The elevator doors barely had time to let in a crack of light before Karen Simms barreled her way through toward the nurse's station of the Pediatrics Unit. Catching the familiar sight, a young nurse plunged around the desk to intercept the harried woman before she could reach the nursery.
"Karen, she's all ready gone," Patty, an RN on the floor said, catching the captain's arm.
"Oh no...." The desperate denial hissed from her lips. The baby had been so frail. So tiny. Getting stronger, but they had warned her. *Oh God...how can this happen?*
"NO! Karen, you don't understand!" Patty gasped at the misunderstanding she could read welling up in the woman's blue eyes.. "Carol Anne's in ICU. Come with me."
Using the momentum of her relief, Karen trotted down the hall behind the nurse. "What happened to her? It was just a little case of the sniffles." Yesterday. A simple runny nose. Karen had added an infant antihistamine to her list of baby supplies to be available when she brought her daughter home.
Her daughter. The image was concrete and as valid as the bond she felt with Todd. Her daughter. Belonging to her from that moment when another woman handed the infant off in the darkness of Christmas Eve.
Karen broke into a run toward the glassed urgency of the ICU.
Tapping nervously on the glass to announce their arrival, Patty then waved to the doctor hovering over Carol's prone little body. Craning her neck to get a glimpse of the infant, all Karen could see were the backs of nurses. All moving in quiet concert with one another. Securing intravenous lines. Administering medications. Each procedure accompanied by a gentle touch.
As the doctor backed away, the captain caught the frightening image of the sick child. Lying listless in a tiny hospital bed. Skin flushed and hands trembling intermittently. Karen felt herself wince in pain at the sight of an IV being slipped into the tender flesh of Carol Anne's head. An oxygen tent draped over her bed to frame the obvious life and death struggle beneath. Scanning the little body that had become so precious to her over the past few weeks, Karen could see the infant's entire stomach and chest area strain with each breath. A sign that it was taking all of the resources available within her fragile body to draw air into her lungs. *She needs me,* came to clear motivation through Karen's mind. This child needed her. Just like she had weeks ago, screaming in the cold, filthy night. Carol Anne had a connection with one human being on the face of this earth. That human being...that woman wouldn't relinquish her to anyone else. Not this time.
Just as Karen darted toward the door, Dr. Riley, the pediatric intensive care specialist emerged. She had been the first to treat Carol Anne weeks ago for exposure and the after effects of malnutrition and neglect. She had seen too many babies riddled with illness from drugs and mistreatment and had a fierce devotion to their survival.
The doctor interrupted Karen's determined advance with both hands on her forearms. "Wait, Karen," Dr. Riley yanked down her mask and lowered her tone to a softer volume. "Let me fill you in then you can go in."
"What's wrong? She had a cold. Just a cold. What changed to put her in here?" Karen drilled the doctor, slipping into interrogation mode out of habit.
Providing the information quickly, Dr. Riley answered while removing her gloves and gown. "Carol Anne's resistance is so low, Karen, that her cold developed into bronchitis. She began to wheeze and her difficulty in breathing is increasing. Because she stopped taking her bottle, dehydration is a problem and we're trying to get fluids into her intravenously."
Staring through the glass barrier at the tube flowing into that down covered head, she said in as even a tone as she could muster, "Is that why there's a needle in her....my baby's skull?"
Nodding, Dr. Riley answered, "Yes. It's the safest place to attach an IV in an infant this young. Less chance she'll pull it out."
"What are you doing to fix it?" Facts. Karen wanted facts and solutions.
"I checked her blood gasses and the oxygenation levels are very low," the doctor explained with factual punctuation of diagnosis and her response. "We have her on humidified oxygen to relieve the respiratory stress as much as possible. I'm waiting for the chest x-rays and blood tests to see if there's an indication of pneumonia. Her fever is climbing so we're trying Tylenol first and will move on to other drugs if needed."
*Be calm. Swallow the panic. It's useless to panic.* Karen quickly repeated the mantra over and over in her mind. Forcing the professional to rein in the screaming worry of motherhood. "Can I be with her?"
Dr. Riley softly patted her arm. "Of course you can. Carol Anne needs you now." Turning to the nurse, she instructed, "Let's get her suited up. Mask, gown, and gloves." Seeing that familiar frightened expression shared by all parents of critically ill children, the doctor offered what comfort she could. "Karen, she's going to get the best care we have to offer. We caught the deterioration early and started treatment quickly. Hopefully, this will clear up the lungs and we can get her out of ICU in a day."
Karen tried to hang onto the echo of faith telling her to believe. That voice still screaming out after years of muffling by the harsh reality of police work. That voice saying that every once in a while, innocence won and the person who deserved a break actually got one. A faint voice...but still trying to be heard.
After diving into the shroud of sterility, Karen eased beside the struggle little body needing her comfort. "Hello, little Christmas Carol," she whispered, choosing the tender nickname bestowed by a battered soldier on this tiny baby. "Mommy's here and you're going to be just fine."
Gently stroking the baby's beat red cheek through her latex covered fingers, the sheer magnitude of the fever was frightening. Carol lay in a fitful slumber under the shelter of an oxygenated cocoon. Fighting for air with every muscle.
*Not child of my body but child of my heart,* she repeated silently the sentiment of another mother that she'd read in the mounds of adoption information she'd gone through in her research process. If there had ever been a doubt, it was erased at that moment. Only the all consuming love for a child could fire such pain at their suffering. Suffering of their bodies like Carol Anne and suffering of their hearts like Todd.
*Todd.* She longed to know where he'd gone. Prayed he hadn't gotten on a plane home.
Giving herself a physical shake, she pulled herself away from that problem. Prioritizing. Focusing on one child at a time.
"I love you, sweetheart." Karen eased down into a chair that one of the nurses pushed in behind her and began her vigil.
*******
"Excuse me, ma'am. I'm Detective Griffin. I'm looking for--"
"Like we don't already know who you are, Detective," Patty replied to the dark green glasses facing her. They all knew the mysterious man who sneaked into the ward at off times to visit one tiny patient. "Captain Simms is in with Carol Anne now."
Kermit frowned briefly at being discovered. Not that he was ashamed. Just not quite ready to go public.
Todd had remained silent throughout the entire trip across town. Stifled by a mixture of shame and confusion. Now, he felt his own concern welling up. "I'm Todd Simms. Captain Simms is my mom. What's wrong with my....uh....that...uh...."
"What happened to the baby?" Kermit snapped with a tone seldom accustomed to denial.
"Let me get Karen for you," the nurse sidestepped the two men and slipped inside the isolation unit.
Shaded eyes glued to the glassed barriers of the pediatric ICU, the carefully controlled features of the detective gave away little of his concern. Only someone who knew him intimately, through life and death struggle, would catch the jaw clinched by a few too many pounds of pressure. His camouflage of slouch flattened into a straight line over the black leather spine.
Karen burst through the doors and read the anxiety instantly. Stopping short before grabbing hold of the comfort she needed, the woman dove into explanations. "It's bronchitis, Kermit. She's very sick and--"
"Good, I have you both together," Dr. Riley interrupted, arriving with a hand full of lab results. It had become a foregone notion that these two police officers were a unit in terms of her tiny patient. "Blood tests indicate acute bronchitis. I'm still waiting on the chest x-rays but we're continuing with the current course of treatment and I'm adding a steroid to her medications. It will help her bronchial passages relax and hopefully relieve the wheezing."
"Explain to me how this can happen right under your nose, Doctor. She was almost ready to go home and you people let her catch a cold? Here in this supposedly sterile environment?" The ex-mercenary's tone was sharp and intended to exact the appropriate amount of attrition from his target.
The accusations rolled off like water. Calmly, Dr. Riley continued. "Carol Anne is severely immunocompromised, Detective. Yes, she was improving but recovery from the sort of neglectful start this child had will likely continue for years. The withdrawal she went through the first few days was round one," she explained with clinical precision. "This bout is round two."
Todd Simms stood behind his mother's strange acquaintance, trying to stay out of the way while at the same time, trying to be part of this in some small way. His mother had yet to acknowledge him. A fact that began to ignite the anger of hours earlier.
"Todd..." Karen finally saw past her fear and noticed her son standing there. His face was still the rigid military mask it had been before. Betraying his still volatile emotions. "You're still here. I'm glad." She reached out a hand to him as Dr. Riley interrupted once again.
"Karen, we're going to treat her aggressively at this point. Careful temperature control, continue the IV rehydration, and apnea and blood gas monitoring."
"Apnea? English , please," Kermit continued to interrogate.
"Periods of time when she stops breathing."
The answer met dead silence.
"Detective," Dr. Riley softened in the glow of both fallen expressions, "Karen, we have a good jump on this incident. Don't get grim on me now."
Forcing her voice past the dry throat born of maternal panic, Karen asked, "Have you contacted child protective services, yet?" This was her child in spirit but legally, Carol Anne belonged to the state.
"Would you like to contact her social worker? We can go to my office down the hall and bring her up to date." Dr. Riley began and efficient assemblage of her arm load of data.
"I should call the precinct, too," she muttered to herself.
Turning to make a request, Karen Simms had an answer before the words took form. "I'll go be with her until you get back." Without waiting for a response, Kermit Griffin went in to stand guard.
The sullen figure of Todd Simms stood alone beside his obviously shaken mother as the doctor directed Kermit toward the ICU. He had never seen her like this. That day at the academy, months ago, when she had actively rejoined his life, she had been emotional. Clutching at him as the tearful reunion enveloped them both. Then, the weeks passed by, measured in weekend meetings and phone calls. Karen Simms was precision and clarity. Logically stating her case and trying to learn about all the details of his life in compressed bursts.
The image now before him was a rattled and tattered version of the starched police captain he knew as mother. *This devoted to someone she'd only known for a few weeks.* His thoughts cleared as a cool hand grasped his.
Reaching past the earlier hurt, she tried to express her gratitude. "Thank you for being here. Will you stay?"
Nodding dumbly, Todd excused his mother and watched as she trotted down the hall. Not welcome in the ICU and uninvited to follow his mother, Todd perched awkwardly on a hard plastic chair to await the next act.
****
"Hi, little bit," the man crooned into Carol Anne's tiny ear. From the first day, when he'd bullied his way in to see her under the ruse of "inspecting evidence", his voice had always earned a smile. A silly toothless grin that he couldn't resist. The fact that this little, thing who'd been valued less than a broken bottle by her own flesh and blood, could feel joy was an amazing to one battle weary man.
Today, there was no smile. No frantic pumping of arms. No welcome. The absolute surrender of this child was unnerving, even for Kermit Griffin.
Sliding one large hand beneath her flaming cheek, Kermit cradled her face and tried to keep his voice from breaking. "Now, Christmas Carol, I know you're not going to deprive me of my good luck charm. Your mommy and I have actually had two whole dates without being kidnapped since you came along!"
Dates spent talking about this child and second chances.
"Look, girlie," he leaned in under the tent, "you've got me, okay? I'm hooked. All that eyelash batting you've been doing worked it's magic." Swallowing deeply, he whispered, "You just get better and Kermit guarantee's he'll make you the number one most spoiled kid in this town." Smiling down on her, he held one tiny hand in his own. "Just ask Mitch and Jason. I should have 'sucker' tattooed on my forehead. You can be added to the list. It's an offer you can't refuse."
Carol Anne sighed slightly in her feverish dreams, snuggling into his palm. That response was all he needed. "You know, I never told you but I had a little boy once," he confessed in a whisper. "Back then, his mother and I weren't able to be good parents so we gave him to people who would make a family for him. But, I missed him every day." Straining through hopes he had let go years past for that little boy, he said, "But maybe, now that I'm a little smarter, I can try again. What do you think, sweetcakes?"
"I think that you would have made a wonderful father." Karen's words came in a hushed whisper into the dark man's ear. Eavesdropping hadn't been her intention. But, seeing this formidable man, wrapped in green hospital scrubs, masked and gloved and crooning confessions and promises to a sick child, drew her like a magnet.
Stiffening slightly, Kermit withdrew gently and backed away. "It's not like she can actually understand me." The covering was automatic. He did it now without even thinking.
"I think she knows a tender heart when she hears one," Karen replied, smiling behind her mask. "As do I." Gloved hands touched lightly, mingling their fingers in an almost reflexive gesture.
Removing his glasses, the man bared his dark eyes for her inspection. "Karen, I don't know what I can offer you. I'm not sure what's left to--"
"You don't have to make any promises, Kermit." She squeezed the hand tighter.
"All I'm certain of is that I want to be part of this even though I don't know how at this point. I want to be here for you and her. But, it seems almost selfish. What I can offer doesn't seem equal to what I'd be getting." He felt the strength of her grip on his hand tighten. The grip on his heart tightened as well.
"You're here. Now. That's all that matters," Karen breathed as she took the struggling man in a warm embrace. Understanding the power behind his offerings, she gladly accepted the strength floating between the lines. "We'll figure the rest out as we go." To his crooked grin, she added, "And, Detective, what you have to offer is priceless."
In that moment, there were no expectations or demands. Only what was. It needed no formal definitions of paperwork. Karen flashed quickly over the past two years spent in an odd tango of reaching out and pulling away. Both connecting and disconnecting in different rhythms....at first. Lately, they had found themselves in sinc. She wasn't able to pinpoint the time of the change, only acknowledge that it had occurred. It was right. For once, she'd stopped questioning the appropriateness of the relationship and decided to enjoy it.
Maybe Carol Anne had made the difference. Karen, still holding the detective's hand, walked back over to begin their watch anew over the infant's struggle. Kermit followed without being asked.
Another hour passed. Then another. Side by side, they watched the tiny girl whimper and struggle for air. Once, the weary little body erupted into a short spasm of convulsions from the intense fever. Horrifying for the adults but treated as no unusual occurrence by the nurses who carefully tended the baby as she calmed and dropped back into a fitful sleep.
The heat was still raging up from her battle when a calm voice broke the hushed tension of their vigil. Dr. Riley called to the two adults. "Come outside for a moment, please."
With the thick metal clipboard that held Carol Anne's chart in hand, the physician gathered the two caretakers together for another conference. Todd Simms, no more than a quiet shadow to the group, watched from his chair in the corner.
Trying not to frighten, only inform, the doctor said, "She's getting worse. The wheezing has increased. She's having more difficulty getting the air in and out. There's been one episode of apnea which luckily was isolated. We're still battling the dehydration and that last febrile seizure demonstrates to me that we have got to treat her fever with stronger medication."
Pausing for a breath, she explained further. "The chest x-rays show a segmental collapse in one lung. Pneumonia. And I'm very concerned that any further digression will lead to more serious respiratory distress."
"You mean she could die. Right?" Kermit said the words. He had to have it spelled out in plain English.
"She's in serious condition, Detective. She's weak and yes, though we haven't run out of treatment options by a long shot," the doctor put on her professional mask, "her life is in danger at this point. Her fever isn't breaking and I'm afraid of a secondary bacterial infection complicating things."
"Give me those options," Karen asked, flatly. She knew how desperately ill the baby was. She didn't care to hear the problems unaccompanied by solutions.
Dr. Riley supplied the information. "The CBC and blood gases show her oxygenation level is still far too low. First, I'm going to try a few alternate medications. Something stronger for the temperature, antibiotics to fight any opportunistic infections, and a drug called Ribavirin delivered through her the humidified oxygen under the tent. It's synthetic antiviral agent that can reduce the severity of bronchiolitis."
"And if that doesn't help?" Kermit could feel the tight grip Karen maintained on his hand clench at the thought.
"If I don't see some marked improvement within the next, say two to three hours, I'm going to intubate her and put her on a ventilator for a while. Maybe sooner if she deteriorates." To the shocked expressions at the mention of a ventilator, she quickly explained. "It'll give her lungs a chance to rest by forcing the oxygen in without her having to expend any energy. Give her a chance to focus her strength against the pneumonia."
Todd had observed silently through the exchange. Inching closer, he now stood as his mother's elbow. He saw the emotional clasp of hands between his mother and her friend. "Friend" was the only word he could think of for the strange man who seems to obsessively back up her every move.
"Karen," the doctor's demeanor took a more personal turn from that of physician to friend, "I don't want to cause you any more grief but you should understand something here and now. Carol Anne may always be frail. Given the drug use of her birth mother and the lack of care she received before and directly after her birth, health problems may come with the package as well as learning disabilities that could be hidden for years before presenting themselves." Taking the woman's free hand, she said quietly, "Think about this crisis, Karen. It won't be the last. Are you certain you want to sign up for this?"
Todd watched his mother's emotions play over her face. Hurt. Worry. Even fear. Why would anyone volunteer for this? From all his information, he'd been a healthy kid with no problems and she had turned him over to his father. Taking on this kid didn't make sense. Surely, this episode would scare her off.
There were no tears. No wavering syllables of doubt. Karen Simms' voice reacted with strength and conviction. Without hesitation, she replied to the concerned warning, "I'll take her any way she is. She's mine all ready."
The statement ignited a volatile response from the young man at her side. He didn't understand it. Why would she open herself up like this to a kid with so many defects when he'd tried to be so perfect and she'd let him go? The selfish adolescent anger erupted once again. "Is that it?! To get your devotion, you have to be broken?"
The tension churned inside the tired, frustrated woman. Spinning around in a blur of anger, Karen Simms peeled off the kid gloves she'd used on her son since their strained reunion. Stabbing one long finger into the brittle young man's chest, she changed the rules of engagement between them.
"Listen, you self-centered brat! I've spent the past few months groveling and begging for your glowing endorsement that I'm worthy to be your mother." To her son's recognizable flinch, he continued the attack. "That stops HERE! I love you and anything I did, screw up or not, was FOR you and not TO you. It was a mistake but I'll not spend the rest of my life and yours being your punching bag!" Grabbing his shocked chin and turning it toward the ICU, she shouted, "That little girl needs someone and that someone is me. Be part of it if you like. Or don't. You decide. But know this...I won't turn away from this child no matter what you or anyone else thinks."
Quickly smoothing herself back under control, Karen shoved her stragling hair back from her face and returned to her watch beside the baby. Leaving the doctor, Kermit, and her son to stare after her.
Dr. Riley quickly evacuated herself from the private squabbles to the sanctuary of her office. Finding himself the lone observer of Karen Simms victim, Kermit took his opening. Carefully replacing the shades he had removed during the conference over Carol Anne's condition, he noted, "Some sledge hammers shouldn't be ignored, kid."
Lightly brushing the young man as he passed, Kermit left him to ponder and followed Karen back to the more serious battle at hand.
For a moment, Todd Simms was immobilized. Part shock, part humiliation. The ringing slap of his mother's words deafening him in the midst of the constant hospital buzz. She made it crystal clear how the present was prioritized. *EXACTLY like the past!*
Boiling fury ate away at his gut. Finally shaking himself from his stupor, the jilted son pounded his way blindly through the halls. Cutting the fragile ties with every step. Burying himself inside the elevator, his hurt and rejection no longer smoldered. Igniting into a flame that fed on year after year of his own blame.
Looking at his reflection in the polished metal elevator doors, Todd allowed himself an angry laugh. A laugh for all the years he wondered what was wrong with him. Was he not smart enough or good enough for his mother to want him like all the other mothers? But it wasn't him after all! It WAS her!
The doors opened to spit him out into the lobby. It was her all along. She dumped him for her career and now when she wanted to play the martyr, she found some piece of an orphan to make her look like the one great icon of motherhood. *Damn her!* She could leave him to fend and scrap up someone else who wouldn't question her credentials as a parent.
Diving out into the frozen air, he searched for a cab. He'd get the hell out of this town and away from her. She wanted a weakling! Not an adult who would make her answer for what she had done. Captain Karen Simms. Karen the Great. *Screw you!*
A yellow cab pulled up at his feet. Digging his icy hands down into his jacket pockets, Todd jerked open the door to get out of the light dusting of snow that had begun to fall.
"Where to, kid?" the cabby flipped on the meter and waited for instructions.
Squirming his hands around inside the pocket, something felt strange. Too much room. Shifting attention from his pyramid of hurt, Todd finally realized what was wrong. No wallet.
"Shit! My wallet's gone!" he yelped to the stranger.
In disgust, the cabby shut down his meter. "This ain't no charity chariot, kid. Out you go!"
Embarrassed, the young man got quickly out of the cab. Retracing his steps would lead him back into the vicinity of him mother. Not preferable, but it couldn't be helped. Walking slowly back through the lobby and onto the elevator, Todd swallowed his disappointment at the complete destruction of his perfect exit from his mother's life. The doors opened to deposit him once again before the Pediatric ICU.
*Look around and get out,* he instructed, making a quick search of the waiting area. Not finding his wallet, he walked briskly toward the nurse's station. Maybe someone had turned it in.
The trip took him past the glassed section holding his mother's new project. *Keep walking.*
It was like passing a magnet dressed in armor. The scene drew him in spite of his hurt. The baby....what was her name?...Carol Anne....was resting inside some plastic tent. Eyes clamped tight. Pouting lower lip trembling.
He could see her through the blinds that were slanted open on the windows. Wincing at the IV needle threaded through that small head, he looked at her for the first time. The tiny face was beet red. The heat nearly waved out through the glass to touch him.
His mother stood beside the raised crib, gently holding the baby's hand. Occasionally, she would stroke her fingers over those red hot cheeks. Kermit stood behind her. One hand resting on Karen's shoulder. Back up. A unit.
A unit. A family.
With the Simms clan, his family, the focus was on accomplishment. Discipline. They loved him. But was it contingent on the accomplishment? Was it like that? Like what he saw behind the glass. *How would you know? You've never fallen short. Always the winner. The A+. Top of the class.*
"Todd?" Dr. Riley interrupted the parade of silent exploration. "Sorry to be so familiar, but I think I know you from the way your mother talked about you." The woman stood quietly beside him. A kindly, beside-manner sort of stance.
Jerking himself erect, Todd turned toward the doctor. None of them had bothered to address him before. After all, he wasn't really a part of the proceedings. "No, it's fine." Curiosity got the better of him, and he bit. "She talked about me?"
Smiling at the interest she had sparked, Dr. Riley answered, "A great deal. When Carol Anne first came here, Karen spend many an hour taking 'rocking duty.' Withdrawal was a rough process for her. For both of them." She paused to hopefully let the picture sink into his mind. "Carol Anne needed warmth and touching and Karen would rock her and talk to me or the nurses. Mostly about you. Things about when you were a baby. Colic. Mother stuff."
Remaining stiff and formal, the young man absorbed the information with superfiscial indifference. "How is she? Carol Anne, I mean."
"We'll have to wait and see," she replied, patting the boy's arm. "If you're going to stick around, I could keep you posted?"
"Ugh..." he looked quickly back at the scene behind the glass. "Maybe I'll stay for a while." He wasn't completely heartless. The kid hadn't done anything to him. It was his mother he had the problem with, not that baby.
"Good," Dr. Riley chimed, feeling relieved that her meddling hadn't met active resistance. "Waiting rooms can be uncomfortable places, Todd. Lots of silence. Lots of time to examine your head. I'll try to keep you updated."
Leaving the observation behind, Todd traveled over to the hard plastic chairs to resume the wait. And the thinking.
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