"Breech, right?" Doc asked, seeking confirmation of his diagnosis.
"Right."
"Do you think you can turn the fetus?"
"That's very tricky."
"Do you have experience in breech births?"
"I've assisted."
That wasn't the hoped-for answer. Doc asked, "Did you bring a blood-pressure cuff?"
"In my bag."
The doctor continued to examine Sabra by gently probing her abdomen. Doc extended the blood-pressure cuff to him, but he declined to take it. He was speaking to Sabra. 'Just relax, and everything will be all right."
She glanced at Ronnie and smiled hopefully. "How long before the baby comes, Dr. Cain?"
"That's hard to say. Babies have a mind of their own. I would prefer taking you to the hospital while there's still time."
"No."
"It would be much safer for you and the baby."
"I can't leave on account of my father."
"He's very worried about you, Sabra. In fact, he's outside.
He told me to tell you-"
Her whole body jerked as though having a muscle spasm. "Daddy's here?" Her voice was high, thin, panicked.
"Ronnie?"
The news upset him as much as it had Sabra. "How'd he get here?"
Tiel patted the girl's shoulder. "It's okay. Don't think about your father now. Think about your baby. That's all you should be concerned with. Everything else will work out."
Sabra began to cry.
Doc leaned toward the doctor and whispered angrily,
"Why'n hell did you tell her that? Couldn't that news have waited?"
Dr. Cain looked confused. "I thought she would be comforted to know that her father was here. They didn't have time to fill me in on all the details of the situation. I didn't know that information was going to upset her."
Doc looked ready to throttle him, and Tiel shared the impulse.
Doc was so angry his thin lips barely moved when he spoke. But knowing that any outward display of anger would only make the situation worse, he remained focused on the business at hand. "She hadn't dilated much when I examined her." Glancing at his wristwatch, he added, "But it's been over an hour since I did the internal."
The doctor nodded. "How much? Was she dilated, I mean."
"About eight, ten centimeters."
"Hmm."
"You son of a bitch."