Vanish

The whisper of a breath had stopped her.

Startled, she’d looked down, to see the patient’s chest move. Had watched the woman take another breath, and then fall still. It was an agonal breathing pattern-not a miracle, just the brain’s last electrical impulses, the final twitching of the diaphragm. Every family member in the room gave a gasp.

“Oh my god,” the husband said. “She’s not gone yet.”

“It… will be very soon,” was all Maura managed to say. She had walked out of the room, shaken by how close she’d come to making a mistake. Never again had she been so cavalier about a pronouncement of death.

She looked at the journalist. “Everyone makes mistakes,” she said. “Even something as basic as declaring death isn’t as easy as you’d think.”

“So you’re defending the fire crew? And the state police?”

“I’m saying that mistakes happen. That’s all.” And God knows, I’ve made a few of my own. “I can see how it might happen. The woman was found in cold water. She had barbiturates in her bloodstream. These factors could give the appearance of death. Under the circumstances, a mistake isn’t so far-fetched. The perso

“I always try to be fair,” he said.

“Not every journalist can make that claim.”

He, too, rose to his feet and stood gazing at her across the desk. “Let me know if I’ve failed. After you read my column.”

She escorted him to the door. Watched as he walked past Louise’s desk and out of the office.

Louise looked up from her keyboard. “How did it go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked to him.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” said Louise, her eyes back on the computer screen. “When his column comes out in the Tribune on Friday.”

FIVE

Jane could not tell if the news was good or bad.

Dr. Stephanie Tam bent forward, listening through the Doppler stethoscope, and her sleek black hair fell over her face so that Jane could not read her expression. Lying flat on her back, Jane watched as the Doppler head slid across her bulging belly. Dr. Tam had elegant hands, a surgeon’s hands, and she guided the instrument with the same delicacy one might use to pluck a harp. Suddenly that hand paused, and Tam dipped her head lower, in concentration. Jane glanced at her husband, Gabriel, who was sitting right beside her, and she read the same anxiety in his eyes.

Is our baby all right?

At last Dr. Tam straightened and looked at Jane with a calm smile. “Take a listen,” she said, and turned up the volume on the Doppler.

A rhythmic whoosh pulsed from the speaker, steady and vigorous.

“Those are strong fetal heart tones,” said Tam.

“Then my baby’s okay?”

“Baby’s doing fine so far.”

“So far? What does that mean?”

“Well, it can’t stay in there much longer.” Tam bundled up the stethoscope and slipped it into its carrying case. “Once you’ve ruptured your amniotic sac, labor usually starts on its own.”

“But nothing’s happening. I’m not feeling any contractions.”

“Exactly. Your baby’s refusing to cooperate. You’ve got a very stubborn kid in there, Jane.”

Gabriel sighed. “Just like mom here. Wrestling down perps to the very last minute. Can you please tell my wife she’s now officially on maternity leave?”

“You’re definitely off the job now,” said Tam. “I’m going to get you down to Ultrasound, so we can take a peek in there. Then I think it’s time to induce labor.”

“It won’t start on its own?” said Jane.

“Your water’s broken. You’ve got an open cha

“This is all happening so fast.”

Tam laughed. “You’ve had nine months to think about it. It shouldn’t be a complete surprise,” she said, and walked out of the room.

Jane stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

Gabriel squeezed her hand. “I’ve been ready for this a long time. It seems like forever.” He lifted her hospital gown and pressed his ear to her naked belly. “Hello in there, kid!” he called out. “Daddy’s getting impatient, so stop fooling around.”

“Ouch. You did a bad job shaving this morning.”

“I’ll do it again, just for you.” He straightened and his gaze met hers. “I mean it, Jane,” he said. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. My own little family.”

“But what if it’s not everything you expected?”

“What do you think I expect?”

“You know. The perfect kid, the perfect wife.”

“Now, why would I want the perfect wife when I can have you?” he said and dodged away, laughing as she took a swing at him.

But I did manage to land the perfect husband, she thought, looking into his smiling eyes. I still don’t know how I got so lucky. I don’t know how a girl who grew up with the nickname Frog Face married a man who could turn every woman’s head just by walking into the room.

He leaned toward her and said, softly: “You still don’t believe me, do you? I can say it a thousand times, and you’ll never believe me. You’re exactly what I want, Jane. You and the baby.” He gave her a kiss on the nose. “Now. What am I supposed to bring back for you, Mom?”

“Oh, jeez. Don’t call me that. It’s so not sexy.”

“I think it’s very sexy. In fact…”

Laughing, she slapped his hand. “Go. Get yourself some lunch. And bring me back a hamburger and fries.”

“Against doctor’s orders. No food.”

“She doesn’t have to know about it.”

“Jane.”

“Okay, okay. Go home and get my hospital bag.”

He saluted her. “At your command. This is exactly why I took the month off.”

“And can you try my parents again? They’re still not answering the phone. Oh, and bring my laptop.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“What?” she said.

“You’re about to have a baby, and you want me to bring your laptop?”

“I’ve got so much paperwork I need to clean up.”

“You’re hopeless, Jane.”

She blew him a kiss. “You knew that when you married me.”

“You know,” said Jane, looking at the wheelchair, “I could just walk to Diagnostic Imaging, if you’ll only tell me where it is.”

The volunteer shook her head and locked the brakes on the chair. “Hospital rules, ma’am, no exceptions. Patients have to be transported in a wheelchair. We don’t want you to slip and fall or something, do we?”

Jane looked at the wheelchair, then at the silver-haired volunteer who was going to be pushing it. Poor old lady, Jane thought, I should be the one pushing her. Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and settled into the chair as the volunteer transferred the IV bottle. This morning, Jane was wrestling with Billy Wayne Rollo; now she was getting carted around like the queen of Sheba. How embarrassing. As she was rolled down the hall, she could hear the woman wheezing, could smell the old-shoe odor of cigarettes on the woman’s breath. What if her escort collapsed? What if she needed CPR? Then am I allowed to get up, or is that against the rules, too? She hunched deeper into the wheelchair, avoiding the gazes of everyone they passed in the hallway. Don’t look at me, she thought. I feel guilty enough making poor old gra

The volunteer backed Jane’s wheelchair into the elevator, and parked her next to another patient. He was a gray-haired man, muttering to himself. Jane noticed the Posey restraint strapping the man’s torso into the chair, and she thought: Jeez, they’re really serious about these wheelchair rules. If you try to get out, they tie you down.