me.”
“Oooh, Michael, the baby’s coming,” Wendy said, near panic. She could see the crown of its head. “Help me! Please?”
Michael set the brake and unfastened his seat belt, then squeezed between the front seats to join the two women. “Tell me what to do.”
“I’m the one who needs help,” Maggie groused. “Who’s doing all the work here? Help me sit up. Birthing is easier—oh, Lord have mercy—sitting up.”
Michael immediately grasped Maggie’s shoulders and pulled her up, then slid onto the seat behind her so she could rest against him. “Like that?”
“That’s good.”
“Maggie, I don’t know what to do!” Wendy complained, willing herself not to fall apart. But it turned out she really didn’t need help. The baby practically flew into her waiting hands.
Maggie let out an exultant cry. “There! You did it!”
“I didn’t do anything!” Wendy objected, holding the tiny scrap of humanity in her hands as if it were a space alien. “You did it all. Michael! I’ve got a baby here!”
She looked up at her partner in crime. Beaming like an idiot, he was no help at all. “Looks like you’re doing just fine,” he said. “Is it a girl or a boy?”
Wendy’d been so panicked she forgot to look. She did now. “Oh, it’s another boy, Maggie.” Her voice trembled with emotion. She’d never seen a baby born except on a film in high school sex education class, and then she’d closed her eyes. “Now you have two of each. Aren’t I supposed to hold him upside down or whack him on the butt or something?”
In response, the baby spit something out of his mouth and started wailing.
“You’re not expecting me to cut the cord, are you?” she asked Maggie.
“Just put him on my stomach,” Maggie said, laughing and crying at the same time. She reached for her new son. “I think the cord can wait for the doctor.”
Wendy was only too happy to surrender the baby. She’d gotten so excited during the birth that she’d forgotten about the newspaper. Too late now, she supposed. As she watched Maggie cradling the infant against her stomach, looking for all the world like a Madonna, an intense wave of feelings washed over Wendy. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
She wasn’t normally the sappy sort, but all at once she started crying.
“Wendy?” Michael asked. “You okay?” He reached out and touched her hair very tentatively.
“F-fine,” she said, mortified. That’s when she noticed the horns honking. “The traffic’s moving again.”
Five minutes later they pulled up to the emergency entrance at Presbyterian. Maggie and her baby were whisked away. Wendy, in a daze, left Michael sitting behind the wheel of the van and dashed inside after the gurney, feeling a protectiveness for the mother and baby that was one of the strongest emotions she’d ever experienced.
When it became clear that Wendy wasn’t needed anymore, that Maggie was in capable hands, she felt deflated and dazed. A nurse stopped her in the hallway and asked her if she needed help.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, even as she looked down at herself and realized she was covered with blood. She ducked into a rest room and cleaned up the best she could. That was when the exultation of witnessing a birth, of being part of it, receded and doubts assailed her.
What if she’d done it all wrong? Maybe she should have used the newspaper after all. Was the baby all right? Was Maggie all right?
As she exited the ladies’ room, intent on finding a doctor and getting some answers, she nearly ran over Michael.
“There you are,” he said, steadying her with a warm hand to her arm. “You disappeared. I was worried about you.”
“Did you think I was fleeing custody?” she asked, only half kidding. She never knew with Michael.
But he was looking at her with an expression she’dnever seen on him before, maybe not on anyone. It was sort of the way someone might look at an angel, or some other
“Oooh, Michael, the baby’s coming,” Wendy said, near panic. She could see the crown of its head. “Help me! Please?”
Michael set the brake and unfastened his seat belt, then squeezed between the front seats to join the two women. “Tell me what to do.”
“I’m the one who needs help,” Maggie groused. “Who’s doing all the work here? Help me sit up. Birthing is easier—oh, Lord have mercy—sitting up.”
Michael immediately grasped Maggie’s shoulders and pulled her up, then slid onto the seat behind her so she could rest against him. “Like that?”
“That’s good.”
“Maggie, I don’t know what to do!” Wendy complained, willing herself not to fall apart. But it turned out she really didn’t need help. The baby practically flew into her waiting hands.
Maggie let out an exultant cry. “There! You did it!”
“I didn’t do anything!” Wendy objected, holding the tiny scrap of humanity in her hands as if it were a space alien. “You did it all. Michael! I’ve got a baby here!”
She looked up at her partner in crime. Beaming like an idiot, he was no help at all. “Looks like you’re doing just fine,” he said. “Is it a girl or a boy?”
Wendy’d been so panicked she forgot to look. She did now. “Oh, it’s another boy, Maggie.” Her voice trembled with emotion. She’d never seen a baby born except on a film in high school sex education class, and then she’d closed her eyes. “Now you have two of each. Aren’t I supposed to hold him upside down or whack him on the butt or something?”
In response, the baby spit something out of his mouth and started wailing.
“You’re not expecting me to cut the cord, are you?” she asked Maggie.
“Just put him on my stomach,” Maggie said, laughing and crying at the same time. She reached for her new son. “I think the cord can wait for the doctor.”
Wendy was only too happy to surrender the baby. She’d gotten so excited during the birth that she’d forgotten about the newspaper. Too late now, she supposed. As she watched Maggie cradling the infant against her stomach, looking for all the world like a Madonna, an intense wave of feelings washed over Wendy. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
She wasn’t normally the sappy sort, but all at once she started crying.
“Wendy?” Michael asked. “You okay?” He reached out and touched her hair very tentatively.
“F-fine,” she said, mortified. That’s when she noticed the horns honking. “The traffic’s moving again.”
Five minutes later they pulled up to the emergency entrance at Presbyterian. Maggie and her baby were whisked away. Wendy, in a daze, left Michael sitting behind the wheel of the van and dashed inside after the gurney, feeling a protectiveness for the mother and baby that was one of the strongest emotions she’d ever experienced.
When it became clear that Wendy wasn’t needed anymore, that Maggie was in capable hands, she felt deflated and dazed. A nurse stopped her in the hallway and asked her if she needed help.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, even as she looked down at herself and realized she was covered with blood. She ducked into a rest room and cleaned up the best she could. That was when the exultation of witnessing a birth, of being part of it, receded and doubts assailed her.
What if she’d done it all wrong? Maybe she should have used the newspaper after all. Was the baby all right? Was Maggie all right?
As she exited the ladies’ room, intent on finding a doctor and getting some answers, she nearly ran over Michael.
“There you are,” he said, steadying her with a warm hand to her arm. “You disappeared. I was worried about you.”
“Did you think I was fleeing custody?” she asked, only half kidding. She never knew with Michael.
But he was looking at her with an expression she’dnever seen on him before, maybe not on anyone. It was sort of the way someone might look at an angel, or some other
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