The Trouble with Rescuing Zoe

Harry’s eyes popped open when he heard Zoe yell. “Oh, that hurts.”

  It was morning and it was obvious to him that her contractions were more painful and coming frequently.

  “Let me hold your hand.” She flapped her arm in his direction. “I need your hand.”

  Her newfound aggressive tone startled him. He quickly reached to take her hand. She squeezed so hard that he fought to not yell himself. When the contraction passed, he took back his hand.

  Moving his fingers to help regain circulation, he smiled. “Your doing great.”

  “Oh shut up.” She stared hard across the room. “Here comes another one. Shit!”

  “Take deep breaths. Push hard in between each contraction.”

  “Are you, some kind of doctor now?” She moaned loud enough to make him wince.

  “I just remember this part.”

  “I. Need. Your. Hand. Please. Hold my hand.” She didn’t wait but grabbed Harry’s hand. Panting, and after few moments, she grimaced, squeezing hard. All her pain was focused in her clenching grip.”

  “When did you get this superhuman strength?” She looked toward Harry who was cringing, and let up.

  Harry caught a breath of relief and then yelled, “Push Zoe, push! It won't be long.”

  Catching her own reprieve between contractions, Zoe collected her energy and reminded Harry how to deliver the baby, not just cheerlead.

  “I need help. My pants…slip them off. Tell me when you can see the baby’s head.”

  Intellectually he’d known that it would come to this, but having to actually perform this duty made him hesitate.

  “Damn it, Harry. It’s show time.” she snarled at him. “Screw feeling awkward.”

  Again, she managed to catch a moment of composure. “It's okay. We are really going to know each other after this.”

  “Can you lift up a little?” When she complied, he tugged at her pants. “There, they're off.”

  She exhaled, as if she had used all her energy. “Here’s the drill. Right now, I’m not pushing. I’m just trying to control my breathing. I’m waiting for the baby’s head to appear before I push. So stop telling me to push.” She threw her head back, her face contorted with pain. “Aaah. Another contraction.”

  She seemed to concentrate, trying to let the pain pass. Her breathing was loud and it appeared she was trying to keep it steady.

  “Sorry, guess I just thought I knew what to do. I’ll heat up the water.”

  As he did so, she threw out a slew of instructions to him.

  “Good. Remember, wash up before you touch the baby. Lots of soap. And don't pull the baby. Let it come out naturally. You could cause nerve damage if you pull. Also, if you see the feet first, tell me. That's a breech birth, which is more complica—oh, another one’s coming.”

  He moved some hot stones into the water and stirred. Her breathing intensified and he looked at her. She shut her eyes and grimaced through another contraction.

  He suddenly remembered to check for the head. Was it there? He looked closely. “Zoe. It’s coming. The head.”

  Another contraction hit. Zoe’s face turned red as she pushed with all her might. She screamed out swear words as if possessed by a mad devil.

  He tried to keep calm. He scrambled to move more rocks from the fire into the pool of water. They hissed upon entrance, steam billowing into the cave.

  He leaned over her. “The head’s coming out.”

  Zoe looked up. “God, what an insane way—”

  She shook as another blinding wave of pain pierced her, but this time, she was waiting. Her body tightened and everything went into the push. Everything. He couldn’t help but be amazed at what a woman’s body could do.

  “I see more of the baby's head. Head’s out.”

  Zoe screamed, her features pinched and contorted so that she didn’t even look like herself.

  Harry had been helping to support the baby’s head, but now repositioned himself, ready to receive the baby. He expected it to pop out at any time.

  There was another long, exhausting, and drawn-out push. Her moans bellowed with an unnatural, unnerving tone. Something was wrong—the baby should have popped out. What if it was stuck? His confidence slipped faster than they had slid down the mountain after the avalanche.

  In his mind things appeared to had turned chaotic. Zoe was gone, taken by the pain and agony. In her place was a screaming woman. He was disoriented and unsure.

  But then his confidence snapped back, memories of his own children’s birth flashed by and gave him a relieving sense of déjà vu. He remembered—there’s more. The shoulders have to appear.

  “Another big push. Come on, Zoe.”

  “Not again. I’m tired…not again.”

  “You're almost there. One more. You can do it.”

  He tested the water. It was warm. With the next contraction, she screamed out and put all she had into yet another push. The shoulders appeared.

  Suddenly, the baby slid gently into his hands. He took a long look. It was a beautiful baby girl. He cleaned her up, noticing her delicate and soft skin. He counted her fingers aloud and then toes. With a huge smile he confirmed they were all there.

  “You did it. It's a girl.” She wiggled in his grasp. “Damn, she's a slippery little gal.”

  Zoe was panting. “Gads, it’s…like I…just pushed…a basketball…through a straw.” She took a huge gulp of air. “Oh boy.”

  Still a little out of breath, Zoe gave more instructions. “Can you slide up my shirt, and put her facedown on my belly?” She tried to peer around to watch. “Is she breathing? Make sure there's no fluid in her mouth.”

  With the warm crackling fire in the background, they listened and watched. The baby girl laid still connected to her mom through the umbilical cord. She let out a few faint cries and opened her eyes.

  Zoe strained to raise her head and look. Her baby rose and fell on her undulating belly. She watched her daughter extend her arm. Zoe smiled and kept her head lifted as long as she could.

  “Harry, can you wash my hands for me?”

  “Sure.” He nodded, filled his cup with some warm water and brought over with him the soap.

  “Thanks.”

  Zoe shook her hands dry and strained again to see, this time touching the baby’s closed hand with her index finger. She moved her finger in a circular pattern, teasing open the little fingers. Her daughter looked at Zoe and then squeezed her index finger. Zoe rested her head back down, both smiling but at the same time, teary eyed.

  The little squeeze also moved Harry, and out came a wide grin on his old unshaven face. “Should I cut the umbilical cord?”

  “No, not yet.” Zoe blinked to clear her watery eyes. “Feel the cord. Still a pulse?”

  He lifted the thick ligature and closed his hands around it. Her life-giving blood still flowed through it. Amazing. “Yes, I feel it.”

  “You need to wait until the pulse stops. In the meantime, take the shoelaces out of my shoes. Also, you'll need your knife, but clean it with soap thoroughly, and heat it up. It must be sterile.”

  A few minutes passed, during which Harry cleaned his hands yet again. He then touched the baby, her eyes opening wide at the new experience, and he ran his fingers from her head to her toes.

  He checked the cord again. “The pulse is gone. What's next?”

  “Tie one shoelace about three inches away from her, and the other, two inches away.”

  She cradled the baby, covered in one of the infant blanket hides, as Harry tied the shoelaces.

  “Ready.”

  “Now take your knife—is it clean?” He nodded. “Cut the cord in between the shoelaces.” He must have looked panicked, because she reassured him that neither she nor the baby would feel it.

  Slicing through the cord still spiked his adrenaline. “Whoa.”

  “We need to wait for the placenta to come out. Maybe another twenty minutes.” She glanced down at the baby, who was looking back at her with big
eyes. Zoe caressed her ears and cheeks. “Isn't she beautiful?”

  “Very.”

  After the placenta passed, he cleaned up.

  He was about to move Zoe and her baby to a fresh spot in the cave, but she interrupted in a soft voice. “I need help.”

  He waited for further instructions standing ready to do what’s next. Her next words paralyzed him. “I need a way to clean, down there.”

  He stood like a statue. That was not part of workshop cleanup routine.

  She waited while he digested the situation. He gulped and then took his knife and cut a small piece of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. He dipped it in the warm water, lathered it with soap and placed the cloth in her hand. He turned and waited. Zoe signaled she was done and without further ado, he moved them.

  The baby started fussing, and Zoe attempted to comfort her with gentle strokes, but it didn’t help.

  “Maybe she's hungry?” Harry offered.

  “Huh, I didn't think of that.” She laughed, while already moving to lift her shirt.

  He looked away. “I remember this too.”

  He recalled his wife for the first time sliding their daughter up and her latching on.

  The infant was quickly soothed. Having nursed for a few minutes, she then fell asleep. He reached over and covered them both with the blankets.

  “You’ve done it.”

  She rubbed the back of the infant’s petite frame.

  “And she is so beautiful.” He chuckled. “I know, I’ve said that.”

  “You know, when I went into labor, I was like, uh oh. No hospital, no doctors or nurses, not even a grocery store for band-aids or formula. I thought, how are we going to do this? But here she is.”

  She turned her head and closed her eyes, but continued to gently stroke her daughter. He watched.

  “I thought I knew what it was to give birth, but being here, just me helping you do this.” He paused, searching for the next words. “It is truly one life forging another, until it is two.”

  There was a long pause. His thoughts then returned to the practical—better go outside and fetch more firewood.

  “I still want you to take her.” Zoe eyes remained shut. “Okay?”

  Relief and disappointment warred within him. “I thought you might change your mind. You've been through a lot.”

  “No. Nothing's changed, but it's important to me that you take her.” She looked at him. “Okay?”

  She seemed truly sincere.

  “Of course,” he soothed. “She's beautiful.”

  #

  “We need to make a list,” pronounced Zoe.

  Over the last few days, Zoe and Harry had kicked around various names. The search proved futile. The day had arrived when she felt too much time was going by. A name was needed.

  “As you wish. There’s a pen in the gun case. There’s also an envelope in there. You can write on it.”

  She got them out and held up the envelope. It was blank on both sides. “That’s handy.”

  “Just someone I was going to stay with in Denver. Someone Carol knows.”

  Harry was holding the baby in his arms, moving his torso back and forth. He did his best to rock the sleepy child. They began yet another brainstorming session, agreeing that this would be the final discussion and that they’d quit only when they arrived at her name.

  “I’ve tossed out every name I know. You never like any of them.”

  “They just don’t resonate.”

  He sighed. “By the way, how’s she doing?”

  She glanced at the most perfect face she’d ever seen, nuzzled into Harry’s chest. New feelings stirred deep inside, feelings she pushed away.

  “She’s asleep.”

  “Let’s just name her ‘She.’ I’m sort of getting used to it,” said Harry.

  “Come on, another name.”

  Harry stroked his shaggy beard into a point. “Gertrude.”

  She jotted it down and immediately crossed it out.

  “Next.”

  “Maybe the problem is that you need meaning behind the name. How about naming her after your mother?”

  “Yikes. That’d be creepy.”

  “How about a character from a movie. Did you like Thelma and Louise?”

  “Right. Two messed up women that drive themselves over a cliff.”

  She glanced at her little girl. “I should just sign her up for therapy now.”

  “Okay, don’t add them.” He waved a hand in the air. “Name a movie that spoke to you, that warmed your heart.” He snickered. “My turn to shoot ’em down.”

  “Hmmm. I liked the Russian poet Yuri—an idealist—in Doctor Zhivago. He and Lara had a perfect love.”

  He snapped his fingers. “I know the movie. I watched it with Pam. She cried buckets of tears. I remember their longing to simply spend time near each other.” He nodded as he spoke. “Love is when a moment away seems like such a long, long time. There was one scene in particular, when they touched and fell into a passionate embrace. I was holding Pam in my arms. I’ll always remember it.”

  She appraised him with something like shock. “Harry, you really have a romantic streak.” Her open mouthed turned upward. “I want that for my daughter. Lara it is.”

  She wrote it down and circled the choice.

  “Sounds too Russian,” he said.

  “Well then…Laura.”

  “And so it is.” This time he took the stone, adding Laura’s name to their cave drawing, letter by letter.

  Chapter 7

  Harry sat stoking the fire early one morning. He had had a bad dream and though groggy, could not get back to sleep. The fire had dwindled and he reached for another log, setting it on top. This woke Zoe, who rubbed her eyes and immediately leaned over to check on Laura. She was still fast asleep.

  “Have you been up for a while?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Had a bad dream and then couldn’t sleep.”

  “Do you want to talk?”

  “No, no.” He shook his head. But after a moment, went on anyway. “I dreamt about Scott. Nothing special, but it woke me. I was thinking that he deserved a proper burial. I don’t want to just leave him out there.”

  “There? You know where the wreck is?”

  “Maybe. When I was out hunting I came to rocky area…I mean huge boulders, and looked up. I think I saw the ledge where we crashed.”

  “Did you see the plane?” Her voice was soft.

  “No. Hardly. I couldn’t get a good view. Imagine a pile of boulders each the size of a house, covered with snow and ice. It didn’t even dawn on me to try to descend into that, but this morning after the dream, I can’t stop thinking I should.”

  “Aww Harry, I know how much Scott meant to you, but don’t.”

  He hadn’t expected an objection, so he waited for further explanation.

  “Don’t you get it. Look at Laura.” She took a moment to glance at the baby herself. “Look at me. If you got hurt, what do you think would happen to us?”

  “I’d be careful, but I think I have to try.” Harry turned to the door with the morning light now streaming through.

  “You can’t.” Zoe said, her voice cracking. “You have an obligation.” Her chin jutted out. “That’s right. An obligation. To us.” The ruckus awakened Laura and she started crying.

  “I will not be told what I can and cannot do.” He got up and marched to the door. Zoe picked up Laura, trying to comfort her. Harry took the opportunity and ducked out.

  It wasn’t long before he found himself in a dense wood, the boulder area lying just ahead. Something inside called on him to stop. The wind howled and he glanced up to the towering snow covered mountain.

  Suddenly, he heard something. He took a step back. Adrenalin shot through his veins and his every sense was heightened. He heard it again, and he took two more steps back, turned and with haste, hiked back.

  Opening the door, he entered the cave. Zoe was still at the fire, nursing and didn’t ackno
wledge him. He sat down where he had started. Finally, she looked up and glared. However, he was in no mood to argue.

  “What happened? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

  “I heard a voice.” He adjusted his coat. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I heard it twice.”

  “A voice?”

  “Yes,” he said in a breaking voice. “It was Scott.”

  “He’s alive?” Zoe looked ready to jump to her feet.

  Harry turned to her, shaking his head. “The wind was howling. I had stopped, debating whether I should try to bury Scott. Then the wind died down. I heard Scott say ‘no’, as clearly as you hear me now. I almost peed in my pants, but then doubted it. I heard him again, that’s when I came back.” His shoulders slumped and his eyes shifted to Laura’s face. “You’re right. Scott reminded me—you guys are what matter. You don’t pick your obligations, you’re handed them.”

  #

  Zoe had awakened but not yet opened her eyes. So many weeks had gone by, she had stopped counting them. Nonetheless, an excitement was brewing. The days had gotten increasingly longer and spring was in the air: melting snow, birds chirping, buds on the trees. The memory and physical toll of giving birth was fading.

  Hearing Harry open the door, she got up and walked over. It had happened. Freedom had arrived. The deep snow was mostly gone.

  Harry was the first to put it into words. “We can leave, any time.”

  Zoe turned and hugged him.

  Without allowing another minute to pass, she went back and laid out a carrying pouch for Laura. She had made recently from one of the blankets. Though this day had been anticipated, she found herself shaking with glee at the thought of actually going home.

  Harry too, she knew, was especially excited. He had begun repeatedly describing with great heart the day he would bring Laura home. It always choked him up—and Zoe, too, if she were willing to admit it.

  He knelt over Laura, where she kicked her legs under a blanket. “Carol will love you as if you were her own, and I have already loved you for…” He looked away searching. “For…well, certainly before you were born. Before I sang my first lullaby to you, before I first felt you inside your mother's belly. I guess I started loving you from the moment you needed me. And it has only grown stronger.”

  He reached down, stroking Laura's soft face and few strands of hair, and peered into her eyes. Zoe watched, unable to look away. “Is it okay, Laura, if I love you, so very, very much?”