by Nancy Martin
“Dear, dear, dearly beloved,” sang Father Jerry as they staggered through the automatic door.
The formerly bored security guard almost collided with them as he came rapidly out the door. He paused only long enough to assess their situation. He pointed. “Emergency room is that way.”
“The only emergency, my good man,” said the priest, drawing himself upright and teetering beside Emma, “is a distinct lack of wedding refreshments. Is there any whiskey on the premises?”
The security guy didn’t wait around to explain any hospital policy but took off around the side of the building on some kind of mission. Emma dragged Father Jerry into the lobby, where a set of red lights was blinking over every doorway. Another security guard was having some kind of urgent confab with a third guy in uniform, both of them pointing in opposite directions, so Emma grabbed a pink and green bracelet off the unmanned desk and hauled Father Jerry toward the elevators. No way was she going to get him up the stairs. “No more whiskey until after you do the job. First we’ve got to get past Checkpoint Charlie upstairs. Put this on your wrist.”
“I don’t need cheap jewelry. I am a member of the clergy! I get past every velvet rope just by flashing my collar.”
“Let’s not flash anything right now, okay, Friar Tuck?” She dared to use one hand to hit the elevator button and nearly dropped the priest as he swayed beside her. “Holy crap, you’re heavy. Isn’t there something about refraining from gluttony in the Good Book?”
“ ‘If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked!’ ”
“What gospel is that from?”
“Falstaff, young lady. The role of a lifetime! It’s time, by the way, that you improved your mind with reading. The Complete Works of the Bard should be at the top of your list.”
The elevator doors opened on the labor and delivery floor. When Emma maneuvered Father Jerry off the elevator, surprise of surprises, the upstairs security dude was no longer on duty. The silent waiting area had only two sets of anxious grandparents sitting in chairs and waiting for some word about coming grandchildren.
The grandparents stared at the spectacle of a drunken priest supported by a dripping woman in a bright orange slicker for only about a minute before the double doors burst open and a happy father rushed out to announce the birth of his child.
Emma used the distraction to get through the door with Father Jerry in tow.
In the labor and delivery corridor, she spotted a state trooper standing outside one of the delivery rooms. He was in full uniform, Mountie-style hat and gun in a holster, the whole nine yards.
He took one look at them and said to Emma, “Where’s your security bracelet?”
She lifted her hand to deliver a time-honored salute, which showed the bracelet still stuck on her wrist. But somehow her drunk companion had managed to lose his bracelet already, probably in the elevator.
The cop said, “What about you, Bub?”
Father Jerry drew himself up as tall as possible—barely five nine and nearly the same in circumference—and frowned theatrically at the cop. “My good man, I’m here on a mission of mercy. ‘I am as valiant as Hercules!’ ”
His lofty words were spoiled by the gust of alcohol fumes that spewed toward the state trooper, who said, “Hercules?”
“I’m quoting Falstaff,” said Father Jerry. “Role of a lifetime.”
“Don’t mind him,” Emma said as she supported her companion. “Are you on duty here? ‘Cause nobody else seems to be.”
Instead of answering her question, the cop gave Emma’s outfit a short inspection. “Have you been directing traffic in that getup?”
“What are you? The smart ass cop of the day?”
The state trooper began shaking his head. “It’s best if you take him back the way you came in, ma’am, and follow the proper security procedures. This is a secure area.”
“Like hell it is. Tonight, it’s Grand Central Station. There’s some kind of drill going on in the lobby, and by the looks of things, it’s a disaster.”
“Just the same, let’s try following the rules, okay?”
Emma was prevented from responding by a door bursting open. A nurse came barreling out into the corridor, holding Mick by the sleeve of a ridiculous yellow hospital gown.
“Hurry!” The nurse cried, dragging him toward the door directly across the hall.
Midstride, Mick peeled off one set of rubber gloves and grabbed another out of the nurse’s hand. He caught sight of Emma in orange and Father Jerry in his royal blue robe with white fur collar. “What the hell is this? A masquerade party?”
Emma said. “You’re asking me? You look like that dancing dinosaur—Bernie.”
“Barney,” the cop said, grinning.
“Big Bird,” Mick corrected. For the first time since she’d known him, he was looking discombobulated. He asked, “Who’s your date?”
Emma cut to the chase. “I found a priest. Has Nora had the baby yet?”
“Not yet. But Zephyr—”
“Come on,” the nurse insisted. “She’s crowning.”
The cop stepped out of the way and let the nurse drag Mick into the room across the hall.
The cop faced Emma. “He’s been running back and forth for the last hour.”
“Are you laughing?”
“Trying not to,” he replied. “Now, let’s get this character back downstairs.”
“Please,” Emma said. “This isn’t as crazy as it looks.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “It looks pretty crazy.”
“I know, but I’m just trying to help my sister and Mick get married before their baby is born.”
“That could happen any minute.”
“So we don’t have time to waste.”
For a second, Emma thought she was screwed. But the cop finally blew a sigh and said, “What can I do to help?”
11.
Libby might have bumped a stop sign when she made the turn into the hospital parking lot. When she finally climbed down from the driver’s seat, she made a quick inspection of the Escalade. A few minor scrapes, hardly noticeable. Already, the rain seemed to conceal the small dings.
She held her handbag over her head to save her hairdo from the rain and headed for the hospital entrance, glancing over her shoulder only once to make sure the silver Toyota wasn’t sneaking up on her again. But there were so many light-colored cars parked under the lights that she couldn’t discern one from another. Why didn’t people buy more red cars?
She arrived in the lobby to find four security men arguing with each other.
“I just saw it!” one man shouted. “I tell you, it was a raccoon!”
“We don’t have raccoons,” his female counterpart snapped. “This is a hospital!”
“It’s down the hall, just outside the emergency department.”
Together, the two of them dashed through a set of double doors and disappeared.
Another security guard blocked her way. “Sorry, ma’am. We’re checking the elevators at the moment.”
“You don’t expect me to walk up the stairs?”
“Sorry, ma’am. If you wait ten minutes, we’ll be done.”
Grumbling, Libby took the stairs, which immediately became obvious was a huge mistake. By the second floor, she was seriously out of breath, and by the next landing she couldn’t speak. Not even when a man loitering there gave her a grunted greeting. He smelled of cigarette smoke, though, which is most unattractive in a man, so she kept going. By the time she reached the third floor she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. She staggered out into the bright corridor and went past the deserted nurse’s station just in time to see That Man emerge from one of the delivery rooms.
He wore a ridiculous yellow hazmat suit and was holding a small bundle. Immediately, he was surrounded by Emma, a police officer and a heavyset man wearing a voluminous robe suitable for the stage. They all began cheering.
> With a miraculous burst of energy, Libby rushed over. “Am I too late? Did she have an orgasm?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Emma had a wide grin on her face. “Lib, meet your new granddaughter!”
Furious, Libby snapped, “She is not my granddaughter! She’s my niece!”
“Whatever.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Look, she’s got red hair.”
That Man of Nora’s seemed surprisingly overcome as he tipped the bundle down for Libby to see. A little pink face topped by a fuzz of distinctly auburn hair peeked out of the blanket. Libby caught her breath. No, she didn’t look like Rawlins, especially, but she was definitely a Blackbird girl—fair skin, pointed nose and blue, blue eyes, so blue they were clearly going to stay that way. Libby felt her insides melt. Her own flesh and blood. Without all the inconvenience of pregnancy.
“Her name’s Alexandra Kidd,” That Man said softly. “Sounds like a pirate, right?” When nobody laughed, he said, “Nora wanted to nickname her after Lexie. Except we’re going to call her Allie.”
“Allie,” Libby whispered, touching the blanket. “Can I hold her?”
More kindly than usual, Emma said, “Maybe we should let Nora hold her first.”
They all trooped into Nora’s delivery room and found her just finishing a contraction. The small room immediately felt jammed with people. Even the policeman came in.
Nora forgot all about labor and got weepy as That Man passed her the newborn. She cradled the baby close and sighed, “Oh, Michael.”
“She’s perfect,” he said with a catch in his voice. “She gave one squawk, but she’s been quiet ever since.”
“She’s so wide awake,” Nora murmured, full of wonder. “Look how curious she is.”
As everyone leaned close, the baby seemed to take in one face after another, but her gaze finally latched onto Nora’s and stayed there. Nora had tears on her cheeks, and her mouth trembled at the edges, but she was smiling.
“Allie,” Libby said, “you’ve come to the right family.”
Nora’s brow twitched then, and she looked up from the baby. “I’m having another contraction. Here, Libby, take her.”
As Libby gathered up Allie, Emma spoke.
“Hey, Sis, if you can manage not to have another kid in the next two minutes, how about getting married? You want your baby to be legitimate, right? I know Mick does.”
Beside Emma stood the rotund gentleman in the blue velvet gown. He had round Santa cheeks and sparkling eyes. He clasped his hands over his belly, but there was a distinct smell of alcohol emanating from him. “You can call me Father Jerry. At the request of this assertive young lady, I’m here to perform a service—that is, if you have all the official paperwork ready?”
“Mick?” Emma elbowed That Man. “How about it?”
“Sure,” he said. “Yes, absolutely. I didn’t think you would pull this off, Em. But I’ve got the papers right here. All we have to do is sign, along with Father Jerry here. Nora?”
Nora was already hyperventilating, but she shot a questioning look at her nurse.
The nurse grinned. “I think you can hold off for a few more minutes. Your contractions are regular, so I just ordered your epidural. The doctor’s still busy across the hall, so why not? Just don’t push, got it?”
Nora sweated through her contraction, and everybody in the room seemed to pant with her until it subsided.
“Yes,” Nora said, once the contraction passed. “I can’t let curses rule my life.”
“For sure?” That Man asked.
“Yes. Let’s get married. But I have to stand up.” Nora was galvanized into action. “I’m not going to say my vows in bed like this.”
“Nora, it’s okay. Wait.” That Man’s expression turned to a deep frown as she struggled upright. “It doesn’t matter. We can do this after the baby comes.”
“It does matter … a lot … to you, and to me, too,” she said. “We want ours to be a real family, and that means being married. Em? Help me up?”
“And get the papers out of my pocket,” That Man said. “Ricci? Over there.”
“Hold it!” Libby cried. “Let me get some flowers! I saw a vase on the nurse’s station.”
With Allie in her arms, she bolted out of the room and headed down the corridor. But the pregnant nurse materialized from a doorway and blocked Libby’s path.
The nurse pointed at the baby. “Is that the Abruzzo child? I’m supposed to check her vital signs.”
“We don’t have time! As you can see, she’s perfectly vital. Out of my way!” Libby might have given her a slight shove as she hurried for the flower vase on the counter. From a somewhat wilted collection of blooms, she chose three out-of-season tulips and one large pink hydrangea. She left the lilies behind. Nora hated lilies. Flowers in hand, she headed back toward Nora’s room.
The nurse was back and pushier this time. “I’m serious, lady. I need to check that baby.”
“Give us a few minutes. She needs to be in this room for a ceremony.”
“What ceremony?” the nurse demanded. “What the hell are you doing in there? Isn’t it against hospital regulations?”
“Just … let us pass! We don’t have a minute to lose! They have to be married between contractions and before the baby is born!”
“Another baby?”
Libby gave the insistent nurse another push and ducked back into Nora’s room, where the priest was scrawling an illegible signature on an official document the policeman held. Emma and That Man was gently helping Nora out of the bed. The nurse carefully held the IV line. Nora was barefoot and wearing a too-large hospital gown that drooped off one of her bare shoulders—hardly the beautiful dress she should have been wearing—but Libby knew the expression on her face. Nora was determined.
To the priest, she said—politely, of course, “Father Jerry, this is very kind of you, but … please hurry.”
“Let me be the maid of honor!” Libby leaped in front of the priest.
Emma said, “Mick, you need a best man.” But she was looking at the policeman.
The policeman, who had been standing in the background, suddenly blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
That Man had a grin on his face. “How about it, Ricci? Or will it spoil your chances for promotion?”
“Oh, what the hell,” he said, after only a moment’s indecision. “You got a ring for me to hold?”
That Man fumbled quickly through his yellow suit to his jeans and came up with a small gold band.
“You’re not the only one who came prepared. Em,” Nora said. “I’ve got the ring in my wallet. Can you find it?”
That Man laughed, delighted. “You really have one?”
“Of course,” she replied just as cheerfully. “I assumed you’d try something like this. I’ve been keeping it with me for weeks. What took you so long? Let’s do it.”
“I love you.”
Nora smiled up into his face. “And I’m trusting you not to get yourself killed, Michael. So, please. Will you marry me?”
“Quick,” That Man said to the priest. “Before she changes her mind. Or delivers our baby.”
The priest arranged them side by side with That Man holding Nora by one arm and Emma propping her up on the other side. The fetal monitor provided the only music. Libby thrust the flowers into Nora’s hands.
She laughed. “Thank you, Libby. I love you for these.”
The priest began speaking—slowly at first, but gaining momentum. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God to witness and bless the joining of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. By telling sad stories of the death of kings, we understand the union of husband and wife is intended for the procreation of—”
“We know that part,” Nora said.
That Man said, “Maybe you better speed it up, Father.”
“And stick with the traditional script.” Emma gave Father Jerry the stinkeye.
>
Through his inebriated state and standing directly in front of Nora’s hugely pregnant belly, the priest finally seemed to grasp the urgency of the situation. “Of course. These vows are not to be taken lightly, blah, blah, and is there anyone who can’t hold their peace? No? All right, then. Do you—?”
“Nora,” she supplied, beginning to clutch her belly as if holding back a contraction. “I’m Eleanor. And yes, I do.”
He turned to That Man. “And do you?”
“Yeah, yeah.” That Man watched Nora anxiously. “Maybe you could just cut to the chase, Father.”
“Very well, then.” His momentum gained speed. “Will you love and cherish, comfort, honor, in sickness and health, in whispers and in wails—forsaking all the usual stuff?”
“Yes,” they said in rushed unison.
“Oh,” Nora doubled over.
The priest doubled his speed. “Bless, oh, lord, these rings, symbols of the vows here uttered in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit—”
Emma shoved a ring onto Nora’s left hand, and Ricci handed over the larger ring to That Man, who slipped it on by himself.
The nurse, watching the fetal monitor, said tersely, “Finish up, Padre.”
“Right, let’s see. With all this tension, I’m losing my place, aren’t I? Oh … Now that Nora and… . what’s your name, my son?”
“Mick. Michael. Michael Patrick.”
Father Jerry smiled broadly. “Oh, are you of Irish descent then?”
“Father, please—”
“Yes, yes, sorry. Now that Eleanor and Michael Patrick have promised themselves to each other with these solemn vows, and with the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce they are husband and wife, whom God has brought together, and no man can put asunder.”
Libby squealed with delight, which woke up little Allie, who let out a yell, echoed by a cheer from Emma. The policeman applauded. Nora and That Man of Hers kissed each other. And the fetal monitor gave a shrill shriek.
The nurse raised her voice. “That’s it. Back in bed. You,” she said to the policeman, “go across the hall and get Dr. Stengler. We need her right now.”
