2

 

 

“What do you mean, where are you? You’re in New Jersey.”

“Where in New Jersey? What is all this?”

“This? It’s Route Thirty-eight.” She shoved his shoulder. “We’re at a yield, not a stop. C’mon, there’s people backing up behind us. Go.”

“But they’re all traveling so fast.”

She stared at the back of his head as she held the blanket between her legs. If he didn’t look ridiculous with a diaper slipping off it, she would have smacked his skull. “Step on it!” She looked to her left and saw the road was empty. “Now!”

He cautiously turned the car onto the highway and Suzanne breathed easier until she realized they were traveling at about twenty miles an hour. “Will you please drive faster? The speed limit is fifty here, and I really need to get to the hospital.”

She felt the engine accelerate and took hope. Maybe his odd behavior had to do with his head wound and loss of blood. And maybe he was as much in need of a hospital visit as she was.

“What are those signs?” he asked, nodding toward the billboards.

“Advertisements.” One was for a casino at the Jersey shore with the digital amounts of winnings blinking furiously. “You haven’t ever seen them? How long have you been in this country?”

“I’ve been here for almost twenty years and I’ve never seen anything like that. How do the numbers keep changing so quickly?”

“I don’t know. It’s a computer chip, or something. Can you go faster?” she pleaded as another contraction wrapped around her even more tightly.

“I am going fast!” he protested.

She looked over his shoulder at the speedometer. “You’re only going forty miles an hour. Do at least sixty-five.”

“What? I thought the purpose of this was get you to a hospital safely.”

“Please!”

He sped up and Suzanne gripped the front seat as the contraction eased. “Where are you from, Charlie? Ireland?” she asked, desperate to get her mind off her situation.

“Well, many years ago I was. I’ve just bought an fair-sized piece of land in Mount Laural.”

“Really? What are you going to build, a house?” So many builders were streaming into the area and constructing executive homes. It’s why Kevin had made a financial killing when he’d sold off their land.

“Eventually. My objective is to plant fruit trees, apple and peach, and market the harvest.”

She stared at him. “Fruit trees?” All those acres of fruit trees that she had so loved were now plowed over by a steam shovel and big, carbon-copy houses with barren land took their place. “I wish you luck,” she whispered, as they approached a traffic light. “Slow down. Stop! It’s a red light!”

The car screeched to a stop and Suzanne was practically in the front seat with him when the momentum suddenly ended and she fell back onto her seat. “What were you thinking?” she demanded.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to stop,” he explained, looking back at her. “Are you all right?”

“What do you mean you didn’t know? Where the hell are you from?”

“I’m from a place that certainly doesn’t have any of this… these things, that’s where! A place where there isn’t this madness! Now, why don’t you tell me something. Where in the hell am I?”

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on Suzanne’s neck rise. “Okay, calm down. You’re in Mount Laural, New Jersey. I thought you said you live here.”

“I got here a few months ago, but when I arrived it looked nothing like this!”

“Well, I don’t know what part you’ve seen, but this is how Mount Laural has looked for about the last forty years. Not a lot’s changed, except for the shopping centers and all the housing developments.”

Suzanne watched as the man’s face became suddenly pale.

“Something is very wrong here,” he mumbled as he peered out the windows. “This is all surreal.”

“Look, Charlie,” she began in a soothing tone, “this is all very real. There are no Model T Fords, except in museums and antique car shows. This is the modern world. You know… modern, as in the new millennium?”

Please, please let there be some sign of recognition, she mentally pleaded.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “The new century passed twenty-six years ago.”

Wait a minute. Maybe that gash on his temple had given him amnesia or something. “Ah, I don’t think so, Charlie. It’s only two thousand one.”

He stared back at her as though she were the demented one. “I beg to differ, ma’am. It’s nineteen twenty-six by my calendar.”

She took a deep breath, as she felt another contraction begin its slow grip on her. “Please, Charlie, you can’t have a nervous breakdown on me now. If anyone on this planet deserves one, it’s me, and if I can’t have one, you can’t either. Got it? Now, get ready, the light is about to change.”

She watched as he blinked a few times, as though he were attempting to digest her words, and then he noticed the other cars on either side of them. “Got it?” she repeated, hoping he wasn’t going to completely freak out on her. As the traffic light changed, the car behind them beeped its horn.

She nearly jumped with fright as he suddenly spun around, tore the diaper from his head, grabbed the steering wheel and slammed his foot onto the accelerator. The car raced ahead of the others and Suzanne, shocked by his sudden take-charge attitude, once more clutched the seat for balance and held her breath.

Charlie was right about one thing: This was definitely surreal.

As he maneuvered through three more traffic lights, weaving around cars and lane changes, and finally a jug handle that took them across the highway, she continuously reminded herself to remain calm and to keep breathing. Through all her instructions, he never said another word or even looked back at her. The man appeared almost automated and did only as he was directed. Within ten minutes they pulled in front of the hospital as a mixture of pain and relief spread over Suzanne and tears streamed down her cheeks. She had never in her life been on such a crazy ride, but he had done it. “Stop there, where it says ‘Emergency,’ “ she instructed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears.

They came to a halt right by the door and he turned off the ignition. The car died without being put into park and he then sat frozen, just staring out the front window, as though in shock.

“Yo, Charlie?”

Her voice seemed to snap him out of it and he bolted out of the car to help her.

“Yes. We’re here now. The doctors can help you.”

As the car door opened, she looked into his green eyes and smiled with relief. “Thank you, Charles Garitty,” she whispered with a sigh. “You did it. You’re my hero.”

He appeared slightly self-conscious as he held out his hand to her. “Come along now, don’t turn all mushy on me. I was rather fond of that feisty side of you.” His smile was almost tender and meant to be reassuring.

Suzanne awkwardly slid toward the door and nearly collapsed against his arm. She felt as though everything was rushing out of her when she stood upright. “I’m so sorry for all this,” she gasped in embarrassment. “You know, you should have someone look at your head while you’re here.”

“Forget about my head. It’s stopped bleeding anyway.” He wrapped his arms around her and, practically holding her body up, he moved slowly with her exhausted pace. “Careful, there’s a step up here.”

Suzanne looked down to see the yellow painted curb and gingerly stepped up.

“Besides, I really think someone needs to take care of you,” he added with a smile.

It was his last words, spoken so honestly, that did her in as everything she had been holding back came to the surface. She couldn’t help it. She started crying, really crying. “Yes. I need somebody to take care of me, Charlie,” she sobbed, knowing she sounded pathetic, yet unable to stop the fear from spreading through her body. “Right now I have no one.”

His arm around her shoulder tightened. “Where’s your husband?”

“Probably off with my best friend. He left me for her today. Just told me he’s in love with my best friend and… oh God,” she gasped, as another deep contraction took control of her body.

“Somebody help us here!” he yelled to the large glass doors.

He stopped and stared at them as they slid open and attendants rushed to close the space. “Amazing,” he breathed.

Suzanne didn’t have time to analyze his reaction as she was put into a wheelchair and rushed into the emergency area. Reaching behind, she shouted, “Don’t leave, Charlie. Stay with me… for a while… please?”

A male nurse turned to him and said, “Everything’s under control now, sir. But you’re going to have to move your car. It’s in an unloading zone.”

“Charlie!” Suzanne hated that her voice sounded so scared. The moment she had been praying for was here, and now she was terrified of what awaited her. She always thought her husband and her best friend would be there for support. Neither of those choices were available now. She truly was all alone, except for this extremely strange man who had appeared out of nowhere. She turned in the chair and looked back for a friendly face.

When their eyes met it was as though he read her thoughts, for the knot in Charles’s stomach tightened as he glared back at the man in the light green smock. “You move it. I’m not leaving her.”

“Sir, you can be with your wife as soon as she’s been examined and put in a labor room. Now you’ll have to move your car immediately, or it will be towed.”

Denied access to the building and left to watch dumbly as Suzanne was taken beyond another set of doors, Charles suddenly felt helpless. His mind raced back to when she’d found him by the water. She’d saved his life. Even though he’d only just met her, his integrity told him he owed Suzanne a lot more. Charles Garitty had never been the kind of man to leave anyone who’d asked for his help, and he wasn’t about to start now. Ignoring the man in the doorway, Charles stepped forward.

“Wait. It seems you’ve been hurt yourself,” the man said, raising his hand in an attempt to stop him.

Glancing down at the man’s hand on his shoulder, Charles then stared hard at the man’s face. “I’m fine. She needs my help. I’m going to her now.”

“Please, sir,” the man said sympathetically, dropping his hand, but still blocking the doorway. “Babies are born every day. It’s going to take a little while to prep your wife, but she’ll be fine. All you’ve got to do is park your car over there,” he said, pointing in the direction, “where it says ‘Visitor Parking,’ and then come right back.”

Charles looked over to where the man had instructed. It didn’t seem too far away.

“And when you come back, I’ll get you a bandage and you can use the men’s room to clean up your wound. Afterward, you can be with her again, I promise.”

Charles looked back at the man. “All right,” he relented. After all, he mentally reasoned, she was in a hospital with doctors, and he really didn’t want to cause any trouble since he was in very unfamiliar territory. He nodded his thanks and turned back to the car.

Within minutes he had managed to park between two white lines in a huge open area and was now standing at a sink with a faucet and no knobs in the men’s room of the hospital. The male nurse had given him a thin bandage wrapped in paper, and another clear package with what appeared to be a cotton ball soaked in brown liquid. Ignoring his own disheveled reflection in the mirror, he tore open the cotton ball with antiseptic, at least that’s what he hoped it was, as it began staining his fingers. Dabbing at his forehead, he grit his teeth and inhaled as the stinging sensation began.

Damn Mitch, he thought, and couldn’t suppress the hiss as more medicine entered the cut. Dismissing the pain, he blotted up the excess liquid around the gash and then tore open the bandage. Before putting it on, he wouldn’t mind wiping his face to get some of the blood off it, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how to turn on the water without any knobs. To his surprise when he simply touched the bottom of the faucet to examine it, water came pouring out—all by itself!

He looked once more into the mirror and stared into his eyes as a wave of dread spread through his body. Something was really, really wrong here. He’d never seen or heard of such inventions. Automobiles that were beyond mechanical belief. Lights and signs on roads he’d never imagined. A hospital building, the likes of which he’d never seen, and now water coming magically out of a faucet with no levers or knobs. Everyone he’d met seemed to take it all for granted, yet it was nothing he was accustomed to. Ever since Suzanne had pulled him from the water nothing was the same. It was all out of place. He’d already considered he might be hallucinating or maybe dreaming since he’d passed out when he jumped from that bridge, but he’d never dreamed anything this vividly before.

Shaking his head, he bent down and splashed water over his face and neck, hoping it would provide some clarity to his situation. Okay, he didn’t know where he was, but maybe he could rationalize how he’d gotten here. He mentally began recounting the facts as he knew them to be. He and Mitch had been taking some measurements on the land he’d just purchased, and were walking back to town. They were discussing how many trees to start with in the lower portion of the orchard. Then, while crossing the trestle railroad bridge, Mitch suddenly pulled a gun from his jacket and demanded the property deed. Charles again shook his head with disbelief. If he weren’t so confused now, he’d have the strength to be angry. Splashing more water on his face, he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply as the pain of his longtime friend’s betrayal began to sink in.

Slowly looking up at his reflection in the mirror, he saw beads of water dripping from his face as his mind flashed back to the Rancocas Creek. He remembered turning and jumping, all the while praying he wouldn’t be torn to pieces by the beams before he hit the water. He heard a shot ring out and felt the searing pain in his head. He saw flashes of light, like brilliant explosions on the water that nearly blinded him. He recalled closing his eyes and… and then he guessed he’d blacked out.

“Shit. I can’t remember anything after that.” His whisper echoed in the sterile room. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he looked around and was relieved to find he was still alone.

Immediately, he thought of the woman who had breathed life back into him. He was certainly grateful, and he would repay her somehow but, quite frankly, he had to conclude Suzanne was rather odd. Model Ts in museums? She had to have been overcome with delirium from labor pains, he mused. And when she had said it was the year 2001, she looked at him as though he were a lunatic!

Silence filled the room as the water stopped flowing and Charles stood, blankly staring at his own reflection. His eyes widened as though he’d heard a nagging voice from some unknown place and the words came back to him.

The year 2001!

That’s impossible.

Every muscle in his body became rigid as he felt his blood blast from his toes to his head and back down again. Each rapid beat of his heart sent sledgehammers to his brain. He felt rage beginning to boil inside him, and with every ounce of effort he could gather in an attempt to calm himself, he slowly unfurled his clenched hands. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream out in denial for everything that was happening to him. Why had his best friend turned on him? Who were all these crazy people around him? Why was everything so different? Where in the hell had his life gone?

Breathe, Charles. Inhaling slowly and deeply, he obeyed his conscience. With steel determination, he glared into the eyes of the opposing reflection. He knew he was on the brink, but this time, he wasn’t going to jump. This time, he was going to stand his ground.

Don’t think about it any longer, he mentally commanded himself. Just go out and do it. Just deny the insanity and simply go along with everyone and everything until you figure out a way to get back and take care of Mitch.

Right now he had to pull it together not only for himself, but for someone who’d asked for his help, someone to whom he owed a great deal. He might be precariously balanced on the edge of madness now, but being with Suzanne would be enough to take his mind off from his own pain and anger.

Okay, finish up here, make yourself somewhat presentable, and find her, he encouraged himself. He thought back to the moment when they’d stared at each other as she was being wheeled down the hall. He had to admit, he’d felt an unexplainable tug at his heart that was so strong, he knew he couldn’t desert her while she was so alone and scared. The least he could do was not leave until he knew she was okay. He’d have time to figure out how to repay her later.

“Lady Luck has always been on your side, Charles Garrity,” he said with a forced wink to the mirror.

His regained confidence nearly flew out the door when it swung open and a hospital worker walked in. The man hesitated for a moment, and Charles hoped he hadn’t overheard his conceit. He looked down to where the man was staring. His blood-stained shirt. He wished he had a way to wash it too, but he didn’t want to waste any more time. With his hands still held out and dripping, Charlie smiled and shrugged at the man, to convey there was nothing more he could do. The fellow said nothing and passed him to enter a stall.

Turning quickly to find something with which to dry his hands, he saw there were paper hand towels on the wall and he pulled out a few to wipe his hands and face. He picked up the bandage from the sink and played with it for a few moments until he figured out how to make it stick. Once it was in place, he ran his fingers through his hair and walked out.

“There you are,” the male nurse exclaimed. “Here. Change into this and I’ll direct you to the labor rooms. Don’t want to miss the big moment, right?”

“Ah, right,” Charles answered, holding the green paper shirt in his hand as he followed the fellow down a hallway.

“Hurry up, man. They’re never going to let you into maternity with all that blood on you.”

Charles began unbuttoning his soiled shirt as they continued their brisk walk. He’d been in a hospital once before. He’d gone to visit Mitch after the kid had taken some shrapnel in his side during the war and then had spent some time as a patient himself after being wounded. But like everything else he’d encountered so far today, this hospital was nothing like what he’d ever seen before. The amount of light was so overwhelming he had to squint. There were strange pinging noises coming from every room they passed. Insistent voices from the ceiling requested doctors by name and gave instructions for them to pick up lines. Charles looked down at the highly polished floor. At least it appeared very clean and the stench of sulphur wasn’t wafting through the air.

“Hang on. You’ve got it backward. Here, let me help you.”

He felt like a child as the man turned the paper shirt around and tied it behind him.

“So, what are you having, a boy or a girl?”

“Huh?” Charles gasped, trying to spin around to face the man.

“Do you know what the baby is?”

“I… I have no idea. In fact, it’s not—”

“Careful, these things can rip pretty easily,” the nurse interrupted. “They just don’t make ’em like they used to,” he continued almost absentmindedly before adding, “You seem pretty nervous. This must be your first.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Charles sighed in resignation. What was the use in trying to explain the unexplainable?

“There,” the man said with a pat to his back. “Okay, go through those doors and tell them your wife’s name. They’ll take you right to her.”

“Um, sure. My wife. Yes, thank you,” Charles mumbled, still in shock by what was happening so quickly.

“Hey, I’ve got two sons myself. Good luck.”

Left for a moment standing idly in front of the double doors, he reached out to push one, when both seemed to open magically. One more marvel to add to the many he had already experienced. Shaking his head, he whispered under his breath, “Just do it.” Stepping beyond the doors, he saw two women at a circular desk.

“Can I help you, sir?” one older woman asked.

He cleared his throat and tried to remember Suzanne’s last name. “Yes, a woman was just brought here. Suzanne Mc… McDermott.” There. That was it, wasn’t it?

The nurse looked down to her desk. “Yes. She’s in room three. I see from the preadmission forms that you’re signed up for natural childbirth. Do you have her bag?”

“Her bag?” he asked stupidly.

“Yes, her maternity bag.”

“Oh, yes. The bag. It’s still in the car.”

“Well, let me take you to her and see if she wants you to get it.” The woman gently patted his shoulder as she passed. “Come along.”

He followed her down the hallway and overheard a woman’s voice groaning in pain. The blood seemed to drain from his head and he lectured himself to be strong. If he could make it through a world war in a foreign country, he could certainly make it through this!

“Here we are,” the nurse cheerily proclaimed, holding open a door.

He walked through it and saw Suzanne lying upon the high bed with bars on the sides.

“Here’s your handsome husband, Suzanne. He looks shell shocked. You might want to go over your breathing exercises to bring him back.”

Suzanne, looking freshened and dressed in a yellow gown, smiled politely at the nurse. “I will,” she said. “Thank you for bringing him.”

“I’ll be back to check you in a few minutes. You seem to be proceeding nicely.”

“When will I see my doctor? I’m two weeks early, remember?”

“He’s been beeped. He’ll be here soon.”

When they were left alone, they looked at each other for a few moments in silence. Charles smiled and asked, “How are you?”

“Better, now that I’m here. Look, I’m sorry for everything, for the way I acted, for yelling at you… all of it.” She looked as if she was about to burst into tears again, before adding, “And for letting everyone think you’re my husband. It’s kind of childish of me not to tell the truth, but the truth is so ugly and…” Her words trailed off.

He shook his head and walked closer to the bed. “It’s okay.”

“I just don’t want to be alone, you know?”

He nodded. “I said it’s all right. Don’t you think you should contact him, though?”

“I will not speak to him now,” she gritted out between her teeth, as she wiped away a tear. “He doesn’t deserve to know. If he cared so much he wouldn’t have walked out and… oh God, here’s another one!”

She reached out her hand and he took hold of it as he watched her being pulled into some great torrent of pain. Her pretty face became contorted and deep red. The veins in her neck strained with the effort as she moaned. It was reminiscent of the times he’d felt helpless watching soldiers who’d been shot in the gut as they waited in the muddy trenches for a medic. Her intense grip on his hand lessened as she seemed to crest over the worst of it and slide back to some amount of comfort.

“They’re getting stronger,” she gasped with a weak smile as she let go of his hand. “I guess I should try those breathing exercises with the next one.”

“Good idea,” he answered, wondering how she could be so strong. Her dark blond hair was damp with exertion and her wide blue eyes looked scared. His heart went out to her and he tried to smile reassuringly. “Women have been having babies since, well, forever. You’ll do fine, Suzanne.”

“You think?” she asked hopefully.

“I know,” he replied, leaning on the metal railing. “That nurse said you might want me to get your bag. Should I?”

She grabbed his shirt. “Don’t leave me, okay? I mean, you don’t have to stay through the whole thing, but just don’t go right now. I know I sound like a baby about all this, but nothing is turning out the way I’d planned.” Releasing him, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Like who plans on having their husband tell them about his affair with their best friend and then hitting a man with their wedding ring and dragging him out of the river?” She looked up to him as she let him go. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” Charles said, deciding now was not the time to let this woman know it was a bullet that had grazed his temple, not her ring. “A man gave me a bandage and this shirt.”

Suzanne looked to the green paper shirt and tears started once more. “I’m so sorry for getting you messed up with all this.”

“Hey, you saved my life. Don’t be sorry.”

She appeared to shrug that off as she waved her hand. “Anybody would have done it. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Okay. He mentally refuted the word. He was definitely not okay. He had no idea where the hell he was and how he had gotten here, nor how to get back to normalcy. He had business to take care of and a score to settle.

“I’m really sorry about everything. I guess I didn’t want to admit to anyone else that I’d been abandoned. Kinda cowardly, huh?”

“I’m indebted and grateful to you, Suzanne. And you shouldn’t be worrying about what anyone else thinks right now. I’ll stay with you as long as you want. I owe you that.”

She stared into his eyes for the longest time and then started crying again. “You’re a very nice man, Charles Garrity, even if you drive a car like a maniac.”

He chuckled for the first time in a long while. “Hey, I got you here, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did and… oh God… it’s starting again! I should be breathing and… and I can’t!” She panted and blew air out of her mouth and then muttered, “It’s not working!”

He continued to hold her hand, even though she was clutching him so hard he was sure his fingers would be numb when she let go. “You are breathing, Suzanne,” he said, trying to reassure her and stop her near hysteria from escalating.

“Not… not the right breathing,” she again muttered through the instances of pain, her face a grimace of agony before she gratefully collapsed back onto the pillow with relief.

When she released his hand, he too took a deep breath and began looking around at all the machines in the room. His mind was too overwhelmed to ask questions and he didn’t think Suzanne would appreciate his curiosity at the moment. “You’re all right?” he asked with concern.

She nodded. “I have to get this under control. I’m supposed to breathe in short gasps and concentrate on something. I bought this tiny angel and that was supposed to be my focal point and—” She started crying again.

“Tell me what to do,” he said, patting her arm in a feeble attempt to comfort her. Shit, how could he be so useless? How the hell did he get to be in this room with a woman who was about to deliver a baby? He knew what to do in a war. He also knew what to do with that sonofabitch Mitch Davies. But here and now, he was more than completely lost.

“All right,” the nurse announced, interrupting his thoughts as she burst back into the room. “Your doctor has been notified and is on his way. Now, let’s get this IV started and then hook you up to the fetal monitor.”

Charles stood back as the nurse took over and he glanced away with an inward shudder when she inserted a long needle into Suzanne’s hand. When he looked back, the woman was sticking a long narrow tube to it that was attached to a clear bag on a pole. What were they doing to Suzanne? She didn’t appear to be protesting, so it must be all right. The nurse adjusted something on the needle and then walked in front of him to a machine. She picked up a long black belt with several wires attached and brought them to Suzanne.

“Let’s hook you up and then your husband can monitor your contractions.”

Within minutes, the machine was beeping quickly and the nurse instructed him how to tell when another contraction would begin. “See the way it’s rising now?” she asked, pointing to a small window on the thing as Suzanne began to moan.

He nodded stupidly.

“I’ll turn down the baby’s heartbeat so that won’t distract you.”

Again, he simply nodded and then saw Suzanne looking at him with a panicked expression. He held out his hand and she grabbed it, panting and blowing and shaking her head.

“It’s not working!” she moaned as the contraction began to build.

“But it is working,” he answered, looking at the confusing machine. “See?”

“I mean the damn breathing!” she yelled.

Startled, he glanced at the nurse, who shrugged and said, “You’d better help her. You’re her coach, aren’t you?”

“Her coach?”

“You really are rattled, huh?” the nurse asked with a grin, as though she wasn’t the least bit concerned with Suzanne’s pain. “Go on, get in there and breathe with her.”

“Oh, breathe. Coach her breathing.” Damn it, he never felt more inept in his life. Deciding somebody in the room had to take charge, Charles said in a firm voice, “Now look at me, Suzanne. Let’s breathe together. Come on, in,” he said, drawing in a breath that puffed out his chest. “Now, out,” he exhaled. “In… and out.”

“No, like this,” the nurse interrupted. “Heeee. Heeee. Hoooowwww.”

“What?”

“Didn’t they teach you anything in those classes? Do it. Heeee. Heeee. Long breath… Hoooowwww.”

As insane as it all seemed, he started breathing as he was instructed and soon Suzanne was breathing along with him. He glanced at the machine. “It’s going down now.”

Suzanne nodded and sank back against the pillow, releasing his mangled hand.

“Okay, I’m going to examine you again, Suzanne,” the nurse said when the contraction was over. She lifted the sheet and within moments peeked over Suzanne’s knees. “Looks like we’re progressing quickly. You’re dilated to eight centimeters. It’ll be any time now.”

“What about my doctor?” Suzanne gasped, her face suddenly deathly white.

“Don’t worry, I’ve delivered several babies without a doctor, but I’ll call for a resident right now,” she said, snapping off her strange rubbery-looking gloves and disposing of them in a basket by the door. “You two keep it up and do your part. We’ll do ours.”

The door gently closed behind her and Charles turned his head to look at Suzanne. Now, if possible, she looked even more scared.

“This baby’s coming too quickly. I’m two weeks early. What if something’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, lass,” he answered, stroking back the hair from her forehead. “The nurse didn’t seem concerned at all.”

“She didn’t, did she?” Suzanne asked hopefully. “And I’m hardly a lass, but thanks for the sentiment.”

He tried to smile. “The nurse just said you’re progressing quickly. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I suppose it is,” she mumbled. “I never knew it was going to be like this. Nobody really prepares you.”

“I’m sure you’re going to be just fine,” he answered, glancing back at the machine. “Say, do you want a boy or a girl?” he asked, hoping to distract her.

“I’m having a boy. We found out months ago.”

“What?” he looked back at her. “How could you know?”

“Tests. Ever hear of a sonogram?”

“No. Honestly, Suzanne, I haven’t heard or seen anything that makes much sense to me today. Nothing. Not this… this place. These people. None of this.”

“Look, Charlie… I already told you, neither of us is allowed a nervous breakdown, remember? Tomorrow we can both have one, just not right now,” she insisted. “Do you have any children?”

“No. I’m not married.”

She issued a sarcastic noise with her mouth. “Smart man. Truthfully, I don’t know if I believe in it anymore. The whole family unit thing. I mean, what a joke. It was like I was hypnotized into believing that love and honor and marriage and family were the pot of gold at the end of a woman’s rainbow. Just look at the statistics and you can see what a lie that is… and now I’m just another statistic. No husband. No love. No honor. No marriage. Just me and my baby. But we’ll find our happiness together. We don’t need a man for that!”

“You’re angry,” he whispered, knowing all too well the bitterness that can enter one’s heart when one’s been betrayed. He wished he could find the words that might soothe them both.

“You’re right, I am angry. I have a right to be royally pissed off. I was duped.”

He had known a few flappers in his time, women who flaunted society’s standards, but Suzanne just didn’t seem the type. Even though he’d only met her a few hours earlier, he’d detected her softer side. “I think you’re hurt, lassie, and the way you’re feeling is natural.”

She stared at him and the wet film of tears appeared at her eyes again. “You know, if I really think about it, I might just lose my mind.”

“Right now, I can definitely understand that, Suzanne. So don’t think about it. Think about your son, who’s going to be born today. Soon, you’ll hold him in your arms. Surely, that will be your pot of gold.”

“You’re right. I don’t know where you came from, Charles Garrity, but you’re an answer to my prayers,” she moaned.

He turned his head and watched the small window on the machine. “You’re about to have another contraction,” he advised in what he hoped was a calm voice.

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock!” she muttered as she grabbed his hand again. “Like I need you and the damn machine to tell me that!”

It was obvious Suzanne didn’t need to be soft now. Strength, however it manifested, would serve her better. Deciding it best not to be offended, Charles commanded, “Look at my face and breathe with me! Heeee. Heeee. Hoooowwww.”

She stared into his eyes with such focus and determination that Charles felt like she was entering his mind and taking control. He even felt his body begin to tense, the muscles of his abdomen tightening along with hers. He kept breathing and staring and breathing. He was sure his face was as red as hers as together they rode out the crest of pain.

Suzanne collapsed once more against the pillows and sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore,” she cried. “It’s like two steel claws are ripping me apart. Somebody help me. I want it all to go away. I want my normal life back. I want… I want drugs! Just knock me out and tell me when it’s over!”

“Drugs? Like opium?”

“If you’ve got it, hand it over.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “You can do this, Suzanne. You aren’t alone. I promise I won’t leave you.”

She sniffled and opened her eyes. “When I was standing at the creek and feeling so alone, I asked for help and along you came. Thanks, Charles. Guess you never figured on this, huh? Standing in a labor room with a crazy woman?”

“Suzanne, you’re right about one thing. I had no idea any of this was possible.”

Neither of them said a word until Suzanne muttered, “Oh, God, here comes another one!”

He stroked back her hair once more and whispered, “C’mon, you can do it.” This woman had saved his life and now, for some odd reason, it was of the utmost importance to him that he not let her down. “Let’s ride this one out together.”

And they did, over and over again, like two warriors united in battle, intent on victory, and the victory was life, a brand-new life.