If that was logical, maybe Tiel was losing her mind. "Do you carry any latex gloves in the store? The kind a doctor wears."
She shook her frizzy, permed head. "Rubbermaid.
That's it. I think we got two pairs over yonder with the household cleansers."
"Thanks. Stay cool, Donna."
As Tiel moved past Gladys, she leaned down and whispered,
"Is there a tape in your video camera?"
The old lady nodded. "Two hours' worth. Rewound, too. Unless Vern screwed it up when he was fiddling with it."
"If I can get it to you—"
"Hey!" Ronnie shouted. "What are you whispering about now?"
"She's afraid for her husband. I was reassuring her."
"There he is now," Gladys said, pointing at the door.
Donna threw the bolt and Vern came tottering in, everything except his spindly legs hidden behind a stack of bedding. Ronnie ordered him to drop the load of pillows and quilts, but the old man argued. "It's all clean. If I
drop it, it'll get dirty. The lady should have a comfortable place to lie, and I thought these towels might come in handy, too."
"Actually that's very good thinking, Ronnie," Tiel said.
'You can examine the stuff once he brings it over."
From his Winnebago, in addition to the pads he'd gone for, Vern had brought two pillows, two quilts, two clean bedsheets, and several bath towels. Ronnie found nothing concealed inside the linens and gave the go-ahead for Tiel to make a pallet, which she did while Sabra leaned heavily against Doc.
Tiel used only one of the sheets, saving the spare for later, should the need for it arise. When she was finished,
Doc laid the girl down on the bedding. She settled on it gratefully. Tiel placed one of the disposal pads beneath her hips.
"They're not for what you think," Vern declared.
Simultaneously Tiel and Doc glanced up at the old man, surprised to see him bending down to confide in them. "We're not incontinent."
Tiel could barely contain her smile. "We didn't ask."
"We're on our honeymoon," Vern explained in a confidential whisper. "Every night we go at it. Daytime too, if the urge strikes us. You know how randy honeymooners are. Those pads aren't the most comfortable things for the partner on bottom, but neither of us likes to lie in the wet spot, and it beats changing the sheets after each time."
The old man winked, turned away, and obeyed Ron
nie's instruction to rejoin the others. He sat down beside his wife—his bride—who hugged him and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, commending him for his bravery.
Tiel, realizing her jaw was hanging slack, closed it with a soft click of her teeth. Her gaze slid to Doc, who was intent on timing Sabra's labor pain, but his thin lips were twitching with a smile.
From beneath his eyebrows, he glanced up at Tiel, caught her looking at him, and made a snuffling sound that passed for a laugh. "Gloves?"
"What?"
"Did you ask about the gloves?"
"Oh, uh, two pair of Rubbermaid."
He shook his head. 'Just as well be leather work gloves.
What about some vinegar?"
"Coming up."
"And gauze."
She asked Ronnie's permission to shop the aisles, where she found several plastic bottles of vinegar, a box of sterile gauze pads, and a package of disposable baby wipes. She gathered them up. On her way back to Sabra, another display caught her eye. On a burst of inspiration, she added two boxes of hair coloring to her collection.
When she got back to the girl, Sabra was listening intently to what Doc was telling her.
"It won't be comfortable, but I'll try not to hurt you, okay?"
The girl nodded and glanced apprehensively at Tiel.
"Have you ever had a pelvic exam, Sabra?" she asked softly.
"Once. When I went for birth-control pills." Tiel cocked her head quizzically, and Sabra lowered her eyes in em
barrassment. "I stopped taking them because they made me fat."
"I see. Well, you've been examined before, so you know what to expect. This probably won't be any worse than that first exam. Right, Doc?"
"I'll make it as easy as I can."
Tiel gave the girl's hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be right over there if you—"
"No, stay here with me. Please." She motioned Tiel down for a private consultation.
"He's nice," she said, speaking in a low voice directly into Tiel's ear. "He acts like a doctor, and talks like a doctor, but he doesn't look like one, know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know what you mean."
"So I feel sorta weird, having him… you know? Could you, like, help me take off my underpants?"
Tiel straightened and looked at Doc. "Could you give us a moment, please?"
"Sure."
"What's happening?" Ronnie wanted to know when
Doc stood up.
"The lady needs some privacy. From me. And you."
"But I'm her boyfriend."
"Which is exactly why you're the last person she wants observing."
"He's right, Ronnie," Sabra said. "Please."
The boy moved away with Doc. Tiel lifted Sabra's skirt and helped as she awkwardly raised her hips and worked her underwear down her thighs.
"There we go," Tiel said gently, taking away the damp garment, which Sabra had balled up to the size of a Ping-Pong ball.
"I'm sorry it's all icky."
"Sabra, starting right now, you're to stop apologizing.
I've never been in labor, but I'm sure I wouldn't approach it with near the dignity that you have. Are you more comfortable now?" Obviously not. She could tell by Sabra's grimace that she was in the throes of another pain. "Doc?"
He was there in an instant, pressing his hands on the mound of her stomach. "Sure wish he'd turn on his own."
"I'm hoping for a girl," Sabra told him on gasping breaths.
Doc smiled. "Really?"
"Ronnie would like a girl too."
"Daughters are great, all right."
Tiel stole a glance at him. Did he have daughters? she wondered. She'd taken him for a bachelor, a loner. Maybe because he looked like the Marlboro man. You never saw the Marlboro man with a wife and family in tow.
Perhaps… ? Tiel couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen Doc somewhere before. His resemblance to the rugged models in the cigarette ads must be why he looked vaguely familiar.
When the pain passed, Doc placed his hands on the girl's raised knees. "Try and relax as much as possible.
And let me know if I'm hurting you, okay?"
"Oh, wait." Tiel reached for a box of hair coloring and opened it. Reading Doc's inquisitive expression, she explained.
"It comes with disposable gloves. They won't be great; they probably won't even fit," she added, glancing down at his manly hands, "but they might be better than nothing."
"Good thinking."
He peeled the plastic gloves off the sheet of waxed paper to which they were stuck and worked his hands into them. It was an O. J. Simpson fit and they looked clumsy, but he thanked Tiel, then once again assured Sabra that he would try his best not to make it too unpleasant.
"This might help." For modesty's sake, Tiel spread the second sheet over the girl's knees.
Doc gave her an approving glance. 'Just relax, Sabra.
It'll be over before you know it."
She took a deep breath and pinched her eyes shut.
"First I'm going to wash the area with one of these wipes. Then bathe it with some vinegar. It might be a little cold."
As he poured the vinegar over her, blotting at it with several of the gauze pads, he asked her how she was doing.
"Okay," she replied timorously.
Tiel found herself holding her own breath. "Breathe deeply, Sabra. It'll help you relax. Let's do it together. Big inhale. Now out." Upon penetration, Sabra flinched. Tiel said, "Again. Another deep breath in. Out. That's it. Not much longer now. You're doing great."
But she wasn't. Doc's expression told her as much. He withdrew his hand from between the girl's thighs and, hiding his concern, bragged on how well she'd done. He peeled off the gloves and reached for the bottle of hand wash, rubbing it vigorously onto his hands and forearms.
"Is everything all right?"
Ronnie was back. It was he who had asked the question, but Doc addressed his answer to Sabra. "You haven't dilated much."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that your labor is dysfunctional."
"Dysfunctional?"
"That's a harsh word, but that's the medical term for it.
As hard and frequent as your pains are coming, your cervix should be dilated more than it is. The baby is trying to push its way out, but not all the parts of your body are ready for the birth."
"What can you do?"
"I can't do anything, Ronnie, but you can. You can stop this foolishness and get Sabra to a facility where she'll receive proper obstetric care."
"I already told you, no."
"No," Sabra repeated.
Before there could be any further argument, the telephone rang.