully.

The doctor took a deep breath, rearranged his face, and opened the door. Tanya followed like a robot. With each step away from that hated office, her mind churned. One
word now to the head nurse on duty, and she could stop this. No one would believe her, but the stunning accusation would keep Bryson Hanley and Dr. Hughes from trying to carry out their plan.

But your career will be over.

Tears bit Tanya’s eyes. She focused on her shuffling feet. Wasn’t the doctor right? Carla’s baby
would
have a better home with the Hanleys. Carla was too young to be in labor — and too young to be a mother. She would mourn, yes. But she was young. She would get over it. When she was older and settled, she could have all the babies she wanted, while the Hanleys may never have another chance . . .

Outside Carla’s room, Dr. Hughes turned and stared at Tanya. She flinched, then slowly, knowing she would pay for this her entire life — nodded once more.

From that moment on, there was no turning back.

The timing was tricky. If they had not been in a small hospital, with Dr. Hughes’s word as gold, if others had questioned why he had so few professionals in attendance at the C-section, the events could not have occurred. But who would ever begin to imagine such an evil thing?

Somewhere along the way Tanya lost all ability to feel. Young Carla Radling, drugged by Dr. Hughes, succumbed to wooziness as she gave birth. Even so, with only half her faculties she alternately cried and laughed as the baby crowned, then launched from her in a smear of bloody fluid. “Where’s my baby, where’s my baby? Do you see her, is she okay?” Carla started to push up on her elbows to see.

“No, no, lie still now.” Dr. Hughes cut the cord and thrust the infant, silent and shaking, into a blanket held by Tanya’s waiting (and equally shaking) hands. “Hang on, Carla, I’m going to give you a little more medication now.” Quickly he injected a dosage of relaxant in Carla’s veins. She fell asleep almost immediately.

He performed the afterbirth procedures while Tanya stood back, gazing in Rebecca’s face. She was a quiet little thing, and so perfectly made. Fuzzy tufts of dark hair. Tears scratched Tanya’s eyes. “Rebecca,” she whispered behind the doctor’s back. “You
are
Rebecca.”

Dr. Hughes finished up and hit the door. “Watch the time and be there when I told you.” He jabbed a finger toward Tanya, perspiration on his face, his movements abrupt. Creases on his forehead revealed the truth — for Bryson Hanley the respected doctor had crossed a river whose other shore lay beyond his morals, beyond everything he stood for. And no bridge could ever secure his return. For the first time, Tanya felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

In the silent room, Tanya dropped two tears on Carla Radling’s still arm and wiped them away. The baby made no sound, blinking in stunned wonder at the world into which she’d been thrust.

After the agreed-upon time had passed, Tanya pulled the blanket over Rebecca’s head and hurried down the back stairs toward surgery, where Catherine Hanley’s C-section was being performed. Outside the door she carefully laid the baby down and put on a surgical mask and shoe covers. Then, Rebecca in her arms, she peeked though the glass window of the door. This moment, she thought, was when she would be caught. There was no reason this crazy plan should work. And if she was seen entering surgery with a newborn baby, the blame would be hers alone. Dr. Hughes would deny all knowledge of such unprofessional, unconscionable
stupidity
. She’d be fired on the spot.

Tanya had no choice but to make this work.

Dr. Hughes glanced toward the door and spotted her. Then he looked at Hanley.