Maura pulled a table out from the wall in the former living room and set the stack of brochures on it.
"Well?" prompted Kathleen. "Will you?"
"Will I what?" asked Maura.
"Call Xan. He seemed anxious." That was the only way Kathleen could think of to describe him. Actually, there had been more than that. Xan had looked troubled when he'd spoken of Maura, despite the fact that he was escorting a glitzy platinum blonde with eyebrows plucked to fine lines and whose every action seemed calculated to impress him. And although he had been attentive to his date, he had seemed somehow absent, as though his thoughts lingered elsewhere.
"I don't know if I'll call him or not. Perhaps." Maura walked to the other end of the room, busying herself with the placement of the lectern.
Kathleen sat on one of the folding chairs. "Did something happen between you and Xan that night at his villa?"
Maura rested her hands on her hips, regarding Kathleen with affectionate exasperation. "Do you think that's really any of your business?"
"I worry about you, that's all. Do you have any idea how many hours I lie awake at night, wondering how an ex-nun is going to make it in the real world?" Kathleen appeared to be joking, but there was real concern underlying her words.
Maura sighed. "He doesn't know I'm an ex-nun. And that, I suppose, is what happened that night."
"Oh. So when you were exchanging your life stories, you conveniently managed to omit ten years of your life?"
"It wasn't exactly like that," she said. "I told him about being a nurse and becoming a midwife, but I could hardly throw in all the difficulties with the convent rules and the mother superior. I don't think he would have understood."
"Not many men would understand going into a convent in the first place, much less leaving one. Just think about Dad's reaction," Kathleen remarked tartly. "You'd better figure out a way to tuck the information into your conversation with a date, though."
Maura sank down into a chair beside her sister, sitting sideways and resting one arm on the back. "Kathleen, it isn't that easy. There we were on the deck of Xan's house, the candlelight glowing, the sea singing background music, everything highly romantic. Don't you think it would have been a mood dampener if I'd swung into my tale of woe about Sister Angela's being assaulted on the street and my subsequent argument with the mother superior when she ordered me to discontinue my outreach practice because she feared for my life? Anyway, it was definitely no time for Xan to find out that he was staring dreamily into the eyes of a woman fresh out of a nunnery."
"So when are you going to tell him?"
Maura sighed. "I don't know," she said unhappily. "I'm uncomfortable talking about it. Aside from my own sadness over the whole episode, I think Xan might find the fact that I'm an ex-nun—well, upsetting."
"Maura, I hardly think that being the first man in the life of an ex-nun would be upsetting," Kathleen said gently. "Perhaps Xan would even feel honored."
"Honored," Maura repeated thoughtfully. "Seems weird, that's all. I don't know Xan well enough to say."
"I have an idea you're going to get to know him a lot better," said Kathleen.
Maura thought for a moment and then said soberly, "Kath, you were right about how naive I was. I thought it would be easy to maintain my emotional and physical distance from Xan. But it isn't easy at all. In fact relating to a man, letting all those emotions out, is kind of like opening Pandora's Box."
Kathleen's eyes conveyed sympathy and understanding. "You'll work out your own solutions eventually, just like all the rest of us did."
"I'm beginning to think of it as a reordering of my priorities. I used to think of myself as a nun first, then a nurse-midwife. There wasn't room for me. But now I find that Maura McNeill, the woman, comes before everything else. Isn't it strange?" Maura's eyes seemed to brim over in wonder at this new phase of self-discovery.
Kathleen smiled. "I don't think it's strange at all. I think it's beautiful."
Maura smiled back, basking in her newfound grace. "So do I," she said.
* * *
Xan arrived that night after the presentation, totally surprising Maura. She'd said goodbye to the last of her guests, turning to Golden as the last one disappeared into the darkness. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and her guests had been in a hurry to beat the rain home, since many of them had walked.
"I think the presentation went well, don't you, Golden?" Maura asked her assistant, who was on her way to the kitchen carrying a half-empty pitcher of lemonade.
"Very well," said Golden. "Most of the women were surprised that you're going to be leading yoga classes for pregnant women, and I know they're interested in flavoring their food with herbs from your herb garden. All that bacon fat they use for seasoning isn't good for their health, but they've been cooking food that way all their lives and don't know any better."
"They'll learn. We'll teach them," Maura said confidently. And then she drew in her breath sharply as she saw Xan.
He stood on the porch peering through the screen door, the brisk wind ruffling his hair over his forehead. He looked ill at ease and out of place.
"Why, Xan," she said, taking in the tall shape of him, the glint of his dark hair in the overhead porch light, the eyes that spoke his instant delight in seeing her again.
"Just checking out the competition," he said. "Am I welcome?"
"Of course," she replied, her gaze steady. "Please come in."
"I can't stay," he said, following her as she led the way into the larger room. She felt his eyes upon her hips as she walked, so she turned and faced him again. But then his gaze only fell involuntarily on her breasts, and she flushed at his frank and undisguised admiration.
"I want you to go somewhere with me tonight," he said, and his voice was noncommittal and cool. She knew right away that he wasn't asking her for a date. What, then?
He grinned at the puzzlement in her eyes. "I want you to come with me to Quinby Hospital. Samantha Giles is going to have her baby tonight. I've seen how you work, at Annie Bodkin's. Now I'd like you to see how I work."
"But I don't have delivery room privileges at Quinby," she said.
"I can get you in there. Please, Maura. It means a lot to me."
Golden slipped by, tidying the room. Maura started to help her, but Xan caught her arm as she tried to sidestep him. "Let her do that," he said softly. "We need to be at the hospital in ten minutes. We can just make it if we leave now."
"What's the point, Xan? I could get you in trouble. I don't want to interfere at Quinby."
"You'll be an observer, only an observer. You'll have to promise that. How about it?" He had stopped by here on a whim because he was desperate to see her. And he did want her to see him work. More than anything, he wanted to do something to impress her.
Maura thought quickly. Observing at Quinby might give her a handle on the hospital and on Xan. Despite Dr. Urquehart's help, she still wasn't satisfied with her backup medical care. Her patients would be so much better off if they didn't have to be moved all the way to Charleston if the going got rough during a birthing.
Concern for her patients' welfare won out. "I'll come," she said quickly. "As an observer."
He smiled down at her. "I didn't think you'd dare to go with me. You might find out that you approve of our methods at Quinby." His relief at her capitulation was evident.
"I'll close up the house, Maura," offered Golden.
"Thanks. I'll just get my purse and we'll go," and she ran upstairs and down again as quickly as she could.
Xan regarded her approvingly. "You're a respecter of time," he said. "I'm glad. Most women would have needed several minutes to pull themselves together."
They walked to Xan's car through the light drizzle that had begun to fall. "I'm a midwife, remember?" she said. "I know babies don't wait."
He closed the car door after her and went around to his side and slid in. He grinned over at her, "You are so right," he said.
"Well,
at least you think I'm right about something," she shot back.
"You're right about a lot of things, my dear, but your philosophy of childbirth isn't one of them."
"That's debatable," she bantered, glad that they could air their views without going for each other's throats.
"Listen, let's postpone this conversation until later," he said, reaching over and taking her hand in his. "Okay?"
Maura looked down at their clasped hands, noting his graceful fingers, the neatly clipped nails. She smiled and nodded, but the intent expression in his dark eyes made her look quickly away again, out at the misty night and the cotton fields flashing by the window.
Xan turned onto the Shuffletown highway and toward the hospital, the car's tires hissing on the rain-slick pavement. A thin fog wisped up at the edges of the road, curling in and out of the patches of weeds. It was only a short drive, and after Xan parked his car in the doctors' parking lot, Maura followed him into the hospital with a sense of trepidation. Being inside a hospital again didn't feel comfortable. She wondered why she had agreed to this. She didn't belong in a hospital, not anymore.
But Xan introduced her to the delivery-room nurses without comment, explaining only that she was Maura McNeill, R.N. And then she was donning the wrinkled blue scrub suit that comprised standard delivery-room garb, and no one would have guessed that Maura didn't belong.
"This is Samantha's first baby," Xan told her before they entered the delivery room. Samantha Giles lay on the delivery table, her light-brown hair bundled up in a cotton cap. Her blue eyes looked enormous and filled with fear. The same fear was etched across her dainty features.
Maura's heart went out to Samantha immediately. She had seen too many women like this in the delivery room of the hospital where she'd worked. Frightened and dwarfed by the equipment of the delivery room, the bright lights above them, the strangeness of the table on which they lay to deliver their babies. This was one reason why Maura had become such a diehard advocate of home births.
Maura recognized at once that the interaction between this doctor and his patient was special, and unusually so. In fact, as soon as he stepped into the room, something electric happened between Xan and his patient. He seemed suddenly to be charged with energy. The delivery room fairly sparked with it, and underneath it all lay Xan's basic caring and decency.
"Samantha," Xan said as soon as she saw him. His eyes twinkled at Samantha in an attempt to alleviate her almost palpable fear. "It looks as though you're about to get a birthday present, special delivery."
"Yes," she gasped, and then another contraction captured all her attention.
"Today is Samantha's birthday," he told Maura in an aside.
"My husband says that since the baby is going to be born on my birthday, we should name it after me if it's a girl," said Samantha. Her voice sounded high and tense, and she ended her sentence with a nervous little laugh.
"That's good," said Xan. "If it's a girl, that is. You'd hardly want to name a boy Samantha, would you?"
Samantha smiled weakly. "No, it will be named after my husband if it's a boy." Then another contraction took over, and Samantha concentrated on it. Maura was glad to see her concentrate. Samantha needed that focus to facilitate the birth of her baby. It was time to stop the distracting talk and get down to the business at hand. The nurse who had been feeding her ice chips went to busy herself with a tray on the other side of the room.
"Where is her husband?" Maura asked Xan quietly.
He shook his head. "Military. Deployed at present."
"No other childbirth coach?"
"She's all alone except for her brother up the coast. He declined."
Maura nodded, but she was disappointed for Samantha's sake. This was a time that husband and wife should share, a time for understanding and sensitive spiritual growth on the part of both.
"Your labor's progressing normally," Xan told Samantha. "This baby's about to arrive." He took his position at the foot of the delivery table. "Bear down now, Samantha."
The delivery room nurses seemed more interested in attending to Xan than to the patient. Samantha looked terribly uncomfortable to Maura. She was lying flat with only a pillow under her head. If she had been Maura's patient, Maura would have arranged her so that her whole torso was lifted almost to a sitting position. Maura frowned, longing to help Samantha, who was panting from exertion.
Even though Maura was supposed to be only an observer, she couldn't help coaching Samantha through her next contraction. Xan noticed, and though he seemed startled at first, he said nothing. He was too busy concentrating on his job.
"The baby's head is presenting," he said.
Things should move rapidly now, but Samantha was too tense. Her muscular tension at the outlet was holding the baby back. Maura swallowed, feeling Samantha's pain as a lump in her own throat. She would have helped her with perineal massage at the very least, but as an observer, all she could do was wait for things to get better for Samantha.
Samantha struggled through the next contraction. The nurses were doing Xan's bidding, and there was plenty to do. Maura was an outsider to whom they were paying no heed.
She couldn't help helping; she couldn't not do it. She touched Samantha's cheek and made eye contact, letting her know that she, Maura, was someone to be trusted. Then Maura lifted Samantha's head and shoulders so that the woman was raised into a semi-sitting position, and she slipped two more pillows beneath her.
Xan of course noted the change. For a moment his eyes, hard slivers of green glass, met Maura's over his patient. Then Samantha's body increased its force, perhaps as a result of her new position, and he had to support the just-crowned head of the baby.
Maura whispered, "You're doing beautifully, Samantha. The baby's head is crowning now."
Maura could almost feel Samantha's body surge with a new confidence as she expended her final herculean effort. For Samantha, nothing could mar the significance of her baby's birth. Anxiety and insecurity seemed to melt away and were replaced with a new awareness. Maura exulted, too.
"A beautiful baby girl!" cried Xan, cradling the child in his hands. "She looks perfect in every way. A wonderful birthday present for you." Xan cut the cord and held the baby so that Samantha could see it.
"My baby," she said softly, her eyes shining now. "May I hold her?"
Maura would have said yes.
"No," said Xan. He handed the baby to a nurse. Samantha's eyes followed the baby, almost pathetic in their longing. The nurse efficiently began to suction the baby's mouth and nostrils. Ointment was put in the baby's eyes.
"When can I hold her?" Samantha asked, still watching her child.
"Not for a while," Xan said cheerfully but evasively.
"Is there something wrong?" Samantha rose up and craned to see her baby, hidden from view by the attending nurses.
"We test her for—"
"Test? Test my baby?" Samantha's voice gave away her alarm.
Xan, to his credit, smiled reassuringly and stroked his patient's arm. "Don't worry. It's routine. She's fine."
Maura turned away, unable to hide her disapproval. It was common to administer the Apgar test to newborns at one minute and five minutes after birth. The test assessed appearance, pulse, grimace, activity, and respiration. Her patients were informed of this before they went into labor. Samantha seemed to known nothing about it.
Samantha fell silent then, and by the time Maura turned back to her, Samantha's eyes were filled with tears. Her compassion for the other woman made Maura clasp Samantha's hand. She knew, from what other women had told her, that at this point Samantha felt unutterably cut off from her baby. She had carried and nurtured this baby for nine long months, and despite her relief that the baby was safely delivered, she wanted to hold it in her arms.
"You can hold her now," the nurse said cheerfully as she settled Samantha's new daughter in her arms. The baby was tightly swaddled, and Samantha wore the same hospital gown that she'd worn during the delive
ry. Maura would have made sure that the baby rested on Samantha's abdomen, skin to skin. She was a great believer in this type of bonding for her patients.
Xan finished his work. "Everything looks good," he told Samantha. "You're doing fine and the baby is great. Her Apgar's 9 on a scale that goes up to 10. Now we're going to let your baby have a rest, just like you. Nurse will take her to the nursery."
"I want to hold her," Samantha said, clearly bewildered.
"You'll have lots of time for that when they bring her to you later," Xan said comfortingly.
"When will that be?"
"After you've slept a bit. Don't worry, your baby will be well taken care of. We have lots of experience."
Maura watched helplessly as the child was carried through the swinging doors to the hospital nursery where, Maura knew, it would be ensconced in a bassinet alongside the other babies until many hours had passed. After leaving the warm and safe environment of its mother's body which had sheltered it for nine months, it stood to reason that a newborn would be bewildered and in shock. In the absence of medical problems, to bundle a newborn into a Plexiglas box alongside other infants, some of them crying, seemed cruel when the baby could be cradled by its mother instead.
"I'm going to shower and change clothes," Xan told Maura.
"May I stay with Samantha? Please?"
Xan's expression softened. "Sure. Until they take Samantha to her room."
Maura continued to hold Samantha's hand, reassuring her from time to time and all the while despairing of the hospital procedure that deprived mother and child of each other in that important time when the baby desperately needed to know its mother's love and caring.
"So you have a new little daughter. Will you call her Samantha?" Maura talked mostly to get Samantha's mind off her baby's absence."
"My middle name is Elaine," said Samantha. "We'll probably call her that."
"Elaine Giles. A very pretty name," said Maura.
Samantha smiled. It was a proud smile, a joyful smile. "It is, isn't it? Oh, I'm so happy. So very happy."
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