"I'm going to have a baby!" she sobbed. "I've been feeling something
peculiar for some time. But tonight it kicked the hell out of me."
"Want to talk about it?" I asked, still holding her wrist.
She looked at me with genuine bafflement in her eyes. Her face was
puckered up like a hurt child's. "But it's so impossible, doctor. I'm
sorry I talked to you the way I have, but so help me, I'm a good
girl."
I almost said, _Well, these things happen_, but that would have
sounded pretty silly. It was evident that she still wouldn't admit
even to herself how and when it had happened.
"Ever go on a good binge?" I suggested.
"Not since I was sixteen," she exclaimed. "But I could use one right
now. No, that might hurt the baby." She folded her arms protectively
around her middle. "I don't get it. I don't get it at all. But if
that's the way it is--" A crooked, pleased smile wrinkled tears from
her cheeks. "Leave it to Sary to do things the unusual way."
She looked up at me. "Did you know I was the first white woman to
interview a Rajah's harem eunuch?"
"Looks like you have a real story this time," I said, playing along
with her.
"Yeah. But who in hell will write it?"
* * * * *
Phillipe Sansome made himself eminently useful. He assisted in surgery
every morning, refusing fees and pleading with everyone to maintain
his anonymity. The staff was in on the conspiracy, and the nurses
smiled indulgently at him behind his back. But Sansome was too great a
man to ridicule. The general feeling was the same as mine. He was
older than he thought, not in body, but in over-tired nerves and
exhausted mind. None contested his skill with the scalpel; but none
gave ten cents worth of credence to his twist on the theory of
evolution.
As Sara's confinement proceeded with precise conformity to my
expectations, I thought Sansome would lose heart--but he didn't. He
arranged to be present in the delivery room with as much interest as
if we expected a breach birth of a two-headed panda.
I was unfortunately called to Baltimore at the last minute. I flew
both ways, but my haste was in vain. Sara gave birth while I was still
aloft.
I checked in with more excitement than I'd thought possible. I asked
at the desk, "How's Caffey?"
"Fine. Gave birth an hour ago. Beautiful little girl--"
I didn't wait for more. I dashed upstairs to the maternity ward, where
Sara had finally consented to be moved, and slipped into her room.
She was tired, but conscious. She smiled at me peculiarly.
"So it's a girl!" I exclaimed. "Wait until I see Sansome. A beautiful,
healthy, normal baby!"
A hand tapped me softly on the shoulder, and I turned to look into
Sansome's triumphant eyes.
"Without a navel," he said.
--WINSTON MARKS
* * * * *