Chapter 13: Not on the List

Evan drove, and I sat in the back seat with my daughter's head against my shoulder.

Nobody had asked me to get in.

Sophie had simply reached for my sleeve when Evan helped her up off the chair, and she had not let go of it since.

"Count for me," she said at the first big one.

"One, two, three," I said, and kept going until she breathed out.

"You're good at this."

"I did it once."

"Dad's behind us," Evan said from the front, watching the mirror.

A grey sedan was following us through the lights, close enough to read.

Diane was in the passenger seat with her hands flat on the dash.

At the hospital, Evan pulled up under the maternity canopy, and a nurse came out with a wheelchair.

Sophie knew her.

"Hi," Sophie said to her, gasping a little. "I'm thirty-seven weeks and my water broke at three-forty."

"Then we've got you, honey."

The grey sedan swung in behind us, and Mark was out of it before it stopped rolling.

"That's my daughter," he said. "I'm her father. I need to be in there."

The nurse stood between him and the wheelchair without any hurry.

"Sophie, who's on your list?"

"Evan," Sophie said. "And my mother."

Mark laughed, a short, hurt sound.

"Sophie. Sweetheart. Your mother isn't well, you know that. She's going to be upset in there. Let Diane be the one who..."