And Yesterday Is Gone (29 page)

The kid was still pacing and I almost laughed when I found myself in perfect step beside him.

At last a nurse appeared at our door. The boy's expectant face turned to her, but she nodded in my direction and I followed her into the delivery room. I didn't even like the name—it sounded like the end of a loading dock.

Everything was white, including Rica's face. Wet with sweat, only her big brown eyes and black hair tied back showed color.

She reached for me and I bent down to hold her. When she groaned and strained, my body involuntarily strained along. She managed a weak smile as she relaxed and squeezed my hand.

“I'm okay, Cowboy. Dr. Teddy is taking good care of me. Don't worry—our daughter is on the way.”

Dr. Teddy appeared. “She's coming along, Steve, but it will be awhile. Don't worry.” She showed me to the door.

I walked back to the waiting room to hear the gruff voice, “Why in hell don't you sit down? You're driving me crazy. You shoulda been on your feet nine months ago. Relax—we've got the best baby doctor in San Francisco.”

As if on cue, Dr. Teddy appeared and motioned to the boy, who almost crowded her into the doorway in his haste.

The man sat quietly for a while. “This your first?”

“Yeah.”

“The first one is always scary, but it gets easier with the next one.”

Easier for who,
I thought with the image of Rica's contorted face before me. I didn't answer.

“You raise them up the best you can—the wife's been dead ten years. Twelve hours a day on the job to buy their clothes, feed them, keep a roof over their heads. Try to teach them right from wrong, pay their speeding tickets, educate them.” He paused. “This one was the baby. She never lacked for anything—got everything she ever wanted. Except this baby, of course.”

He sat for a moment, then added, “Now this boy. His family has disowned him, kicked him out. Wrong religion—Jewish. You know how they are with their different customs. My girl, my baby girl—she's been in there eight hours.”

He put his head down and the sound of great gulping sobs slid through his callused hands.

Like he said, the first one was scary.

The boy came back and put his hand on the man's shoulders. “The doctor said she's doing real good and it won't be long now.”

I watched to see the man's hand reach up and clasp the boy's hand.

The hours dragged on. I was walking the corridors; I couldn't go back into that room. I found the cafeteria and ordered coffee that I couldn't seem to swallow, a sandwich that all but dried on the plate. I tried to read, but the words were only letters on a page.

Dr. Teddy hadn't been back for a while or perhaps I'd missed her. Rica had been in that room for over nine hours.

I talked to Sara on the phone. She said that Juan was in Los Angeles for a show; told me not to worry.

Eleven hours had passed. A sense of foreboding crept in and smothered those tired words, “Don't worry.”

On my return, I caught sight of Dr. Teddy and another doctor at the nurse's station and ran up to them.

Dr. Teddy turned to me and, with her arm around my shoulder, spoke gently, “Steve, Rica is having complications. The baby has changed positions and is unable to move along. It is too far advanced in the birth canal to do a caesarean. We may not be able to save the baby and we are concentrating our every effort on Rica.”

I slumped up against the wall. Dr. Teddy led me to another room and quickly left me alone. I almost fell into a chair fighting for breath, feeling as though I had been punched hard in the solar plexus.

“Oh, God, Oh, God. Not Rica—please God, not Rica.”

In my agony, I bargained with Him. “The baby. Not my wife.”

I heard the suitcase drop and felt Juan's arms as he kneeled beside me, his eyes brilliant with unshed tears. Mine were frozen within me.

Sara was standing back, smudges of paint on the face she hadn't taken time to wash.

We all sat in silence, yet our thoughts were completely attuned to each other.

My tongue was unable to bring a single word to life.

The torturous thought of Rica lying in that bed, fighting alone to bring our baby alive, was intolerable. I stood and my footsteps sounded on the polished floor with Juan's steps echoing beside me. We walked together as we always had.

Fourteen hours after I had brought my wife and unborn child into the hospital, an inner peace enveloped me. I resigned myself to the bitter knowledge that the little body torn from my beloved wife was at peace.

Dr. Teddy stepped in. Her shoulders were slumped, her body drained of every resource. With her mask hanging against a bloodied uniform, a smile denied her exhaustion.

“Rica?” I begged.

“Sleeping peacefully. All is well.”

Then she added, “Steve, we have your boy, and the little warrior is going to make it.”

I fell to my knees; the tears that had frozen in my heart flowed like a river.

F
ollowing Dr. Teddy's explicit orders, I lay down in a quiet waiting room to rest until Rica awoke. My mind numbed, my body betrayed me and I slept.

When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I sat up so suddenly the blood rushed out of my head; the blanket that someone had thrown over me slid to the floor. Untangling my feet, I stood unsteadily. My watch indicated that two hours had passed.

“She's awake and waiting for you.”

I ran after the nurse, brushed past her at the door. Rica's eyes had the hint of a sparkle; her lips formed a tremulous smile as she held out her arms to me.

Leaning, I wrapped my arms around her and tried to speak but, wordlessly, we clung together.

The discreet cough of a smiling nurse interrupted, then came the unfamiliar sound of a baby's whimper.

I moved aside as the nurse laid him in Rica's outstretched arms and quietly closed the door behind her. Rica moved the blanket aside and together we saw our son for the first time.

His tiny red face turned from side to side as though searching, indignant at the delay. One little pink fist was in his mouth, the other flailing in the air.

After Rica positioned the nipple, the only sounds were those of his sucking and my sniffles as Rica murmured endearments to both of us.

That room was no longer a sterile white, but glowed with a soft radiance that warmed me to my soul.

Later, the sleeping baby lay quietly, having relinquished his hold on the nipple, and was reluctantly surrendered to the nurse. She carried him to the sanctuary of the nursery with a bubble of milk still clinging to the corner of his lips.

Rica's hand relaxed in mine. Her long lashes that lay dark against her pale cheeks told me that she, too, was fast asleep.

The hustle and bustle of this huge hospital seemed muted, and the world seemed far away as I sat there overwhelmed by the flooding emotions of the last interminable hours.

The nurse returned and held the door, apparently an unspoken invitation for me to leave.

I stepped into the long corridor and suddenly wanted to be sitting at that old table with Ma, telling her face-to-face, “We have a boy. His name is William Manuel McAllister.”

Juan fell in step beside me smiling, jingling a pocketful of change, and pointed me to a pay phone.

Laughing, I watched him feed the phone but, abruptly, my voice broke the instant I heard Ma's voice.

“We've got a boy, Ma…” I choked. “Rica's fine.”

My tears of relief wet the receiver.

“So what are you crying about? I think that's wonderful. What did you name him?”

“William Manuel McAllister…for Dad and Rica's father.”

“Oh, Stevie,” came her tearful voice.

“So what are you crying about, Grandma?”

I was delighted to pay her back in her own coin.

“I've just got a little cold.”

“Yeah, sure Ma. Me, too. Tell Sis I love her.” Juan nudged me. “I'm almost out of change, Ma. We'll come for a visit as soon as we can. Bye, Ma.”

Handing me a handkerchief, Juan grinned. “When do I get to see the other baby?”

I ignored the remark and put an elbow in his ribs.

We found Rica's parents in the small waiting room that had been witness to so many emotions.

Dr. Teddy appeared in a clean uniform, but the dark circles under her eyes and the strain in her voice testified to her fatigue.

Speaking quietly, she said, “I think it would be in Rica's best interests if you would all wait until tomorrow to visit. She and the baby are doing well, but she has had a very hard time and needs to rest.” Turning to me, she said, “Steve, I'd like to keep Rica here for a few extra days to monitor her more closely.”

“Of course…”

“And I suggest you go home and get some sleep.”

With a quick hug for me, she nodded her goodbye and turned away.

There was a momentary silence as Dr. Teddy left, then Rica's mother hugged me and my hand was shaken vigorously.

“Has he been named?” her father asked.

“Yes, we've named him William Manuel McAllister.”

I could feel my stock go through the roof as my hand was returned after a bone-crushing handshake.

“You must have endeared yourself to Dad,” Juan teased after their departure.

“Yes, and I picked up a few points with Mother, too.”

Feeling utterly drained, I accepted Juan's offer to drive me home. Along the way, I asked myself why everyone always thinks that fathers get off easily. Then the pain-contorted face of Rica flashed through my mind—and I knew.

•  •  •

As she sat in her big chair that evening, Dr. Teddy seemed unusually quiet. Sara knew she was exhausted.

“Medical science still has its mysteries,” Teddy spoke thoughtfully, almost as though she was speaking to herself.

“The delivery was progressing normally, but when the baby was far advanced in the birth canal—too far for a caesarian section—unexpectedly it was presenting a breech position. Despite our every effort to reposition it, the situation seemed to worsen.

“As the hours dragged by, the strain grew unbearable as we saw our every effort fail.

“Rica's contractions slowed and finally stopped. She became unresponsive except for an occasional convulsive push. I heard myself say, ‘We've lost the baby.'

“The shine of tears showed plainly in the eyes above the mask of the surgical nurse. I hoped mine didn't.

“I remember saying that if we are to save the mother, we must take the baby surgically and do it now.

“Dr. Fuller gave an approving nod. Suddenly Rica gave a desperate push—it was almost frightening. The baby moved as if powered by another force. Rica pushed again and then the agonizing finale—the baby crowned.”

Dr. Teddy paused as if re-creating the scene in her mind.

“Now he was in my hand. As if from far away, I heard my unbelieving voice utter, ‘This baby has a heartbeat, a strong heartbeat.'

“ ‘Thank God the bleeding's stopped,' came Dr. Fuller's heartfelt exclamation.

“We looked in amazement at Rica, completely sedated, her eyes closed, but she was smiling as if she had known something we didn't. Then the muffled sobs of the nurse turned to hysterical laughter as a baby's lusty cry broke the sudden hush.”

•  •  •

I called J.W. with the good news, and he generously gave me a week off with his heartfelt congratulations, adding, “Keep in touch.” That had a worrisome sound to it, so I decided to use the pony express should the need arise.

I slept until the phone awakened me. Juan asked, “Are you up? I'll be right there—I'm anxious to see the baby.”

Hurriedly, I shaved and showered, embarrassed to realize that I'd slept away last night's visiting hours. Arriving at the hospital, we walked quickly to Rica's door. After knocking quietly, we stepped in.

Her pale face lit up and she lifted her face for a kiss, laughing as we bumped heads.

The nurse stood with a disapproving look and said sternly, “Dr. Hassé said no visitors, only your husband.”

“This isn't a visitor, this is my brother.”

With one hand, Rica pulled the blanket away from the little form cuddled in the crook of her arm.

“Look, Juan. Isn't he beautiful?”

Juan bent to stroke his little hand.

“Ah, yes, yes. How beautiful, so perfect.”

Rica looked up at me.

“Steve, you haven't even held him yet. Hold out your arms.”

Before I could utter a word, Rica said to the nurse, “Will you hand our baby to my husband.”

Instinctively, I put out my arms as if to ward off a blow. The nurse placed this tiny bundle of life, with only a downy halo of gold showing above his blue blanket, on my stiffly outstretched arms.

Panic flooded through my every cell and I stood as though paralyzed.

“Don't drop him,” came the nurse's irritated voice.

“Hold him close for goodness' sake. He won't bite, you know,” instructed Rica.

I suddenly turned and thrust the baby at Juan, whose arms received him and held him so closely, so tenderly, as though they were melted into one.

Relieved, embarrassed and, yes, jealous, I looked everywhere except at my wife.

Juan seemed not to know that we were even there. He had found the little toes and almost crooned when he counted, “…eight, nine and ten…” His face was beatific.

One hand held the little head and the downy soft hair curled against his fingers while he murmured endearments in Spanish.

I tentatively offered a finger and stood at a safe distance.

Juan lifted a rapt face. “Look, look, he's smiling at me.”

Sure enough, the corners of those rosy lips turned up.

“All right,” I said, suddenly possessive. “I'll take him now.”

“Not so fast,” Juan said, turning. “See, he's laughing.”

I noticed the baby's fingers holding Juan's thumb.