“No, thank you, honey,” Irene says. “Seat belt?”
“It’s on,” Maia says. “Is everyone at the house?” Maia knows this hurricane is going to be very destructive, but she can’t help feeling something like excitement anyway. Shane and Bright and Colton and Joanie were all at the volunteer effort, and Bright said that every news station in the States is focused on the Virgin Islands. They keep calling it “America’s paradise.” Maia is happy people are paying attention; normally, the USVI are overlooked because they’re a territory and not a proper state.
“Cash is on Lovango with Tilda,” Irene says.
“Ahh,” Maia says. She has been waiting for those two to get back together. Maia had caught Cash texting Tilda under the table during Irene’s birthday breakfast at Jake’s, and when Maia asked if they were starting back up, Cash said, She’s dating someone else. And when Maia kept staring at him, he said, It’s one text, Maia, relax.
“Your grandfather will hopefully be back by the time we get home,” Irene says. “And Maia…”
Maia has just popped fudge in her mouth. “Mmm-hmm?”
“Ayers is in labor.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s having the baby.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight most likely, yes. Or first thing tomorrow. Her water broke.” Irene sighs. “Her contractions were close when I left the house to get you. And she doesn’t want to go to the health center…”
Maia asks, “Why not?”
“She thinks that because of the storm, it will be better to have the baby at home.”
“Like in the olden days, when there were no hospitals?” Maia says.
“Yes,” Irene says, shaking her head. She hits the gas.
When they get to the Happy Hibiscus, it’s chaos. The front door is the only thing left unshuttered for now because people are still going in and out. Phil is on the front lawn on the phone with a doctor friend from Reykjavík, who is giving him advice. Sunny is guarding the bedroom where Ayers is. Nobody’s allowed in, not even Baker.
“Is Huck here?” Irene asks.
“Not yet,” Baker says. “Floyd fell asleep, thank God, The Dirty Cowboy does it every time. Someday I’m going to learn how that book ends. We filled both bathtubs and every pot we could find with water.” He looks at Irene. “You made a lot of food.”
“We have a lot of mouths to feed,” Irene says. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s working through the contractions on her own for now,” Baker says. “That’s what she wants, and who am I to argue?”
“Huck told me help is on the way,” Irene says.
Maia hears Ayers groaning in the bedroom.
Sunny says, “Make a knot and hang on, Freddy!”
“What should I do?” Maia asks.
“There’s nothing any of us can do but wait,” Irene says.
Phil comes inside as he finishes his call. “Anders says she needs to work with each contraction until it’s time to bear down.”
“That’s not helpful!” Ayers shouts.
“Does she want some fudge?” Maia says.
“No, sweetie, thank you,” Sunny says. “She already lost her dinner.”
“Is that Maia?” Ayers says.
“Yes,” Maia and Sunny say.
“Send her in,” Ayers says.
The room is dark but there’s an outline of light around the bathroom door. Ayers is sitting on the bed crying.
“Nut,” she says. “It hurts. They tell you it’s going to hurt but that doesn’t prepare you for how white-hot, teeth-crushingly painful it is.” She stand up, paces the room, then sits down again. “Here it comes, Nut. Hold my hand.”
Okay, okay. Maia sits next to Ayers on the bed and Ayers grips Maia’s hand so hard that Maia wants to cry out. Ayers is making a wheezing sound that turns to a whimper that turns to rapid breathing.
Finally, she relaxes. “Oh God,” she says. She turns to Maia. “Hi.”
“Hi. Is it over?”
“For now,” Ayers says. “I can’t recommend this. Promise me you’ll never have children.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the health center?”
“No,” Ayers says. “No way. There’s a storm coming, Nut.”
“There is?” Maia says, and they both laugh.
“I don’t want to be in a hospital filled with strangers when the power goes out. There are going to be emergencies that need to be addressed. And it sits up on that hill…I just don’t think it’s safe. Plus I can’t ask all of you to come up there with me. I just…don’t want to go.”
“But what about the good drugs?” Maia says. Any time the topic of Ayers’s delivery has come up in the past few weeks, all Ayers talked about were the good drugs. “Don’t you want the good drugs?”
“I do,” Ayers says. “I really do. Here comes another one, give me your hand.”
Reluctantly, Maia surrenders her hand, and Ayers squeezes even harder than before, with nails, and Maia squeals but Ayers doesn’t notice, thank goodness. Maia doesn’t want to be asked to leave. She’s honored that Ayers wants Maia—and apparently only Maia—in the room.
“You know who I miss right now?” Ayers says. “More than anyone else, do you know who I need here?”
“Mama?” Maia says.
“Rosie,” Ayers says, and she starts crying again. “I need Rosie Small right here, right now! You know what she would be doing?”
The door to the bedroom swings open and a West Indian woman in scrubs walks in and says, “Rosie Small would be pouring two shots of tequila, one for you and one for her, we both know that.” The woman puts her hand on Ayers’s head. “How we doing, Mama? I’m Sadie. I’m here to deliver your baby.” She glances at Maia. “You’re the spitting image of your mother, sweetheart. If we hit a lull in here, I’m going to tell you some stories about your ancestors. Can you help me with a couple things?”
“Okay,” Maia says. She will do literally anything to avoid holding Ayers’s hand through another contraction.
“Clean towels,” Sadie says. “Ice chips. And see if anyone has a Coca-Cola for me.” She eases Ayers back onto the bed, spreads her knees, and says, “Let me check
