“Well, you can't blame him,” Elena said sympathetically.
Annasophia nodded. “I could have this baby any time now, and he knows it. He's always asking me how I feel, about my contractions, about whether my water has broken, all kinds of stuff. And he keeps reminding me that he'll be on the very next flight he can catch once I go into labor.”
“I'm sure he will.” Something about Elena's voice caught Annasophia's attention, and she sought Elena's gaze, but she was looking out the bedroom window. Perhaps Elena felt wistful about what she and Maestro might have shared, had things worked out between them. Annasophia couldn't blame her for that. It was to Elena's credit that she said nothing about her feelings.
Maestro asked dozens of questions every time he called, but there wasn't much new to report. Annasophia was having more frequent Braxton Hicks contractions, and the baby had dropped, which was actually something of a relief, since she could catch her breath more easily. By the same token, though, her baby bump, being lower, felt even more uncomfortable. Her pelvis felt so heavy that she continually marveled that a small baby could feel like a boulder down there. It was truly amazing, though, what her body was capable of, nurturing this life and soon to give it birth, so despite the discomfort, Annasophia focused on the joys of carrying Matt. It certainly wasn't an experience she would undergo on a regular basis, so she intended to make the most of each moment. Even when she was hurting.
Like now. An intense contraction hit her, and she broke out in a sweat. Before she could stop herself, she groaned.
“Anna?” Elena had taken to saying
Anna
instead of
Annasophia
. She darted to the bedside, looking so eager that Annasophia would have thought it was Elena who was pregnant. “Is it time, do you think?
“I don't know. We'll see.” If her contractions started coming sooner together and growing in intensity, it would be time for Elena to take her to the hospital. Annasophia had a hospital bag all ready to go. Truth be told, Elena hadn't packed the bag. Maestro had done it for her, before he left. He had wanted to do that much, since he hated having to be away from her during the time leading up to the baby's birth. Elena had put the bag by the bedroom doorway, where Annasophia could see it anytime she wanted. Also, the bag would be easy for Elena to grab when Annasophia's time came.
She hoped it wouldn't start right now, though it was getting pretty damn close to what she remembered was Matt's birthday, February 27. Maestro was doubtlessly in rehearsal, where he would remain, pretty much, until tonight's performance. Matt's birth would happen, though, when it happened. Maybe in this new timeline, Matt's birthday would be a bit later. There was no way to second guess, and Annasophia couldn't control Matt's arrival. If labor started while Maestro was in rehearsal or performing, Annasophia would just have to get Elena to call and have him return the call as soon as he could. Knowing Maestro, if he knew about the call while performing, he'd probably rush offstage in the middle of a concerto to call back.
Annasophia smiled at the thought.
“I'm glad you're happy today,” Elena said.
“Happy? Yeah, I guess so. Well, happy and sad at the same time, I guess. I'm glad it's getting closer to time for the baby to be born, but oh, I miss Maestro so much.” She glanced at Elena, who gazed back at her steadily and... expectantly. Elena had been looking at her like this for several days now, and truly, it was getting on Annasophia's nerves a bit. “Could you get me a cup of hot tea? I think it would help settle my stomach.” The breakfast Elena had prepared – waffles and eggs – had been tasty, but indigestion had been a constant problem during pregnancy.
“Sure.” Elena turned and went out.
Annasophia gazed at the phone, on which she had, moments before, talked to Maestro. He had told her that he'd be performing Tchaikovsky's Concerto No. 1, also one of Annasophia's favorite concertos ever written. She imagined the bold chords he'd be playing along with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra to open the concerto, and before she knew it, she was humming. How wonderful to feel this relaxed, to hum the concerto Maestro was playing while he was rehearsing it. If only this concerto were a conduit that would take her to him, right next to him on the piano bench if possible, though she doubted the members of the Symphony Orchestra would want to watch her give birth. She giggled at the thought, leaned back into her pillow, and closed her eyes, imagining Maestro's strong hands on the piano keyboard, then imagining his strong hands all over her. She sighed, then her eyes popped open as a contraction hit her, harder than any she had experienced before.
“Ugh!” she grunted.
Elena ran into the bedroom, without the tea.
Good grief
. It had only been a contraction. She hoped Elena wouldn't freak out when labor started. True, Elena had behaved calmly and coolly for weeks, but that didn't mean she would keep her cool when things started to rock and roll.
“Anna?” Elena asked breathlessly. “What's happening?”
“Another contraction,” she said through her gasps. “If I have another one pretty close, I think it's time to get me to the hospital.” She'd rather be safe than sorry. If it turned out to be false labor, the hospital could send her home. Nonetheless, she wanted to be in the hands of professionals when the baby came. She would need help with the pain. A midwife here at the house would have been fine, too, but Elena was no midwife. “Did you forget the tea?”
Elena stood in the doorway as though she hadn't heard, studying Annasophia as though she were a bug pinned to a cork board. What an unpleasant expression. Perhaps Annasophia was reading Elena wrong. Elena had to be nervous. To Annasophia's knowledge, Elena had never been around a woman giving birth before, or even remotely close to it. Everything would be okay. She needed to give Elena the benefit of the doubt. There was no way Elena could possibly have taken better care of her these last few weeks, and in so doing, of the baby. She needn't worry.
Annasophia had to face facts: she was frightened, too. Frightened of the pain she would soon face, frightened about what could go wrong. But fear wouldn't help a thing. It wouldn't make things go any better.
Breathe
, she told herself.
Take things one moment at a time
.
Finally, Elena left, presumably to go get the tea. Thank goodness. Annasophia felt so thirsty, and her stomach roiled with acid. She still felt weird about asking Elena to do so much for her, but she had shown herself more than willing.
Annasophia waited and waited for Elena to return with the tea. What was taking so long? The air in the bedroom seemed pregnant with anticipation, and not the good kind, either. This feeling seemed almost... predatory.
She was letting paranoia get the better of her again.
Elena didn't come. This silence was giving Annasophia the creeps. She couldn't wait one more minute. Wasn't it better to be safe than sorry? Maybe – horrors! – something had happened to Elena. One never knew. Annasophia had learned from a young age the unpredictability of life.
“Elena,” she called.
No answer.
What on earth? Maybe she had gone out to get the mail. But why would getting the mail take so long? Elena wouldn't have left the house to run an errand without telling Annasophia, and it was highly unlikely she would go far, since Annasophia was so close to her due date. Last week, Elena had gone grocery shopping, and Annasophia had gotten her to buy extra groceries so she wouldn't have to spend any more time out of the house than necessary.
“Please come,” Annasophia called. “I'm...” What, scared? Yeah, she was scared. Feeling alone and frightened. She didn't want to give voice to those feelings, though. Giving voice to them only made her feel worse. That was something she had learned as a young girl, too. Keep a stiff upper lip, no matter what happened.
Annasophia was hit again by a contraction, more intense than the last, which had been only five minutes ago. She groaned in pain and clutched her belly. Oh, God. Labor was starting, and she needed help. She needed to go to the hospital right now.
“Elena,” she yelled. “Please. Where are you?”
Nothing but silence.
There was nothing else to do. She would have to get up.
Annasophia got out of bed, walking awkwardly while holding her big belly so it wouldn't pull on her too hard. Her back throbbed. Oh, if only Maestro were here! At the thought of his kindness and gentleness and how tenderly he would treat her, she began to cry, though she tried her best to muffle her sobs. She went in the kitchen and found nobody there. The teapot was cold. Not so much as a tea mug sat on the counter. What the hell was going on?
She found Elena in the living room, sitting on the loveseat, reading a women's magazine. When Annasophia came in, Elena glanced at her, brow cocked, then fixed her gaze on her chest. Annasophia looked down. Her robe had fallen open and her breasts were visible. They'd gotten huge. Before pregnancy, Annasophia had worn a B cup. Now, she was a DD. Humongous breasts were terribly overrated, and she hoped fervently that after Matt was born and following breastfeeding, they would revert to their former nice and manageable size. Grunting, she pulled her robe closed and tied the sash above her big belly.
“Didn't you hear me?” she asked Elena.
“What?” She didn't put down her magazine.
“I'm going into labor.”
“Oh. Well, why didn't you say so?” Elena stood up, then took Annasophia's hand and led her back to the bedroom.
Annasophia indicated her bag that sat near the bedroom doorway. “We mustn't forget this.”
“Don't worry. You won't need it.”
“What are you talking about? Of course I'll need it.”
Elena nudged Annasophia toward the bed, which was the last place she wanted to go. “Wait a minute, aren't you going to take me to the hospital?”
“No, I don't think so.”
For a moment, her words didn't register in Annasophia's brain. Another contraction hit, and she doubled over with the pain. She broke out in sweat all over, and suddenly her robe felt unbearably hot. She braced herself against the wall and gritted her teeth. “What did you just say?”
“You're not going to the hospital.” Elena's eyes were cold as a snake's. “You're going to have that baby right here, in that bed.”
Annasophia gaped. Surely, the woman was joking. What a sick joke, and what a ridiculous time to act like an insensitive idiot! “Please,” she said. “You have to take me to the hospital. I can't have the baby here. You don't know anything about–”
“You're going to give birth right here,” Elena interrupted. “There's no other way.”
“No other way for what?” Nothing about this made any sense.
“Never mind.” She took Annasophia's arm and firmly guided her toward the bed.
“Screw you! There's no way I'm having this baby here.” She got in bed, but only because it made it easier to reach the phone on her nightstand. She would call the ambulance, and they would take her to the hospital. She couldn't imagine what had gotten into Elena, but...
There was no dial tone on the phone. A nineteen-seventies-model phone, it was corded and had a rotary dial.
She hung it up, then picked it up again. Same thing. No dial tone.
“Forget about it.” Elena was smiling now, and it wasn't a pleasant smile. Not at all. Her expression was eerily similar to the one she had worn in that awful picture, the one in which she had been staring hatefully at the back of Annasophia's head. “I cut the phone lines. None of the phones here work. You can't call anybody. You're on your own. Well, except for me.”
That's where she'd been. Instead of getting tea, she had been severing Annasophia's link to the outside world.
The only thing Annasophia could do was fight. She looked around for something heavy, something she could use to knock Elena unconscious. She could go next door – their nearest neighbors lived half a mile away, but damn it, she would make it somehow, even if she had to crawl – and get them to call an ambulance. What if she delivered the baby on the side of the highway? Her options were growing fewer by the second.
“What the hell are you doing?” Annasophia asked. “Why have you been taking such good care of me if you only want to kill me and my baby? Are you crazy?”
Elena shook her head. “Oh, no. I'm far from crazy. I know exactly what I'm doing. You're going to have that baby right here. It'll be fine. If there's any danger to the baby, then I'll call someone. Nobody medical, definitely not, but maybe I could find a midwife. Otherwise, there'll be nobody here but you and me.”
“Why?” Annasophia began to sob. This was a nightmare. If only Maestro were here. There was no way to get hold of him and no way to call anybody else. She was at Elena's mercy. Unless...
She seized the phone and threw it at Elena. She was fast, yes, but not fast enough. She ducked just in time, the phone whizzing over her head. What else could Annasophia throw at Elena? Nothing but magazines, a plate... yes. She grabbed the plate and started to pitch it at Elena's head, but another contraction seized her, and all thoughts of throwing things were obliterated and all that was left was intense, cramping pain that made her want to scream. She bit her tongue instead and tasted blood. The contraction held on and on and on, then – mercifully – it let go just a bit, enough for Annasophia to fall back into her pillow, gasping.
Rough hands reached under her robe and pulled off her underpants. Then Elena shoved her thighs apart and examined her. Annasophia had never felt so exposed in all her life. Perhaps Elena did know a little something about childbirth, and she and the baby would come through this okay.