passenger. Maggie’s face was contorted with pain, and she clutched her swollen belly. “Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“What do you think’s wrong?” Michael asked, unfastening his seat belt. “The woman’s in labor.”
Maggie took a few gasping breaths. “Your friend’s right. My water just broke. Better skip the doctor and head straight for the hospital.”
Wendy’s hands started shaking. She’d had some odd experiences as a personal shopper, but she’d never delivered a pregnant woman to the hospital before. “Which hospital?”
“Presbyterian,” Maggie answered. “Please, hurry. My babies come quick, and this one feels impatient—oh!”
“Take Central,” Michael ordered. “On second thought, I’ll drive. You take care of Mrs. Courtland.”
He had such authority in his voice that Wendy didn’t offer any argument. She threw the van into Park, unfastened her seat belt, and climbed into the back.
Michael scooted behind the wheel, shifted the seat back, and had the van in motion in seconds flat.
“Don’t take Central Expressway,” Wendy said as she helped Maggie lie down on the back seat, using a wadded-up denim jacket as a pillow. “The construction is murder. Take Oak Lawn to Walnut Hill.”
“Too many lights and school zones,” Michael argued. “This time of day there won’t be much traffic on the freeway. It’ll be faster.”
“There’s always traffic!”
Maggie, in the throes of another contraction, gave a strangled cry.
“Michael, she’s having another contraction!” Wendy said. “She just had one.”
Maggie gripped Wendy’s arm. “It’ll be all right, Wendy,” she said, though her eyes were a little wild. “My babies always pop out without any problem. I’ve got good hips, my doctor says.”
“You’re not reassuring me. I can’t deliver a baby, Maggie. So just hold it in till we get to the hospital.”
Maggie shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, friend. I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve been having contractions for over an hour.” Her face contorted in pain, and when the contraction released her, she actually screamed. “Wendy! The baby’s coming. He’s not fooling around. Help me get my clothes off.”
Fighting off hysteria, Wendy did as Maggie instructed.
“You’re having it right now?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” Maggie replied, panting now. “We should find, you know, something to wrap him in when he gets here.”
“Newspaper!” Wendy said. “I saw that in a movie once. Newspapers are sanitary.” She leaned over the back seat and rooted around until she found the paper she’d picked up from her porch that morning and tossed in back, unread. There it was, still rolled into its pink plastic bag.
She was vaguely aware of the van turning onto the Central Expressway access road. “Don’t get on Central,” she said to Michael again, but he didn’t listen. Why did men always think they were smarter when it came to driving? She spent eight hours a day in her car running all over town. She
knew
what routes were faster.
“Look, see? Almost no traffic.”
Wendy raised up and looked out the windshield. The lanes ahead did look pretty clear, until they came over the first rise. “What’s that?”
“What?” Michael asked.
“That sign. It says the road’s narrowing down to one lane.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie said, sounding a little calmer now. “I wouldn’t have made it anyway. I need to push.”
“No!” Wendy and Michael said together. Michael added, “Five minutes, tops, and we’ll be at the hospital.”Even as those words were leaving his lips, he had to put on the brakes. After thirty seconds of creeping bumper to bumper, they came to a dead stop.
“We’re not moving,” Wendy pointed out.
“They’re moving a big crane in the road up ahead. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”
Twenty minutes later they were still stuck in traffic.
“I’m pushing,” Maggie said. “You can’t stop
“What do you think’s wrong?” Michael asked, unfastening his seat belt. “The woman’s in labor.”
Maggie took a few gasping breaths. “Your friend’s right. My water just broke. Better skip the doctor and head straight for the hospital.”
Wendy’s hands started shaking. She’d had some odd experiences as a personal shopper, but she’d never delivered a pregnant woman to the hospital before. “Which hospital?”
“Presbyterian,” Maggie answered. “Please, hurry. My babies come quick, and this one feels impatient—oh!”
“Take Central,” Michael ordered. “On second thought, I’ll drive. You take care of Mrs. Courtland.”
He had such authority in his voice that Wendy didn’t offer any argument. She threw the van into Park, unfastened her seat belt, and climbed into the back.
Michael scooted behind the wheel, shifted the seat back, and had the van in motion in seconds flat.
“Don’t take Central Expressway,” Wendy said as she helped Maggie lie down on the back seat, using a wadded-up denim jacket as a pillow. “The construction is murder. Take Oak Lawn to Walnut Hill.”
“Too many lights and school zones,” Michael argued. “This time of day there won’t be much traffic on the freeway. It’ll be faster.”
“There’s always traffic!”
Maggie, in the throes of another contraction, gave a strangled cry.
“Michael, she’s having another contraction!” Wendy said. “She just had one.”
Maggie gripped Wendy’s arm. “It’ll be all right, Wendy,” she said, though her eyes were a little wild. “My babies always pop out without any problem. I’ve got good hips, my doctor says.”
“You’re not reassuring me. I can’t deliver a baby, Maggie. So just hold it in till we get to the hospital.”
Maggie shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, friend. I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve been having contractions for over an hour.” Her face contorted in pain, and when the contraction released her, she actually screamed. “Wendy! The baby’s coming. He’s not fooling around. Help me get my clothes off.”
Fighting off hysteria, Wendy did as Maggie instructed.
“You’re having it right now?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” Maggie replied, panting now. “We should find, you know, something to wrap him in when he gets here.”
“Newspaper!” Wendy said. “I saw that in a movie once. Newspapers are sanitary.” She leaned over the back seat and rooted around until she found the paper she’d picked up from her porch that morning and tossed in back, unread. There it was, still rolled into its pink plastic bag.
She was vaguely aware of the van turning onto the Central Expressway access road. “Don’t get on Central,” she said to Michael again, but he didn’t listen. Why did men always think they were smarter when it came to driving? She spent eight hours a day in her car running all over town. She
knew
what routes were faster.
“Look, see? Almost no traffic.”
Wendy raised up and looked out the windshield. The lanes ahead did look pretty clear, until they came over the first rise. “What’s that?”
“What?” Michael asked.
“That sign. It says the road’s narrowing down to one lane.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie said, sounding a little calmer now. “I wouldn’t have made it anyway. I need to push.”
“No!” Wendy and Michael said together. Michael added, “Five minutes, tops, and we’ll be at the hospital.”Even as those words were leaving his lips, he had to put on the brakes. After thirty seconds of creeping bumper to bumper, they came to a dead stop.
“We’re not moving,” Wendy pointed out.
“They’re moving a big crane in the road up ahead. We’re not going anywhere for a while.”
Twenty minutes later they were still stuck in traffic.
“I’m pushing,” Maggie said. “You can’t stop
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