sidneysheldon.astrangerinthemirror-第5章
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There was a silence。
〃Hello！ Are you there？〃
〃I'm here； Toby。〃 Something in his father's voice chilled Toby。
〃Where's Mom？〃
〃They took her to the hospital last night。〃 Toby clutched the receiver so hard that it almost broke in his fist。
〃What happened to her？〃
〃The doctor said it was a heart attack。〃
Nol Not his mother！ 〃She's going to be all right；〃 Toby demanded。 〃Isn't she？〃 He was screaming into the mouthpiece。 〃Tell me she's going to be all right； goddam you！〃
From a million miles away he could hear his father crying。 〃She she died a few hours ago； son。〃
The words washed over Toby like white…hot lava； burning him； scalding him； until his body felt as though it were on fire。 His father was lying。 She couldn't be dead。 They had a pact。 Toby was going to be famous and his mother was going to be at his side。 There was a beautiful penthouse waiting for her； and a limousine and chauffeur and furs and diamonds。。。 He was sobbing so hard he could not breathe。
He heard the distant voice saying； 〃Toby！ Toby！〃
〃I'm on my way home。 When is the funeral？〃
〃Tomorrow；〃 his father said。 〃But you mustn't e here。 They'll be expecting you； Toby。 Eileen is going to have her baby soon。 Her father wants to kill you。 They'll be looking for you at the funeral。〃
So he could not even say good…bye to the only person in the world he loved。 Toby lay in his bed all that day； remembering。 The images of his mother were so vivid and alive。 She was in the kitchen； cooking； telling him what an important man he was going to be； and at the theater； sitting in the front row and calling out； 〃Mein Himmel！ What a talented boy！〃 And laughing at his imitations and jokes。 And packing his suitcase。 When you're a famous star； you'll send for me。 He lay there； numbed with grief； thinking； I'll never forget this day。 Not as long as I live。 August the fourteenth； 1939。 This is the most important day of my life。
He was right。 Not because of the death of his mother but because of an event that was taking place in Odessa； Texas； fifteen hundred miles away。
* * *
The hospital was an anonymous four…storey building； the color of charity。 Inside was a rabbit warren of cubicles designed to diagnose sickness； alleviate it； cure it or sometimes bury it。 It was a medical supermarket； and there was something there for everyone。 It was four a。m。； the hour of quiet death or fitful sleep。
A time for the hospital staff to have a respite before girding for the battles of another day。 The obstetrical team in Operating Room 4 was in trouble。 What had started out as a routine delivery had suddenly turned into an emergency。 Up until the actual delivery of the baby of Mrs。 Karl Czinski； everything had been normal。 Mrs。 Czinski was a healthy woman in her prime； with wide peasant hips that were an obstetrician's dream。 Accelerated contractions had begun； and things were moving along according to schedule。 〃Breech delivery；〃 Dr。 Wilson； the obstetrician； announced。 The words caused no alarm。 Although only three percent of births are breech deliveries the lower part of the infant emerging first they are usually handled with ease。 There are three types of breech deliveries： spontaneous； where no help is required； assisted； where the obstetrician lends nature a hand； and a plete 〃breakup〃； where the baby is wedged in the mother's womb。
Dr。 Wilson noted with satisfaction that this was going to be a spontaneous delivery； the simplest kind。 He watched the baby's feet emerge； followed by two small legs。 There was another contraction from the mother； and the baby's thighs appeared。 〃We're almost there；〃 Dr。 Wilson said encouragingly。 〃Bear down once more。〃 Mrs。 Czinski did。 Nothing happened。 He frowned。 〃Try again。 Harder。〃 Nothing。 Dr。 Wilson placed his hands on the baby's legs and tugged； very gently。 There was no movement。 He squeezed his hand past the baby； through the narrow passage into the uterus； and began to explore。 Beads of perspiration suddenly appeared on his forehead。 The maternity nurse moved close to him and mopped his brow。
〃We've got a problem；〃 Dr。 Wilson said； in a low voice。
Mrs。 Czinski heard。 〃What's wrong？〃 she asked。
〃Everything's fine。〃
Dr。 Wilson reached in farther； gently trying to push the infant downward。 It would not budge。 He could feel the umbilical cord pressed between the baby's body and the maternal pelvis； cutting off the baby's air supply。
〃Fetoscope！〃 The maternity nurse reached for the instrument and applied it to the mother's belly； listening for the baby's heartbeat。
〃It's down to thirty；〃 she reported。 〃And there's marked arrhythmia。〃
Dr。 Wilson's fingers were inside the mother's body； like remote antennae of his brain； probing； searching。 〃I'm losing the fetal heartbeat 〃 There was alarm in the maternity nurse's voice。
〃It's negative！〃 They had a dying baby inside the womb。 There was still a slim chance that the baby could be revived if they could get it out in time。 They had a maximum of four minutes to deliver it； dear its lungs and get its tiny heart beating again。 After four minutes； brain damage would be massive and irreversible。 〃Clock it；〃 Dr。 Wilson ordered。 Everyone in the room instinctively glanced up as the electric clock on the wall clicked to the twelve o'clock position； and the large red second hand began making its first sweep。 The delivery team went to work。 An emergency respiratory tank was wheeled to the table while Dr。 Wilson tried to dislodge the infant from the pelvic floor。 He began the Bracht maneuver； trying to shift the infant around； twisting its shoulders so that it could clear the vaginal opening。 It was useless。 A student nurse； participating in her first delivery； felt suddenly ill。 She hurried out of the room。 Outside the door of the operating room stood Karl Czinski； nervously kneading his hat in his large； calloused hands。 This was the happiest day of his life。 He was a carpenter； a simple man who believed in early marriage and large families。 This child would be their first； and it was all he could do to contain his excitement。 He loved his wife very much； and he knew that without her he would be lost。
He was thinking about his wife as the student nurse came rushing out of the delivery room； and he called to her； 〃How is she？〃
The distraught young nurse； her mind preoccupied with the baby； cried； 〃She's dead； she's dead！〃 and hurried away to be sick。
Mr。 Czinski's face went white。 He clutched his chest and began gasping for air。 By the time they got him to the emergency ward； he was beyond help。
Inside the delivery room； Dr。 Wilson was working francally； racing the clock。 He could reach inside and touch the umbilical cord and feel the pressure against it； but there was no way to release it。 Every impulse in him screamed for him to pull the half…delivered baby out by force； but he had seen what happened to babies that had been delivered that way。 Mrs。 Czinski was moaning now； half delirious。 〃Bear down； Mrs。 Czinski。 Harder！ e on！〃 It was no use。
Dr。 Wilson glanced up at the clock。 Two precious minutes were gone； without any blood circulating through the baby's brain。 Dr。 Wilson faced another problem： what was he going to do if the baby were saved after the four minutes had elapsed？ Let it live and bee a vegetable？ Or let it have a merciful； quick death？ He put the thought out of his mind and began to move faster。 Closing his eyes； working by touch； all his concentration focused on what was happening inside the woman's body。 He tried the MauriceauSmellieVeit maneuver； a plicated series of moves designed to loosen and free the baby's body。 And suddenly there was a shift。 He felt it begin to move。 〃Piper forceps！〃 The maternity nurse swiftly handed him the special forceps and Dr。 Wilson reached in and placed them around the baby's head。 A moment later the head emerged。 The baby was delivered。 This was always the instant of glory； the miracle of a newly created life； red…faced and bawling； plaining of the indignity of being forced out of that quiet； dark womb into the light and the cold。 But not this baby。 This baby was blue…white and still。 It was a female。 The clock。 A minute and a half left。 Every move was sw
