The doctor didn't say anything but he had no intention of getting to the hospital himself in anything less than an hour. He had to shower and shave, he hadn't finished reading the paper, and he knew the ways of obstetrics well enough to know that she wouldn't deliver for hours, maybe even for another day, so there was no point rushing in, no matter how panicked the young father was. He'd say all the right things to him when he arrived, and the nurses could keep him at bay after that. They'd had one man force his way into the delivery room the week before, but the security people had dragged him out and threatened to put him in jail if he didn't behave. But he didn't anticipate any problems with Ward Thayer.
And the doctor was pleased to be delivering her. It was another feather in his cap to be delivering Faye Price Thayer.
But Ward was horrified when he walked back into their room and found her doubled over a pool of water on the white marble bathroom floor, with a look of shock mingled with pain. “My water just broke.” Her voice was huskier than usual, her eyes wide open and afraid.
“Oh my God, I'll call an ambulance.” But at his words she laughed and sat down at the edge of the tub.
“Don't you dare. I'm fine.” But she didn't look all that fine to him and she looked scared, almost as scared as he was. “What did the doctor say?”
“To bring you in right away.”
“Well,” she looked into her husband's eyes, “I'll say one thing. I don't think it's a false alarm.” She looked a little more relaxed then, and he put his arms around her and helped her back to her dressing room. “What'll I wear?” She stared at the open closets and he groaned.
“Oh for chrissake, Faye … anything … just make it quick. How about a dressing gown?”
“Don't be ridiculous. What if there are photographers there?” Ward looked at her and smiled.
“Don't worry about it. Come on.” He pulled a dress out of the closet, helped her into it, and gently led her downstairs. He wanted to carry her but she insisted she could walk. And ten minutes later, she was comfortably tucked into the Duesenberg, the sable lap robe tucked around her legs, as she cautiously sat on a thick pad of towels, and ten minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of the hospital, and Ward led her out. She was instantly put in a wheelchair and whisked away, and he was left to pace the hall for the next six hours. His demands to see the doctor when he arrived were all in vain, until finally at half past two he saw him striding down the hall, his surgical cap still on, swathed in a blue gown, the mask hanging loosely around his neck, and he met Ward with an outstretched hand.
“Congratulations, you have a fat, handsome son!” The doctor smiled and Ward looked shocked, as though he hadn't quite expected it, even after all these hours of going half mad, pacing the halls. It was easy to understand the father the doctor had mentioned who had burst into the delivery room now. He thought he wouldn't have been able to stand it for another half hour. “He weighs eight pounds nine ounces, and your wife is doing fine.”
“Can I see her?” Ward could feel his whole body go slack at the news. He was so relieved that it was over, Faye was well, the baby was fine.
“In a few hours. She's sleeping now. It's hard work, you know, pushing these little fellows into the world.” The doctor smiled again. He didn't tell him how hard on Faye it had been, or how close they had come to doing a Caesarean. And he hadn't wanted to give her gas until the head was out. They had waited until the very end, and then, put her out, once the baby was born. It made sewing up easier for him, and there was no reason for her to be awake now. Her work was over.
