by Fiona West
Daniel cleared his throat.
“Oh,” she corrected, “and Dr. Durand. Sorry, Dr. Durand.”
“No doctors,” Angela snapped, and Winnie winced. She’d forgotten her own advice so quickly. “I told them, I’m not giving birth yet.” There was a pause. “Wait, did you say Durand? Which one?”
“The funny one,” he called back, and Winnie rolled her eyes. “I think we met at the town picnic when you spent the summer with your Aunt Penny in ’96.”
“Oh, Daniel Durand?” Winnie heard the brass doorknob rattle as if Angela had put her hand to it, but it stayed firmly shut.
“If I unlock the door, you’re going to make me go to the hospital, aren’t you?”
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Winnie replied gently. “In fact, I have a few ideas for how we might slow down labor until your husband arrives. Ironically, going to the hospital would probably be the stress you need to shut it down completely.”
The door opened a crack to reveal a dark-haired woman with mascara running down her face. “Is that true?”
Winnie nodded, and the door opened wider, revealing Angela’s whole face and belly.
“I usually tell my patients to delay as long as possible before they go. Something about fluorescent lights and the scent of disinfectant just doesn’t put most women in the right headspace to—”
Angela gasped, pressing a hand to her lower back, her breaths becoming shallow. Winnie reached out to hold her other hand, waiting to continue until her body relaxed again.
“It sounds like you’re doing slow breathing, is that right?”
Angela nodded lightly. “They said that was good for early labor.”
“You’re agitated enough that I’d like you to try variable breathing. So you’ll start with a deep, cleansing breath at the start of the contraction, then we’ll mix in more long breaths . . . Do you have a picture of your husband?”
“I do on my phone, but I think Aunt Penny has one of the whole family on her mantel.”
“I’ll get it,” Daniel said, hopping to his feet. “You’ve gotta conserve your energy. Back in a flash.”
The young mother beamed at him, but as soon as he was out of sight, Winnie saw her eyes fill with tears.
“This is our first baby,” Angela sniffled, bracing her hands on the pink tile countertops. “I just wanted Ben to be here, I just wanted him to help me . . . I just wanted him to get to hold her right away.”
“Of course you did. I imagine you’re so disappointed.” Winnie decided to take a chance, and she reached out to rest a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “The good news is that your girl will be happy to meet him whenever he gets here, and I’m sure what he wants most is a safe, healthy birth for both of you. Do you think we can accomplish that here?”
“I don’t know. I just can’t go without him. I can’t, I can’t . . .”
“Okay. Let’s think,” Winnie said, nudging her way into the bathroom, hoping the patient wouldn’t notice. It had Jack and Jill sinks, so they each leaned against one. “What if he pulled over and got a hotel room with good Wi-Fi? Instead of breaking the speed limits he’s probably breaking right now?”
Angela gave her a watery smile. “Ben doesn’t speed.”
“Ben’s never been a father before.”
Angela smiled wider, then her eyebrows snapped together and her smile fell as another contraction came. The woman gripped both her hands as Winnie silently timed the contraction in her head. Almost a minute. That was a long one. But they were still at least five minutes apart; it was active labor, but it was early yet. First-time mothers often labored for hours, and her waters hadn’t broken.
Daniel came back with the picture, a group shot from a wedding, Angela’s from the look of it. She took it gratefully, smiling through tears at the faces of her family.
“Believe it or not, we’re stoking the chemicals that are going to help you connect with your baby and help you get through labor right now.”
“I believe it,” she said, sliding down to the floor, her back against the wall. She sighed shakily. “Let’s try to get him on the phone. I want to talk to him.”
Winnie retreated to the hallway to give them a little privacy, and noticed that her mother, Penny, and her daughter Jennie were all crowded at the bottom of the stairs. She silently shooed them away, and the Wallaces glared at her disdainfully over their shoulders as they shuffled off in their robes and slippers. Her mother stayed, arms crossed, gaze thoughtful.
Half an hour later, Angela was settled in a warm bath with her husband on video chat, and she seemed much more relaxed. The heat must be helping her back labor. Winnie was lighting a lavender candle she’d brought as a quiet knock sounded at the door. Must be Daniel.
“Just a minute,” she called softly. The tense look on her patient’s face almost made her smile. How she’d gone from screaming through a locked door to not wanting Winnie out of her sight was a testament to her good training. “Be right back, Angela. I promise.”
“Hi, Wonder Woman,” he greeted, giving her a quick kiss as she closed the bathroom door most of the way behind her. “I’m going to take off. You don’t need me here, and your mom can give you a ride home.”
She frowned. Did he feel left out? He could be participating more, but Angela was still pretty leery of the doctors. She hoped she hadn’t made him feel excluded. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m burning hours that I could be at the hospital; they need me more. You’ve got this under control.”
“You got the door open. So thanks for coming.”
“For you? Anything.”
“Cheesy.”
He kissed her again, longer this time, then grinned. “Good night, Fred. Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Good night, whippersnapper.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EIGHT HOURS LATER, the situation was no longer calm.
“I want the hospital,” cried Angela. “I want an epidural. I can’t do this, I can’t, I can’t.” Legs shaking, she clung to Winnie, whose back was about to give out.
“You’re doing so great, babe,” Ben called through the phone.
“Angela, I think you’re going into transition. It wouldn’t be safe for your girl to get into a car right now. I’d like to check your dilation again . . .” She’d been at six centimeters not long ago, and her water had broken all over Winnie as she was trying to check her. That had really catapulted Angela’s body into action, which was a good thing. Once her water broke, they were on the clock to prevent infection. Winnie was now wearing a T-shirt one size too small that proclaimed she was part of the Timber Falls Track and Field 2004, and it was riding up in the back. She called it “the solidarity zone”: Angela was basically naked in front of her aunt and cousin and Dr. Baker, and she was completely unashamed. And in light of that, Winnie wouldn’t bring herself to care that her shorts were falling down and her shirt was riding up. Wardrobe problems were bound to happen during an unexpected birth: it was a law of nature.
“No,” Angela moaned. “If I lie down, I won’t be able to get up.”
“The other two will hold you, and I’ll check you standing.” Winnie gestured to Penny and Jennie with her head, and they surged forward to support her, each under one arm. “You’re doing great, Angela. So great.”
“So great, babe!” her husband yelled through the phone, and she could tell he was close to crying. It must be tearing him up not to be there, but Angela hadn’t wanted him driving in a compromised state on so little sleep.
Ten centimeters. Those last four centimeters had come fast. “Angela, if you feel like pushing on the next contraction, you can start—”
Angela let out a low, guttural yell as another contraction hit. That was the right kind of sound, and Winnie saw the top of the head appear. “I’ve got a visual on your baby!”
“Really?” Angela whimpered, shuddering. “I’m almost done?”
“Do you want to see, Ben?”
Winnie called.
There was a pause, and the room stilled momentarily to hear his answer. “No, I’m good.” All four women laughed, wiping tears and sweat; the bathroom had a heat lamp that wasn’t doing them any favors in the enclosed space.
“I love you, Ben,” Angela called, and he echoed it back to her. Winnie put a hand on her patient’s belly and could feel the muscles tightening.
“Here comes another one . . .”
“Oh my—” Angela cried, then her words dissolved into a yell, and a little more of the head appeared. As the contraction ebbed, Winnie grabbed a towel to make sure she didn’t drop the slippery little person. But it proved premature: over the next few minutes, Angela’s labor stalled. Her contractions were still strong, but she just wasn’t pushing as hard as she needed to. Winnie tried not to be frustrated, but she was tired, too. She wanted this over—without an ambulance ride or emergency C-section.
“How are you doing, helpers?” Winnie asked the relatives. “Does anyone need to tap out?”
Penny shook her head, but Jennie’s lip trembled.
“If she can do it, I can do it,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’re my hero, Ang!”
Fire. That’s what was in Angela’s eyes. “Can I push now? Between contractions?”
“If you want to. If you can. It’ll be more productive if you wait, but it’s your birth. You’re in control here.”
Angela’s chest was heaving. “I want to get on my knees.” With shaking arms, they lowered her to the ground and painstakingly turned her to face the edge of the tub. She leaned over, resting her head on her arms, and Winnie quietly moved to be behind her. When the next contraction hit, she was ready. Angela pushed hard, and Winnie shoved her fingers up to check that the cord wasn’t around the baby’s neck. “You’re almost done, Angela. Once we get past her shoulders, it’s easy. You’re gonna hold your baby in just a minute. Then you’ll just deliver the placenta, and you’ll be done.”
“I can do this, I can do this,” Angela whimpered into her arms. “Ben?”
“I’m here, honey,” he choked out. “So to speak.”
Angela chuckled, and another contraction hit. The head crowned, and Winnie supported the baby, even as she cheered Angela on. Two more contractions and she slid out. Angela collapsed, crying, and Winnie put her baby immediately on her chest. Best as she could, she cleaned up the baby with the damp corner of a beach towel from Fort Lauderdale. Life really was a strange thing, and she never felt that more strongly than during a birth. Time seemed to slow. Jennie cut the cord; placenta came and went. She didn’t ask if they wanted to keep it; they didn’t seem the type. The women helped Angela into the empty tub and settled her daughter in her arms. Winnie thought Penny and Jennie might leave, but they just sat down together on the closed toilet seat, holding hands, staring at Angela and the baby with tears in their eyes.
“That was so beautiful,” Jennie whispered as Angela cooed to her baby. “I can’t believe you get to do that all the time.”
“Best job in the world,” Winnie said with a smile. “You were a great help. Couldn’t have done it without you.” She turned to Angela. “It’s time to let your girl eat.” The relatives did leave then, and Winnie brought the phone over to give Ben a better look. His snuffling sobs almost outdid his daughter’s noises as she rooted for the breast, and Angela laughed through her tears.
“Can I get back in the car now?” he asked meekly.
Angela nodded. “You better be here when I wake up.”
“I will be. I promise. I want to kiss you and hold you and tell you you’re amazing. I want to hold Charlotte.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” Winnie told them softly.
“You haven’t heard the whole thing yet,” Angela said, still watching her baby nurse. “Charlotte Winifred Jones.” She glanced up at Ben. “Is that okay?”
“Totally okay,” he replied, wiping his face. “Absolutely.”
Winnie was speechless; she smiled at her patient and handed her the phone. She needed a moment to compose herself: she felt the strain of having so many people leaning on her to know what to do. Leaving the door open, Winnie stepped out into the hallway and felt cooler immediately. Penny was hauling a large metal apparatus up the stairs.
“We use this to weigh the lambs. I thought it might be useful.”
Winnie laughed. “Yes, thanks. I’ll sanitize it, then we can weigh Charlotte.” She sucked in a breath as Penny’s face contorted. “Oh, please don’t tell Angela I ruined the surprise of her name. I’m just so tired, and it just slipped out, and—”
Penny put down the scale and pulled Winnie into a hug. “The secret’s safe with me.”
As Penny stepped away, Winnie noticed her mother sitting on the bottom step, her head tilted to rest against the wall. In an exhausted haze, Winnie went and sat down next to her mom.
“You can go home, if you want,” said Winnie. “I know you’re tired. Penny’s husband can give me a ride a little later.”
“I was wrong.”
“About what?” Without turning to her, Winnie took her mom’s hand and squeezed. She wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, and her brain was fuzzy enough to doubt that she had the self-control to keep it civil. It sounded good, sounded like the right direction, but . . . she’d thought that before. Her trust felt fragile.
“I’ve been seeing someone. Nick Sokolov, he’s a dermatologist. And I was trying to tell him about you and your work, when I realized I didn’t really know anything about you and your work.” She huffed a laugh. “We work in the same building, lived in the same house. I should’ve known more.”
You assumed a lot, Winnie wanted to say. You assumed you didn’t need to know, because you assumed it was temporary.
“But watching you with this patient, I see what a good rapport you were able to build. Your technique is different, and I see why this might be a good solution for people who have trust issues with doctors.”
“Thank you.” Winnie knew that her mother would never be able to admit that it was a good option for many other types of patients as well, so she counted it as a small victory and said nothing. A scent floated to her from deeper into the house. Bacon. Someone was cooking bacon, and Winnie’s stomach made a noise akin to an angry walrus. She patted her mother’s hand and rose, but Sandra caught her arm. “And I was wrong about Daniel. He does care about you. I told him he could go home, but he wanted to make sure you were okay.” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have meddled in your relationships. I apologize.”
“You’re forgiven, Mom,” Winnie said, giving her mother a tight hug that lasted far longer than usual. “Well, you’re forgiven for that. Not for keeping your boyfriend a secret. That we’re going to have to discuss in greater detail first.”
Sandra laughed softly, blushing, and Winnie felt her face break into a huge smile. “You like this guy.”
“I do. He’s great.”
“You told me he was boring and bad at conversation!”
“I lied.” She shrugged. “I was scared. I haven’t felt this way about anyone since . . .”
“Since Dad?”
Sandra nodded, and Winnie clapped her hands quietly. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Good. Now I smell cinnamon rolls.”
“It’s bacon.”
Sandra gave her a mischievous look. “Let’s settle this once and for all.” Dragging her forward, she called, “Mr. Wallace, what’s for breakfast?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DÉJÀ VU. Winnie felt time was repeating itself as she sipped a glass of Riesling, leaning on the marble bar at her grandparents’ house, standing next to Daniel. Except this time, instead of looking over a ballroom full of acquaintances and strangers, she was looking at a living room full of her family and friends, getting to know each other. Her grandfather was talking animatedly with Daniel’s dad about politics; Farrah was standing with her grandmother, admiring souvenirs from her world travels. Daniel’s brother Philip r
ubbed his wife Claire’s shoulders as teenage Maggie, Daniel’s sister, played with Cooper. Her mother had brought her new boyfriend, Nicolai, and they were chatting with Kyle.
“Doesn’t she have the most beautiful skin?” Dr. Sokolov trailed the back of his knuckles down her mother’s cheek, and Winnie suppressed a grin as her fair-skinned mother went red as a stop sign. Yet there was nothing in her body language that said “stop.” Kyle uncomfortably muttered something Winnie couldn’t hear, and she winked at him when he caught her eye. Now Dr. Sokolov was offering her mother a bruschetta appetizer, and she was actually eating it . . .
“Forget about us going eight weeks celibate,” Daniel whispered. “Your mom’s not going to make it eight weeks. Your mom’s not going to make it one week.”
“Stop talking about my mom’s sex life,” Winnie hissed. “And my mother doesn’t believe in sex before marriage.”
“She might be rethinking that position,” he said, then snickered. “Position.”
“Oh, grow up, Daniel.”
He nudged her. “Whatever. You laughed. I heard you.”
“I did no such thing.” She twirled her glass on the bar. “We should go rescue your brother from the lovebirds.”
“Nah. He deserves the punishment for all the times he’s interrupted us.”
“That’s savage, bae.”
Daniel laughed so hard, Winnie thought he was going to give himself a strangulated hernia; the family paused their conversations to turn to and grin at them. He looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “God, I love you so much. Thank you for overcoming the language barrier between us, Fred.”
“I love you, too. And thank you for overcoming the parental barrier between us.”
“Can I have your attention, please?” Her grandfather raised his voice above the others. “I just want to thank you all for allowing us to host Easter. It’s a privilege and a pleasure to have so many wonderful people in our home. The prime rib will be done in a few minutes, so grab another cocktail, and we’ll make our way into the dining room in a few minutes.” He cleared his throat. “And if I may say so, I hope this is a shade of things to come.”