Night Watch, Part 16

Victoria came out of the bedroom and joined them at the dining room table.

"It's too quiet in there," said David. From his chair he could see the clock in the kitchen and had been monitoring the time between Angela's contractions.

"She's sleeping," said Victoria.

"Sleeping! How can that be?" he said in a hoarse whisper, hardly hiding his disappointment.

Victoria spoke in an even tone. "Angela is moving at her own pace. She's doing fine."

"Is she comfortable?" asked Olivia.

"I think so. She's very determined."

"Just out of curiosity, what would we be doing differently if we were at the hospital?" said David. He fought to hide the edge in his voice. He knew he should just take a nap.

"They would most likely put her on an I.V. with synthetic oxytocin. This can stimulate the progression of labor," said Victoria.

David did not completely understand what she had said, and she didn't offer to elaborate. "I think I'd better catch a few winks," he said.

"Good idea," said Victoria. "If you don't mind, I'm going to have a catnap in your son's room."

"Go ahead," said David. "Tony will be proud to hear that he donated his bed to a good cause."

They got up, sliding the chairs noiselessly so as not to disturb Angela. Victoria stepped into the bathroom while David and Olivia carried their dishes into the kitchen and then went into the living room. David said, "You can have the couch. I'll take the recliner."

"You need it more than I do," said Olivia.

"I'm fine. This recliner is certified for serious napping." He leaned back all the way and felt the foot rest pop up and catch his feet. He heard Olivia adjust the pillows on the sofa and, with his eyes half open, watched her spread a small woven blanket over herself before she settled on her side and closed her eyes. He wondered what her thoughts were at that moment. It was strangely quiet in the house. Angela, Victoria, Olivia, all resting in their appointed places, dozing or dreaming or each lost in her respective thoughts. And he, David, the token male, the husband, the father of the child, marveling at the process. He was astonished at the energy level he had been witnessing all night and tried to think of parallels in the male world. Money was a big motivator: men could get very excited about money. Sports, of course. He recalled specific big games that he had watched with a room filled mostly with loud, red-faced men roaring their approval or disapproval after every play of the game. Yet, none of those situations had the prolonged intensity he had witnessed tonight among the women who had been in the house that evening.

He wondered again what Olivia was thinking. He realized it had been on his mind since she arrived.

Olivia's miscarriage had been devastating. They had gotten the call from Angela's mother on a Tuesday evening around dinner time.

"Olivia lost her baby?" Angela practically cried into the phone. He could hear Natalie's shrill voice coming through the handset, talking rapidly. Angela's face told him everything he needed to know: her cheeks, eyes and lips became moist and red with anguish, almost instantly, like a switch had been thrown.

David sat at the dining room table, a fork full of very delicious baked ziti suspended in midair after Angela's outburst into the phone. Even Tony, sitting in his high chair, looked up from the cracker he was making a mess of to see what was wrong with his mother. David had learned that kids have a little radar that goes off when parents are distraught; they become very concerned.

"It's okay," David said to Tony after seeing the look of alarm in his face. "Mommy's sad about Aunt Olivia."

Angela hung up the phone and cried and hugged Tony tightly, who looked bewildered but happy to have the sudden attention. Then she said, "We have to go to New Jersey."

"I think I can break away this weekend," he said agreeably.

"No. Tonight. We're going tonight. Olivia has had a miscarriage. I have to be there."

"You mean, tonight?"

Ninety minutes later they were on Interstate 95 leaving the outer limits of the Washington area and approaching Baltimore. Most of the commuters were done for the day so they only had to contend with truckers and overnight travelers. It was early November; the night was dark and cool and clear. David was a little annoyed at having to make this drive because he knew they would be doing it again for Thanksgiving. On the other hand, he had a Thermos of dark roast coffee and a slice of Angela's homemade spice cake to keep his spirits up.

At the ripe old age of seven months, Tony knew the landmarks from D.C. to New Jersey. He marveled at the tunnel that sloped gracefully under the Baltimore harbor. He pointed out distant lights when they were high atop the Delaware Bridge. "What a clear night," said Angela, "Look, we can see Philly."

Then Tony had to gurgle some words of greeting to the toll booth operator at the entrance to the Turnpike. When they passed a rest stop he pointed and made a slightly different gurgling sound, which David associated with doughnuts because they had once stopped and gotten him a doughnut. But Angela, thinking of everything even in times of crisis, brought out a snack that made Tony forget about Turnpike rest stops.

When they got to the Meadowlands, David cut over to the Garden State Parkway. By this time Tony was dozing, having little appreciation for the fine views of Manhattan that they had had for several miles. On the Garden State, David continued north to the Paramus exit and then drove past the retail congestion and out to the quiet town of Ridgewood. He liked Ridgewood: it was stately and elegant and old-world. Angela loved it, and they always managed to have an argument about moving there. Angela would go at the drop of a hat; David was skeptical about finding work that would pay enough to afford a decent house. The argument would usually start when they drove into Ridgewood and Angela would exclaim, "How lovely," and David would say, "Yeah, if you're a millionaire." And they would argue the rest of the weekend about their priorities in life.

But this time Angela didn't say a thing. She was silent and nervous. They still hadn't talked about Olivia directly. David knew that Olivia had been four months pregnant and was looking forward to sharing the joys of motherhood with Angela.

"Did your mother give any details?" he asked.

She looked at him. "Something happened."

David waited. "Do you mean... something abnormal?"

"She was in her second trimester. She shouldn't have miscarried. Mom thinks Olivia got hurt." Angela's voice broke slightly. "I just don't know. Mom was kind of hysterical. It was confusing."

David knew the story would come out eventually. It always did. He steered the car through the quiet streets until they reached a simple two-story Cape Cod that had been enlarged in the back. Angela opened the car door before David turned off the engine. "Get Tony," she said before running into the house.

David watched her dash across the lawn and up the steps to the front door. Something was definitely wrong.

(This episode will be continued.)