“Watch that baby... Outta here!”
— Phillies announcer Harry Kalas,
calling a home run.
One thing about winter in Pennsylvania, it was never predictable. Tim could remember years he’d played golf on New Year’s Day; it was that warm. Then there were occasional winters like, this one, where eastern Pennsylvania had more snow than Buffalo, and colder temperatures than Nome.
Years like this one, you could almost count on a late March snowfall. A big one.
He hadn’t been able to come home in two weeks, because of all that snow. It would have taken him longer to wait out airport closings and rerouted flights than it was worth, and he might not get back to Florida on time, and Sam would have another heart attack. Besides, Suzanna worried about him, and he didn’t want her worried about him.
But Joey was there. He’d taken the semester off from community college, just so he could be there.
He owed Joey, big time. And Bruno, too, who drove up on weekends and cooked, then filled the freezer for Suzanna with meals for every night until he came back again, whisk and measuring cup in hand.
Tim had tracked down Dr. Phillips long distance, and when the doctor had returned his call, he’d bombarded her with questions about Suzanna, about the babies.
So he knew. He knew that the April date was just a target now, but might be nowhere near the bull’s-eye.
He phoned Suzanna every chance he got, sometimes five or six times a day. Then he’d chew a couple more antacids and get back to work.
One good thing, the weather in Pennsylvania had finally turned warm. The snow, mountains of it, was melting at a good clip. Suzanna also thought it was a good thing, because she was pretty sure that one of these days, Joey was going to kill himself with the snowplow as he zipped up and down the long drive. He’d already taken out part of the railing on the little bridge over the Coplay Creek.
So March had come and gone, and then Tim was gone, off to Saint Louis, to open the season. March went, and the April rains came, so that the home opener was rained out. Shades of the lousy way the last season had ended. It was a good thing Tim had decided not to be superstitious anymore... although he did carry a copy of the latest sonogram with him wherever he went.
Tim stood at the window overlooking the drive, shaking his head. Rain, rain, rain. Sure, it was melting the snow; even little Coplay Creek was high and rushing fast, trying to pretend it was a river. When would it stop raining?
It was dusk, not that the day could get much grayer, and he watched as Joey’s headlights flashed as he turned into the drive. He’d just driven Aunt Sadie home, and both he and Bruno would be here for the rest of the weekend, even if the rain did stop and they could get in at least one of their games against the Mets. Nothing like playing in Philadelphia in April. Rain, damp, usually cold. Did the words “retractable roof” mean nothing to people?
Tim remained at the window, cursing the never-ending downpour, then noticed that Joey’s huge four-by-four was still at the bottom of the drive, the headlights pointing in a pretty strange direction.
Next thing he knew, Joey was running up the drive, holding both hands over his head—as if that might keep him dry.
He met his cousin at the front door. “What’s going on?”
“It’s... It’s the freaking bridge. It freaking broke. I got one wheel stuck straight through it, and I can’t get it out. I guess I need to rock it, ya know? Come help me.”
“I’ll get my coat,” Tim said, heading for the hall closet.
And then he saw her. She was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, and she had the strangest look on her face.
“Suze? What’s the matter?”
“My... I think my water just broke.”
Tim pressed a hand over his mouth, to keep down the five-alarm chili Bruno had fed him for lunch, and looked at the floor. “I... I don’t see anything,” he said, then winced. Stupid! What a stupid thing to say.
“It’s... It’s not rushing out, Tim. I’m... I think I’m leaking. It’s the strangest feeling...”
“Oh, babe,” Tim said, rushing to her, taking her in his arms. “Let’s get you sitting down, okay?”
“And get some towels for me to sit on, please,” she told Bruno, who was draining boiled potatoes in the sink. He dropped the pot. “I don’t want to make a mess. Joey? Dr. Phillips is number four on the speed dial. Will you call her, please?”
Tim knelt down on the floor in front of Suzanna, taking her hands in his. “Are you having contractions? Do you need to breathe?”
“Tim, I always need to breathe,” she told him, touching his cheek. “But, yes, I guess these are contractions. I just thought my backache was getting worse.”
“How long?” he asked, squeezing her fingers. “How long have you had this backache?”
She looked up at the clock. He looked, too. It was almost six-thirty. “I woke up with it.”
“And you didn’t tell me!” He closed his eyes, swallowed. “Okay, okay. No big deal. Remember what Mrs. B. said? First babies take a long time. We’re good, we’re good. We just get your bag and get you to the hospital. Joey? Did you get Dr. Phillips yet?”
Joey remained silent.
“Joey?”
“Um... I got her service. She’s, um, she’s outta town. Her associate is somewhere; they just have to find him.”
“Find him? How the hell did they lose him?”
“The service said he’s in Easton, somewhere like that.”
“Easton? That’s a half hour away—more, in this damn rain!”
“Tim, you’re shouting.”
“Sorry, Suze,” Tim said, getting to his feet. He looked at Joey; dripping wet Joey. “Oh, cripes. Joey, we have to get that damn monster truck of yours off the bridge. It’s our only way out of here.”
“Naw,” Joey said with a wave of his hand. “My vehicle goes anywhere. We can go over the lawn, over the snow, through the trees. You name it. Of course, you got a lot a trees, Tim, and a lot of creek. But we can do it.”
“But you said you were stuck on the bridge,” Tim said, rubbing at his aching back.
“Oh, yeah,” Joey said, raising his eyebrows. “Wow.”
“Tim?” Suzanna said, tugging at his arm. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, babe, nothing. Are you all right here with Bruno? Joey and I have to go do something with his truck. No, wait. Bruno, you come. Joey, stay. Sit. Wait for the phone call. Oh, and call Jack. Wait, don’t call Jack, he’s not home, he’s in Baltimore. Damn!”
“We could call Keely,” Suzanna suggested, looking at the three men.
“No!” they all said in unison.
“Oh, okay, right. She’d want to know why Joey’s truck is stuck on the bridge. Men,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“You never want to look bad, do you? Ohhh...” she ended, slowly sitting up very straight, “there’s another one. They hurt now, Tim. And I can feel more water coming out every time I move even a little bit. Could you please move Joey’s truck?”
“Bruno—now!”
“This isn’t happening; this isn’t happening,” Tim repeated as a sort of mantra, as he and Bruno ran down the hill, toward the truck. The headlights were still visible, but they seemed to be a little yellow now. “Shit! Joey turned off the engine and left the damn lights on. His battery’s going,” he called to Bruno as they ran. “We’ve got to get that piece of junk the hell out of there.”
Which was, once Tim shined the flashlight on the driver’s side rear wheel, or what could be seen of it, going to be a neat trick if he could do it.
It had been all that snow, and then all this rain. And Joey banging the snowplow into the bridge, probably more than the single time Suzanna saw him do it.
“This thing isn’t going anywhere,” Tim called through the sound of the rain slamming onto the bridge, the four-by-four. The bridge, narrow anyway, was totally blocked. He reached into the driver’s side and turned off the headlights, throwing the whole area into full dark. “Come on, we have to call a tow truck.”
“Are we going to have to do it?” Bruno asked, trotting up the hill beside Tim, toward the lights of the house.
“Call the tow truck? Sure.”
“No, I mean, deliver the babies.”
Tim stopped, bent over, and lost the chili.
* * *
Suzanna looked at the baseball trophy Tim had given her so long ago. Just a little thing, and the bat had long ago broken off the plastic batter poised on top of the small block of wood. But she loved it. The trophy had traveled with her to college, and she’d kept it on her bedside table all these years. Like some dumb groupie.
But that was okay, because it was a great focal point.
“Anything else?” Joey asked, sort of bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood in front of her, rubbing his hands together. “I’ve got your suitcase, your pillows, that focus thing. Come on, Suzanna. Help me here. Anything else?”
“You can call Dr. Phillips’s service again,” Suzanna said, doing her best to remember not to hold her breath when the pain gripped her again.
She wasn’t having cramps, at least not the way she’d read about contractions in the books. She felt very little pain in her belly, except very, very low. It was her back. Her back was killing her. She felt as if she were being bent like an archery bow being pulled on, could bend backward until her head touched the kitchen table. “I... I think I’d like to lie down.”
She stood up, which may have been a mistake, because suddenly it was Niagara Falls, right there in her kitchen. Lucky, who had been lying on the floor beside her, yelped, and ran for the den.
“Good for you,” Suzanna groused as she watched the cat. “See? Do bad things, and God always gets you back, sooner or later.”
“Damn,” Joey said, also jumping back. “This isn’t good, is it?”
She motioned for him to let her alone as she sat back down again. “Just call, Joey.”
“Give me the cell phone, then get me the phone book,” Tim called out, running into the kitchen, skidding to a stop. “Suze? What’s the name of that place down the road? You remember? Don Hunsinger’s dad owns it?”
“Hunsinger’s Towing?” she offered, worrying because Tim’s face looked so pale, and he’d asked such a silly question.
“Okay, that’s it,” Tim said, paging through the thick book. “Got it.”
“What’s he doing, Bruno?”
“Calling a tow truck, Suzanna. Joey’s truck is really stuck on the bridge.”
“Oh,” Suzanna said, but then didn’t say anything else, because another contraction had her locked in its grip. She managed to look up at the wall clock. Less than three minutes since the last one, and they seemed to be holding on for about forty-five seconds. “Tim? I think you should call the police instead. And, and an ambulance? And Keely? Oh, Tim, this hurts.”
Joey took out his own cell phone and punched in 9-1-1 even as Bruno hit Keely’s number on the kitchen phone’s speed dial.
“Wasn’t Alexander Graham Bell a wonderful man?” Suzanna said, sighing.
“Nobody answers at Don’s dad’s. Bruno, Joey, get that damn monster of Joey’s off that damn bridge! I can make it past the hole with my car,” Tim yelled, racing to Suzanna’s side.
“Hey, that thing cost a bundle, Tim,” Joey protested. “He’ll rip the undercarriage or something.”
“I’ll buy you a new one. Come on, babe, my car’s right out front. We’ll get you in the backseat, and Bruno will get the truck free.” He grabbed the trophy, stuck it in the pocket of his rain slicker, and helped her down the hallway.
“I... I need a raincoat. Or an umbrella?”
“Right, right,” he said, leaving her for a moment as he stripped off his slicker. “Here you go. Wait. I want the cell phone.”
He raced back into the kitchen, slid on the mess she’d left there, and cannoned into the side of the table.
“Damn!”
Suzanna giggled. She knew she shouldn’t, knew it was pretty much a giggle bordering on hysteria. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She felt as if they were in an episode of I Love Lucy.
* * *
“Comfortable?”
Suzanna raised her head from the slightly soggy pillows Bruno had shoved beneath her head as she lay in the backseat, and glared at her husband. “Don’t ask dumb questions. Can we go now?”
“Little problem,” Joey said from behind Tim. “The rest of the bridge? It, ya know, sorta broke? We were rocking the truck, and it was doing pretty good, and then—”
Tim dropped his head into his hands. “All right, all right, I get the picture. What about the police, Joey? The ambulance?”
“How they gonna get up here, Tim?” Joey asked. “My truck’s in the middle of the bridge, there’s about five feet of it missing now in one spot, behind the truck, and the creek is pretty deep. Nice creek, running all around your property, ya know. But right now it’s one of them knight things.”
Tim shook his head, and Suzanna said, from inside the car, “A moat, Tim. Joey means a moat. Ooh! Here I go again.”
Brakes squealed down at the bottom of the hill, and a car door slammed, quickly followed by Keely, running up the hill, waving a huge flashlight.
“Where is she? I got Aunt Sadie to watch the kids, and—oh, brother,” she said, shining the light into the backseat of the car. “What’s she doing out here? You can’t go anywhere.” She pushed Tim away and leaned into the car. “Suzanna? How often are the pains?”
“All... all the time. I think I want to push.”
“No!” Tim slammed Keely out of the way and all but jumped into the car. “No pushing, Suze. No damn pushing.”
“Let’s get her inside,” Keely said, but now it was Suzanna’s turn to say no. She wasn’t moving. She couldn’t. Really, she couldn’t. She just wanted to push.
“Can’t she, ya know, cross her legs?” Joey asked, and Keely gave him a punch in the arm. “Hey, don’t hit me. I could help, ya know, except we didn’t get to the delivering a baby part of my course. Cops do it all the time. Except we’re not there yet. Now, if she were, ya know, choking? Then I could—”
“Shut up, Joey,” Tim and Keely said at the same time.
“Honey?” Tim asked, looking at Suzanna. “You really need to push?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, and reached for him. A new pain gripped her, and she grabbed at Tim’s shirt, nearly ripping it off him as she twisted the material in her fist. Man, she was strong...
Keely opened the front door and climbed into the bucket seat. “Let go, honey, let go. Where’s your focal point, Suzanna?”
Tim reached into the pocket of the slicker that was on the floor of the car now and pulled out the trophy. Keely grabbed it and held it balanced on the back of the front seat. “Okay, Tim, now help her get her slacks off. No, wait. Bruno? Run inside and get the afghan from the couch in the den. Tim, I’m assuming you’ve called for an ambulance? And why don’t we drive down to the bridge. That way we’re closer, when help comes.”
Tim agreed, just waiting for Bruno to return with the afghan. He arranged it over Suzanna’s hips, then helped her remove her sopping wet slacks and underwear. “Wait. I read about this. I mean, I read it all, cover to cover. We need a shoelace.”
Suzanna groaned.
“No, really, we do. To tie off the cord. And newspapers, to wrap the babies in. Oh, God, I can’t do this.”
“How about string?” Keely asked. “I’m sure there’s some in the kitchen.”
“Tim-bo?” Joey said as Bruno went running back into the house once more. “Phone’s for you.”
Tim looked at the cell phone. “Are you nuts?”
“No, I mean it. Phone’s for you. Dispatcher. They traced my call.”
Bruno slammed out the front door with a plastic bag holding newspapers and ball of twine and ran to the driver’s side door, climbing in as Joey landed half on Keely’s lap. “Ready?” The boxer turned chef turned chauffeur asked, and then gunned the engine, moving the car all the way down to the bridge.
In the meantime, Tim, half falling on Suzanna, was yelling into the cell phone. “Hello? Hello? Who is this? Where’s the ambulance? And we need a tow truck.”
“Hey, Tim, that you?”
Tim looked at the cell phone for a moment, then pressed it to his ear once more. “Who is this?”
“It’s Don. Don Hunsinger. I’m working Dispatch tonight. I understand you’ve got a little emergency? Something about a baby?”
“Two babies, Don, two. And where’s the tow truck?”
“Dad’s on his way, don’t worry. So’s an ambulance, and a couple of cops who won the bet and got the job. So, how’s the little mother?”
Tim looked at Suzanna, who was staring fixedly at the baseball trophy visible in the interior lights Bruno had turned on. She was also panting. Panting real, real fast.
“About to give birth. How soon can you be here?”
“Soon as we can, Tim. Hell of a crackup at MacArthur and 329, what with the rain and all. That’s where Dad is now. We’re sending for another ambulance. In the meantime, how about we play ball?”
Tim’s head was going to explode. He just knew it. He was nauseous, his back ached, and Suzanna needed him. “Play ball? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Here,” Joey interrupted, holding out a headpiece attached to a plastic-coated wire. “Headphone, just for cell phones. So you don’t get all that radio stuff from the battery. I love stuff like this.”
“Radiation,” Keely said, grabbing the wire. “Good going, Joey. Here, Tim, give me the phone for a second.”
Within seconds, Tim had the headphone snapped over his head, the cell phone clipped to the belt on his slacks. “Don? You still there?”
“Still here, Timmy,” his high school friend said, his tone unbelievably calming, which was nuts, because Donnie was the same guy who had, for a joke, glued his own finger to his nose in fifth period study hall. “Ready to play catcher? Are you behind the plate? Ready to go?”
Tim took a deep breath, willed himself to be strong. “I’m not a catcher here, Don. Just a utility player.”
“No, you’re going to be the catcher. That’s what we call the OB guys. Mama does the work, and you just catch.”
“Okay, okay,” Tim said, looking at Suzanna, who was still staring at the trophy. “You okay, babe?”
“Don’t... call... me... babe,” she said, and then she grinned. “Oh, Tim...”
“Tim? Tim, where are you? Let’s start with that, okay?”
“In the car, Don, near the bridge on the drive up to my house. There’s a truck—”
“Four-by-four. Jeez,” Joey yelled in Tim’s direction, earning himself a cuffed ear from Keely, who had already complained that Joey could at least try to keep his elbows out of her back as she knelt on the front seat.
“It’s stuck on the bridge, and the bridge is pretty much out. The creek’s high, and I don’t know how you’re going to get in here, Don.”
“Oh, we’ll get in there. Do you hear sirens yet? They just left the accident on 329.”
“Nope. Nothing yet. Why the hell do I live in the country?”
Suzanna reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezed it until he figured his circulation might be cut off, permanently. “Do you want to push, Suze?”
“Pushing...” she said between breaths. “Pushing...”
“She’s pushing!” Tim yelled into the phone as he lifted the afghan and ducked his head underneath it, between Suzanna’s already raised and bent legs. A moment later, Keely’s huge flashlight was under there with him. “Oh, cripes. I think I see a head,” Tim said, sure he was going to faint.
“Okay, Tim, don’t panic. We’ve got a real barn burner here, huh? Gut check time, Tim. It’s not a head, Tim; it’s a can of corn. Isn’t that what we call it? An easy catch, can of corn. All you have to do is wait for her to push and get ready to catch.”
“Would you please stop pretending this is a damn baseball game?” Tim complained, then took in a deep breath as Suzanna lifted her hips off the seat “Uh-oh, here we go.”
Tim thought he heard sirens, but he couldn’t be sure, because Keely was yelling for Suzanna to breathe, and Joey was yelling that Keely was kneeling on his hand, and Suzanna was just plain yelling.
And pushing.
“Did she push? Talk to me, Timmy.”
“Tow truck’s here,” Bruno yelled, opening the car door. “I’ll go help them.”
“Me, too,” Joey said, also getting out of the car.
“Tim? Come on, you have to talk to me,” Don said, still in that calm, measured voice. “Is she pushing?”
“She did, she did. But now she stopped. I can see more of the head, but not all of it. It’s... Cripes, it’s stuck.”
“No, you’re fine. Ambulance driver says they’re at the bridge now, throwing a rope across so the EMS can get to you. Now listen, Tim, next push might just do it. A real bang-bang play, at the hot corner, okay? You ready?”
“I never freaking played third. You played third,” Tim gritted out, blinking back the perspiration that was running down his forehead..
“Tim?”
“Suzanna!” Tim said, pulling his head free of the afghan.
“I’m sorry, Tim. Nothing seems to work... work the way we planned.”
He didn’t know how he did it, but he grinned at her and said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, babe. You all right?”
She nodded, and then her eyes grew wide as another pain hit her.
“Where are they?” Tim yelled into the headpiece as he dived under the afghan once more.
“Another pain, huh? Okay, Tim, maybe it’s time for a Hail Mary pass.”
“Football? Make up your damn mind. I thought we were playing baseball!”
“I don’t know what you’re playing, but I’m Mary. How about you let me take over?”
Tim felt the hand on his back and sat up, pushed the afghan away, and looked at the second most beautiful woman in the world. She was about forty, her hair was dripping wet, her uniform was too tight on her pudgy body, and she was holding a medical bag.
“You’re Mary?”
“I am, and you’re in the way. I’ve been listening in on Dispatch, so I know we’re close. Why don’t you go around to the other side of the car and hold your wife’s hand? Better, help her sit up a little for this final few pushes.”
“Gotta go now, Tim,” Don said into his ear. “Good luck.”
“Yeah. Yeah, Don, thanks. I owe you.”
“Just invite us all to the christening.”
“You got it!” Then he ripped off the headpiece and grabbed Mary’s shoulder. “There’s... There’s two of them in there,” Tim said, scrambling out of the car. “Do you know there’s two of them?”
“Ah, double the pleasure, double the fun. Don’t worry, I’ve already spoken to Dr. Bracken. He’s on his way back from Easton and will meet us at the hospital. Hi there, Mrs. Trehan. Come here often?”
“Suz... Suzanna,” Suzanna gasped, her smile more of a grimace.
“Okay, Suzanna. Pretty name. I’m just plain Mary,” she said, pulling on latex gloves, then climbing into the backseat. “Pretty exciting night, isn’t it? What do you say we have some babies.”
“O-okay,” Suzanna said as Tim opened the door and slipped into the car. “Tim!” She reached back, grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me.”
“Not a lot of places I could go, babe,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I love you, Suze.”
“Oh, Tim, I love you, too—oh!”
“All right, here we go. One hand on her back, one helping her hold up her head, and then sit her up a little,” Mary instructed tersely.
“Hey, what’s going on in—whoa!” Joey said, quickly drawing his head back out of the car. “Okay, I’m gone. They got my four-by-four moved, Tim-bo, and they’re laying planks.”
“Did you guys sell tickets?” Mary asked, then disappeared under the afghan once more.
“Here it... Here it comes...” Suzanna gasped, and Tim held her, telling her she was great, she was the best, she was magnificent, and he loved her. He loved her so much.
“Ohhhhh,” Suzanna sighed at last, collapsing against him, and the next thing Tim heard was a baby crying.
After that, everything was sort of a blur.
The car was surrounded by cops in yellow slickers, EMS personnel, even the tow truck driver, Donnie’s dad. Rain still came down in sheets, and there was even a little lightning, but somehow the baby was kept dry and transferred to the ambulance that had crossed the makeshift bridge on the newly laid planks.
The second baby was born as the ambulance, sirens blaring, pulled under the canopy at the hospital.
Girls. Two girls. They looked like two peas from the same pod. Identical.
Mama and babies were taken upstairs and settled into dry beds, while Tim and everyone else—half the world, it seemed—lingered in the lobby of the Emergency Room.
“Two girls. That’s so sweet,” Keely said. “Do you have names yet, Tim?”
“I think so. Allison and Elinor, for both our grandmothers,” he said, rubbing at his back, which—miraculously—didn’t hurt anymore, although it was still sore. “Suzanna was great, wasn’t she?”
“You weren’t so bad yourself, Tim-bo,” Joey said, clapping him on the back.
“You were great, too, Joey,” Tim said, holding out his hand to his cousin. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You, too, Bruno.”
“Well, okay, guess we’ll head back to the house, huh?” Joey said, scuffing his foot against the floor.
“Sounds good. Aunt Sadie will want to hear all the news, and I’ve still got to call Jack,” Keely said, going up on tiptoe to kiss Tim’s cheek. “Congratulations, Daddy. Here’s the keys to my car; I’ll ride home with Joey and Bruno. Go kiss Suzanna for us, then go home yourself, get dry.”
“Thanks,” Tim said, his voice choked, because his throat was tight. Daddy. Second best word in the English language, next to husband.
He headed for the elevator, still wiping his face with the towel Mary had given him. He was directed to Suzanna’s room, but stopped at the nursery first. “Trehan twins?” he asked a passing nurse. “I’m... I’m the father.”
“Oh, they’re not here, Mr. Trehan. Since they were born outside the hospital, they can’t be in the nursery with the rest of the babies. Sanitary regulations. They’re in the room down the hall, with your wife. And they’re fine. The pediatrician just finished checking them out. Oh, Mr. Trehan?” she asked as he headed down the hall. “Maybe you’d like a set of greens? You’re pretty wet.”
“Okay,” he said, because he was cold, he definitely was wet, and he wanted to hug his wife. “Thanks.”
Suzanna was asleep when he finally got to the room, and the room was dark except for a small light near the floor.
He tiptoed over to the two clear plastic bassinets to see two small pink bundles wearing pink knitted caps. They were sound asleep. “Had a busy night, didn’t you?” he whispered, carefully kissing both of his daughters’ foreheads.
And then he walked over to the bed. There was Suzanna, still fast asleep. His love, his life. Her orangy hair stood up in damp spikes, and the pale blue hospital gown had drooped halfway off one shoulder. She was lying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek.
Tim stood there for a long time, just watching her, then finally lifted the sheet and blanket and climbed into the bed, to lie down, spoon fashion, behind her, one arm draped across her belly....