Chapter 3 - Code Blue in Charleston
Caleb answered the call on the second ring. He didn't say a word. He just held the phone to his ear, his breathing heavy and dark.
"Caleb, darling!" Lorraine's smooth, cultured voice washed through the receiver, dripping with false warmth. "Are you back from your trip yet? I've been trying to reach you all morning. I am just so worried about you."
"Why are you worried, Mother?" Caleb asked, his voice terrifyingly calm, devoid of any emotion.
"Oh, sweetheart... it’s about Hannah," Lorraine sighed, a theatrical note of pity in her tone. "I didn't want to tell you, but I feel it is my duty as your mother. I went by your house earlier to drop off some fresh soup for her, and... well, there was a man there, Caleb. A very handsome young man with a leather bag. They were upstairs for a very long time. I took a photo because I knew you wouldn't believe me. I sent it to your phone. Have you seen it?"
Caleb looked down at his blood-stained jeans. He could feel the cold rage circulating through his veins like liquid nitrogen.
"Yes, Mother. I saw the photo," Caleb said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
"Oh, my poor boy," Lorraine cooed. "I know how devastating this must be for you. But don't worry, your mother is here. You can pack your bags and come stay with me. We can get a good lawyer and put this whole messy chapter behind us. You deserve a woman who is faithful, not someone who uses a pregnancy to hide her little flings."
"Mother," Caleb interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm just at the country club, darling, having a light lunch with the girls. Why?"
"I want you to leave the country club," Caleb said, each word sharp as a scalpel. "And I want you to come to Harbor Regional Medical Center. Right now."
There was a brief, sharp pause on the other end of the line. For a second, Lorraine’s composure cracked. "The hospital? Why on earth would I go there?"
"Because Hannah is in emergency surgery," Caleb said, his voice finally cracking with raw emotion. "Her placenta detached. She has lost half her blood volume. And our baby daughter might not survive the hour."
"Oh... oh my goodness," Lorraine gasped, her voice instantly shifting back into its protective, motherly cadence. "That is terrible! But Caleb, darling, surely she's exaggerating the severity—"
"If you are not here in twenty minutes, Mother," Caleb whispered, "I will take the photograph you sent me, the voicemail Hannah left me, and the call logs showing seventeen missed calls while she was bleeding out, and I will hand them directly to the Charleston Police Department for reckless endangerment and attempted manslaughter."
He hung up before she could reply.
Caleb stood up and walked to the restroom. He turned on the faucet, watching the pink, bloody water swirl down the drain as he scrubbed his hands. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired, older, and deeply scarred by his own blindness. He had allowed his mother’s whispers to dictate his reality for far too long.
When he returned to the waiting room, a tall man in green surgical scrubs, his face pale and exhausted, stepped out of the operating double doors. It was Dr. Elias Morgan.
Caleb immediately stood up, his heart in his throat. "Dr. Morgan?"
The doctor looked at Caleb, noticing the blood on his shirt and the raw, desperate look in his eyes. "Are you Caleb Rowan?"
"Yes. I... I have your jacket," Caleb said, his voice trembling as he held out the grey wool coat. "Thank you for coming to the house. I... I didn't know."
Dr. Morgan took the jacket, his expression softening slightly, though his eyes remained incredibly grave. "Your wife is a very strong woman, Mr. Rowan. When she called our emergency line, she was already in severe shock. I happened to be only three blocks away on my lunch break, so I bypassed the dispatch and went straight to her. When I arrived, she was already losing consciousness."
"Is she... is she going to make it?" Caleb choked out.
Dr. Morgan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We managed to stabilize her blood pressure, but the blood loss was catastrophic. We had to perform an emergency classical cesarean delivery. Your daughter is currently in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). She is on a ventilator, and her oxygen levels are critical. The next twenty-four hours will determine if she survives."
Caleb felt his knees give way, and he had to grab the back of a plastic chair to keep from falling. "And Hannah?"
"She is in the recovery room, still unconscious. We are monitoring her for internal bleeding. You can see her for five minutes, but then you need to let her rest."
Caleb nodded dumbly. He followed the doctor down the quiet corridor, his heart breaking with every step. When he entered the recovery room, the sight of Hannah nearly tore him apart. She looked so small beneath the heavy hospital blankets, her face obscured by a plastic oxygen mask, a web of tubes and monitors connecting her to the machines that were keeping her alive.
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He knelt by her bedside, gently pressing his forehead against her hand.
"I'm here, Hannah," he sobbed, his tears wetting her cold skin. "I'm so sorry. I promise you, she will never touch us again. I will protect you. Just please, wake up."
