The Green Lace Corset, стр. 74

50

At dusk six weeks later, Anne dragged herself to the bay-window table at the Coffee Cup Café. She’d been up off and on all night with some kind of false labor and planned to order a Lyft. But because it was New Year’s Eve, the cost had been prohibitive. She’d thought about canceling on Fay but wanted to see her friend, so she’d put up her umbrella and hailed a cab.

The baby wasn’t due for another two weeks. She felt the cramp again, but this time it was in her back. She held on to the edge of her chair until the pain passed.

A couple at a nearby table held hands and smooched. The woman seemed a lot younger than the tuxedoed man, but it was hard to tell. Given his dark Groucho Marx eyebrows, Anne expected him to hold a cigar to his mouth and crack a joke at any moment. Another gentleman, in a red bow tie and sport coat, typed on an iPad.

Anne waved at Fay as she walked in, wearing a purple pageboy and a smashing silver jumpsuit. She wandered over through the crowded café. “Hey, mate. Did you order?”

“Sorry. Too beat. Would you please get me some water?”

“I’ve got you, sister.” Fay put her hand on Anne’s shoulder and got in line.

Anne felt a cramp again, put her head on the table, and closed her eyes until it passed. At the table behind her, she overheard some women talking.

“When are you due?”

“Six months.”

“Have you fixed up the nursery yet?”

“Oh, yes—it’s green and orange. No pink for my girl. It’s all about owls. She’s going to be wise. Maybe a scientist or doctor or something.”

Anne’s daughter would be whatever she wanted to be. But she would wear a lot of pink. She thought about her apartment. Where was she going to put the bassinet George was bringing over from Bay Breeze? Diana had already graduated to a larger crib. She’d better straighten up her place tonight to make room.

“Here you go.” Fay handed Anne a glass of water.

Thanks for meeting me. New Year’s Eve and all.”

“No problem; it’s on my way home from work anyway. How’re you feeling?”

Anne groaned. “I’m glad Sergio and my mom are coming in next week. I’m done being alone for a while. I can’t believe I still have another two weeks to go.”

“She’ll be here before you know it.”

Anne felt another twinge and leaned over.

“What’s wrong?” Fay put her hand on Anne’s arm.

“Give me a moment.” She tried to catch her breath.

Fay eyed her, then added cream to her tea and stirred.

“Something’s wrong.” Anne stood, and a pool of liquid spilled down her legs and over her flip-flops.

“Blimey! Your water broke.”

The man in the bow tie and the teens and women at the table behind them stared. Fay grabbed Anne’s backpack and escorted her to the sidewalk. Standing under the café awning, trying to get a Lyft in the rain, was a nightmare.

Finally, a clunky van pulled up to the curb. “Are you Lyle?” Fay asked.

“Yep.”

She helped Anne get in and climbed beside her.

The van swam slowly back into the dense Sutter Street traffic.

Fay called the hospital. “I’m with Anne McFarland. Her water just broke, and we’re on our way there.”

Anne moaned as another contraction hit her.

Fay grasped Anne’s hands. “Look at me and breathe.” She exhaled short gusts. Breathe, breathe, pant, pant.

Anne joined in, and soon the pain subsided. “Gawd, Fay, you sounded like a monkey.”

“Can you drive any faster?” Fay yelled at the driver. “For bloody sake, I might be delivering the baby right here.”

Lyle turned around with wide eyes, revved the engine, and sped up. “Don’t be having a rug-burn baby in the back of my Chevy!”

“Get my phone,” Anne cried.

Fay rustled in the backpack. Anne seized it from her, found the phone and punched a number. “Mom! My water broke, and I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“But, dear, I’m not even there yet.”

“I know. Change your flight ASAP. Come now!”

Anne hung up and punched again. “Sergio! You’re gonna be a daddy sooner than later.”

She screamed as another contraction hit, and she handed her phone to Fay. Lyle turned up his music.

“Oh my God. Anne, Anne!” Sergio was yelling.

“Hi, Sergio, it’s Fay. We’re on our way to the hospital. Call you later.”

“Take a left here, beside the carpark,” Fay hollered.

Lyle flew into the hospital’s emergency lane and screeched to a stop.

“Where’s the bloody wheelchair?” Fay hollered.

Lyle honked his horn. “Okay! Get out!”

Fay helped Anne down out of the van.

“Thanks for taking Lyft,” Lyle yelled, and sped away.

Fay guided Anne to the entrance as an orderly rushed out the door with a wheelchair.

Anne woke up groggy, as if she’d slept forever. The last she remembered was holding the gooey-faced doll right after the birth. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up.

“Where’s the baby? Is she okay?”

“She’s just fine. The pediatrician said she’s perfect. See?” Fay put the lavender-scented bundle in Anne’s arms. She gazed at the little miracle.

“Drink some water?” Fay held up a straw in a plastic cup, and Anne took a sip.

“You’re the best friend ever.” Anne smiled at Fay.

Paul hobbled in on his walker with an IT’S A GIRL mylar balloon tied to it. He leaned over and kissed Anne and then the baby on their foreheads. “What a cutie.” He chuckled.

George handed her a bouquet of pink roses. “Congratulations!”

“I’ll put them in a vase.” Fay picked up the flowers.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Paul asked.

Anne scanned the faces of her San Francisco friends. Her eyes landed back on Paul and teared up as she said, “Sylvia. I want to call her Sylvia.”

Paul’s blue eyes filled with tears too. “She’d like