Chapter 19: Seven Pounds

Ginny's POV

The seven a.m. flight to Denver was full, so Willem sat in a middle seat in row twenty-two with his knees jammed against the tray table.

He did not complain once.

At the maternity ward desk, he stood behind me holding a diaper bag I had bought at the airport.

"My sister's name is on your board," I said. "She's been in since two this morning."

"Room nine," said the nurse. "Your mother's been asking for you every ten minutes."

My mother came down the hall with her purse on her arm and her church scarf still tied.

She hugged me, and then she looked at Willem.

"You came," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You flew."

"I was told it was an emergency."

"Did you eat?"

"No, ma'am."

She took him by the elbow and sat him in a vinyl chair and put a granola bar in his hand.

I would have laughed if I hadn't started to cry.

My sister's labor went the rest of the morning.

I did what a nurse does for her sister, which was to count, and rub her back, and tell her husband to sit down before he fainted.

At 11:22 the baby came out furious and slippery and perfect.

She was seven pounds, and she screamed at the whole room as if she had expected better.

"Hi," I said to her, and my voice cracked in half. "I'm your aunt Ginny. I'm a lot of trouble."

My sister was laughing and crying with her hair stuck to her forehead.

"Go and show her to Willem," she said.

"He's not..."

"Go and show her to Willem, Ginny."

Out in the hallway, Willem stood up so fast the granola bar fell.

I put the baby in his arms.

He held her as carefully as a pane of glass.

She looked up at him with one dark unfocused eye.