The Happy Hour Choir

by Sally Kilpatrick

  No heat, no blood, just blessed oblivion.

  And what would go well with blessed oblivion? I took Ginger’s whiskey from its new hiding spot in the pantry and poured a couple of fingers into a coffee mug printed with cardinals. I lifted the mug in salute and took my first swig before rummaging in the pill basket for the best chaser.

  Then Tiffany slammed the front door so hard two of the panes of glass fell out and shattered on the front porch. Cold air whipped in behind her.

  “Beulah Land!” she bellowed.

  I waltzed into the living room with my drink.

  “You’re home early,” I said with a sniff.

  “Of course, I’m home early. I had to come home and deal with you.” She stood with her hands on her hips, her nine-month-pregnant belly sticking straight out in front of her. Her brown eyes burned in narrow fury, and red splotches of rage covered her face and chest. I noticed, with some glee, that her blond roots were showing, since she couldn’t keep dying her hair my shade of red while she was pregnant.

  Good, you don’t need to look like me.

  “What have I ever done to you? Other than take you in and clothe and feed you?” I regretted the words as soon as I said them. Ginger had never said words like those to me, and I’d deserved far worse than Tiffany.

  “It’s not about what you’ve done to me. It’s about what you’ve done to Luke.”

  “What? The favor of telling him to find a girlfriend who actually believes in God?” I gulped down the rest of my drink, thankful for the fire in my throat and the dizzy, queasy sensation in my head and belly.

  “And to think I wanted to be just like you.”

  My blood ran cold even as my gullet burned hot.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, grimaced, and placed a hand on her belly. “I thought you were smart, smart enough to take care of me and Ginger. Frickin’ brilliant on the piano and kind to people, especially the ones folks ignore. Then you find someone like Luke, and you have the gall to spit in his face.”

  “Maybe I told him to get away from me because I’m a magnet for disaster. Maybe bad things always happen to the people I love, so if I were you, I’d get to packing. Maybe I need to declare that I hate you just to keep you alive.” I threw my mug against the front door, and it shattered. “There, I hate you, Tiffany Davis, now get out of here before something happens to you or—or—or—or . . . to the baby.”

  Tiffany looked at the mess behind her then back at me, the mess in front of her. “You are a drunken idiot. Get yourself together. Read the damn letter.”

  “I don’t want to read the letter. Who knows what Ginger’s going to ask me to do in that damn letter. And there is nothing I can do to bring her back.”

  “Did you ever stop to think for one single, solitary minute that Miss Ginger didn’t want to come back? Did you ever think that Miss Ginger might be happier where she is? Well, you would know the answer if you read the letter. Of course, you’re too busy being a chicken to do that.”

  Then Tiffany folded her arms and clucked like a chicken. I was about to laugh at the ridiculous sight of a pregnant woman clucking and flapping her wings like a chicken, but her water broke.

  “Oh,” she said as she looked down at the reddish clear liquid trickling down her legs.

  “We’ve got to get you to the hospital,” I said. I reached for the car keys from where they hung on the hook inside the kitchen.

  She took the keys. “You aren’t driving anyone anywhere. I’ll drive myself to the hospital, and you will sit here until you sober up. This conversation isn’t over yet, by the way. Read your letter while you wait.”

  “I’m not reading that damn letter.”

  She looked up from the drawer where she’d gathered an armload of kitchen towels. “Miss Ginger was right. You are the most stubborn person on the face of the planet.”

  Clutching her stack of kitchen towels with as much dignity as she could muster, she crunched her way over a sea of broken glass in front of the door then another on the other side of the door. Her calmness in the face of our argument and her broken water was surreal, but she slammed the front door behind her, which caused me to jump and sent another pane of glass tinkling to the porch to shatter.

  I took a shower, drank a half a pot of coffee, then called Mac to ask for a ride to the hospital. Tiffany had taken the Caddy, and the Toyota wouldn’t crank. He agreed to give me a ride, but he gave me the cold shoulder all the way there. He wasn’t pleased with me, either. I couldn’t tell if it was for leaving the Happy Hour Choir, my meltdown at Ginger’s wake, leaving Luke, or all of the above.

  I wondered how Mac and Tiffany had found out so quickly that Luke and I had split. But, of course, Luke would have gone to The Fountain to calmly tell everyone I’d quit the choir. He had a good poker face, but they could have easily deduced the rest or even asked him point-blank questions he wouldn’t have lied about.

  Mac’s pickup sputtered in the drop-off lane of the Women’s Center portion of the hospital. “Sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t have a clue. Thanks for the ride.”

  He nodded and drove off. His truck backfired then belched exhaust.

  I kept expecting someone to stop me on the way to the waiting room, but they didn’t. The first person I saw when I walked through the door was, of course, Luke.

  I swallowed hard and sat down a few seats away from him.

  “That should be you in there with her, you know.”

  “I know.” I picked up a magazine. “She’s not real happy with me at the moment.”

  “I don’t think many people are,” he said with a sigh.

  We both looked up to see It’s a Wonderful Life on television. I smiled.

  “You like It’s a Wonderful Life?”

  My smile twisted bittersweet. “I loved it, but Ginger hated it.”

  Luke couldn’t resist. “Why?”

  “She said it might’ve been better if Jimmy Stewart had jumped off the bridge already.”

  “Better or easier?”

  “Whatever.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Miss Ginger at all,” Luke said. Realization dawned in his blue eyes. “You haven’t read your letter.”

  I scowled and said several words better suited to the delivery room than the waiting room. Fortunately, there were no children there at eight o’clock at night. “What is it with you and Tiffany and this letter business? What could Ginger possibly have to say that I haven’t already heard?”

  “Maybe some things you still need to hear.”

  Before I could respond to that, Sam burst through the doors into the waiting area, his eyes wide with panic. “Beulah, thank goodness you’re here. Tiffany kicked me out, said she’d do it alone if she had to.”

  “No need for that.” I didn’t tell either of the two men I had done it alone because I’d been too stupid and too stubborn to let Ginger come with me. Knowing now what I didn’t know back then, I would hold my worst enemy’s hand through labor rather than let anyone else birth a baby by herself.

  Sam grabbed my hands as I went to pass him. “Thank you, thank you.”

  I looked away. He had too much trust in his eyes, and I knew only too well how thin and fragile life felt in those moments when you hung in the balance for the audacity of trying to create a new life all your own. I barreled through the double doors down the imposing hall lined with tall doorways and stopped the first nurse I saw. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Tiffany Davis?”

  “I want an epidural. Now.” Her voice was an unearthly growl, but I still knew Tiffany when I heard her.

  “Never mind,” I said with a smile. The voice had come from two doors down, and I walked with purpose, pausing for a moment before I stepped into the small birthing room. As my eyes blinked to adjust, I took in the lower lighting, the comfortable décor. The hospital had come a long way since my stint there.

  “Beulah, thank God. Tell this woman to—” Tiffany’s face screwed up i
n agony, and she held her breath as the contraction gripped her. Obviously, she hadn’t paid any attention in Lamaze class, either. Pain washed away, and she panted for a second as she reached for the thought the contraction had displaced. “—get me a damned epidural.”

  The woman at the foot of Tiffany’s bed looked as though she could stand serenely through a hurricane. I could picture her in hemp clothing with a flower in her hair, a true earth mother. “Tiffany, you’re already four centimeters dilated, which is really good for a first-time mother, and the epidural could slow your labor. Are you—”

  “Get. Her. The epidural. Now.”

  I like to think I channeled Ginger Belmont to get Earth Mother moving.

  “Beulah, thank God.” Tiffany grunted and clamped down on my hand as another contraction rippled through her. She panted in its wake. “She’s the nurse midwife. If I’d known she was all about natural birth, I would have waited for the doctor on call to get out of his emergency C-section. Hell, at this point, I would take an emergency C-section.”

  Regret washed over me. I should have gone with Tiffany to her classes. I should have made sure she knew all of the doctors and what they favored. But I had been selfish because I hadn’t wanted to relive any of this. I tamped down my panic. I had done this part just fine, so I could help Tiffany get the baby into the world. After that, she was on her own.

  I stood beside her for another few minutes, holding her hand and mentally coaching her to breathe deeply and evenly.

  “Beulah!”

  She was going to break every bone in my hand if the anesthesiologist didn’t get there soon. I gritted my teeth. Giving up piano was the least I could do, considering some of the things I’d said to her.

  “How did you do this?” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “Darlin’, you don’t have a choice at this point,” I said as I pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Truth be told, that’s how most of us get through childbirth: There comes a point where you don’t have any choice.”

  She nodded bravely.

  “Hello, ladies!” The anesthesiologist breezed into the room. He explained the procedure to Tiffany then pushed me to the side. When Tiffany gave me a questioning look, I nodded that it was just as I had done before. She hunched over the side of the bed, her profile noble with teeth gritted and eyes determined. I couldn’t bear watching the needle, so I watched Tiffany’s knuckles turn white instead.

  “You did a fabulous job,” the anesthesiologist murmured. “Now it will be a lot easier for your sister to take care of you,” he added with a wink.

  I stepped tentatively over to Tiffany’s side.

  “Now, I can be mad at you again,” she said with a sigh. “Sis.”

  I shrugged off the “Sis,” but it secretly pleased me. “You have every right to be mad at me,” I said. “But what say we have a baby now, and you can be mad at me later?”

  She turned those wide brown eyes on me, and I saw fear for the first time. “Please?”

  “Of course,” I said, forcing a smile to my face. “But I want to know how Sam got kicked out.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “That midwife heifer was carrying on about all of my pain-relief options, and she finished up talking about the miracle of natural childbirth. She had Sam scared to death of complications and groggy babies, and he had the gall to agree with her. He thought I should ‘give it a try.’ He had to go.”

  I chuckled.

  “It’s not funny. Besides, he was white as a sheet and looked like he was about to toss his cookies.”

  “Well, do you want me to go get him now that you’ve had the epidural?”

  “No!”

  I took a step back.

  “I mean, no, please don’t.” Tiffany sighed and shifted, struggling with the lack of feeling in her lower body. “I don’t want him to see me like, well, you know.”

  I nodded. I knew. I had given birth to Hunter all by myself because I hadn’t wanted anyone to see me splayed up on a table, not even Ginger. If I could have done it without the doctor and three nurses between my legs, I would have given that a try.

  “Maybe if we really do get married,” she said. “When he’s already promised for better or worse.” Her brown eyes locked with mine, and her mouth twisted into a little smile.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” I said, heartened by her “if.” I loved Sam dearly, but my baggage had a similar pattern to Tiffany’s, and I didn’t want her to be in too big a hurry. “Do you want me to at least let him know that you’re doing okay now that you have the epidural?”

  “Oh!” She sat up on her arms before she thought about what she was doing. “I suppose he might be worried about me, huh?”

  “D’ya think?”

  “Yeah, go tell him I’m fine,” she said as she gently lay back. “I think I’ll take a catnap.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said as I patted her shoulder.

  “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

  Sure 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?”

  Define 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?”

  Now, if only I could believe my own words.

  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 m
irror 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.