Tiel replaced the contact-lens cleaner and wetting solution in her bag and was about to withdraw her hand when she spotted her audiocassette recorder. She sometimes used the minuscule recorder during interviews as a supplement to the video recording. Later, when writing her script, she didn't have to sit in an editing booth and watch the video in order to hear the interview. She could replay it on the tiny recorder.
She hadn't intentionally brought it along. It was a tool of her trade, not a vacation item. But there it was, buried in the bottom of her bag, looking to her like a broadcast news icon waiting to be excavated. She imagined it radiating a shimmering, golden aura.
She palmed the recording device and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks just as Sabra gave a sharp cry. Franti cally, Ronnie looked around for Tiel. "I'm coming," she told him.
Giving the elderly thespians a thumbs-up as she stepped around them, she rushed back to Sabra's side.
Doc looked worried. "Her pains have slowed down somewhat, but when she has one it's acute. Where the hell is that doctor? What's taking so long?"
Tiel blotted Sabra's sweating forehead with a pad of gauze she had moistened with cool drinking water. "When he-or she-does get here, how effective can he be? What will he be able to do under these circumstances?"
"Let's just hope he has some experience with breech births. Or maybe he'll be able to convince Ronnie and Sabra that a C-section is mandatory."
"And if neither is the case…?"
"It will be bad," he said grimly. "For all concerned."
"Can you do without a bulb syringe?"
"Hopefully the doctor will bring one. He should."
"What if she hasn't dilated…?"
"I'm counting on nature taking its course. Maybe the baby will turn on its own. That happens."
Tiel stroked the girl's head. Sabra appeared to be dozing.
The final stages of labor hadn't even begun, and already she was exhausted. "It's good she can take these short naps."
"Her body knows that later it'll need all the strength it can muster."
"I wish she didn't have to suffer."
"Suffering is a bitch, all right," he said, almost to himself.
"The doctor can give her an injection to relieve the pain. Something that won't harm the fetus. But only up to a point. The closer she gets to delivery, the greater the risk of giving her drugs."
"What about a spinal? Don't they administer that in the final stages of labor?"
"I doubt he'll try to do a block under these conditions, although he might feel confident enough."
After a moment of thought, Tiel said, "I think going the natural route is nuts. I guess that makes me a disgrace to womankind."
"You have children?" W
hen his eyes connected with hers, it felt like she had been poked lightly just below her navel.
"Uh, no." She quickly lowered her gaze from his. "I'm just saying that if and when I ever do, I want drugs with a capital D."
"I understand completely."
And Tiel got the impression that he did. When she looked at him again, he had returned his attention to Sabra. "Do you have children, Doc?"
"No."
"Earlier you made a comment about daughters that led me to think-"
"No." His fingers loosely encircled Sabra's wrist, as his thumb pressed her pulse point. "I wish I had a blood-pressure cuff. And surely he'll bring a fetoscope."