Dropping the Ball

13. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Kaitlyn

I hurry around the front of the car with Micah’s sweatshirt. Oliver said the baby won’t come for a while because Madison isn’t having contractions, but I don’t care. I’m hurrying anyway since this is the woman who told me thirty minutes before her water broke that this baby wouldn’t come for at least a week.

I spread the UT sweatshirt over her seat. “We’re good.”

“Turn it front down. That longhorn doesn’t need to see this.”

“Good thinking.” I flip it over and watch her get in. There is hoisting and grunting, and the grab handle is called upon to do more work than it was ever designed for. I don’t think even with Micah and me helping her she would have made it into my Audi. She definitely would never have made it back out again.

Once she’s buckled in, we get on the road, Micah pulling out behind us in his pickup.

I glance over at her. It’s rush hour, but her hospital isn’t far. That doesn’t stop me from thinking of search phrases like “how to deliver baby in car” and “delivering baby in traffic.”

“How’s it going over there?” I ask.

She scrunches her face. “Okay? I don’t feel contractions. If this is labor, it’s just leaky so far.”

“We’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes.”

She nods. “I want someone in scrubs to wave a stethoscope at me and confirm that this is fine, and I’ll feel better.”

“Do not let that baby do anything for the next fifteen minutes until we get to that stethoscope.”

She gives an uncomfortable-sounding grunt. “My back is killing me. I really, really want the stethoscope. Distract me.”

“For me to feel better, I need to list every vegetable I can think of in alphabetical order. Asparagus, bean, caul—”

“Why do you need to do that?”

“Keeps me from running search terms for delivering a baby in a car through my head.”

“Oh. Cauliflower . . .”

D? What’s a vegetable with D? We trade a quick panicked look.

“Daikon!” she shouts.

“Durian!” I shout at the same time.

“That’s a fruit!” she shouts.

“Okay, daikon,” I shout back.

She lets out a sigh. “Okay, escarole, fennel . . .”

She’s on turnip when I take the hospital exit. I am more relieved that I don’t have to figure out what to say for U, V, or X than I am about delivering my niece, so it worked. (I had wasabi ready to go for W.)

Signs point us to a covered portico for labor and delivery check-ins, and I stop the car, throw it in park, and run around to help Madison out, but Micah beats me to it, his truck idling behind mine.

When she’s on her feet with Micah’s help, he says, “Why don’t you take her in to get checked or whatever, and I’ll park the cars?”

“Yes, thanks,” I say, already herding Madison into the hospital with an arm around her waist.

After that, the staff takes over efficiently, and it’s calming.

“She’s preregistered, so we can take her right back to an exam room,” the charge nurse tells me. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

I’m so keyed up it’s almost a nonsense command. Make myself comfortable? Sit on the barely cushioned chairs and pretend as if something life-changing isn’t happening beyond the double doors? But I wander into the waiting area and perch at the edge of a chair, too nervous to settle into it.

Micah finds me there a few minutes later. “How’s it going? Is Madison okay?”

“Seems like it. Maybe freaked out that she’ll have a kid, possibly today? But calm, considering.”

“That’s good.” He stands there, glancing around the room, but there isn’t much to see beyond the beige walls and abstract watercolor prints. There’s a large window overlooking the adjacent medical center and afair number of trees behind it, but that’s it. His gaze returns to me, taking in my position at the edge of my seat. “What about you? Are you doing all right?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ve been researching when I take breaks from studying for the bar, so I’ll be okay.”

He cocks his head. “Researching?”

I wave my hand, but I have no idea what I’m trying to indicate. “Articles about how to be a good aunt. Stuff like that.”

“Find any good information?”

“It’s pretty subjective. Personality specific, I guess? It seems to boil down to showing up.”

“Showing up is big,” he says.

I focus on him more closely. “Do you have uncle experience?”

He shakes his head. “Only child. But lots of my friends I grew up with are having kids now, and I get some practice.”

“Hillview friends?” I only knew of a few former classmates who had gotten married in the last couple of years.

The question makes him smile. “No. Neighborhood friends.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, I’m weirdly invested in this baby because I’ve been meeting with Madison the whole time she’s been pregnant. I’ll get out of your hair, but when you get a free minute, would you text me and let me know how it went?”

“Sure.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to invite him to stay, but he’s right. It’s probably weird. “Thanks for helping today.”

He slides Madison’s keys from his pocket. “I did park it neatly between the lines, so I’m the real MVP. It’s over in the visitor lot.”

“Right. Thanks again.”

“Will your car be okay at your office after hours?”

“I’ll figure it out.” No doubt Madison would soon send up a bat signal to her besties, and once they descended, I’d be able to get a ride back to my car.

“Are you sure? I can call a buddy, and we can go pick it up for you.”

I eye him, impressed by his desire to help. It reminds me of how adamant he was about sticking with me until my mom came after I broke my nose. Then it had felt intrusive. Today it feels thoughtful.

“Are you looking for an excuse to drive my Audi?”

He presses his hand to his chest and gives me a Who, me? look.

“Too bad.”

He gives me a very sad face.

“Seriously, though, I’m not worried about getting my car,” I tell him. “The posse’s coming. We’ll handle it.” Or I’d grab a Lyft.

“Good, good.” He shifts his weight, glancing toward the sign over the double doors that reads “Birthing Suites.” “I’ll get out of your way then. Congratulations.”

I give him a confused look. Congratulations?

“On being an aunt,” he clarifies.

“Right,” I say, a small smile slipping out. It is a big deal. Auntie Katie? I’ll work on it. “I’ll keep you posted.”

He leaves, and I get up to pace, ready to jump into action. I don’t know what kind of action. Anything. All the things.

Whatever my big sister needs.