Pemberton tightened his grip, enough that the nurse gasped. She opened her hand and let him take the pump.
Pemberton watched the clock, and when fifteen seconds passed he squeezed the rubber. He did so again, listening for the hiss and suck of his blood passing through the tube. But there was no sound, just as there was no way to see his blood coursing through the dark-gray tubing. Each time he squeezed, Pemberton closed his eyes so he could imagine the blood pulsing from his arm into Serena's, from there up through the vein and into the right and left atria of her heart. Pemberton imagined the heart itself, a shriveled thing slowly expanding as it refilled with blood.
A grammar school was across the road, and through the emergency room's open window Pemberton heard the shouts of children at recess. An attendant entered the room and helped lift Serena's legs and hold them apart as the doctor performed his pelvic exam. Pemberton closed his eyes again and squeezed the pump. He no longer checked the clock but tightened his hand as soon as he felt the rubber fill with blood. A bell rang and the sounds of the children dimmed as they reentered the school. The doctor stepped away from Serena and nodded at the attendant to lower Serena's legs.
"Get the mayo stand and a lap pack," the doctor told the attendant.
The nurse fitted a mask over Serena's face and dripped chloroform onto the cloth and wire. The attendant rolled the stand beside Serena's bed, opened the white cotton sheeting to reveal the sterilized steel. Pemberton watched the doctor lift the scalpel and open Serena's body from pubis to navel. Pemberton squeezed the pump again as the doctor's right hand disappeared into the incision, lifted up the purplish blue umbilical cord for a moment before resettling it. Then the doctor dipped both hands into Serena's belly, raised something so gray and phlegmy it appeared to be made not of flesh but moist clay. Blood daubing the body was the only indication to Pemberton it could have ever held life. The umbilical cord lay coiled on the baby's chest. Pemberton did not know if it was still connected to Serena.
For a few moments the doctor stared at the infant intently. Then he turned and handed what filled his hands to the attendant.
"Put it over there," the doctor said, and motioned to a table in the corner.
The doctor turned back to Serena but not before asking the nurse how much blood Pemberton had given.
"Over 500 cc's. Should I try and stop him?"
The doctor looked at Pemberton, who shook his head.
"I guess not. He'll be too weak before long to squeeze it anyway, or he'll pass out."
As the doctor wove dark thread through Serena's skin, Pemberton turned his head toward her. Pemberton listened to her soft inhalations and matched his breathing precisely to hers. He became lightheaded, no longer able to focus enough to read the clock or follow the words passing between the doctor and nurse. Another group of children ran out onto the grammar school's playground, but their shouts soon evaporated into silence. Pemberton squeezed the pump, his hand unable to close completely around it. He listened to his and Serena's one breath, even as he felt the needle being pulled from his forearm, heard the wheels of Serena's gurney as it rolled away.
PEMBERTON still lay on the gurney when he awoke. The doctor loomed above, an orderly beside him.
"Let us help you up," the doctor said, and the two men raised Pemberton to a sitting position.
He felt the room darken briefly, then lighten.
"Where's Serena?"
The words came out halting and raspy, as if he'd not spoken in days. Pemberton looked at the clock, its hands gradually coming into focus. Had one been on the wall, he would have checked a calendar to discern the day and month. Pemberton closed his eyes a few moments and raised his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes and things seemed clearer.
"Where's Serena?" he asked again.
"In the other wing."
Pemberton gripped the gurney's edge and prepared to stand, but the orderly placed a firm hand on his knee.
"Is she alive?"
"Yes," the doctor said. "Your wife's constitution is quite remarkable, so unless something unforeseen occurs, she'll recover."
"But the child is dead," Pemberton said.
"Yes, and there's another matter I'll need to discuss with you and your wife later."
"Tell me now," Pemberton said.
"Your wife's uterus. It's lacerated through the cervix."
"And that means what?"
"That she can have no more children."
Pemberton did not speak for a few moments.
"What was the child's sex?"
"A boy."
"Had we gotten here earlier, would the child have survived?"
"That doesn't matter now," the doctor said.
"It matters," Pemberton said.
"Yes, the child probably would have survived."
The orderly and doctor helped Pemberton off the gurney. The room wavered a few moments, then steadied.
"You gave a lot of blood," the doctor said. "Too much. You'll pass out if you're not careful."
"Which room?"
"Forty-one," the doctor said. "The orderly can go with you."
"I can find it," Pemberton said, and walked slowly toward the door, past the corner table where nothing now lay.
He stepped out of the emergency room and into the corridor. The hospital's two wings were connected by the main lobby, and as Pemberton passed through he saw Campbell sitting by the doorway. Campbell rose from his chair as Pemberton approached.
"Leave the car here for me and take the train back to camp," Pemberton said. "Make sure the crews are working and then go by the saw mill to make sure there are no problems there."
Campbell took the Packard's keys from his pocket and gave them to Pemberton. As Pemberton turned to leave, Campbell spoke.
"If there's someone asks how Mrs. Pemberton and the young one are doing, what do you want me to say?"
"That Mrs. Pemberton is going to be fine."
Campbell nodded but did not move.
"What else?" Pemberton asked.
"Doctor Cheney, he rode into town with me."
"Where is he now?" Pemberton asked, trying to keep his voice level.
"I don't know. He said he was going to get Mrs. Pemberton some flowers, but he ain't come back."
"How long ago was that?"
"Almost two hours."