My baby was breech.

All the images I’d had of myself pacing the floor, sitting on a birthing ball, lying in the tub, panting and pushing my baby out—it juxtaposed starkly against the image of lying flat on my back, having my baby extracted from me like a tumor. All the women I’d seen turned into warriors before my eyes—it would never be me.

It didn’t escape my consciousness that I was being a hypocrite. All those women I’d reassured on the operating table that the magic of motherhood had nothing to do with how the baby came out? At the time, I’d believed that was true. In theory, I still believed it. But now that I was charged with the same outcome myself, I felt a little cheated.

Abruptly, I stood. I slipped into my shoes and told Anne to call me if anyone came in. Then I hurried toward the hospital maternity ward. Sean was at the nurses’ station, leaning over the desk and telling a joke or story that, judging from the stifled laughs from other staff, was either inappropriate or about one of the patients. Marion stood nearby, her lips pursed. Her frustration at not being able to get into Sean’s inner circle had clearly morphed into intense dislike. I’d seen it happen before, with other doctors, but I doubted Sean would care. I waited until the punch line had been delivered, then tapped Sean’s shoulder.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure thing.” Sean was unnaturally cheery. “What’s up?”

I was about to ask him the same thing when I noticed his wife, Laura, standing beside him.

“Oh, Laura. Hi.” I swallowed.

“Hi, there. Neva, right?”

Neva. She knew my name.

I nodded. “How are you doing?”

“I’m pretty great, thanks for asking.”

She looked pretty great too, considering. Her hair was a couple of inches long and done in a messy pixie style. She wore a full face of over-the-top makeup, which included blue eye shadow that somehow, really worked on her. “We’ve just been to see the doc.”

“Is everything—?”

“Wonderful!” she said. “The tumor is barely visible, can you believe it?”

I couldn’t believe it. “You must be ecstatic. Are you going out to celebrate?”

“No, headed home like a boring married couple,” Laura said, but the way she smiled at Sean made them seem more like loved-up teenagers. “Did you need Sean?”

“It can wait.”

“No, no.” She grabbed Sean by the elbow and shoved him toward me. “Please. Talk.”

I swallowed the enormous lump in my throat. No wonder she’d been the one to turn Sean from a womanizer into a one-woman man.

“I’ll wait downstairs,” she said to Sean. “And I’ll see you soon, Neva.”

“Thanks, Laura. And, um, great news.”

Laura wandered down the hallway breezily. After her appointment, it seemed, she didn’t have a care in the world. Sean and I waited until the elevator doors closed and she disappeared from sight.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “I just wanted to run something by you.”

We stepped into an alcove. Sean’s face was apprehensive. I hadn’t spoken to him properly since he found out I was pregnant. I suppose I couldn’t really blame him for being nervous. I decided to cut to the chase.

“My baby is breech.”

He managed to look relieved and concerned at the same time. “Oh, Nev. I’m sorry.”

“So I guess that means you don’t know of any new and hugely effective procedures to turn babies this late in pregnancy?” I forced a laugh.

“I wish.” He looked genuinely sad for me. “You can always try, but—” He touched the top of my belly and pressed down. “—I don’t like your chances.”

“And I don’t suppose you know anyone who would deliver a breech baby vaginally?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Surely you wouldn’t want to try?”

“No, I guess not.” I sighed, deflated.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You and Patrick all ready for the baby?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

We both shuffled a little.

“It’s funny,” Sean said. “Patrick never mentioned that you two were seeing each other. Back then, I mean.”

I tried to look Sean in the eye, but he evaded my stare. “Does Patrick tell you everything?” I asked.

“No.” His gaze shifted to my belly. I didn’t breathe. “So you’re definitely sure about your dates, then?”

“Yes. Definitely—”

Before I could register what was happening, I was in Sean’s arms. He squeezed me, too tight, one arm around my waist, the other pressing my head to his chest. I smiled at his obvious relief and allowed him to hold me briefly. When he started to loosen his grip, I stepped away.

“That’s great. It’s … really exciting for you and Patrick. You’ll make great parents. I always knew he was in love with you.”

“You … did?”

“I have eyes. Most people thought you were in love with him too.” He laughed. “Obviously they were right. Anyway, it’s great that you guys have finally got it together.”

I felt my cheeks warm. Was it possible that Patrick and I had both been into each other all this time? How had I not seen it? Particularly when Sean had?

“Well, I’d better run,” he said. “Laura’s waiting.”

“Go, go,” I said. I gave him a push, then followed him out of the alcove. Marion stood nearby, watching Sean hurry toward the elevator, then her eyes snapped back to me. It might have been my imagination—or perhaps the fact that I’d had very little sleep—but I could have sworn she was giving me a dirty look.

20

Grace

I’d delivered four babies since my license was suspended. Robert knew nothing of it. Each mother had been given the facts, and each of them decided to take her chances with me as their midwife. Three out of the four had even paid me.

I’d managed to explain my absences to Robert with tales of early morning yoga and helping take care of Mom, but as it happened, he wasn’t asking many questions anyway. He’d been working long hours and when he was at home, he was distracted. I didn’t blame him. He’d been carrying the burden of our family’s financial pressure alone for months. Not anymore. All my payments had been collected in cash and were stashed in my office in a large yellow envelope. With the tax that I’d saved, it’d be enough to make our first few mortgage payments, if it came to that.

Tonight Robert was his usual reticent self. He sat next to me on the couch, staring at sitcom after mindless sitcom. When I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, I said, “How are things at work, Rob?”

He blinked as though he’d been asleep or forgotten I was there. Then he did that long sigh-through-the-nose thing. “Oh … you know. Could be better.”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

He smiled. It reminded me that it had been a while since I’d seen that smile. “Wow,” he said.

“Wow, what?”

“Wow … that’s very non-Grace of you. In a good way. It actually sounds like something Floss would say.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “What would I say?”

Robert curled his hands around an invisible neck in front of him. “What is going on with you? I demand you tell me this instant or I will snoop through your phone and wallet, looking for clues!” He adopted an affected, womanly voice that most certainly did not sound like me.

“Oh, yeah? Well, how about you?” I slumped back on the couch and stared at the television. I made my voice deep and bored-sounding. “Work’s really intense.” I grunted. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Robert burst out laughing. “Have I been that terrible?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “But I forgive you.”

Robert’s face took on a somber hue. “Today we all had to fill out a document that asked what we actually do. Basically, making it easy for them to see who is expendable and who isn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved his hand. “Not your fault.… What about you?” he asked. “When is the investigation over?”

“A week or two, I think.”

He smiled. “You’re handling this like a trouper, you know that, Grace?”