"I know. But I don't like to see her scared."
"If the drip doesn't stop labor, she'll be too busy to be scared much longer. All we can do is wait."
Wait they did, as one hour passed into two. Restless, Kate paced the room, walked out to badger the nurses, drank too much coffee.
"Eat," Byron ordered and handed her a sandwich.
"What is it?"
"Any time a sandwich comes out of a vending machine, you don't ask what it is, you just eat it."
"Okay." She took a bite, thought it might have something to do with chicken salad. "It's taking so long."
"Barely three hours," he corrected. "Miracles take time."
"I guess." Considering it necessary fuel, she took another bite of the sandwich. "We should be in there with her. It would be better if we were with her."
"It's hard to wait. Harder for some." He combed his fingers through her hair. "We could take a walk outside, get you out of here for a while."
"No, I'm okay." She damn well would be. "It's easier concentrating on Margo than thinking about where I am. Phobias are so…"
"Human?"
"Dumb," she decided. "It was a horrible night in my life. The worst I'll ever have to go through, I imagine. But it was twenty years ago." It was yesterday if she let her mind drift. "Anyway, I handled the hospital both times Laura had kids. Maybe that was easier because I was in on it, and labor really keeps you busy. But this is the same thing. I want to be here."
Linking his fingers with hers, he tugged her into the moment. "You pulling for a boy or a girl?"
"I hadn't thought of it. How—how big does a baby have to be to have a good shot?"
"It'll be beautiful," he said, sliding over her question. "Think of the gene pool it's coming from. A lot of times you think a baby could get lucky and get the best features of his parents. You know, his mother's eyes, his father's chin. Whatever. This one strikes gold anywhere he turns. Going to end up being spoiled rotten."
"Are you kidding? You should see the nursery Margo and Josh put together. I'd like to live there." She laughed and barely noticed he'd handed her tea rather than coffee. "They bought this incredible antique cradle, and this old-fashioned
English pram they found in Bath. We were going to have the baby shower next week at Templeton House. All that loot…" She trailed off.
"You'll have to make it an after-the-birth shower. What did you get?"
"It's silly." She turned the cup around and around in her hands, trying not to cry or scream or simply bolt up and break into the birthing room. "Margo's got this thing for Italian designers. Especially Armani. They have this junior line. It's ridiculous."
"You bought the baby an Armani?" He burst out laughing, roaring all the harder when she flushed.
"It's a joke," she insisted. "Just a joke." But she found herself smiling. "I guess the first time the kid spits up on it, the joke's on me."
"You're incredibly sweet." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "Incredibly."
"It's only money."
Comforted, she leaned her head against his shoulder and watched her family. Laura had come back from checking on the girls and was sitting with Ann. Her aunt and uncle were standing at the window. Uncle Tommy's arm was around her aunt's shoulders. There was a television bolted to the wall. The Sunday news on CNN rolled by, reporting on a world that had nothing to do with the room where people waited.
Others came and went, bringing with them frissons of worry, anticipation, excitement. She heard the hollow echoes of the PA system, the brisk, efficient footsteps of nurses, and occasional laughter.
She saw a young man leading his enormously pregnant wife down the hall, rubbing her back with intense concentration as she took slow, measured steps.
"Laura always liked to walk during labor," Kate murmured.
"Hmm?"
"Margo and I would take turns walking with her, rubbing her back, breathing with her."