“Then what?” I pressed. “What was that call about?”
“Let’s just get goin’,” he ordered, grabbing my shoulder and nudging me forward.
“What the hell?!” I exclaimed. “What’s going on Ben?”
He let out a heavy breath, and his hand shot up to smooth his hair back and then came to rest massaging his neck.
“That call was Allison,” he finally said.
“Yeah,” I urged, instantly feeling concern for him and his family. “Is everything okay? Is the little guy all right?”
“They’re fine,” he answered without concern. “They’re just fine.”
“Then what’s going on?” I demanded.
“Allison’s on duty today,” he finally told me. “She called because an ambulance just brought Felicity in to the E.R. at her hospital.”
CHAPTER 14
I never knew that Ben had an actual siren in his van, that is, until now. He had wasted no time, quickly attaching his red magnetic bubble light to the roof of the vehicle and plugging it into the cigarette lighter as we flew from the parking lot. Soon, we were careening down the highway, siren screaming from behind the grill. Ben pushed the van to its limit, as if the sooner we arrived at the hospital, the quicker we could make everything better. As if simply by being there, we could magically prevent whatever had happened, even after the fact.
“What did Allison say?” I appealed still struggling with my safety belt.
“Just that an ambulance came in, and Felicity was in it,” he answered, still keeping his attention on the road.
“Did she have any idea what was wrong with her?” The metal finger on the seatbelt finally slipped in with a satisfying click.
“No,” he replied as he hooked the van around the slower traffic. “You sons-of-bitches! Can’t you hear the siren!” he screamed at the other drivers and then turned back to me. “No, she didn’t. She said she was conscious when they brought her in though.”
The pains in my stomach were growing more intense with each passing moment. I began to realize that it wasn’t R.J. that I was feeling empathy for. It was my wife.
“She was fine when I left her,” I volunteered. “Just a little morning sickness. Hell, I’ve only been gone for a couple of hours. What could have happened?”
“I dunno,” Ben offered, “but like I said, Allison told me she was awake when they brought her in, so that’s a good sign at least.”
“It has to be something to do with the baby,” I asserted.
“You don’t know that. I’m sure everything’s fine.”
“No. It’s not.” I held fast as another burst of pain shot through my abdomen. “I’ve been having pains in my stomach for about an hour now.”
“So?”
“So, it’s called empathy,” I told him. “At first I thought I was getting it from R.J. because he was nervous and all that, but now I know better. I’m feeling Felicity’s pain.”
“Like some kinda psychic thing or somethin’?” Ben half asked, half remarked. “Jeezus, you guys are unbelievable.”
The siren continued warbling loudly as he quickly cranked the steering wheel to the right, sending us into the cloverleaf from Interstate 64 to exit onto Kingshighway. The hospital was within sight now, only the sluggish traffic barring our way. Ben drove the van halfway up onto the inside shoulder in order to skirt around the cars that were slowly moving out of our way, and the engine groaned in protest at the abuse it was taking. The vehicle buffeted wildly and rocked on worn suspension when the tires finally leapt from the curb and once again contacted level pavement. Moments later, we broke through the lethargic traffic, and Ben propelled us forward without heed to the signal lights and signs.
We quickly traveled the two short blocks running alongside the hospital, whereupon we hooked right, sliding at first then accelerating out of the turn. At the end of the short sprint, Ben jammed on the brakes, forcing the Chevy to screech to a halt before the entrance to the emergency room.
“Go. GO!” he urged as I wrestled my way out of the seatbelt and flung my door open.
I jumped from the van and ran the short distance to the entrance. The automatic doors instantly began to open, though not fast enough in my mind, so I turned sideways, forcing my way through as the gap widened. The cold, conditioned air, reeking of antiseptic, slapped me hard in the face as I pushed my way through a second set of doors and stumbled to a stop at the admitting desk.
“O’Brien,” I insisted. “Felicity O’Brien. Where is she?”
A blank-faced nurse quietly stared back at me and seated herself at a computer terminal behind the desk. Reaching up, she slid a clipboard and pen toward me.
“Fill this out and return it to the desk,” she stated mechanically and without emotion.
“Dammit, I don’t need treatment!” I pushed the clipboard hard across the counter, and it slid off onto the floor with a raucous clatter. “I’m looking for my wife, Felicity O’Brien. She was brought in here a little while ago!”
By now, Ben had joined me, leaving the haphazardly parked van where it was, red light still flickering wildly. He had at least taken the time to turn off the clamoring siren.
“And your name is?” the nurse questioned like an automaton.
“Rowan. Rowan Gant,” I returned impatiently.
“Relation?”
“I told you already!” I shouted. “She’s my wife!”
“Ben, Rowan!” The exclamation came from our immediate right.
We both turned quickly to face the direction from which the voice had issued and were presented with the somber face of Allison Storm, Ben’s wife. Her white uniform was obviously rumpled more than usual. A long strand of her fine brown hair hung wildly across her face, and she gently brushed it away with the back of her hand.
“Where’s Felicity?” I asked roughly. “What happened?”
“Calm down, Rowan,” she told me. “She’s okay. She’s going to be fine.”
“The baby?”
She just looked down at the floor then back at me. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?” I appealed, fighting back the emotion that was continuing to well inside me.
“Why don’t you come with me,” Allison soothed. “I’m on a break right now. We’ll go see Felicity, and we can talk.”
I desperately wanted to know what had happened to my wife, but at the same time I knew Allison was right, I needed to calm down. I knew she wouldn’t give me the run around, so I simply nodded and forced myself to remain quiet. Ben and I followed her down the long hallway, twisting and turning until we reached a bank of elevators. The three of us waited in silence and once the polished metal doors slid open, stepped inside and rode upward. I was too preoccupied with my concern for Felicity to even notice which floor we finally arrived at. A few short stretches of corridor mixed with a couple of quick turns, and we entered a private room.
The first thing to catch my eye was my petite wife, innocent and childlike as she peacefully slept in the hospital bed. An IV bag hung from a stand nearby with the long plastic tube leading from its base to the back of her hand where it was neatly and firmly taped in place. I quietly made my way farther into the room to the side of the bed and gently caressed her cheek.
“She’s sedated,” Allison volunteered. “She needs to rest for a while.”
“I won’t wake her,” I whispered and then turned to face Allison. “Now, can somebody please tell me what happened?”
“It’s my fault,” a slightly familiar voice quietly admitted from behind me. “I’m sorry, Mister Gant.”
I turned to see the owner of the voice, and my eyes fell on Cally’s face. She had been seated in the corner of the room the entire time, unnoticed, and now stood, uncertainly staring at me. Her face wore the expression of a school child that had just disappointed a respected teacher.
“What do you mean it’s your fault, Cally?” I asked, turning fully to face her.
“I couldn’t reach Detective Storm.” She began gushing, tears welling in her eyes and rolling across her flushed cheeks. “They said he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. I tried calling you, but Felicity said you were with the detective, so I told her and she came over. I never should have called.”