by Sally John
An ambulance screeched to a halt in the street, and the shrill noise wound down.
“Todd, you won’t believe it. There’s an ambulance right next to me. Medics are getting out.” She watched a uniformed man and woman scurry to the rear of the boxy vehicle. “Now they’re climbing into the back of it.”
“You’re not safe there. Why don’t you go back inside?”
“Now, now. I am fine. It’s just another big city. Chicago’s not exactly the safest place on earth.” Char watched the medics gather equipment. Out came a stretcher.
“But you know Chicago,” Todd protested.
“They’re coming—You’re going in here?” She spoke to the emergency workers approaching the clinic. “Let me get the door.” Char stepped to one of the double doors and pulled it open.
The young woman smiled as she passed. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” she asked them.
“A woman’s in labor,” the guy said. “Guess somebody missed the turn to the hospital.”
Char let the door fall shut behind them. “Todd, they said someone’s in labor. It must be Jo’s teenager. Imagine that!”
“Your vacation is growing stranger by the minute.”
“This is just life with the girls. I’ve told you some of the crazy stuff we used to do.”
“But you’re not kids anymore. This is supposed to be your fortieth birthday celebration too.”
She was touched by his tender tone. “I’ll have my turn.”
“September twenty-seventh.” He knew her birthday. Since he’d moved next door four years ago, he and his then wife had joined her, Cam, and other friends for dinner to mark the occasion. “Tomorrow. What did you decide to do?”
“We’re going to Los Angeles. I promised myself I would buy one genuine designer outfit on Rodeo Drive. And we’ll see Grauman’s Chinese Theatre with all the movie stars’ hand impressions on the sidewalk. We will make up for today’s lack of glamour, I guarantee it.”
“I’m sure you will, Miss Glitter. Why don’t you give me the beach house address? Just in case someone wants to know where to send flowers.”
The tickling sensation struck again. It was becoming downright habit forming.
Twenty-Five
Molly wondered if hearts could burst from an overload of empathy. Hers pounded with it as she sat in the clinic, a toddler on her lap, the woes of being poor and ill in America reverberating off the walls.
Char had stepped outside for some fresh air. Molly would have joined her, but she could not pry herself from the toddler she held. Jo and Andie remained behind closed doors. The cheaply made walls did little to muffle occasional gut-wrenching cries that Molly assumed came from the pregnant teen. She also assumed the cause of her distress was labor. The first indication had been when Jo touched the girl’s abdomen, coached her in a breathing technique, and checked her watch. The second hint came when the girl stood. Molly knew a baby that low would soon greet the world.
Thirdly, all the waiting room occupants visibly relaxed. Though many were friendly before, most now became animated. What was happening? Everyone offered an opinion, most of them expressed in a combination of Spanish and English. They agreed that whatever was going on involved the pregnant girl. They did not mind waiting longer for their turn now. A birthing mother took precedence over coughs, flu, chronic aches and pains, and inexplicable rashes.
Birthing mother? Molly prayed. Jo seemed shaky and unsure of herself. The place was not a hospital. How could anyone give birth in it? Surely an ambulance was on its way.
The little girl on her lap took hold of Molly’s hand and raised questioning brown eyes to her. She was a beautiful child with long black curls and dimples now deepening as the corners of her tiny mouth curled upward. Her mother sat nearby, clutching a feverish infant to her breast.
Molly nodded to the girl. “It’s okay. Yes.”
With a giggle she dug further into Molly’s backpack, which she often carried instead of a purse. Fortunately she hadn’t completely cleaned it out before the trip, so it still contained an array of small toys, books, and packaged crackers, buried treasures for little ones.
Molly felt a stab of remorse as she cuddled the child. She and Scott were content with four. Little Hannah came along a year after a miscarriage, and they did not want more. Still, when her body began to dance its hormone haywire number and she suspected ovulation had ended, she ached at the finality of it all.
She groaned inwardly. First she felt pity for every stranger in that waiting room. Then apprehension over Jo. Now inconsolable sorrow about a perfectly natural change of life. Oh! How she longed for those days when she simply told herself and others to “get out from under the pile!” Life was life. Deal with it. Sentimentality was hooey, a waste of energy better used elsewhere. Even her encouragement to the down-and-out had always emphasized the pulling up of bootstraps.
Yes indeed. The fortieth had been synonymous with entering a hazard zone.
The sound of a siren drew her attention from the toddler. Moments later two emergency workers wheeled a stretcher from the door across a corner of the room. The receptionist held open the door leading to the exam rooms, a distinct frown on her face, a reprimand imminent on the pursed lips beginning to part. One of the medics said something about a delivery truck blocking the back entrance. The door shut behind them.
A collective, puzzled smile went round the room along with more speculation. Molly caught some of it, the words spoken in English. Help had arrived. Was the girl all right? Of course. Probably false labor. They would check her out. They had special equipment. They could get her to the hospital.
Molly kissed the little girl’s head, relieved that Jo had help, that all the sick people would now get their turn, and that she could pass the child back to her mother. She could get on with her loopy, menopausal life.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
Good grief. She really needed to find a full-time teaching job.
Twenty-Six
“One more push, sweetheart.” Jo encouraged calmly but loud enough to make herself heard over Maria’s groans. “You can do it.”
Andie ignored the death grip Maria had on one of her hands and smoothed hair back from the girl’s damp forehead with the other. “You’re doing a wonderful job, hon.”
Maria gazed at Andie. Their eyes had been locked since the pushing began. In those few timeless minutes Andie had watched fear give way to the pain. Now sheer hard work showed in Maria’s grimace and resounded in her cry. She was a runner crossing the finish line.
“Yay!” Jo’s tone remained constant even in exclamation.“Here we go! It’s a girl, Maria. It’s a precious girl. Ten toes. Ten fingers. Beautiful color.”
Gertie said, “Way to go, Maria!”
Andie whooped and not all that quietly. She could not contain the joy.
The baby whimpered and Maria did likewise.
Andie spoke soothing words and wiped her face with a damp cloth.
Jo laid the newborn on Maria’s chest. “Baby needs her mama. It’s bonding time.”
Without hesitation Maria wrapped her arms around the child as Gertie wrapped a blanket around her. Andie noticed the attached umbilical cord and realized things were not yet over. Though she had worked with a few clients during their labor, she had not experienced an actual birth since Zach’s sixteen and a half years ago. That took place in a hospital with all the accoutrements and all the nurses and Paul holding her hand. The memory had blurred somewhat, but she distinctly remembered that neither of her sons had been placed in her arms until after a nurse had completed some routine procedures.
It’s bonding time. Jo’s words echoed in her mind and tears pooled in her eyes. She missed her boys. She missed her husband. She missed what had been.
Maria smiled timidly.
Andie touched her cheek. “Congratulations, Mommy. May the Lord bless you and keep you from this day forth and forevermore.” Silently she added, You are a
child yourself, but you can take care of this child. You will fight tooth and nail for her well-being.
There was a short rap on the door and then it was opened. A young man and woman entered. Their clothing suggested they were emergency medical workers.
Jo chuckled. “Sorry, guys. You missed the fun part.”
The woman grinned. “Aww nuts. I wanted to deliver the baby.”
“Nothing like it, is there?” Then to Maria, “It’s okay, sweetheart. This isn’t as hard as the first part.”
The medic asked, “Are you the doctor?”
“Yeah.” Jo was intent on her work. “We’re fine.”
“Okay. We’ll just wait until you’re ready to transport.” They left the room.
Andie went back to smiling at Maria. “Can I see her?”
She nodded.
Andie lifted a corner of the blanket. The baby mewed, her eyes shut, nose and forehead wrinkled as if she frowned. One hand was clutched in a tiny fist. She had a head full of dark hair.
“Maria, she is beautiful.”
“What is your name?” the teenager whispered.
“Andie.”
“Andie?”
From her puzzled expression, Andie assumed she had not heard of it. Perhaps the masculine Andy was familiar to her. “It’s short for Andrea.”
“Andrea.” The girl’s Hispanic accent rolled the r, put more emphasis on the second syllable, and added an h sound before the a. She looked down at her newborn. “Andrea. Andrea. Maria’s baby.”
“What?”
“I name the baby Andrea.”
“What?” Andie heard perfectly well what Maria said, but it made no sense.
Jo said, “She named the baby after you.”
“Nah.”
“Mrs. Sinclair, it’s a tribute. Just accept it and say thank you.”
Andie recalled Molly giving Jo similar advice about receiving a compliment.
Maria smiled at her.
“But,” Andie protested, “Jo did all the work, hon. The doctor. Jo. Josephine. Maybe Josephina? Isn’t that pretty?”
The teen gave a slight shake of her head. “Andrea.”
Andie heard a determined, womanly nuance to the child’s voice. Evidently a baby had just been named after Andrea Sinclair.
And she thought riding ocean waves was a blast.
As she left the clinic with her friends, Andie was surprised that twilight had already fallen. They crossed the dusky street to Jo’s car.
Jo said, “Char, I’m way too jazzed to drive. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks. The restaurant’s not far.” Jo gently tossed her keys to her and grabbed Andie’s arm. “And thank you again. You made all the difference in there. I never could have gotten Maria to work with me like that.”
Andie smiled. She had heard the praise countless times already.“It was so awesome.” Nearly as high as Jo, she had reiterated her own phrase over and over. No other words sufficed.
Jo strode in a figure eight around and between them. “And thank you, Molly and Char, for being so patient.”
Char laughed.“How do you know we were patient?”
“You didn’t leave.”
“Like we had a choice?”
Molly said,“The truth is, Char went outside and documented three drug deals. I myself was a basket case.”
“A basket case?” Jo asked. “I thought you were praying. I was counting on the Molly Effect!”
“I prayed and then something snapped. I don’t know.”
Jo scooted to her side and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We’ve got to get you some hormones, dear.”
They reached the car and climbed into it, laughing. Char and Molly complained good-naturedly about the long wait. Andie had paid no attention to time, only to the fact that she and Jo lingered with Maria and the baby. The baby. Baby Andrea. Her cheeks ached from grinning.
Jo refused to interrupt the bonding hour between mother and daughter or to let Maria out of her sight until she was convinced of her stability. Besides that, they took time for a photo shoot. Andie’s digital camera, now tucked safely back into her handbag, held almost a dozen pictures. Baby and mommy. Baby and Jo. Baby and Gertie. Baby and EMTs. Baby and Andie. And, of course, baby by herself for Jo’s wall.
From the backseat, Andie reached over and squeezed Jo’s shoulder. “Josephine, you literally stopped a corner of the world to welcome that baby into it, didn’t you? I mean, you kept Char and Molly, medics, and a roomful of sick people waiting.”
Jo raised a fist in the air. “Woo! I did!” She twisted around in her seat to face the back. “And it felt so incredibly tremendous. Not that part, but the part where I didn’t panic. And the part where I just sat down with Maria and asked how she was doing. Thank you for praying, Moll. And you for being patient, Char. And Andie—”
“You’re welcome already!” Andie laughed.
“And you, Andrea,” Jo rolled the r and poised her hand for a high five, “you had a baby named after you.”
Andie slapped Jo’s hand. “Woo! Yes, I did!”
Char started the car. “Where to, Jo?”
“The Chicken Pie Shop.” She laughed again. “You are going to absolutely hate it.”
Jo’s prediction more or less came to pass. There was not much to like about the Chicken Pie Shop except the prices, a waitress who called them “honey,” and—in Andie’s opinion—the yummy mashed potatoes and gravy.
“But,” Andie said, “it’s the kind of place you love to hate.”
The table nearly jiggled with the ensuing laughter. Jo’s excitement was contagious. Their guffaws grew more raucous at every discovery in the large, noisy, 1960s-era diner.
Jo said, “Exactly. It’s just so campy. I mean, the chicken decor is hysterical. Char, you are a good egg.” She clapped her hands.“Egg! Get it?”
The others booed.
“Anyway,” Jo continued, “I know this is driving you nuts.”
Ever gracious, Char smiled sweetly. “Sugar, I’m just trying to catch up with you all.”
Jo scrunched her nose in reply.
Char didn’t miss a beat.“I think my mama knew someone who once ate in a place like this.”
Andie’s mouthful of soda nearly sprayed up and out through her nose.
Molly dropped her fork and doubled over.
Jo groaned. “You are going to make me pay tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Big time. But just think of all the money you saved tonight by coming here. Who could have imagined buying an entire meal for under five dollars? Color me flabbergasted.”
With a straight face, Jo said,“Yes, it is amazing, isn’t it? Potpie, potatoes and gravy, coleslaw, veggies, rolls, and a slice of pie, your choice. All for one low, low price.”
“Well, hon, I’m not sure it’s worth any more than that one low, low price.” Char fluffed her short blond hair. “I swear, if I can’t fit into my regular size tomorrow while trying on an outfit in some exclusive Rodeo Drive boutique, heads will roll.” She paused.“Tell me again, what kinds of pie do they offer here?”
Jo grinned.“Like I said, you are a good egg. And you too, Miss Vegetarian. Are you all right?”
Molly’s smile seemed forced. “Sure. No.” She continued sliding poultry chunks from the potpie and piling them to one side of her plate.
“You’re green.”
“I’m fine. Just a little queasy. It might be the smell.”
Grease dominated the restaurant’s odors, a homey combination of fried chicken, roasting beef, and simmering soups.
Andie said,“I know the three of you have more discriminating tastes than I do, but I think the food is rather good. Well, the boiled veggies are a bit overdone. But the rolls and potatoes are great, and this pastry crust around the potpie is yummy. Oh, dear.” She laid down her fork. “It’s comfort food, isn’t it?”
Jo laid a hand on hers.“Are you eating because you need to be comforted?”
“Hard
ly. Being in on that birth was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. Not counting having my own kids, that is. No, I think I’m eating because I’m hungry and there was nothing else to order.”
Jo squeezed her hand now. “Then just enjoy it, hon.”
She picked her fork up again. “Okay. Besides, I can surf it off tomorrow.”
Jo raised her coffee cup. “Here’s to adventure.” The others clinked a glass or cup to hers as she said, “To good friends. To celebrating this birthday twice.” Tears seeped from her eyes and onto her cheeks.“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you three.”
And right there, in the middle of the Chicken Pie Shop while ordering cherry pie a la mode, Jo made up for the dozen years she had not wept.
Twenty-Seven
Molly sat with Jo at their usual breakfast table on Kono’s patio overlooking the ocean. The early morning mist hung, thicker than she had seen it. Like actors on a stage, surfers, seagulls, and newspaper-reading patrons occupied their customary places.
Molly savored a black-bean-and-egg burrito, a welcome relief to her stomach still unsure about the previous night’s potpie with chicken-based sauce and the unfiltered tap water. Fresh salty air erased traces of grease odors that had lingered in her nose through the night.
“It’s what I want.” Jo smiled.
The scene might not have changed, but Jo had. She did not wear sunglasses. Her eyes were puffy—and sparkling. A new, distinct glow emanated from her. She was steadily working her way through an entire order of pancakes, sausage, and eggs instead of half a plain bagel.
Molly said, “You’re talking about the clinic.”
“Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life in that place, caring for those people.”
“That was my guess yesterday. You seemed so totally at home there.”
“I was at home, even before I talked with Maria. Maybe that’s why I cried. Finally, after twelve years.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I felt this rush of relief, like after a long, long absence I’d found my way home.” She grinned. “But maybe that was just the overload of carbs pouring comfort into my bloodstream.”
