“Chicken, beans, rice,” she says. “Make sure you eat.”
“Thank you,” Huck says. “I will.”
But there’s no time just then. He gets the boat to the house, unhitches the trailer, secures the boat, and hopes like hell it doesn’t go flying and end up through the roof of his house. It’s getting dark. He’s shuttering the house when his phone rings. Irene.
“I ate,” he says. “Helen fed me.” This is a lie—the plate is on the counter, untouched—but he assumes Irene is calling to check on him.
“Huck,” she says. Her voice is an urgent whisper.
“What is it?” He cannot go back to Lovango to pick up Cash. Cash is stuck over there, sorry, unless he wants to swim.
Irene says something in such a low voice, Huck can’t hear it. “I’m sorry, AC, what?” He realizes he sounds a little impatient. It’s all fine for her to be making her white chicken chili and Mississippi roast, whatever the hell that is, but Huck has serious tasks to complete and he’s racing against the clock.
There’s a pause, then a noise—a door closing—and she says, “Ayers is in labor.”
Well, she’s going to have to wait, he thinks. “What kind of labor are we talking about?”
“Her water broke,” Irene says. “The contractions are coming every three to four minutes. It’s pretty clear she’s not going to make it over to Schneider. We called up to Myrah Keating, which is in full-on hurricane mode and has only emergency doctors on staff for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“The emergency docs can deliver a baby,” Huck says. “Go now.” It’s almost seven thirty and there’s an island-wide curfew that starts at eight. “Wait, where’s Maia?”
“She’s still at the school,” Irene says. “I was about to go pick her up.”
“I’ll get Maia,” Huck says. Goddamn it, he doesn’t have time for this! He still has all the kitchen windows to shutter. “Why don’t you take Cash’s truck and get Maia, and Baker can take Ayers in his Jeep. Or Phil and Sunny can take her in their Jeep, it’s bigger. Are Phil and Sunny there?”
“Oh yes, they’re here,” Irene says. “That’s the issue. Sunny doesn’t think Ayers should go to the health center.”
“For crying out loud, why not?”
“I should rephrase that. Ayers claims she’s in too much pain to move, and Phil and Sunny have assured her she doesn’t have to go anywhere. They’re telling her she can just have the baby here in the house.”
“Is anyone there a doctor?” Huck says. “If the answer is no, then get that girl to the health center. Have Baker step in if you need to. That baby is his as well.”
“I’ve told them all that,” Irene says. “What if there are complications? But Ayers said she had a checkup at the beginning of the week, and the baby is in place, apparently. Sunny keeps saying that women all across the globe have babies at home and there’s no reason Ayers can’t as well. She says it might actually be safer.”
Huck can’t believe this. “I can’t believe this,” he says.
“Apparently it’s the low pressure that brings the babies,” Irene says. “I should go get Maia now. Everyone else is with Ayers. Can you please come home?”
And do what? Huck thinks. He’s not a doctor, and although he has sixty-plus years of wide and varied life experience, he has never delivered a baby. Then he gets an idea.
“I’m going to make a call,” he says. “Long shot, but it’s all we’ve got. You bring Maia home safely, please, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Huck hangs up and calls Rupert.
“This best be an emergency,” Rupert says when he answers. “Not sure if you heard, but there’s a storm coming.”
Rupert’s lady friend Sadie lives in Coral Bay on Upper Carolina. She’s waiting at the bottom of her steep driveway, thank God, wearing blue scrubs and a silk scarf over her hair and holding a small duffel. Sadie is a nurse practitioner up at Myrah Keating; her mother, Blythe, was a midwife, the best in the Virgin Islands. When Huck called and told her about Ayers, she said, “If you come get me, I’ll help out. I have my bag of tricks right here ready to go.”
As soon as Sadie climbs in, Huck swings the car around and heads back down the Centerline Road like a bat out of hell.
“It’s one thing asking you to deliver a baby at home and another thing asking you to deliver a baby at home with a category five hurricane on the way.”
“Low pressure brings the babies,” Sadie says. “I remember my mama delivering two or three babies during Marilyn in ’95.”
“I’m not sure how I’ll ever thank you,” Huck says.
“I’ll tell you how you can thank me,” Sadie says. “Convince your old friend Rupert to stop seeing Josephine.”
Oh, boy, Huck thinks.
“And Dora.”
It’s a small island, Rupert, Huck thinks. He takes the curve above the Reef Bay Trail at breakneck speed. The wind is picking up; trees aren’t swaying, they’re bending.
“And anyone else he’s got on a string,” Sadie says. She slaps Huck’s arm. “You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Huck says.
Maia
That was sick,” Maia tells Irene as she climbs into Cash’s truck. She puts down the window. “Bye, Shane! Stay safe! Text me!”
“Buckle up, please,” Irene says. “And put up your window. It’s starting to blow.”
“We gave out six hundred and twenty-two emergency kits,” Maia says. “Each one with two jugs of water, flashlights with batteries, bug spray, energy bars, and matches. The volunteers got to take home the extra fudge.” Maia pulls a piece of fudge wrapped in wax paper out of her pocket. “Do you want some? It’s fudge with Oreos.”
“No, thank you, honey,” Irene says. “Seat belt?”
“It’s on,” Maia says. “Is everyone at the house?” Maia knows this hurricane is going to be very destructive, but she can’t help feeling something like excitement anyway. Shane and Bright and Colton and Joanie were all at the volunteer effort, and Bright said that every news station in the States is focused on the Virgin Islands. They keep calling it “America’s paradise.” Maia is happy people are paying attention; normally, the USVI are overlooked because they’re a territory and not a proper state.
“Cash is on Lovango with Tilda,” Irene says.
“Ahh,” Maia says. She has been waiting for those two to get back together. Maia had caught Cash texting Tilda under the table during Irene’s birthday breakfast at Jake’s, and when Maia asked if they were starting back up, Cash said, She’s dating someone else. And when Maia kept staring at him, he said, It’s one text, Maia, relax.
“Your grandfather will hopefully be back by the time we get home,” Irene says. “And Maia…”
Maia has just popped fudge in her mouth. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Ayers is in labor.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s having the baby.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight most likely, yes. Or first thing tomorrow. Her water broke.” Irene sighs. “Her contractions were close when I left the house to get you. And she doesn’t want to go to the health center…”
Maia asks, “Why not?”
“She thinks that because of the storm, it will be better to have the baby at home.”
“Like in the olden days, when there were no hospitals?” Maia says.
“Yes,” Irene says, shaking her head. She hits the gas.
When they get to the Happy Hibiscus, it’s chaos. The front door is the only thing left unshuttered for now because people are still going in and out. Phil is on the front lawn on the phone with a doctor friend from Reykjavík, who is giving him advice. Sunny is guarding the bedroom where Ayers is. Nobody’s allowed in, not even Baker.
“Is Huck here?” Irene asks.
“Not yet,” Baker says. “Floyd fell asleep, thank God, The Dirty Cowboy does it every time. Someday I’m going to learn how that book ends. We filled both bathtubs and every pot we could find w
ith water.” He looks at Irene. “You made a lot of food.”
“We have a lot of mouths to feed,” Irene says. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s working through the contractions on her own for now,” Baker says. “That’s what she wants, and who am I to argue?”
“Huck told me help is on the way,” Irene says.
Maia hears Ayers groaning in the bedroom.
Sunny says, “Make a knot and hang on, Freddy!”
“What should I do?” Maia asks.
“There’s nothing any of us can do but wait,” Irene says.
Phil comes inside as he finishes his call. “Anders says she needs to work with each contraction until it’s time to bear down.”
“That’s not helpful!” Ayers shouts.
“Does she want some fudge?” Maia says.
“No, sweetie, thank you,” Sunny says. “She already lost her dinner.”
“Is that Maia?” Ayers says.
“Yes,” Maia and Sunny say.
“Send her in,” Ayers says.
The room is dark but there’s an outline of light around the bathroom door. Ayers is sitting on the bed crying.
“Nut,” she says. “It hurts. They tell you it’s going to hurt but that doesn’t prepare you for how white-hot, teeth-crushingly painful it is.” She stand up, paces the room, then sits down again. “Here it comes, Nut. Hold my hand.”
Okay, okay. Maia sits next to Ayers on the bed and Ayers grips Maia’s hand so hard that Maia wants to cry out. Ayers is making a wheezing sound that turns to a whimper that turns to rapid breathing.
Finally, she relaxes. “Oh God,” she says. She turns to Maia. “Hi.”
“Hi. Is it over?”
“For now,” Ayers says. “I can’t recommend this. Promise me you’ll never have children.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the health center?”
“No,” Ayers says. “No way. There’s a storm coming, Nut.”
“There is?” Maia says, and they both laugh.
“I don’t want to be in a hospital filled with strangers when the power goes out. There are going to be emergencies that need to be addressed. And it sits up on that hill…I just don’t think it’s safe. Plus I can’t ask all of you to come up there with me. I just…don’t want to go.”
“But what about the good drugs?” Maia says. Any time the topic of Ayers’s delivery has come up in the past few weeks, all Ayers talked about were the good drugs. “Don’t you want the good drugs?”
“I do,” Ayers says. “I really do. Here comes another one, give me your hand.”
Reluctantly, Maia surrenders her hand, and Ayers squeezes even harder than before, with nails, and Maia squeals but Ayers doesn’t notice, thank goodness. Maia doesn’t want to be asked to leave. She’s honored that Ayers wants Maia—and apparently only Maia—in the room.
“You know who I miss right now?” Ayers says. “More than anyone else, do you know who I need here?”
“Mama?” Maia says.
“Rosie,” Ayers says, and she starts crying again. “I need Rosie Small right here, right now! You know what she would be doing?”
The door to the bedroom swings open and a West Indian woman in scrubs walks in and says, “Rosie Small would be pouring two shots of tequila, one for you and one for her, we both know that.” The woman puts her hand on Ayers’s head. “How we doing, Mama? I’m Sadie. I’m here to deliver your baby.” She glances at Maia. “You’re the spitting image of your mother, sweetheart. If we hit a lull in here, I’m going to tell you some stories about your ancestors. Can you help me with a couple things?”
“Okay,” Maia says. She will do literally anything to avoid holding Ayers’s hand through another contraction.
“Clean towels,” Sadie says. “Ice chips. And see if anyone has a Coca-Cola for me.” She eases Ayers back onto the bed, spreads her knees, and says, “Let me check and see where we’re at, doll. Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa! We got a baby crowning.”
Ayers screams through the next contraction. Maia grabs a stack of towels from the bathroom and puts them on the bed.
“Ice chips,” Sadie says. “And send the father in here, please. This baby is on its way.”
When Maia leaves the room, she nearly collides with Phil and Sunny, who are stationed outside the door. “It’s time to send the father in, she said.”
“That would be me,” Phil says.
“Why Phil and not me?” Sunny says. “That makes no sense.”
“I think she means the baby’s father,” Maia says. “Baker, bro, it’s time.”
Baker leaps off the sofa and slides between Phil and Sunny and into the bedroom.
Maia fetches a bowl of ice chips and a Coke but she can’t get back into the room because Phil and Sunny are blocking the way. Ayers is screaming. Maia gets tears in her eyes and thinks, I am never, ever having a baby. It’s incredible that each and every person in this world had a mother who’d endured some version of this.
Rosie went through it with Maia; LeeAnn and Huck were there. Maia hands Sunny the ice chips and the Coke to pass into the room and then she goes out to the front yard and stands with Huck while he has a cigarette. Maia isn’t supposed to hang around Huck while he smokes but there’s a new life entering the world and a hurricane coming, so the usual rules don’t apply.
“Do you remember when I was born?” Maia asks.
Huck exhales, then gives a dry laugh. “Do I remember? Maia Rosalie Small, that was the happiest day of my life.”
Ayers screams again. They hear her, even outside.
“Must be getting close,” Huck says.
Close but not yet, not yet. When Maia goes back inside, she hears Sadie saying, “Push, doll, push for me,” and Ayers screaming, “I can’t!” And Sunny calling out, “Push, Freddy, push!” Phil gently leads Sunny away from the bedroom door and back to the living room. He says, “I think I’m going to try some of that chili. Do you want some, my love?”
Sunny says, “How can you think about eating when our grandson is about to arrive?”
“Or granddaughter,” Irene says, and Maia smiles. She knows that Sunny visited a medium on her trip to Croatia and the medium told Sunny the baby was going to be a boy. Sunny fully believes this and she has bought ten outfits for the baby in blue.
Ayers screams.
“There we go,” Sadie says. “One more push, doll!”
Maia puts her hands over her ears so she doesn’t have to listen to Ayers. A second later, Irene jumps off the sofa. Maia drops her hands.
“It’s a girl!” Sadie calls out. “A beautiful baby girl.”
A split second later, there’s a noise unlike anything Maia has ever heard—it’s a cry. A baby’s first cry. Maia shivers. It’s a girl. Her niece.
Maia stays up late because sleeping arrangements in the Hibiscus are a little crazy. Baker, Ayers, and the baby will sleep in one bedroom; Irene will sleep with Floyd; Huck and Maia are taking the sofas; and Phil and Sunny are sleeping in the laundry room on an air mattress. The wind has picked up but there’s no rain yet; the storm is due to make landfall the following day between noon and two.
Once Sadie has finished checking Ayers and the baby—Ayers and Baker haven’t given her a name yet because they want to get it just right—and helped Ayers latch the baby onto her breast and taught Ayers and Baker all about newborn care, Huck says that despite the curfew, he’s going to run Sadie back to Coral Bay.
Maia approaches Sadie as she’s scrubbing her hands and her equipment at the kitchen sink. “We didn’t have a lull,” Maia says, “so I didn’t get to hear the stories about my ancestors. Did you…know my ancestors?”
“Well,” Sadie says, “my mother, Blythe, was a midwife here on the island, and believe it or not, she delivered your mother.”
“She did?” Maia says.
“When I was fourteen, my mother started bringing me with her to the births,” Sadie says. “I’m fifty now. So…thirty-six years ago, the very first ba
by I saw being born was your mom.”
For a second, Maia is left breathless. Here’s someone who wants to talk not about Rosie dying but about Rosie being born. “What…” Maia isn’t sure what to ask. “What do you remember?”
“Your grandmother was the most elegant woman ever to grace this island,” Sadie says. “She was a model for a while, you know, in Paris and Milan.”
“I know.”
“She left all that and came back to St. John to marry Levi Small.”
“Did you know my grandfather?” Maia asks. She checks around the house. Their voices are low, but this topic—Rosie’s father, Levi Small—is so forbidden that Maia doesn’t want anyone overhearing. It also feels wrong to refer to anyone but Huck as her grandfather.
“Course I did,” Sadie says. She dries her hands finger by finger on a paper towel and lowers her voice to a whisper. “He was singing to LeeAnn the whole time she was in labor, mostly old Motown tunes—‘My Girl’ and ‘You Can’t Hurry Love.’ Your grandfather had a magnificent voice.”
“He did?” Maia says. She has never heard anyone say one kind thing about Levi Small.
“He used to sing in the church choir,” Sadie says. “He was a soloist. I remember that from when I was younger than you are now.”
“Do you know what happened to him?” Maia asks.
Sadie shrugs. “He left when your mama was little. Two or three years old. Some people say he ran off with another woman; some say your grandmother kicked him out and told him never to come back. Nobody knows for sure what happened and nobody knows where he went.”
“So he might still be alive?” Maia says.
“Man I dated before Rupert told me he saw Levi Small playing the piano at a fancy restaurant in Miami, Florida. But don’t get your hopes up, honey. The man I dated is very untrustworthy.”
Still, it’s exciting for Maia to think that she might have one relative on her mother’s side left. She imagines being older, in college or in her twenties, walking into a fancy restaurant in Miami, and coming face to face with her grandfather.
Troubles in Paradise Page 29
