Chapter 24: Thirty-Nine Weeks

At thirty-nine weeks, I walked into the harbor hospital on my own feet.

Miles carried the bag and held the door with his other hand.

He did not let go of me once in the elevator.

The delivery room was on the same floor as before.

I stood in the doorway and looked up.

The ceiling tile above the bed was new and white, with no water stain.

"They replaced it," I said.

"I asked them to," Miles said quietly. "A year ago."

I turned and looked at him.

"You've been planning this since then?"

"Since the night you told me where it happened."

He put his forehead against mine.

"I called the hospital the next morning and asked who I had to pay."

I laughed, and the laugh turned into a gasp as the first hard contraction arrived.

"Okay," I said. "Okay. That's real."

The nurse took my arm and settled me onto the bed.

She was brisk and kind, with gray curls tucked under a blue cap.

She smiled when she saw my father's captain's cap in the doorway behind her.

"Dad," I said.

"I'm not coming in," Max said. "I'm going to stand out here and be useful."

"Standing is not useful."

"It's the best I've got."

Mrs. Radford sat down on a bench across the corridor with a thermos and an enormous knitting bag.

The door swung closed on them both.

The hours went by in pieces.

Miles held my hand through all of them.

He rubbed my back, and fed me ice chips, and put his phone face down in the nurse's hands.

"Take it," he said. "If anyone calls, I don't exist."

"Anyone?" said the nurse.

"Even the president."

"Mr. Radford, I'll hold it."

Around midnight the pain turned into something I knew.

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