The Secret That Broke Us novel · Chapter 1 of 32
Chapter 1: 2:14 A.M.
June takes a highway call from a woman in labor and recognizes her husband's voice, then her best friend's scream. She talks him through reviving the baby, finishes the call, and leaves him that night.
At 2:14 a.m. the line lit up, and I picked it up before the second ring.
"911, what's the address of your emergency?"
"Highway 61, north of Two Harbors." A man's voice, ragged and fast. "My wife is having a baby. It's coming now."
I was thirty-three weeks pregnant, and I had one hand flat on my belly.
It had taken four years and six failed rounds to get that belly.
I had answered thousands of calls from strangers on the worst night of their lives.
I knew how to keep my voice level.
"Okay, sir. Stay with me. Is she lying down?"
"On the back seat. The head's out. Oh God, baby, please, I love you, stay with me."
My fingers stopped on the keyboard.
The voice was familiar, and I told myself it couldn't be.
Nate was in Minneapolis at a claims conference. He'd texted me at 11:40: Dinner ran long. Going to bed. Kiss the bean for me.
Then the woman screamed.
"Nate! Nate, hold on to me!"
I knew that scream.
It was Kristin.
She was my best friend since seventh grade and my maid of honor.
For four years she had come to my house every night to give me my injections, because my hands shook too much to do it myself.
The only round I did alone was the seventh, while she was in Tucson at her cousin's wedding.
That was the round that took.
I sat very still.
Two desks over, Lena looked up from her screen and frowned at me.
"Sir," I said. "Is the baby out?"
"Yes. Yes, it's out. It's blue. It's not crying, it's not breathing."
He was crying so hard I could barely follow him.
I made my voice flatter and slower, because someone had to be the calm one.
"Lay the baby on something flat. Your jacket, the seat, anything. Is the baby on its back?"
"Yes."
"Put two fingers in the middle of the chest, just below the nipple line. Push down about an inch and a half. I'll count. One, two, three, four."
On my second headset I toned out Medic 4.
"Medic 4, respond to Highway 61 north of Two Harbors. Newborn not breathing. CPR in progress."
"Medic 4 copy," a man answered. "Rolling now."
In my other ear, my husband was pushing on his daughter's chest.
I counted out loud for him.
"Five, six, seven, eight. Keep going. Don't stop. Nine, ten."
Behind him Kristin was sobbing his name over and over.
Nate, Nate, Nate.
My hands didn't shake.
I don't know how.
"Thirty compressions, then two small breaths over the nose and mouth. Tip the head back a little. Do it with me."
"I can't," he said. "June, I can't, I don't know how."
He had said my name.
He knew exactly who was counting for him.
I kept my voice exactly where it was.
"You can. You are doing it right now. One, two, three, four."
I counted to thirty. I told him how to breathe for her. I counted to thirty again.
Then the line filled with a thin, furious wail, and Kristin laughed and screamed at the same time.
I put my head down on the desk for exactly as long as it took to breathe once.
Lena's hand was on my shoulder.
I sat back up.
"Sir, keep the baby warm. Skin to skin, under your jacket. Medic 4 is four minutes out."
"June," he said again, very quietly. "June, please."
I didn't answer him.
"Sir, I'm going to stay on the line until they reach you."
The line was quiet except for the baby and the engine of an ambulance getting closer.
A man's voice said, "Medic 4, on scene, I've got her." Then boots, a door, and a flat, practiced voice asking who was the father.
Nate said, "Me."
I ended the call.
I typed the incident number into my log.
I wrote the time, 2:31, and my own badge number beside it.
"Lena," I said. "I need to go home."
She didn't ask me anything.
She just said, "Go. I've got your board."
The house was dark when I got there.
His boots weren't by the door. His pillow was cold and smooth.
I took a suitcase out of the closet and packed my scrubs, my pregnancy pillow, my charger, and the folder with my medical records.
Then I took off my wedding ring.
I set it on the kitchen counter and wrote on the whiteboard on the fridge, under his grocery list.
I was the dispatcher.
So I left.
I was at the end of the driveway, with the suitcase in the back seat, when an unknown number called my phone.
"Is this June?" A tired man's voice. "This is Ben Radke, Medic 4. The baby's breathing. Both of them are okay."
"Thank you," I said.
"There's one more thing." He cleared his throat. "The mother asked me to tell you she's sorry."
My hands were on the steering wheel and they were steady.
"She said she knew you'd be the one to answer."
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