Page 83 of The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past #4)

SEVENTY-TWO

London, England

Quinn dropped the rosary. The pain she’d experienced in her vision didn’t fade away, but intensified, forcing her to curl up on the bed and hug her knees.

Her womb was contracting, the skin growing taut with every spasm.

Quinn tried to think calmly as she searched for a more comfortable position.

She’d experienced mild Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off since the second trimester, but Dr. Malik had assured her this was perfectly normal and not a prelude to a miscarriage.

The contractions were more uncomfortable than painful, and usually went away after about a half hour.

This pain was more intense, but she was also closer to her due date, so perhaps this was all par for the course.

Quinn climbed out of bed, hoping she might walk off the pain.

She walked from one end of the bedroom to the other, kneading her lower back with her fists.

After a few minutes, the contractions receded, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The baby wasn’t due for another three weeks, so this was definitely too soon.

Quinn returned to bed and rolled onto her side, the only position she could sleep in since lying on her back made it difficult to breathe, and hugged her pillow.

She was wide awake, her mind still on Kate, her heart breaking for the other woman and the baby that would never be.

Quinn had known Kate would never carry the baby to term, since Colin had seen no evidence of a birth in Kate’s skeletal remains, but Kate’s death still shocked and devastated her.

Quinn couldn’t risk picking up the rosary again, not after what’d just happened, and wasn’t even sure there was anything more to see.

Kate’s story was finished, at least from her perspective.

In her last moments, Kate had believed she’d been murdered, but there was no proof that anyone wished her harm.

Perhaps the severe illness she’d been experiencing for months had been hyperemesis gravidarum, a form of extreme morning sickness that affected a small percentage of expectant mothers, but it wasn’t fatal and usually subsided as soon as the child was born.

Or perhaps Kate’s body hadn’t been able to withstand the extreme stress of the situation.

In the twenty-first century, it was simple enough to end a marriage and find happiness with someone else, but in Kate’s time, divorce had been unheard of and annulment had been granted rarely and only after lengthy deliberation and examination of the situation.

It wasn’t until Henry VIII rid himself of Catherine of Aragon that the possibility of ending an unsatisfying marriage had become a reality, and even then, only for those few who were willing to go to war with the Church and risk eternal damnation.

Kate had had every reason to be terrified, and reluctant to risk her child’s future for an outcome that was in no way guaranteed.

If the annulment was denied, which it most likely would be; at best, she might have been disgraced and locked away by Hugh for the rest of her days, or at worst, she might have been whipped through the streets as a harlot and an adulteress, or even put to death if she were accused of bewitching her brother-in-law.

Guy’s love and desire to be with Kate had blinded him to reality and given him false hope.

Even if he had succeeded in bending Bishop Bridewell to his will, the bishop would not have had the power to singlehandedly dissolve the marriage, so a happy ending would most likely never have been in the cards.

Pain tore through Quinn’s belly, leaving her breathless and driving Kate’s plight from her mind.

This was the here and now, and something was wrong.

She sat bolt upright, wrapped her arms about her middle, and rocked back and forth to ease her suffering.

The next pain came right on the heels of the first one and was just as sharp, almost as if it were inflicted by a knife.

These were not Braxton Hicks contractions; this was something very different.

Quinn considered walking again when the next stab sliced through her womb.

She cried out as something sticky and hot began to trickle between her legs .

“Oh, dear God, please, no!” she cried, unwittingly echoing Kate’s plea. “Gabe!” Quinn screamed, her voice hoarse with desperation.

Gabe was at her side within seconds, his eyes wide with fear. “What is it?”

“I need to go to the hospital. Something’s wrong.”

“Should I ring for an ambulance?”

“No. An ambulance will take me to the nearest hospital. I want to go to the London,” Quinn wailed.

“Right.” Gabe raced to the other room to wake Emma.

Quinn followed him, walking slowly and holding on to the wall for support.

She went to the bathroom and found blood on her knickers, but thankfully, she wasn’t bleeding heavily.

She put in a sanitary napkin and grabbed a pair of maternity jeans she’d left hanging on the hook behind the door.

Pulling them on took some doing, but she gritted her teeth through the pain and got dressed.

She couldn’t go to the hospital in her underwear.

Emma was groggy with sleep as she took in her parents’ disheveled state. “What’s happening?” she muttered.

“It’s all right, darling. We just have to take Quinn to A&E,” Gabe explained as he lifted Emma out of her bed and wrapped a blanket around her.

“Is she hurt?”

“She’s just experiencing some pains.”

Gabe managed to hold Emma in his arms and support Quinn as they walked to the lift that’d take them to the underground parking garage.

Quinn hunched over and pressed her forehead against the cool metal wall of the lift, willing it to move faster.

The baby seemed much lower now, pressing down and creating unbearable pressure in her pelvic area.

Gabe helped Quinn into the car and strapped Emma into her seat before jumping into the driver’s seat and starting the car.

“I want Mr. Rabbit. I forgot Mr. Rabbit!” Emma screeched.

“We can’t go back for Mr. Rabbit. There’s no time,” Gabe replied as he tore out of the garage.

Emma cried softy in the back seat, upset about Mr. Rabbit and probably frightened by Quinn’s moans, which were beginning to escalate into grunts. Emma clutched the blanket to her chest and used it to wipe her streaming eyes. “I want to go home,” she whimpered.

“We’ll go home just as soon as we get the all clear. Everything will be all right.” Gabe sounded authoritative and calm, but Quinn knew he was terrified. His hand trembled as he changed gears. Emma howled louder.

Quinn let out a gasp of pain and doubled over. She was panting, and perspiration covered her brow. “Oh, Gabe, I’m bleeding badly. Hurry.”

Gabe floored the gas pedal, tearing through nighttime London with a screech of tires.

Quinn hoped that a traffic cop wasn’t waiting around the corner.

They couldn’t afford to lose any time. She screamed as stab after excruciating stab slashed her uterus, and she felt the familiar flush spread from her chest to her face.

Her heart was racing, and a pounding headache was building behind the eyes, nearly blinding her with its intensity.

Overwhelmed with pain and fear, Quinn began to cry. She sounded like a wounded animal, and Emma, spurred on by Quinn’s fear, began to shriek like a banshee while tearing at the straps of her child seat and reaching for Quinn.

“Let me out!” she screamed. “I want my mum.”

Hearing Emma call her “mum” for the first time should have been a special moment for Quinn, but the fact that Emma’s outburst was driven by her fear of losing Quinn made Quinn cry even harder.

She was trapped in a cocoon of agony, her treacherous body hurting from brain to groin.

She doubled over as blood soaked through her sanitary napkin and bloomed on the denim between her thighs.

Gabe exploded into the parking lot of the Royal London, parking as close to the A&E entrance as he dared.

He grabbed Emma from the back seat and supported Quinn as he maneuvered her toward the door.

Two young doctors were standing outside, sneaking a cigarette when they saw the trio approaching, and instantly sprang into action.

“Oh, my God. We need a gurney out here,” one of the doctors roared into the open door as the other one reached for Quinn, steadying her.

Emma was thrashing and pushing Gabe away, demanding to be let down. She was screaming and crying, her eyes wild with fear.

“Darling, it will be all right. We’re here now.” Gabe tried to calm her, but Emma fought harder, screaming louder.

“It won’t! It won’t be all right! Stop lying to me!”

“I’ll call for a social worker,” one of the young doctors offered as they helped Quinn onto a gurney and began to wheel her through the A&E doors. “She might be able to help.”

Gabe nodded and followed the doctors into the waiting area.

“Please, remain here, sir,” a nurse instructed him as he made to follow Quinn. “Someone will come speak to you as soon as they are able,” the nurse hollered over Emma’s screams.

A young Black woman with dark almond-shaped eyes and long braids came rushing down the corridor.

She flashed her identification card at Gabe before turning to Emma.

“Hello, Emma. I’m Nina Daniels. Was that your mum that just came in?

” she asked. Her voice was like warm honey and Emma stopped screaming for just a moment.

“Yes,” she finally replied, her voice small and shaky.

“Well, you have nothing to be frightened of. This is the best hospital in London.”

“Is it?” Emma asked through loud sniffling.

“Of course it is. That’s why your dad brought her here. Now, what do you say you and I play a game while Daddy visits with Mum? She knows this is the very best hospital, but she’s probably a little nervous anyway and would like to see a friendly face.”

“Are the doctors not friendly?”

“Of course they are, but they have a job to do, and your dad’s only job right now is to look after your mum.”

“And me,” Emma protested. “He has to look after me.”

“What if I look after you?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m not coming with you. I want to see my mum.”

“We don’t have to play a game. We can take a walk to the cafeteria.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Emma pointed out.

“Hmm, you’re right. The cafeteria is closed, but there is a vending machine just outside, and I happen to know that it has three different ice cream selections. I bet you like ice cream. I sure do.”

Emma looked tempted .

“Darling, please get some ice cream with Ms. Daniels. She’ll bring you right back after you’re done,” Gabe pleaded, desperate to get to Quinn.

“All right,” Emma conceded. “But I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to my mum,” Emma threw over her shoulder. “It’s all your fault.”

“How’s it my fault?” Gabe demanded, wounded by Emma’s words.

“You put that baby in there. I know all about it. Aidan told me how it’s done.”

Emma walked off without a backward glance, leaving Gabe staring after her, shocked and terrified for Quinn.

Get hold of yourself, man , he berated himself as he sprinted down the corridor toward the room where Quinn had been taken, despite the nurse’s request that he remain in the waiting area.

The young doctor from earlier was there, along with a middle-aged woman whose eyes were glued to the fetal monitor.

“What’s happening?” Gabe’s eyes flew to Quinn, who appeared much calmer than she’d been before. She was already hooked up to several machines, including a blood pressure monitor.

“Mr. Russell, I’m Dr. Young,” the woman said.

“I’ve paged Dr. Malik, but I’m afraid we can’t afford to wait for her.

Your wife has suffered a placental abruption.

The fetus is in distress, and your wife’s blood pressure is dangerously low.

We’re going to perform an emergency C-section as soon as Mrs. Russell is prepped and ready to go. ”

“Why did this happen? She was on bedrest.” Gabe felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. He’d expected Quinn’s blood pressure to be high, not low, and given the concerned look on Dr. Young’s face when she looked at the monitor, this could be a matter of life or death for the baby .

“It isn’t anything your wife did, sir. The placental abruption was likely caused by the preeclampsia. It usually happens around twenty-five weeks of pregnancy, but in some cases, it occurs later. Now, I’m sorry to have to ask you to leave, but we must get on. The operating theater is ready for us.”

Two hospital porters appeared at the door, ready to wheel Quinn away.

“Can my husband not stay with me during the surgery?” Quinn asked.

Dr. Young shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Russell, but under the circumstances, we feel it would be safer for both you and the baby if we performed the cesarean section under general anesthesia. Your husband will have to wait outside.”

“But I’ll miss my baby’s first moments,” Quinn argued.

“I know it’s upsetting, but we can’t take any risks with your well-being.”

“I understand. Gabe.” Quinn reached for Gabe’s hand.

“I’ll be there when you wake up. All will be well,” Gabe said as he took her hand.

“Please comfort Emma. She’s so scared.”

“Don’t worry about Emma. I’ll see to her.

I love you.” Gabe’s voice sounded watery.

He was frightened, for both Quinn and the baby, but there was nothing he could do to change whatever was going to happen.

He could only wait, which was sometimes the hardest thing to do.

Dr. Young allowed them a moment to say goodbye, but he saw the urgency in her gaze. There was no time to waste.

“I love you.” Quinn brushed her hand against Gabe’s as the gurney began to move toward the door. “See you on the other side.”