The nurse would not look him in the eye, her throat working in nervousness, and his skin went from chilled to sub-zero. “Sir, you need to wait here. I need to get my supervisor…”
“Where’s my wife?” he screamed, grabbing the young woman by the shoulders and shaking her.
“That’s enough.” The voice was a whip, cracking through the air. He turned to behold a battle-axe of a woman, late sixties, built broad and strong with a face that told she had seen much and overcame it all. “Let the girl go.”
“I want my wife! Where is Lauren Miller?”
The older woman walked to him, no fear in her as she grabbed his hands and peeled them away from the girl’s shoulders, her focus such he could not look away from her. She said to no one in particular, “Bring Mr. Miller a wet cloth to wipe down and a scrub shirt.”
The squeak of shoes at his side told him someone was following her orders. Wet cloth was thrust into his hands and habit had his body moving even as his thoughts were centered on his wife. As soon as he pulled the clean top over his head, he said, “Please, my wife, where is she?”
There. That flash of compassion in her eyes, that fucking flash that every cop and doctor and nurse displayed when they were about to tell you your life was over. He backed away from her, shaking his head. “No. No, no, no.”
She was ruthless in her efficiency. “Mr. Miller, I’m sorry to tell you that your wife died today. There were complications. The baby was born as the earthquake started and we lost power, and in the chaos we couldn’t do what was necessary to save her life.”
No.
No no no nononono nonononononononononononononono
It was the hand on his cheek, the living warmth of another human that brought him to awareness, the realization the litany was not in his head but coming out of his mouth. He grabbed her wrist. “Let me see my wife. Take me to my wife!”
“No Mr. Miller.” The nurse’s eyes were steady on him. Not breaking eye contact, she called out, “Sarah, bring the baby.”
A young woman approached, sidling up to the older woman and angling her body away from his. With unhurried movement, the nurse disentangled her wrist from his grasp, twisting to take the bundled infant from Sarah.
She put the baby to his chest. Long practice had him grabbing the precious bundle before his brain caught the significance of the moment. “This is your daughter, Mr. Miller.”
Daughter. He had wanted a baby girl so badly, had prayed for her every night. Lord, you’ve blessed me with my boys and I’m grateful for them. But if you could, I’d love a little girl. I want her to be like my Lauren.
“Daughter…”
“Did you know you were having a little girl, Mr. Miller?”
He shook his head. “No. Lauren wanted it to be a surprise, Lauren…” and he choked, because Lauren should be here answering these questions, about how she refused to find out, because she said, I’m not going to let anyone make a big deal if this baby is a girl or act all sad for us if it’s another boy. You and me, Jack Miller, we make the best babies in this world, and boy or girl, that’s how it is.
“How many other children do you have, Mr. Miller?”
The question brought his attention back to the battle-axe, and he blinked several times to focus on her.
“I know you have others. The way you hold that baby speaks of a lot of experience.”
“Four. Four boys.”
“So you have four boys, and now you have a little girl to protect as well. I’m sorry about your loss, but you can’t be carrying on any more. You’ve got too much responsibility on your shoulders and you need to be strong for them.”
An electric current passed between them, empathy between two survivors who knew there was a path ahead they needed to take, and their loved ones would have to wait a little while before they were reunited. He straightened his back and brought his daughter up to his chest, laying her little head over his heart. “Yes, ma’am.”
The nurse gave a decisive nod and turned back to the hospital personnel behind her, issuing orders as she marched down the hall.
His daughter started to snuffle, so he brought her head up higher onto his shoulder, bouncing lightly to calm her. He looked down, seeing the curve of baby cheek, smelling the baby soft smell only newborns possessed, bringing peace even when the world around them was falling apart. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe now. Daddy is here and will always protect you, I promise.”
His little girl. He hoped she would have her mother’s coloring, especially those cornflower blue eyes. He hoped she had her mother’s kind heart and strong spirit and loving compassion…