“I know the feeling,” Livvy said, rubbing her own big stomach.
“How is she?” Mira asked as soon as Lauren left the room.
“It’s getting close, I think” was Angie’s answer. A silent look was passed around the table. They were all wondering the same thing. Would Lauren be able to give her baby away?
“We brought food,” Mira said.
“Thanks.”
Suddenly the bathroom door cracked open. Lauren ran into the living room and stopped dead. She stood there, looking pale and terrified. Water ran down her legs and puddled on the hardwood floor. “It’s starting.”
“Breathe,” Angie said, showing her how. HA-HA-HA.
Lauren lurched upright in bed, screaming, “Get it out of me.” She grabbed Angie’s sleeve. “I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. Make it stop. Oh, God, aaah—” She flopped back onto the pillows, panting hard.
Angie wiped Lauren’s forehead with a cold, wet rag. “You’re doing great, honey. Just great.” She could tell when the contraction ended. Lauren looked up at her through tired eyes. She looked impossibly, heartbreakingly young. Angie fed her some ice chips.
“I can’t do it,” Lauren whispered in a broken voice. “I’m not—aaah.” She was stiffening up, arching in pain.
“Breathe, honey. Look at me. Look. I’m right here. We’re breathing together.” She held Lauren’s hand.
Lauren melted back into the pillows. “It hurts.” She started to cry. “I need drugs.”
“I’ll find some.” Angie kissed her forehead, then ran from the room. “Where’s our damn doctor?” She raced up and down the white corridor until she found Dr. Mullen. He was the doctor on call tonight; their regular obstetrician was on vacation. “There you are. Lauren is in pain. She needs medications. I’m afraid—”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Malone. I’ll check her.” He motioned for a nurse and headed for Lauren’s room.
Angie went to the waiting room, which was filled to overflowing. Mira’s family, Livvy’s family, Uncle Francis, Aunt Giulia, Conlan, and Mama all stood in the tiny area, taking up too much space.
Along the other wall, sitting alone in a mustard-colored plastic chair, was David. He looked dazed and scared.
God. He was so young.
Angie stepped into the room.
The crowd turned to her. Everyone started talking at once.
Angie waited. When they finally fell silent, she said, “I think it’s close.” Then she crossed the room.
David stood up. He was so pale; he appeared almost translucent against the white walls. His blue eyes held the gloss of unshed tears. He moved toward her in jerky, uncertain steps. “How is she?”
Angie touched his forearm, feeling how cold he was. As she looked into his watery eyes, she knew why Lauren loved this boy so much. He was all heart. Someday he would be a good man. “She’s doing well. Would you like to see her now?”
“Is it over?”
“No.”
“I can’t.” He said it in a whisper. She wondered how long this decision would haunt him. It would leave a mark, she knew, but most of this day would. On all of them. “Tell her I’m here, okay? My mom is on her way, too.”
“I will.”
They stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. Angie wished there were words for a time like this. She felt Conlan come up beside her. His big hand curled around her shoulder, squeezed. She leaned into him, looked up. “You ready?”
“I am.”
They made their way through the family and back toward the birthing room. Conlan stopped at the nurse’s station and picked up some scrubs.
The minute they walked into the room, Lauren screamed Angie’s name.
“I’m here, honey. I’m here.” She ran to the bedside and took Lauren’s hand in hers. “Breathe, honey.”
“It hurts.”
It tore Angie up, that kind of pain in Lauren’s voice.
“Is David here?” she asked, starting to cry again.
“He’s in the waiting room. Do you want me to get him?”
“No. Aagh!” She arched in pain.
“That’s it. Push,” Dr. Mullen said. “Come on, Lauren. Push hard.”
Lauren sat up. Angie and Conlan held her upright as she grunted and strained and screamed.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Mullen said a few minutes later.
Lauren flopped back in bed.
The doctor turned to Conlan. “You’re the father, right? Would you like to cut the cord?”
Conlan didn’t move.
“Do it,” Lauren said tiredly. “It’s okay.”
He moved woodenly forward, took the scissors, and snipped the cord. The nurse immediately moved in and took the baby.
Angie smiled down at Lauren through a blur of tears. “You did it.” She wiped the damp hair from Lauren’s pale face.
“Is he okay?”
The doctor answered, “He’s perfect.”
“You were a goddess,” Angie said. “I am so proud of you.”