Glamour (19 page)

It’s going to be a long night. Our room service meals finally arrive and we share them all around. With that and the provisions I snagged at the hotel store, no one goes hungry. Everyone is torn between watching the coverage on TV and looking out the window. But in Fran’s room, except for the sound of the TV music, it’s quiet and the drapes are drawn. I think I’ve done all I can to make Fran comfortable and I’ve packed us each one small bag. I know I’m not going to be able to sleep, so I go check on Mom and Paige.

They’re in bed eating chocolate bars and watching an old Bette Davis movie. I just stand in the doorway, looking in.

“Come on in,” Mom calls to me. “There’s room.”

So I join them and they share their chocolate with me. “How’s Fran?” Paige asks.

“Resting. I think I’ve got what we need to travel all ready.”

“And I’ll pack up the rest,” Mom says. We’ve already worked this out.

“The hotel was supposed to bring up a wheelchair — ”

“Oh, yeah.” Paige is looking at her iPhone now. “It came a little while ago. It’s outside the door.”

“So you really want to do this?” Mom asks me again.

I don’t even answer. We’ve been over it before.

Paige shakes her phone. “I just don’t get where he is.”

“Who?” But even as I ask, I know.

“Dylan, of course. He’s not answering. Did he say where he was going after you guys finished up
Britain’s Got Style?”

I glance at Mom and I can tell she doesn’t want to answer either.

“I think he had some things to take care of for his show.”

“He probably got stuck somewhere,” Mom offers. “Because of the hurricane.”

“What do you think the hurricane will do to the rest of Fashion Week?” I say to no one in particular. Mostly I want to change the subject. “Will they cancel shows?”

“Good question,” Mom says. “I assume it will depend on the damage.”

“I heard a guy on the local news saying that they get these a lot,” Paige tells us. “And that in a day or two, you can’t even tell the island was hit.”

We chat and visit until it’s so late that I can tell they’re both half asleep. I return to Fran’s room and sit in the chair by the window, looking out to where the wind actually seems to be slowing down some. I think perhaps Bruce is finally on his way to wreak havoc elsewhere. I’ve set the alarm for two, just in case I fall asleep. But my plan is to start getting us out of here a little sooner than that. In the meantime, I am praying.

I am so relieved when we are finally loaded into the first-class section of the big jet. Despite how smoothly everything else went, it was nerve-wracking and I know it has taken a toll on Fran. But, other than initially protesting the use of a wheelchair, she’s been a real trouper.

“Just sleep,” I tell her as I reach across and push the button to lean her chair back. “It won’t be long now.” I’ve given her half a sleeping pill. She insisted a whole one wouldn’t be too much, but I’m worried. She seems so fragile. And thankfully, the half dose seems to be working.

I go over the details in my head as the jet takes off. I’ve already asked the flight attendant to radio to LAX so there will be wheelchair waiting at the gate. I’ve arranged for a town car to meet us at passenger pickup. Then it’s on to the hospital. I cannot wait to feel the relief of knowing Fran is getting the care she needs.

To my surprise, I fall asleep as well. When I wake it’s to the sound of the pilot announcing our arrival in LA. I am so happy I could cry, and I close my eyes and thank God.

“We’re here,” I tell Fran as I put her seat back into the upright position, which wakes her up. “It won’t be long now.”

After a slightly bumpy landing and a long taxi, we finally pull into the gate. And because we’re in first class, we get to exit first. The flight attendant helps me get Fran into the wheelchair, which is right outside the plane as promised.

“Good luck,” the attendant calls to us. With Fran’s bag over one shoulder and my bag over the other, I wheel her through the tunnel and on toward ground transportation, where the town car is waiting. The driver helps Fran in, and we are on our way to the hospital.

By nine o’clock, Fran is checked into Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Dr. Marshall shows up shortly afterwards to examine her.

I know I could probably leave now, but it feels weird after all we’ve been through to simply leave Fran here. So I sit in the waiting room and try to wrap my head around the fact
that I’m no longer in the Bahamas, the hurricane is over, and I’m home in LA. I call Mom and give her an update.

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear it, Erin. You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. As soon as I hear how Fran is, I’ll go home and shower and maybe sleep for a week.”

“It’s really a mess here,” Mom tells me. “Power is out in places, lots of damage, beach homes destroyed, some shows are cancelled. And there’s something else.” She lowers her voice. “Dylan is missing.”

“Missing?”

“Paige has tried and tried to call him. And she’s checked his room and all around the hotel. It’s like he’s just vanished.”

“Oh no. Do you think he was out in the storm?”

“I have no idea. Paige is frantic.”

“Did you mention about him going with Eliza yesterday?” I ask carefully.

“No, no … I don’t see how that can help matters.”

“No, I don’t think it would either.”

“I’ll let you know if we hear anything about him.”

“Yeah. Give Paige a hug for me. Tell her I’m praying for him.”

We hang up and I do pray for Dylan. First I pray for his safety and then I pray that he doesn’t break my sister’s heart. Then I call Mollie, who sounds shocked to hear my voice.

“Guess what?” I say lightly.

“I don’t know,” she snaps back at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong
?” She sounds seriously angry.
“What’s wrong
is that I’m in labor—and it hurts!”

“Labor?
As in having your baby?”

“It’s not like I’m laboring to build a brick wall.” She makes
huffing noises now and I realize this girl is serious. “And if you’re calling to tell me about how lovely it is in the Bahamas—I do not want to hear about it.”

“Where are you?” I ask her. “I mean, are you really having the baby right now?”

“On the way to the hospital,” she huffs.

“You’re driving?”

“No!” More huffing. “Mom’s driving.”

“Which hospital?” I ask.

“Cedars-Sinai,” she growls. “Like it matters. I gotta go, Erin. Have a great day!”

I cannot believe it—Mollie is on her way here,
right now.
I rush back into Fran’s room, where she and the doctor are quietly discussing something. “Sorry to interrupt,” I say as I start to back off.

“No, it’s okay.” Fran waves me over, properly introducing me to her doctor this time.

“So you’re the angel,” Dr. Marshall says to me.

“Not really.” I wrinkle my nose. “Although I’m certain there were some real angels involved.”

“Maybe so.” The doctor smiles. “I was just telling Fran that I think we’ve found a bone marrow donor match.”

“
Really
?” I look down at Fran and she has tears in her eyes.

“We need to get Fran stabilized first and get her blood counts leveled out, but we’re feeling hopeful.”

“Thank you so much for getting me back here,” Fran tells me. “Thank you for everything, Erin.”

Feeling uncomfortable with all this attention, I decide to change the subject, so I quickly tell them about Mollie being in labor. “And can you believe it—she’s on her way here right now.”

“Here?”
Fran stares at me.

“I was supposed to be her birth coach, but I would’ve missed it if we hadn’t come home last night,” I tell her. “So you see what I mean—it really does feel kind of miraculous.”

“You’d better go find her,” Fran tells me.

“I’ll check back with you later,” I promise.

I’m surprised that I no longer feel sleepy as I hurry to the maternity ward to wait for Mollie. I cannot wait to see the look on her face when she sees me here. I realize that all this time I’ve been praying for miracles … and God was just waiting for the right time to deliver them.

When I spot Mollie’s mother pushing a
wheelchair containing my best friend into the labor and delivery unit, I’m so excited that I jump up and down like a five-year-old. Mollie gapes at me as if I’m an apparition.

“Wha—what?” she gasps. “How’d you get—” She stops mid-sentence and her face gets red as she reaches down to her belly, then bends over and begins to moan.

“Erin!” Mrs. Tyson looks hugely relieved to see me. “I thought you were in the Bahamas.”

“I was. It’s a long story.”

“Mollie started having labor pains last night, but she thought it was just indigestion. Then her water broke less than an hour ago and I think she’s about to—”

“Where is the doctor?”
Mollie cries out now.

“Can I help you?” a nurse asks.

“Yes, we called from home,” Mrs. Tyson says politely. “This is Mollie Tyson and she is pre-registered and—”

“And she’s having a baby
!” Mollie screeches.

“Let’s get her to a room.” The nurse takes over and wheels

Mollie into a room, where she is helped to a bed and another nurse starts hooking up monitors and things.

“I’ll do a quick check and we’ll see how advanced you are,” the first nurse tells Mollie, fitting her feet into the sock-covered stirrups.

Mrs. Tyson turns to me with a slightly horrified look. “I’m sure Mollie has told you … I’m not really good around blood and medical things.”

“Why don’t you sit down?” I nod to the nearby chair, but Mrs. Tyson just turns away and heads right on out the door.

So I sit in the chair. And it’s weird because I don’t even feel nervous. I think after all I’ve been through with Fran, the idea of helping Mollie have a baby isn’t all that intimidating.

“Well, well, Mollie.” The nurse stands up. “You’re nearly eight centimeters. Did you call your doctor yet?”

“Never mind that,” Mollie snaps. “If I’m that far dilated, I can have drugs, right?”

“Except that you might want to—”

“I
want
an epidural!” Mollie shouts. It’s like she’s someone else, but I assume it’s the pain talking. And suddenly she’s groaning again, tossing from side to side on the bed and yelling she needs drugs.

The nurse turns to me. “Are you her labor coach?”

I nod, looking at Mollie and wondering if this girl is even coachable. So much for her theory that it’s better to have babies the natural way—I try not to recall how many times she told me she didn’t want to use drugs.

“Her labor is progressing nicely and she’s almost ready to go into delivery,” the nurse tells me, almost like Mollie isn’t here. And in some ways she’s not. “It might be wise to skip the epidural and just get her into—”

Mollie interrupts her with a howl of pain.
“I want an epidural!”

I rush over to her side and make an attempt at proper breathing, huffing and panting like a dog, trying to remember what I learned in the one birthing class I took. But it doesn’t seem to matter, because Mollie’s not paying attention. All she seems to want is an epidural. Before long she gets her way, and the anesthesiologist arrives with the longest needle I have ever seen.

“I’m so glad that’s over with,” Mollie says when the drugs begin to take effect, sounding more like her old self. “I felt like I was going to die.”

“Do you want your mom to come back now?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? She wasn’t even present when her own children were born.”

“What?”

“She had Grant and me in prescheduled C-sections. Right here in this hospital. She’s useless around anything involving blood or medical instruments.”

Before long the doctor arrives and Mollie is transferred to the delivery room, where after what seems like hours, but is actually only minutes, Fern Tyson enters the world at 11:58 a.m. She is six pounds eleven ounces of pure sweetness. With fluffy dark hair and a puckered face, she is totally amazing—a real miracle. Feeling like a proud parent, I take pictures with my iPhone and send them to Mom and Paige, and, with Mollie’s permission, to Blake and some of our church friends. I even send one to Tony—and that surprises me. I thought I had written Tony off months ago. But something about seeing that dark head of hair and those big dark eyes, so like her daddy’s, makes me realize that Tony needs to come see his darling daughter.

While Mollie’s mom and dad are in her room visiting with her, I go down to check on Fran and show her the baby pictures, which makes her smile. “What a day you’ve had, Erin.”

“You know, I would’ve missed this,” I tell her, “if I hadn’t brought you home when I did.”

“Maybe it’s true what they say …” She sighs.

“What?”

“Maybe God does work in mysterious ways.”

I nod. “I think you’re right.”

“Even so …” She looks sad. “I wish I’d had the sense not to have gone on that trip in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking. It wasn’t only foolish, Erin. It was selfish.”

I try to point out the positive aspects of the trip: how it was good having Mom come out, how we got some superb footage for the show, how I’m glad to be home. “Besides that, it sounds like the hurricane has really put a damper on things anyway—some of the shows were cancelled. Maybe we got out just in time, and we got what we needed while we were there.” I can tell she’s sleepy now, so I pat her hand, tell her to rest well, and promise that I’ll come by tomorrow to visit. Then I quietly slip out.

As I’m headed back to Labor and Delivery, I’m surprised to spot Blake just coming through the entrance. Even more surprising is that Tony is with him. I greet them both then, feeling nervous about seeing Blake, I lead them over to the viewing area, proudly pointing out Fern to them. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Tony nods and I actually see tears in his eyes. “Do you think it would be okay if I go see Mollie?” he asks in a quiet voice.

I shrug. “I don’t see why not. I mean, her parents might be in there. But I know Mollie would want to see you.” I tell him
the room number and Blake and I watch as he slowly makes his way down the corridor. Tony’s dragging footsteps remind me of someone who’s heading for the gas chamber.