The Happy Hour Choir (29 page)

“Beulah?” she said when I reached the door.

“Yeah?”

“Could you send in Luke for a second? To say a prayer, you know?”

“Sure. Anything else you need?”

“Hurry back?”

I smiled. “You know I will.”

She lay back and closed her eyes, happy to let her body do all the work while she was oblivious to everything happening below her waist.

Chapter 36

S
ure enough, Sam was trying his best to pace a hole in the floor, and Luke frowned at him, not quite sure how to comfort him.

“Sam, have a seat and calm down,” I said as I pushed through the double doors.

He sat down then popped back up. “Is the baby here?”

“No, the baby is not here, but Tiffany did get her epidural. She wanted me to let you know she's fine now.”

He sat down slowly but popped up again. “And not in so much pain?”

“No, she's going to be fine now that she's got the epidural.” I walked over and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down to the seat.

“And I told her not to get the epidural.” Agony twisted his features. “I was so confused, and the midwife was talking about the baby being groggy and what was best for the mother and—”

I put a hand on his other shoulder. “It's okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Is she still mad at me?”

“Honey, she was mad at the whole world there for a while. She's not in pain anymore, and I'm going to go hold her hand through the rest. It's all going to be fine.”

He reached up and put a strong hand over mine. “Thank you. She was afraid you wouldn't come, you know.”

His words cut me to the core, but I wasn't about to show it. “You need to cut a woman a lot of slack while she's having a baby. How many more times do I have to tell you it's all going to be fine?”

He nodded, and I felt Luke's eyes boring through me. I released Sam's shoulders and stood up straight. “Hey,” I said, willing my eyes not to seek his. “Tiffany wants you to come say a prayer, if you don't mind.”

I told myself not to look at him, but I did. His eyes were windows to an old, tired soul. His lips twisted into an expression that said he didn't necessarily believe everything was going to be okay. “I can do that.”

I plopped down beside Sam and watched Luke go. I had disillusioned a preacher and pissed off a pregnant lady to the point of sending her into labor. It really was a banner day.

 

The epidural did, indeed, slow Tiffany's labor—not that we were about to tell Earth Mother she was right. Still, she managed to make nine centimeters in another six hours, far quicker than my previous record.

“Okay, Tiffany, it's time to push.” Earth Mother had everyone arranged to her liking and was seated at Tiffany's feet looking at a fully crowned head. I looked away. There was a reason I had requested
not
to have a mirror for me to witness the miracle of birth. It was a miracle I had just as soon leave a mystery.

“How do I do that? I can't feel anything.” Tiffany's frantic eyes locked with mine, and I felt rather than saw Earth Mother's mouth open to give a “gentle” I-told-you-so. My head turned so I was speaking to her instead of to Tiffany. “Close your eyes and do your best. After a couple of tries, you'll get the hang of it.”

Earth Mother closed her mouth.

Tiffany grunted, a good sign, even if Earth Mother's mouth was still pressed into a thin line that indicated a lack of progress.

I gently put my hand at the top of Tiffany's pregnant belly. “In your mind, push from here. Then the baby's gotta go down, right?”

Earth Mother glared at my lack of understanding of the birthing process, but Tiffany closed her eyes and started pushing.

I glanced between Tiffany's legs in spite of myself and saw some progress.

“There we go,” Earth Mother soothed. Nurses moved in a flurry around her, taking towels and replacing them. “Keep doing what you're doing.”

Tiffany's eyes popped open with wonder. “I can feel it!”

“Good, good,” Earth Mother said. “Now push harder.”

“Harder?” Tiffany looked to me for confirmation.

“The harder you push, the sooner this is over.”

She tilted her chin and put on her game face. Twenty minutes later, she'd given birth to a bright pink, screaming baby girl. The nurses shifted from mother to baby as they placed the newborn under a lamp and suctioned, bathed, and poked her for their tests. Finally, they gently swaddled the child and brought her to Tiffany.

Relief washed over me as I watched her cradle the blond-tufted baby with dark blue eyes. My own eyes filled with tears. This was the magic moment, the moment you started to forget about the pains of labor. I closed my eyes, and I remembered looking down into Hunter's serious little old man face. He might have been grunting like a Pekingese, but his eyes showed such trust. I hadn't deserved such trust. I hadn't been able to keep him safe.

“So, they say I need to try to nurse her,” Tiffany said. She couldn't take her eyes off her baby, but a blush crept up her cheeks nonetheless.

I snapped back to reality. “It's just me. I have boobs.” I looked around at a room full of women. “Hey, we all have boobs in here. Get to nursing or I'll start singing the Ruth Wallis song.”

She stared through me, so I sang, “You need boobs to hold out a sweater. . . .”

“That's enough.”

I helped her pull the gown to the side and to get the baby situated. The baby girl struggled at her mother's breast, her little arms flailing. Her mouth rooted around, but she couldn't quite get the concept.

“Why won't—”

“Like all things, it takes time,” I said. I forced my eyes to hold hers. I wouldn't think of the irony that was having sore, engorged breasts at Hunter's funeral. He had finally started to nurse well when—

No, I would not think of death at a time like this.

Earth Mother said nothing. She had been taking care of the afterbirth and the stitches. Tiffany didn't really want to know how many, best I could tell. “You can try again in a little while,” she said, and, for the first time that night, I was grateful for her calm, soothing nature.

Tiffany nodded and looked down at her baby and back up at me. “Wanna hold her?”

My arms ached to hold her. “Sure.”

A nurse darted around the side and took the baby, smiling down at her, before handing her to me. Tiffany shuffled to get her gown straight.

“What are you going to name your beautiful baby girl?” Earth Mother asked.

I looked at the bright, alert, surreal blue eyes of the beautiful baby with Tiffany's pointed chin. It didn't matter what her name was because she was beautiful.
Lord, please take care of this one. I don't care what else you do to me, but please, please take care of this little one
.

She got one tiny arm free from the blanket and waved it around with grunts and a yawn.

“I'm going to call her Beulah Ginger,” Tiffany said with a voice that dared me to argue with her.

“Oh, that's . . . an unusual name,” Earth Mother said. I snorted because I'd already envisioned Earth Mother's children as Timberline, Moonbeam, and Ragweed.

“Well, congratulations, Miss Davis, you did well,” Earth Mother said before floating from the room.

I turned to the window to hide my tears as I lightly bounced the baby. “I can't tell you how touched I am you want to name her after me, but don't saddle her with the name Beulah.”

Tiffany sat up as though she was going to reclaim her baby. “That's going to be her name, and that's—”

“You know how Ginger always called me Beulah Lou? How about Ginger Louise?”

Tiffany's eyes misted over. “My grandmother's name was Louise. Ginger Louise. I like that.”

I didn't tell Tiffany that Louise wasn't my real middle name; it was my middle name as far as Ginger was concerned and that was enough for me.

Tiffany half laughed and half cried as I handed the baby back to her. “I think she looks like a Ginger Lou.”

“Oh, let's hope for your sake she doesn't act like one.”

Tiffany extended her other arm to give me a hug. “If she turns out anything like you and Miss Ginger, she's going to be A-OK. Especially with her aunt Beulah to keep her straight.”

It was my turn to wipe away a few tears.

She grasped my hand. “Now would you please go home and read that letter?”

“I don't know.” I squeezed her hand. “Maybe.”

“I need you to get my overnight bag, anyway. I forgot it.”

“I will definitely get your bag. How about that?”

“It's in the nursery,” she said with an apologetic smile.

I gritted my teeth. “I will get your bag out of the nursery.”

“Thanks—the keys to the Caddy are in my jacket over there. Will you go tell Sam I'm ready to see him now?”

“As soon as you try to go to the bathroom,” said the only nurse left in the room as she took little Ginger Lou and put her in the clear bassinet under the heat lamp. I resisted the urge to snatch the baby and yell, “She's not an order of fries!”

“So, tell him to give me a few minutes then,” said Tiffany as she heaved herself to sitting and let the nurse help her to the bathroom. “That'll give him enough time to get me a hamburger.”

I grinned at her retreating back and turned to little Ginger. My heart melted for the blond, red-faced little girl with her mother's determined chin. “You're one lucky little girl, Ginger Lou, did you know that?”

 

Sam had resumed his pacing routine, but Luke was gone. My heart pitched at the thought that I'd scared him off.

“Ginger Louise is here. She weighs seven pounds, five ounces, and her mother would like to see you just as soon as you go get her a hamburger.”

He collapsed into a chair with a goofy grin. “A girl, huh?”

I nodded. “Yep, another troublemaking girl.”

He grabbed me into a bear hug before I could protest. “Thank you, Beulah. Thank you so much for being with her. I know she was scared. She didn't want anyone to know, but she was scared.”

I wriggled free. “I know, but she's fine now, and you'd better scoot and get that hamburger or she'll have both of our hides.”

He jumped to his feet. “I'll get her two hamburgers. And fries! And a sweet tea!”

I watched the lanky guy with the bounce in his step and felt the letter burning a hole in my back pocket. I don't know why I had put it in my back pocket to go to the hospital, but I had been keeping it close because it was the last thing I had of Ginger's. Maybe that's why I was so hesitant to read it, too. Once I read her letter, there would be nothing left of her.

But there would be another Ginger. She wouldn't take the place of my Ginger, but she would grow up with an aunt Beulah. I would see to it. As long as Tiffany would still have me, once the exhausted euphoria of giving birth had worn off.

Maybe I felt ready to conquer the world now that I'd seen Ginger Lou, now that I had seen she was healthy and hearty and going to be fine. A darker part of me whispered I didn't know for sure she was going to be fine, but I tamped that part down. If I allowed myself to think of the worst possibilities, I'd certainly finish going crazy.

Better to open the letter and read it than to think about Ginger Lou in a little pink coffin. I took the letter from my pocket and sat down in the waiting room to read.

Chapter 37

S
wiping at the silent tears that refused to stop, I folded the letter and put it back in my pocket. In death, Ginger could still chastise me with far more accurate precision than my mother ever had in life.

But pigs will fly before I set foot in that nursery
.