One ring. Two. Please, God, let him pick up.
On the fourth ring, he answered. “Simone. It’s nice to hear from you.” Obviously the caller ID let him know it was her. The sound of his voice was enough to calm her a fraction.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Hutch. Can you stop by after work? I’m not feeling very well.”
His voice sharpened. “Can you drive yourself to the hospital?”
“No... I...” Her throat clogged with tears. “Never mind,” she whispered. “Never mind...”
* * *
Hutch heard a noise on the other end of the line as if the phone had been dropped. His heart plummeted to his stomach. He shoved the stack of charts he was holding into a nearby nurse’s hands and grimaced. “I have to leave. Get Dr. Henry to cover my appointments. I’ll let you know when I’ll be back.”
“Is everything okay, Doctor?”
“I don’t know,” he said grimly.
He jumped in his car and headed across town. On the way, he called Janine Fetter and explained the situation. Today was her day off. Fortunately, they were old friends. She agreed to meet him at Simone’s house.
Hutch arrived first by minutes only. Simone always hid her extra key in the same place, even at a new address. He tipped over the flowerpot, retrieved the key and burst through the door, leaving it ajar for Janine.
The steps from the front door to Simone’s bedroom seemed to happen in slow motion. He found her in a heap on the carpet, her face ashen. Her pul
se was sluggish. She was clammy and barely responsive.
“Simone!” He said her name sharply, trying to cut through the fog.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Hutch? You came?”
“Of course I did,” he said, cradling her in his arms. “Why are you so damned hardheaded?”
Janine arrived right about then and assessed the situation in a glance. Hutch didn’t even care. The other doctor smiled at him gently. “Put her in bed and I’ll examine her. You wait in the other room.”
He bristled. “But I—”
She touched his arm lightly, with sympathy in her eyes. “I don’t think you can be impartial about this one. Let me see what’s going on. You need to take a few minutes to pull yourself together. Are the babies yours?”
The question caught him off guard. He wanted them to be. But they weren’t. “Of course not,” he muttered. “You know she had IUI with a sperm donor.”
Janine shrugged. “I’ve seen doctors falsify charts for a friend. I’m not judging.”
“Well, they’re not mine,” he growled. “You’ll see that soon enough when you deliver them.” Standing awkwardly, he carried Simone to the bed. “Do we need an ambulance?”
“What do you think?” Janine’s grin was wry. He was acting like a total basket case.
“Sorry,” he said. “She’s stable. So, no.”
“Go on, Hutch. Get yourself a stiff drink. I’ll yell for you in a few minutes.”
He paced from the bedroom down the hall to the kitchen. There he saw that Simone had tried to fix herself a sandwich. The jar of mustard was still open, and a grilled chicken breast languished on a plate.
The situation was unacceptable. He should have known from the beginning that she was going to need a babysitter. This kind of pregnancy was tricky. Simone was too inexperienced to know what she was facing.
It seemed like hours before Janine summoned him, but according to his watch, only twenty minutes had elapsed. He found Simone awake but chastened. Janine sat on the end of the bed. “I’ve given our patient a stern talking-to,” she said.
“It’s about time somebody did,” he grumbled.
“I can’t stay home for weeks and months,” Simone wailed.