He wanted to buy flowers, but the case was closed, and the Gift Shop (magazines, candies) opposite it was locked tighter than a drum, too. He realized they were both probably open during visiting hours, but this was not visiting hours, so he toyed with the idea of running down to either of the two florists on the opposite corners of 76th Street, and then he thought he’d miss Dr. Bradley if he did that, so he kept pacing, back and forth, back and forth, and then over to the telephone booths, and then to the arch near the telephone booths, across the marbled floor, looking up at the legend on the arch:
He did not read the rest because the “in Loving Memory of” filled him with a sudden dread. He did not know the statistics for women who died in childbirth, though he suspected the figures were very low indeed. But women did die in childbirth and, no, nothing like that would happen, nothing like that to Anne.
He walked back to the bench where his mother-in-law sat, and she said, smiling, “Relax, Rick. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
He nodded blankly, looked up at the clock again, thought abruptly of the lesson he’d taught on “The Fifty-First Dragon,” and then switched his thoughts back to Anne and the delivery room.
It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since he’d arrived at the hospital when he saw Dr. Bradley coming through the arch where the emergency sign hung in the corridor. Dr. Bradley was not smiling, and he looked very tired, and Rick walked to him quickly, seeing out of the corner of his eye Anne’s mother rise from the bench.
Dr. Bradley extended his hand, and Rick took it, and then the doctor smiled, very weakly, like a man who has just swum the English Channel and is too tired to pose for pictures. Rick didn’t ask anything, but his questions were all over his face, and the doctor looked at Rick’s face, and his mouth stopped smiling. He looked very, very tired, and the weariness showed in his eyes and even his mustache seemed limp under the aquiline sweep of his nose. A light sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead, and Rick studied the doctor’s eyes and then said, “Is she all right?”
“Yes,” Dr. Bradley said wearily, smiling again. “She’s fine, Mr. Dadier.”
Anne’s mother was standing beside them now, craning forward like someone who wants to intrude but isn’t sure her intrusion is welcome.
“She’s all right?” Rick asked again.
“Yes, she’s fine.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Anne’s mother asked.
Rick saw the pain stab deep into Dr. Bradley’s eyes, and the pain leaped the distance between them and lodged in his own throat like a poisoned dart.
“The baby was stillborn,” Dr. Bradley said softly. “A boy. I’m sorry, Mr. Dadier. The umbilical cord... it sometimes happens and there’s no way of foretelling...” He paused and wiped the sweat from his forehead, knowing that no matter how well he told this, no matter how honest he was, how sincere he was, there would still be doubt, that lingering doubt which silently asked, “But couldn’t you do something?” The doubt which silently accused the obstetrician.
“Around the baby’s throat,” Dr. Bradley said softly. “Intrauterine...”
“The baby is dead,” Rick said, stunned. “Is that it?”
“Yes,” Dr. Bradley answered. Anne’s mother drew in a sharp sigh, and Rick said, “Dead,” dully, and Dr. Bradley said “Yes” again.
“It’s...” Rick started, and then he forgot what he was going to say, and he thought only The baby is dead. A boy. And dead.
“A perfectly healthy, normal child,” Dr. Bradley said. He clasped Rick’s shoulder warmly and said, “You can have others, Mr. Dadier. You’re both young and... I... I know this is a shock, and believe me, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“It’s... it’s all right,” Rick said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“An unfortunate...”
“It’s all right,” Rick said.
“Your wife is doing very well. She...”
“Anne is all right? You’re sure...”
“Yes, she’s fine. I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Dadier. This is always the saddest part of obstetrics, and believe me, I wouldn’t...”
“No, that’s all right,” Rick said too hastily. “Please, it’s ail right. May I see my wife? May I talk to her?”
“She’s a little weak,” Dr. Bradley said, “but she asked for you. I... she... she doesn’t know about the baby yet, Mr. Dadier. I wouldn’t tell her until tomorrow, if I were you. You see, she’s been through a shock and it’s better if we wait. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. May I go to her?”
“I would also suggest that you take her home as soon as possible. It’s not a healthy atmosphere, you understand, being on a maternity ward where the other women...”
“I understand,” Rick said, wanting desperately to see Anne, wanting to see her and to touch her. “Please, may I...”
“Come along,” Dr. Bradley said.
He followed the doctor down the corridor and they waited for the elevator, and he thought The baby is dead, the baby is dead. And then the elevator took them to the fourth floor and he stepped out into a dim corridor, and his heels echoed on the floor, and the high-vaulted ceilings carried the echoes. He waited while Dr. Bradley went inside, and he heard a woman screaming with her labor pains, and then a nurse in a crisply-starched white uniform wheeled Anne out. She lay back on the table with the sheet tucked up under her chin, and the sheet was flat over her stomach, and her head was twisted to one side. Her hair was damp on her forehead, and she smiled weakly when she saw him, and the nurse said, “Not too long now. She needs sleep.”
He took her hand, and she brought it to her chest and held it there, clung to it tightly. He kissed her damp forehead and there were suddenly tears in his eyes for no good reason, and he leaned over the table and held her close, and she pressed her cheek to his and he could feel the tears on her skin also.
“It was terrible, darling,” she said, half-sobbing and half-laughing. “Oh, Rickie, it was really very hard.”
“Do you feel all right?” he asked.
“I feel tired. I feel so exhausted, Rickie, I never knew there could be so much pain. Oh, Rickie, I’m so glad it’s over, so glad.” She laughed sleepily, and then she bit her lip, and the tears came again, unchecked.
“And you feel all right?”
“Just tired, darling. Darling, I want to sleep for a year.”
“All right, honey, you go to sleep.”
“No,” she said, “no, don’t go. Please don’t go yet, Rickie. Wait until they chase you.”
“All right,” he said.
“Did you see the baby?” she asked suddenly.
“Honey, I think you ought to get some sleep. I think...”
“It’s a boy, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, darling?”
“Yes. Honey, why don’t you...”
“Are you happy, Rick?”
“Yes, darling.”
“I’m glad. I knew you wanted a boy.” She smiled and closed her eyes, and he thought she was asleep for a moment. He made a slight movement away from her, but she opened her eyes and held him tight. “Does he look like you, darling?” she asked.
“I... I don’t know,” Rick said.
“I’ll bet he does. Oh, he was so much trouble, Rick. The little stinker.” She laughed and then said, “Are you happy, Rick?”
He was ashamed of the tears that ran down his face, and he buried his face in her shoulder to hide the tears. “Yes,” he said, “I’m very happy.” He held her closer to him and said fiercely, “Anne, I love you so much, so terribly much.”