* * *
—
The final details of Hamish’s last movie, and hers, lingered all through the summer, and some of it kept Antonia busy. She was trying to decide what to do about so many things. Hamish’s London house was lovely, and they had talked about buying a country home once they had children, but hadn’t done anything about it. While he was single, he had never wanted to be bothered with owning a big country property, and rented vacation homes whenever he felt like it. She had been happy in London with Hamish, but London wasn’t her home and she wasn’t English. She didn’t want to give up Hamish’s house, it was so much a part of him, and they’d been happy there. But she’d been thinking that maybe she should go back to the States, and buy a farm in Connecticut or Massachusetts, where she could live in seclusion and bring up her children. She didn’t know what she was going to do yet, and he had left her enough money to do what she wanted. She owned the plane now too, but didn’t think she’d need it. Hamish had used it all the time. She wished he had used it to go to the insurance meeting, and not a helicopter.
She felt dazed every time she thought of all the decisions she had to make, and there was no one to help her now. Not like Hamish. The fairy tale that her life had been for three years ended the day he died. She had no idea what would happen next.
Chapter 15
The delivery of Antonia’s second child would be very different from her first. Most of all because she wouldn’t have Hamish with her. The paparazzi still pursued her when she went out, even to the grocery store, hoping for tragic pictures of her, preferably crying. They followed her when she had Dash with her, or went anywhere. She hid in the house most of the time, and didn’t even let the nanny she’d hired take Dash to the park.
She didn’t feel up to caring for him herself. Some days she didn’t even get out of bed, and he was an exuberant seventeen-month-old as the date for her delivery drew closer. She didn’t feel like she could face photographers bursting in on her in the hospital or worse the delivery room, or hunting down the baby in the nursery.
She knew Hamish wouldn’t have approved, but the circumstances were different now. She contacted the midwife who had delivered Dash, and asked if she would be willing to do a home birth. She said she did them often, under a doctor’s supervision and consultation. Antonia had had no complications at the last birth, and expected none this time. She was twenty-five years old and in good health, and the baby seemed smaller than the last one. Hamish had hoped they’d have a girl if they had a second child, and Antonia hoped so too.
The midwife agreed to meet her at her doctor’s, although the due date was only two weeks away, to see if he’d agree to a home delivery. When they met in his office three days later, he had no objection to a midwife birth at home, and would be available himself in an emergency. There was always the possibility that something could go wrong, but on the whole, he saw no reason to oppose it, and gave the midwife the green light to do the delivery at home.
She came to the house the next day and explained to Antonia what they’d need. They would deliver her in her own bedroom, they needed plenty of plastic sheets and old towels, and she would bring an assistant midwife with her and a nurse. She was licensed to administer certain medications relating to the birth. Antonia was relieved not to have to leave her home. And Margaret and Brigid bought all the supplies. Antonia felt more peaceful and less anxious as soon as she made the decision, and the midwife came to examine her every few days to make sure that nothing had changed, and the baby was in the right position. So far it was head down, and already engaged. But her due date came and went and nothing happened. Dash had been a few days early, and this one was late, which was no surprise since she had been under incredible stress ever since her husband died. The midwife wasn’t concerned, and the baby wasn’t unduly large and hadn’t moved from the optimum position.
A week after her due date, she still hadn’t delivered. The midwife suggested long walks, but she was accosted by paparazzi the moment she left the house, so she was confined to her home, and the weather in November was stormy and terrible. All she could do was sit and wait, while the nanny played with Dash.
She was ten days overdue when her water broke with a gush and she found herself standing in a pool of water in her bathroom, and called the midwife. She came to check her, and it took another six hours for labor to start. Nothing was moving quickly this time, but it didn’t seem to matter. Whenever the baby came, Hamish wouldn’t be there to see it, she would be alone, and there would be no one to celebrate it with her except two midwives, a nurse, and Dash’s nanny. It seemed like a joyless event to her, which would only make her sadder, so she didn’t care how long it took or when it started.