Just then, one of the mechanics came over and surprised Trey by shaking his hand and congratulating him on his impending fatherhood. Apparently hearing this, one of the police officers pushed him forward—toward the ambulance outside.
“But I’m not—” was all he could get out as he was hustled onward.
Outside, the crowd parted and Cinda was loaded into the ambulance. Dr. Butler climbed in. So did her nurse. One of the paramedics jogged around to the front, obviously the driver. The other EMT—a big guy who could have played football for a pro team—latched on to Trey’s arm and cheerfully tried to haul him inside. “Come on, Dad. We’re burning daylight here. Get in.”
Trey resisted. “But I’m not—”
“It’s okay. We’ve seen this nervousness before. In you go.”
And in he went. And away they went, the siren clearing the way for them. Standing at the back of the boxlike interior of the emergency vehicle, Trey tried his level best not to be in the way. He watched as people who knew what they were doing went about doing what they knew to do for Cinda and her baby. Evidently, from Cinda’s groaning and Dr. Butler’s steady, quiet voice alternately giving orders and soothing her patient, things were progressing a lot quicker than anyone would have liked. Trey realized his mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty. He didn’t want to watch such a personal moment for Cinda, but he was pretty much forced to by sheer proximity.
The ride to the hospital, with the ambulance dodging and skirting New York traffic, was, to Trey, like some wild and pitching ride at Six Flags Over Georgia. To keep from being tossed about and becoming the next patient, he hung on to a bolted-down metal shelf about shoulder height to him. In a blessedly few minutes, though each one had seemed like hours to him, they were pulling into the emergency bay of a big hospital. The back doors opened. More medical types in hospital greens reached in and hauled Trey out, again tossing him to one side as they concentrated on assisting Dr. Butler and her nurse with Cinda on the gurney. The EMTs who’d brought them here grabbed Trey up again, calling him Dad and carrying him along in their wake.
Trey was beyond protesting. Instead, he found himself wondering if this much hoopla accompanied every birth…and decided it should. A whole new life was about to happen. A fresh little soul was coming into the world. His stomach knotted with giddy nervousness. He was going to be a father. Wait. No he wasn’t. Everyone just thought he was. But it was still exciting—and scary. Cinda was in so much pain. As they all swept along a narrow corridor and through swinging doors, Trey among them, he wanted to shout for them to do something…which of course they were. And very capably.
Suddenly a folded set of surgery greens were shoved into Trey’s hands by a short, sturdy nurse with a face that reminded him of a bulldog. Apparently, he’d been handed off. Sure enough, she shunted him down another corridor.
“Put these on in there, Dad.” She pointed to a closed door in a wall of doors they were approaching. “Leave on your undershorts and your shoes. You’ll find shoe covers and a hair net under the shirt there. Use them. Take off your watch and any jewelry you might have on. Stay here until I come get you. The door will automatically lock when you step out of the dressing room, so don’t do that. And once in the surgery room, try to stay out of the way. If you get sick or pass out at a critical moment, you’re on your own. You got all that?”
Trey nodded. She reached past him to unlock and open the door. Revealed was a tiny closet of a room with a few pegs for clothes and a wooden ledge for a seat. She firmly ushered him inside it. The overhead light in the claustrophobic cubicle spotlighted him like a trapped insect. He stumbled in, again protesting, “But I’m not the—”
“Save it. You’ll be fine. Won’t see a thing but your wife’s head. Talk nice to her and stay out of our way. I’ll give you five minutes to change. My name is Peg. You do everything I tell you, and we’ll get along just fine. You got all that?”
What else could he say? “Yes, ma’am…Peg.”
“Good.” She closed the door.
In the entombing quiet, Trey stared at the shirt and pants he held. This was serious. No way was he going into that room and witness…a birth. He’d only come to New York City to take care of some team business. Didn’t it figure that the lawyer’s office was in that damned building with the crotchety elevator?
It suddenly occurred to him that he could just leave. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself doing that, sneaking out—and getting caught by Peg. That did it. Trey quickly began shedding his clothes and pulling on the hospital garb. He didn’t doubt for one minute that the nurse was standing right outside the closed door and would haul him into the delivery suite in his underwear and socks, if he wasn’t ready.
In only a couple more minutes, Trey had everything on and was tying the drawstring at his waist when the door unceremoniously opened to reveal Peg standing there. She stared disapprovingly at him. Trey had the absurd notion that he should come to attention, like he had during his stint in the army. Peg gave him a formal once-over. “You’ll do. Let’s go.”
Again Trey hesitated. He took a step back into the safety of his cubicle. “Look, I’m not the father—”
“Right.” Peg advanced on him and grabbed his arm, hauling him along after her. “That’s what they all say. And everyone in prison is innocent.”
TWO HOURS LATER, Trey sat glassy-eyed and alone in one of the father’s waiting rooms off the wing of delivery suites. He hadn’t even bothered yet to take off his paper hair net. Slouching on an ugly vinyl seat, one of many pushed up against a sickly green wall, he stared at a blaring TV suspended in a traylike holder from the ceiling. But he didn’t really see or hear a thing that was external. Inside, though, he was humming. He’d seen a baby girl come into the world. He’d never seen anything like that before. Not that there was anything he could compare it to. A whole new and tiny person. And not too happy to be here, either, judging by her squalling when Dr. Butler had held her up.
Chelsi Elise, her groggy mother had named her. Healthy, chubby, perfect. Honey-gold hair, and a fully functioning set of lungs.
Trey sniffed. Okay, so he’d got caught up in the excitement. So he’d shed a tear and had whooped his joy. That was when Dr. Butler had noticed him and had told everyone he really wasn’t the father. Or the husband. Not even the boyfriend. He was just the guy who got stuck in the elevator with the mother. A stranger.
Peg had damn near pinched his head off once she’d gotten him out of the delivery room. She’d told him to stay in the waiting room and not to move. And he hadn’t. Not that he was afraid of her. She just reminded him of his drill sergeant from boot camp. Oliver Dimwitty. That man was so mean, not one recruit had ever dared make a joke about the guy’s name.
The double doors into the waiting area whooshed open. In walked Dr. Butler, Peg riding shotgun at her hip. Trey sat up straighter, watching the doctor pull her hair cover off and sit down next to him. Peg stood behind the doctor, her arms folded over her chest. Trey focused on the friendlier figure of Cinda’s and Chelsi’s deliverer. Dr. Butler really was a beautiful woman, he noticed again. Rich chocolate-brown hair. Big brown eyes. An easy smile. But more importantly, a keen intellect shone from her eyes. She grinned at him. “You doing okay? I didn’t mean to get you kicked out.”
Trey avoided looking at Peg. “I know. So…how’re they doing?”
“They’re both great. Chelsi weighs seven pounds, eight ounces and is twenty inches long. A healthy little girl who has the good fortune to look like her mother. And Mom’s doing well, too. A bit groggy but okay.”
Trey realized his heart was hammering and he was eating up every detail…just like a new father. Which he wasn’t. “Well, that’s good,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m glad to hear that. It was touch-and-go