“A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” They had started with neither pot nor window. This year a pot- Next year a window? No hurry- Things were going well. Even Grace seemed contented. He felt certain that she would settle down and be a happy grandmother. Grace liked babies, Grace did well with babies- How well he remembered.
Not long now. Baby Karen was fuzzily vague but her guesses seemed to show that D-day was about two weeks off, and her condition matched her guess, as near as he could tell.
The sooner the better! Hugh had studied everything in his library on pregnancy and childbirth; he had made every preparation he could. His patients seemed to be in perfect health, both had satisfactory pelvic measurements, both seemed unafraid, and they helped each other with friendly nagging, not to gain too much weight. With Barbara to hold Karen’s hand, with Karen to hold Barbara’s hand, with Grace’s motherly experience to bolster them, Hugh could see no trouble ahead.
It would be wonderful to have babies in the house.
With a warm wave of euphoria Hugh Farnham realized that he had never been so happy in his life.
“That’s it, Hugh. Let’s catch those tiles on the way back.”
“Okay. Take the rifle, I’ll carry the tools.”
“I think,” Joe said, “we ought to-”
His words chopped off at a gunshot; they froze. It was followed by two more. They ran.
Barbara was in the door. She held up a gun and waved, went inside. She came out before they reached the house, stepping carefully down off the stoop and moving slowly; she was very gravid. Her belly bulged huge in shorts made from wornout jeans that had belonged to Duke; she wore a man’s shirt altered to support her breasts. She was barefooted and no longer carried the gun.
Joe outdistanced Hugh, met her near the house. “Karen?” he demanded.
“Yes. She’s started.”
Joe hurried inside. Hugh arrived, stood panting. “Well?”
“Her bag of waters burst. Then the pains started. That was when I fired.”
“Why didn’t you- Never mind. What else?”
“Grace is with her. But she wants you.”
“Let me catch my breath.” Hugh wiped his face, tried to control his trembling. He took a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly. He went inside, Barbara following.
The bunks near the door had been taken down. A bed stuck out into the doorway but space cleared by removing shelves left passage. One bunk was now a cot in the living corner. The bed was padded with a grass mattress and a bear rug; a calico cat was on it.
Hugh squeezed past, felt another eat brush his ankles. He went into the other bay. The bunks there had been rebuilt into a bed across the end; Karen was in bed, Grace was seated, fanning her, and Joe stood by with an air of grave concern.
Hugh smiled at his daughter. “Hi, Fatty!” He stooped and kissed her. “How are you? Hurting?”
“Not now. But I’m glad you’re here.”
“We hurried.”
A cat jumped up, landing on Karen. “Unh! Damn you, Maggie!”
“Joe,” said Hugh, “round up the cats and put them in Coventry.” The tunnel mouth had been bricked up, but with air holes, and a cat door which could be filled with a large brick. The cats had a low opinion of this but it had been built after Happy New Year had become missing and presumed dead.
Karen said, “Daddy, I want Maggie with me!”
“Joe, make that all but Maggie. When we get busy, grab Maggie and shut her up, too.”
“Can do, Hugh.” Joe left, passing Barbara coming in.
Hugh felt Karen’s cheeks, took her pulse. He said to his wife, “Is she shaved?”
“There hasn’t been time.”
“You and Barbara get her shaved and washed. Punkin’, when did your bowels move?”
“Just did. I was on the pot when it happened. Just sitting there minding my own business-and all of a sudden I’m Niagara Falls!”
“But your bowels moved?”
“Oh, yes!”
“That’s one less thing to worry about.” He smiled. “Not that there’s anything to worry about, you’ll play bridge most of the night. Like kittens, babies show up in the wee, sma’ hours.”