Chapter 23: Come In

The clock on the stove said ten past four.

I stood in a pool of warm water on the kitchen tile, holding the counter with both hands.

"Winslow!"

He was in the study.

I heard the chair go over, and then he was in the doorway with a pen still in his hand.

He saw the floor and my face.

His mouth opened, and he shut it.

I watched him not take over.

"Tell me what you need," he said.

"The car. My bag's by the door. Call Dorinda."

"Can you walk?"

"I can walk."

"Then I'm right here, and you tell me when."

I let go of the counter.

A contraction took me in the middle of the hall, and I held the banister of the front stairs until it passed.

He stood beside me with his hand open and did not touch me until I put mine in it.

He drove us to St. Mary's with both hands on the wheel.

He took every turn the way I told him to, and he never said hurry.

The cardiac team was waiting in the delivery room when we arrived.

Two cardiologists, a nurse for each of them, and the obstetrician who had known me since the first scan.

They put me on a bed and strapped two belts across my stomach.

A monitor clipped to my finger began to beep.

Dorinda arrived in her pharmacy coat, still holding a bag of ice chips, and took my other hand.

"You're doing great," she said. "You're doing so well."

"I'm not doing anything yet."

"You're doing it very well."

The contractions came closer, hard and long.

By the third hour I had stopped being able to speak between them.

At the fifth, the monitor changed its tune.

The beeping went fast and uneven.

"Her rhythm's off," a cardiologist said. "Mrs. Holloway, I need you to breathe slowly for me."

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