She got in the truck and put it in gear to leave. In the rearview mirror she saw him hurrying toward that camper shell, and a couple of guys had come out from behind and joined him. It made her heart feel better. Good.
When she got back to town, she returned the keys to Doc, who sat behind his desk in his cramped office. “I guess you think I don’t know what you did,” he said. She lifted her chin in some defiance. “I thought I told you—stay away from there. It isn’t an innocent place and no one knows what might happen.”
“You go,” she said.
“And I told you not to.”
“Did we have some understanding? That I was going to follow your nonmedical orders? Because I don’t recall that in my personal life, I’m obligated to do everything you tell me.”
“Guess you’re not obligated to use your brain in your personal life, either.”
“I filled your truck up with gas, you old pain in the ass.”
“I didn’t get caught in that piece of shit foreign job of yours, you obstinate little strumpet.”
And she laughed at him so hard, tears came to her eyes and she had to leave, laughing all the way back to her cabin.
It was a bright and sunny afternoon when Mel went to Doc’s office. She tapped lightly and stuck her head in. “Do you have any idea what’s taking social services so long to do something about Chloe?” she asked him.
“Certainly don’t,” he said.
“Maybe I should do a follow-up—give them a call.”
“I said I’d take care of it,” he answered, not looking up.
“It’s just that—you know—I got attached. I didn’t mean to, didn’t intend to, but there it is. I’d hate for Lilly Anderson to go through that withdrawal. It doesn’t feel good.”
“She’s raised a passel of kids. She knows the score.”
“I know, but…” She stopped talking as she heard the front door open. She leaned out of his office and looked down the hall. Right inside the door stood Polly. She seemed to be holding her belly up with her hands and instead of that usual glow on her cheeks, she looked just a bit pale. Nervous. Right behind her was a young man in almost identical overalls, holding a small, worn suitcase. Mel looked back at Doc and said, “Showtime.”
Polly wasn’t even sure how far apart the pains were. “It feels like one big one,” she said. “Mostly down real low.”
“Okay, let’s just go upstairs and get settled.”
“Can Darryl come?”
Mel reached over and took the suitcase from Darryl. “Of course. That would help a lot. I’m going to concentrate on you.” She took Polly’s hand. “Come on.”
Once upstairs, she had Polly sit in the rocker while she went about the business of getting a bed ready with the plastic mattress protector and clean sheets. “Good timing, Polly. My cottage was ready at the same time my littlest patient went out to Lilly Anderson’s ranch to stay. I’m all moved out and you, Darryl and the baby can have the whole room.”
“Arrrgggghhhh,” Polly answered, grabbing her belly and leaning forward. There was a slightly muffled sound that preceded the soft dripping of amniotic fluids onto the floor.
“Oh, Polly!” Darryl exclaimed. He looked suddenly stricken. Embarrassed.
“Well,” Mel said, looking over her shoulder. “That should speed things up. Just stay put until the bed’s ready and I can help you change.”
A half hour later Polly sat up in the hospital bed, not terribly comfortable on a couple of towels, her green hospital gown stretched over her belly. Mel had changed into a pair of scrubs and Nikes she’d packed for just such an event. If this were L.A., the anesthesiologist would be on his way to check her and discuss the epidural, but this was the country, no anesthesia here. Doc came around right after Mel had given Polly a pelvic to see how far she had dilated, and then upon noting Darryl’s pallor, he said, “Young man—let’s you and me wander across the street and have a drop of courage.”
“Darryl, don’t leave me!” Polly begged.
“He’ll be right back, and I won’t leave you,” Mel promised. “But sweetheart, you’re only at four centimeters—it’s going to be a while.”
Good to her word, Mel stayed at her side. She wasn’t sure what she had expected the situation to be like, but was admittedly surprised by a few things. One—Doc Mullins stayed out of her way and let her have the case even though Polly had been his patient. Two, he took on the job of watching Darryl in case it became necessary to take the lad out of the room. Doc was staying up long after his usual bedtime. And, the few times Mel wandered out of the patient’s room through the night to fetch supplies or a fresh cup of coffee, she looked across the street to see the lights were on and the Open sign lit at Jack’s. He kept the bar open all night.
Polly’s labor intensified slowly as the hours ticked by, but she remained stable and progressed normally. Mel had her up walking, squatting, getting gravity on their side. She had Darryl hold her forward while she rocked her hips side to side and at three-thirty in the morning, Polly began to push. The girl was most comfortable on her side, so Darryl and Mel joined forces to help her deliver in that position. Mel had Polly lie on her side in the fetal position, the leg beneath her tucked up and under while Polly and Darryl together lifted the upper leg to clear the field of birth. It was a big first baby and Polly couldn’t have managed that position, pushing for so long, without a good assistant. It was important that the mother have whatever control she could, trusting her body; it made the whole experience so much more beautiful. Darryl held up pretty well despite the fact that it was difficult to watch his young wife in pain, and the sight of blood, even though he’d slaughtered his share of pigs, was clearly tough on him.
At four-thirty Polly’s baby emerged after an hour of pushing. Mel cut the cord, wrapped the baby and passed him to his father. “Mr. Fishburn,” she said to Darryl, “there is another Mr. Fishburn in the family. Please help Polly get your son situated on her breast—it’ll help her deliver the placenta and slow the bleeding.”
This was so much more like a scene from Gone With The Wind than the type of midwifery Mel had known in a large, well-equipped city hospital. While Doc checked over the newborn, Mel cleaned up the mother with soap and water and changed her sheets and bed-clothes.
By six-thirty in the morning, physically exhausted but wired on caffeine, Mel’s work was done. The baby would reside in the room with Polly, and Darryl could have the other bed if he wanted it. It took them both about sixty seconds to fall into a deep sleep. Mel washed her face, rinsed her mouth with a little mouth-wash, let her hair out of the clip that had held it on top of her head and went looking for Doc.
“Go to bed, Doc,” she said. “It was a long night. I’ll keep the office open.”
“No, sir,” he said. “I don’t sleep in daylight, and you did all the work. I’ll keep an eye on the Fishburns. Go to your place.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go take a nap and come back in early afternoon to spell you.”