Lucky. Jennifer Greene

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СКАЧАТЬ no. Yes. I mean—my husband’s coming. It’s just that right now—” The pain was just like teeth that bit and ripped.

      “What do you want me to do? Get you inside? Stay with you? What? I can carry you—”

      “No. It’s—no. Just stay. Please. I—” She wasn’t really looking at him, wasn’t really seeing him. Her whole world right then was about babies and labor and pain. Still, there was something about him that arrested her attention. Something in his face, his eyes.

      Their whole conversation couldn’t have taken two minutes. She only really saw him in a flash. Background light dusted his profile, sharpened his features. He was built tall and lanky, with dark eyes and hair, had to be in his early forties or so. His clothes were nondescript, the guy-uniform in Grosse Pointe of khakis and polo shirt, but his looked more worn-in than most. He looked more worn in than most. The thick, dark hair was walnut, mixed with a little cinnamon. The square chin had a cocky tilt, the shoulders an attitude—but it was his eyes that hooked her.

      He had old eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that held a lot of pain, had seen a lot of life. In the middle of the private hospital parking lot, mosquitoes pesking around her neck, panting out of the contraction, scared and hot…yet she felt a pull toward him. He exuded some kind of separateness, a loneliness.

      She knew about loneliness.

      Of course, that perception took all of a minisecond—and suddenly the emergency-room doors were clanging open again. The man glanced up, then back at her. “Damn. You’re Graham Crandall’s wife? And you’re having your baby in this hospital?”

      His question and tone confused her. She started to answer, but there was never a chance. Graham noticed the man, said something to him—called him “Jake”—but then he disappeared from her sight. The world descended on her. In typical take-charge fashion, Graham had brought out an entire entourage—a wheelchair, three people in different medical uniforms, Dr. Armstrong.

      Graham was midstream in conversation with the doctor. “I don’t care what you have to do. She comes first. No exceptions, no discussion. You make sure she’s all right and gets through this. And I want her to have something for the pain. Immediately.”

      “Mr. Crandall—Graham—first, I need to examine her, and then everything else will follow in due course. I swear that I’ve never yet lost a father—”

      “I don’t want to hear your goddamn reassuring patter, and forget trying to humor me. I want your promise that nothing is going to happen to my wife.”

      “Graham.” Kasey had to swallow. She’d never seen her husband out of control. Graham didn’t do out of control. And love suddenly swelled through her, putting the pain in perspective, reassuring her like nothing else could have. “I’m just having a baby. Really, I’m fine. The pain scared me. I didn’t realize it was going to be this bad—”

      “I’ll take care of this, Kasey.” Graham cut her off, and rounded on Dr. Armstrong again. “I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care how many people or what it takes—you don’t let anything happen to my wife. You understand?”

      The next few hours were a blur of hospital lights and hospital smells. The labor room was decorated to look like a living room, with a chintz couch and TV and even a small kitchenette. Dr. Armstrong did the initial exam. As always, he was patient and calm and as steadfast as a brick.

      “But I can’t be only three centimeters dilated! You have to be kidding! I thought I was in transition because of the amount of pain.”

      “I’m going to give you something to help you relax, Kasey.”

      “I don’t want to relax! I want to get to ten centimeters and get this over with! And I want to be able to see the fetal monitor! Is our baby okay?”

      “Your baby’s just fine,” Dr. Armstrong said reassuringly, but he hadn’t even looked. What was the point of being all trussed up with the fetal monitor if no one was even going to look at it? “You can have ice chips. And your husband can rub your back. And you can watch TV or listen to music….”

      She just wanted it over with. But at least, once they all left her alone with Graham, she thought she could get a better hold on her fears and emotions. Later—an hour, or two, who knew?—she remembered the man outside, and thought to ask Graham who he was.

      “Name is Jake McGraw. Used to be from the neighborhood.”

      “I thought you called him by name, so I was pretty sure you knew him.”

      “Yeah, I knew him. He’s Joe’s son. You’ve heard of Joe, used to be one of GM’s high-step attorneys. Money from generations back. Joe had a heart attack a while ago, put Jake back in the neighborhood now and then to help his father.”

      “So that’s why he was at the hospital?” God. Another pain was coming on. How many did you get before you’d paid your dues? And now she knew you didn’t die from the little ones, because there were lots, lots, lots bigger ones after that.

      “I don’t know why he was at the hospital. Forget him, Kasey. He’s a loser. An alcoholic.”

      “Really?” For an instant she pictured those old, beautiful eyes again.

      “Was part of a big fancy law firm, wife from the Pointe, fast lane all the way. Had a wild marriage, and I mean capital W wild. Gave one party that started out in GP and ended up in Palm Springs. They both played around, until some point when Jake went off the deep end. Or so they say. He’s got a teenage son, Danny, lives with his ex-wife. Doesn’t practice law anymore. You hearing me? He’s bad news all the way. Lost everything. And deserved to.”

      “You never mentioned him before—”

      “Why would I? And it beats me why we’re talking about him now.”

      And then they weren’t. She’d only asked the question in passing. The man wasn’t on her mind. Nothing was, as the minutes wore on and the night deepened and darkened. Somewhere in the wing, a woman screamed. A door was immediately closed, sealing out the sound. The nurse came and went. Graham survived for a while—at least the first couple hours—but then he started pacing.

      “Do you want some more ice chips, Kase? Are you cold? Warm? Want to watch any specific show on the tube?”

      His solicitousness was endearing—except that every time a pain ripped through her, he paced again, like a panther who wanted to throw himself against the bars. Anything—but be trapped in here. “Graham, go out,” she said finally.

      “No way. I’m not leaving you.”

      “I know you’re willing to stay. But this is hard…harder than I thought. And to be honest, I believe I’ll handle the pain better if I’m alone. I’ve always been that way. Go on, you. Go get some coffee, or something to eat. Don’t feel guilty, just go.”

      He kissed her, hard, on the forehead, squeezed her hand. But eventually she talked him into leaving.

      She’d lied about wanting to be alone. The truth was, she desperately wanted Graham to be with her, yet he was obviously miserable, seeing her in pain. And for a while, for a long time, the fear completely left. Medical help was just a call away, and so was her husband, so it seemed easier to relax. She inhaled the silence. The peace. The feeling as СКАЧАТЬ