month whom Rosemary had seen before. They nodded at each other. Miss Lark went in.
“You’re due any day now, aren’t you?” the woman said, waiting by the desk.
“Tuesday,” Rosemary said.
“Good luck,” the woman said. “You’re smart to get it over with before July and August.”
Miss Lark came out again. “Mrs. Byron,” she said, and to Rosemary, “He’ll see you right after.”
“Thank you,” Rosemary said.
Mrs. Byron went into Dr. Sapirstein’s office and closed the door. The woman by the desk conferred with Miss Lark about another appointment and then went out, saying good-by to Rosemary and wishing her luck again.
Miss Lark wrote. Rosemary took up a copy of Time that lay at her elbow. Is God Dead? it asked in red letters on a black background. She found the index and turned to Show Business. There was a piece on Barbra Streisand. She tried to read it.
“That smells nice,” Miss Lark said, sniffing in Rosemary’s direction. “What is it?”
“It’s called ‘Detchema,’ “ Rosemary said.
“It’s a big improvement over your regular, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“That wasn’t a cologne,” Rosemary said. “It was a good luck charm. I threw it away.”
“Good,” Miss Lark said. “Maybe the doctor will follow your example.”
Rosemary, after a moment, said, “Dr. Sapirstein?”
Miss Lark said, “Mm-hmm. He has the after-shave. But it isn’t, is it? Then he has a good luck charm. Only he isn’t superstitious. I don’t think he is. Anyway, he has the same smell once in a while, whatever it is, and when he does, I can’t come within five feet of him. Much stronger than yours was. Haven’t you ever noticed?”
“No,” Rosemary said.
“I guess you haven’t been here on the right days,” Miss Lark said. “Or maybe you thought it was your own you were smelling. What is it, a chemical thing?”
Rosemary stood up and put down Time and picked up her suitcase. “My husband is outside; I have to tell him something,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“You can leave your suitcase,” Miss Lark said.
Rosemary took it with her though.
“All right,” the woman said.
Holding the hook again, Rosemary wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Please, Dr. Hill. She cracked open the door for air and then pushed it closed again as a woman came near and waited. “Oh, I didn’t know that,” Rosemary said to the mouthpiece, her finger on the hook. “Really? What else did he say?” Sweat trickled down her back and from under her arms. The baby turned and rolled.
It had been a mistake to use a phone so near Dr. Sapirstein’s office. She should have gone to Madison or Lexington. “That’s wonderful,” she said. “Did he say anything else?” At this very moment he might be’ out of the door and looking for her, and wouldn’t the nearest phone booth be the first place he’d look? She should have gotten right into a taxi, gotten far away. She put her back as much as she could in the direction he would come from if he came. The woman outside was walking away, thank God.
And now, too, Guy would be coming home. He would see the suitcase gone and call Dr. Sapirstein, thinking she was in the hospital. Soon the two of them would be looking for her. And all the others too; the Weeses, the-
“Yes?”-stopping the ring in.its middle.
“Mrs. Woodhouse?”
It was Dr. Hill, Dr. Savior-Rescuer-Kildare-Wonderful-Hill. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for calling me.”
“I thought you were in California,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I went to another doctor, one some friends sent me to, and he isn’t good, Dr. Hill; he’s been lying to me and giving me unusual kinds of -drinks and capsules. The baby is due on Tuesday-remember, you told me, June twenty-eighth?-and I want you to deliver it. I’ll pay you whatever you want, the same as if I’d been coming to you all along.”
“Mrs. Woodhouse-“
“Please, let me talk to you,” she said, hearing refusal. “Let me come and explain what’s been going on. I can’t stay too long where I am right now. My husband and this doctor and the people who sent me to him, they’ve all been involved in-well, in a plot; I know that sounds crazy, Doctor, and you’re probably thinking, ‘My God, this poor girl has completely flipped,’ but I haven’t flipped, Doctor, I swear by all the saints I haven’t. Now and then there are plots against people, aren’t there?”
“Yes, I suppose there are,” he said.
“There’s one against me and my baby,” she said, “and if you’ll let me come talk to you I’ll tell you about it. And I’m not going to ask you to do anything unusual or wrong or anything; all I want you to do is get me into a hospital and deliver my baby for me.”
He said, “Come to my office tomorrow after-“
“Now,” she said. “Now. Right now. They’re going to be looking for me.”
“Mrs. Woodhouse,” he said, “I’m not at my office now, I’m home, I've been up since yesterday morning and-“
Ten
She walked up Park to Eighty-first Street, where she found a glass-walled phone booth. She called Dr. Hill. It was very hot in the booth.
A service answered. Rosemary gave her name and the phone number. “Please ask him to call me back right away,” she said. “It’s an emergency and I’m in a phone booth.”
“All right,” the woman said and clicked to silence.
Rosemary hung up and then lifted the receiver again but kept a hidden finger on the hook. She held the receiver to her ear as if listening, so that no one should come along and ask her to give up the phone. The baby kicked and twisted in her. She was sweating. Quickly, please, Dr. Hill. Call me. Rescue me.
All of them. All of them. They were all in it together. Guy, Dr. Sapirstein, Minnie, and Roman. All of them witches. All Of Them Witches. Using her to produce a baby for them, so that they could take it and-Don’t you worry, ‘ ~ ndy-or-Jenny, I’ll kill them before I let them touch you!
The phone rang. She jumped her finger from the hook. “Yes?”
'Is this Mrs. Woodhouse?” It was the service again.
'Where’s Dr. Hill?” she said.
'Woodhouse?’ I get the name right?” the woman asked. “Is it ‘Rosemary Wood-
“Yes!”
“And you're Dr. Hill’s patient?”
She explained about the one visit back in the fall. “Please, please,” she said, “he has to speak to me! It’s important! It’s-please. Please tell him to call me.”
“I beg you,” she said. “I beg you.”
He was silent.
She said, “I’ll come there and explain to you. I can’t stay here.”
“My office at eight o’clock,” he said. “Will that be all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Thank you. Dr. Hill?”
“Yes?”
“My husband may call you and ask if I called.”
“I’m not going to speak to anyone,” he said. “I’m going to take a nap.” “Would you tell your service? Not to say that I called? Doctor?”
“All right, I will,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Eight o’clock.”
