At First Sight - Nicholas Sparks [104]
Covered in amniotic fluid and still attached to the umbilical cord, Claire was a slippery mass of gray and red and brown and seemed at first to be gasping; in an instant, Dr. Ryan placed her on a table, a suction tube was inserted in her mouth, and her throat was cleared. Only then did Claire begin to cry. The pediatrician began to examine her. From his spot, Jeremy couldn’t tell whether the baby was doing okay. The world was still closing in. Vaguely, he heard Lexie gasp.
“I don’t see any signs that the amniotic band attached,” Dr. Ryan said. “She’s got all her fingers and toes, and she’s a cute little thing. Good color, and she’s breathing fine. Apgar is an eight.”
Claire continued to wail, and Jeremy finally turned toward Lexie. At that point, everything moved so fast that he was still having trouble processing it.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
It was then, while looking at her, that he heard the long, steady beep on the machine behind him. Lexie’s eyes were closed and her head lay back on the pillow, almost as if she were asleep.
His first thought was that it was strange that she wasn’t craning her neck in search of the baby. Then, all at once, the physician rose from his stool so quickly that it shot out toward the wall behind him. The nurse shouted something about code, and the doctor yelled to the other nurse to take Jeremy and Doris from the room immediately.
Jeremy felt a sudden contraction in his chest. “What’s happened?” he shouted.
The nurse grabbed his arm and started dragging him from the room.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong with her? Wait . . .”
“Please!” the nurse shouted. “You’ve got to go now!”
His eyes widened in terror. He couldn’t turn away from Lexie. Nor could Doris. As if from somewhere far away, he heard the nurse shouting for help from the orderlies. The doctor was over Lexie now, pushing on her chest. . . .
Looking panicked. They were all panicked.
“Nooo!” Jeremy screamed. He tried to shake free from the nurse.
“Get him out of here!” the doctor shouted.
Jeremy felt someone else grab his arm. He was being pulled from the room. This couldn’t be happening. What was wrong? Why wasn’t she moving? Oh God, she’s going to be okay. This can’t be happening. Wake up, Lexie . . . oh, please, God, wake up. . . .
“What’s happening?” he screamed again. He was led to the hallway, barely hearing the voices telling him to calm down. From the corner of his eye, he saw a stretcher being rushed down the hall by two orderlies. They vanished into the room.
Jeremy was being held against the wall by two other orderlies. His breathing was shallow, his body as tense and cold as cable wire. He heard Doris sobbing but could barely process the sound. He was surrounded by rushing people and all alone at the same time. This was what true terror felt like. A minute later, Lexie was being rushed from the room on a gurney. The doctor was still on top of her, giving her CPR. There was a bag over her face.
Then, all at once, time seemed to slow. His body finally loosened once Lexie vanished through the swinging doors at the end of the corridor. Suddenly he felt weak, and he could barely stand. He was dizzy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again. “Where are they taking her? Why isn’t she moving?”
Neither the orderlies nor the nurse could look at him.
He and Doris were led to a special room. Not a waiting room, not a hospital room, but someplace else. Blue vinyl padded chairs lined the two walls of the carpeted room. An end table was littered with magazines, a garish mess beneath cold fluorescent lights. A wooden cross hung on the far wall. An empty room but for the