“Good lord, what happened to you? What did you eat? I hope it wasn't the caviar or the oysters, people were gobbling them up, saying how good they were.” But Jane just looked up at him, mortally embarrassed.

“I think she's in labor,” Paris said quietly to him. “Is there a hospital near here?”

“Now? Here?” Bixby looked horrified, and Jane interrupted immediately.

“I don't want to go to a hospital here. I want to go home. I'm okay. I feel better now.”

“Let's discuss it in the car,” Paris said sensibly, and helped Jane into the backseat so she could lie down. There was a towel in the trunk, and Paris set it next to her, and got into the front seat. Bix had driven them, and he took off his tuxedo jacket, put it in the trunk, and a moment later they took off. By then Jane had called Paul, and told him what was happening. She promised to call him back in five minutes. “I think you should call your doctor too. When did the contractions start?” Paris asked, as Jane dialed her obstetrician's number.

“I don't know. I've been feeling weird all afternoon. I thought it was something I ate.” She got through to her doctor's exchange then, and they patched her through to him. He told her to go straight to California Pacific Medical Center in the city. He thought driving back would be fine. And if anything changed dramatically, he told her to stop and go to a hospital along the way, or at the very worst, call 911. He was relieved to hear that she wasn't driving back alone, and she was lying down. She called Paul back then and told him where to meet her, and to bring her overnight bag. It had been sitting in the front hall for three weeks. And as soon as she finished talking to him, another contraction hit. It was another major one, and she couldn't talk for three or four minutes.

“If memory serves,” Paris said to Bix as she held Jane's hand. Jane was nearly breaking her fingers, and gripping Paris's hand in a vise as she squeezed her eyes shut and made a moaning sound that terrified Bix. “As I recall, once you can't talk during contractions, it's time to be in the hospital. I think she's further along than she thinks.”

“Oh my God,” Bix said, looking panicked. “I'm a homosexual, for chrissake. I'm not supposed to see these things, or even know about them. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Drive back to the city as fast as you can,” Paris said, laughing at him, and feeling better again, Jane was laughing weakly in the backseat too.

“Your godson wants to see you, Bix,” Jane teased, and he groaned louder than she had a moment before.

“Well, tell him I do not want to see him. Yet. I want to see him neatly wrapped in a blue blanket, in a hospital ward, and not until his hair has been combed. And that goes for you too,” he said, glancing at Jane in the rearview mirror, but he was genuinely concerned. The last thing he wanted was for something untoward to happen to her, or the baby, while he drove them into town. “Are you sure we shouldn't stop at a hospital along the way?” he asked both women, and Jane insisted she was fine. She had several more contractions, and Paris was timing them. They were still about seven minutes apart. They had time, but not much, she knew.

The two women talked softly between contractions, and Jane had a horrific one just as they cruised past the airport, going at full speed.

“Are you okay?” Bix asked, and Jane's voice was hoarse when she spoke again.

“Yeah. I think I might get sick again.” But this time she didn't, and she told Paris as they reached the outskirts of the city that she felt like she wanted to bear down.

“Don't!” Paris said firmly. “We're almost there. Just hang in.”

“Oh my God,” Bix said, “this isn't happening.” And then he turned to Paris with a nervous look. “Do you deliver babies too?”

“Is that part of the job description?” she asked, keeping an eye on Jane and her hand in hers.

“It may have to be. I hope not. And by the way…” he began as they flew through a red light on Franklin Street, and narrowly missed being hit by a car. He had never driven as fast, or as recklessly in his life. “You're hired, Paris. In case I haven't told you yet. You've done a great job this week. And you in the backseat,” he said jokingly to Jane, “you're fired. I don't want to see you in the office on Monday. Don't come back again!” They were on California Street by then, and Jane was making horrible sounds. Paris was trying to get her to pant like a dog so she wouldn't push.

“Can we stop?” Jane asked feebly. The motion of the car was making her feel sick.

“No!” Bix nearly screamed. The hospital was only a few blocks away. “I am not stopping, and you will not have that baby in this car! Do you hear me, Jane?”

“I will if I want,” she said, lying back with her eyes closed. She had broken out in a sweat and let go of Paris's hand to hold her belly. Paris knew that they would be lucky if they got there in time. The baby was definitely coming. And just as she thought it, Bix screeched to a halt outside the hospital, in the parking slots reserved for emergency vehicles. Without asking either of them, he jumped out of the car, and ran inside to find a doctor. “I think the baby's coming,” Jane said to Paris in staccato breaths, and all she wanted to do was scream.

“It's okay, sweetheart, we're here,” Paris said, as she jumped out of the car, and opened the back door to get to Jane, but just as she did, two attendants rushed out with a gurney, and Paul was with them. They got her onto the gurney as she cried, and she was sobbing as she reached for Paul with both hands. She had been very brave, but now she was frightened, and so relieved to see him.

“I was so worried about you,” he said, as he held her hand and they wheeled her inside at full speed, while Paris and Bix watched, and followed her inside. They didn't even try to get her upstairs, but took her straight into the emergency room, and Paris and Bix were still trying to catch their breath when they heard her scream. It was a long horrifying howl that was so primeval, so deep, and so profound that it went to one's very soul. Bix looked at Paris in terror, and clutched her hand.

“Oh my God, is she dying?” He had tears in his eyes. He had never heard anything like it. It sounded as though someone had sawed her in half.

“No,” Paris said quietly, as they held hands in the waiting room, “I think she just had a baby.”

“How awful. Was it like that for you?”

“With one of them. I had a C-section with the other.”

“You're a remarkable breed, all of you. I could never go through it.”

“It's worth it,” she said, as she wiped a tear from her eyes too. Thinking about it reminded her of Peter.

And a moment later one of the emergency room nurses came out to tell them that the baby was healthy and weighed ten pounds three ounces. Half an hour later they wheeled Jane past them, as Paul followed proudly, holding the baby. They were all going upstairs to a room.

“Are you okay?” Paris asked as she bent to kiss her. “I'm so proud of you. You were terrific.”

“It was pretty easy,” Jane said gamely. They had just given her something for the pain, and she was looking very woozy. And at ten pounds three ounces, Paris knew it couldn't have been easy.

“We'll come back and see you tomorrow,” Paris promised, as Bix leaned over and kissed her too.

“Thank you for not having it at the Fleischmanns' party,” he said solemnly, and all three of them laughed. He took a peek at the baby, and remarked to Paul that he looked enormous. “He looks like he should be smoking a cigar and carrying a briefcase. That's my godson,” he said proudly to one of the nurses. And a moment later, the little family they had become went upstairs to get to know each other.

“What a remarkable evening,” Bix said to Paris, as they stood outside in the starry night. It was three o'clock in the morning.

It had been an extraordinary week. She had gotten a job, made two new friends, and nearly delivered a baby.

“Thanks for the job,” she said as he drove her home. She felt as though they were old friends now.

“We'll have to put midwifery in the brochure after tonight,” he said solemnly. “I'm awfully glad we didn't have to deliver that baby.”

“So am I,” Paris said with a yawn, as she smiled at him. She knew the night had created a bond between them that might not have been there otherwise. Neither of them would ever forget it. Nor would Jane, she was sure.

“Would you like to come to breakfast tomorrow?” Bix asked as he dropped her off at her house. “I'd like you to meet my partner.” It was a compliment and an honor for him to bring her into his private world, but he felt she had earned it. She was a lovely person.

“I didn't know you had a business partner,” she said sleepily, looking puzzled, but pleased to be invited.

“I don't. I was referring to the man I live with,” he said, laughing at her. “You have led a sheltered life, haven't you?”

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking.” She giggled. “I'd love it.”

“Come at eleven. We can get drunk thinking about tonight. It's a shame he wasn't with us. He's a doctor.”

“I can't wait to meet him,” she said sincerely, and then got out and waved as she unlocked her front door, and stepped inside.

“Good night,” he called as he drove away, thinking of the events of the evening. A baby had come into the world, and he'd nearly had to deliver it, and he had a new assistant. It had been quite a day.





Chapter 16




After sleeping as late as possible, Paris took a shower, put on khaki slacks and an old cashmere sweater and her favorite pea coat, and turned up at the door next to the shop at eleven. She knew Bix and his friend lived on the two floors above the office. He had bought the building years before, and the private quarters, when she entered them, were lovely. The rooms were cozy and warm. There were books everywhere, and there was a roaring fire, where Bix and an older man had been sitting and reading the Sunday paper. The older man was wearing a tweed jacket and slacks and an open blue shirt, and Bix was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. The older man had white hair, but looked youthful and very rugged. They were a handsome couple.

Bix introduced her to Steven Ward, and Steven greeted her warmly. He looked to be in his early sixties.

“I hear you two had quite an evening last night, and you almost delivered Jane's baby.”

“It was very close,” Paris said with a grin, as Bix handed her a Bellini. It was champagne with a splash of peach juice, and when she tasted it, it was delicious. “I didn't think we'd make it.”

“Neither did I,” Bix said honestly. “I figured if I didn't kill us in the car, we might all live through it. Pretty hairy.”

“Very,” Paris agreed, taking another sip of the Bellini, and turning to Bix's partner. “Bix tells me you're a doctor,” she said easily, and he nodded.

“I'm an internist,” he said discreetly.

“Specializing in HIV and AIDS,” Bix corrected, looking obviously proud of Steven. “The best in the city.”

“That must be hard,” Paris said sympathetically.

“It is, but we're doing much better these days with medications.”

Paris learned as she talked to him that he had come to San Francisco from the Midwest, to work with AIDS patients in the early eighties, and he'd been there ever since. And as Bix made omelettes for them, Steven told her that his previous partner had died of AIDS ten years before, and he and Bix had been together for seven. He was sixty-two years old, and it was obvious that he admired Bix greatly, and they were very happy.

They sat in the dining room, eating omelettes and croissants, as Bix poured them each a cappuccino. He was a fabulous cook, and informed her that it was a good thing, because Steven couldn't boil water. He could save lives, or make people more comfortable, but he was hopeless in the kitchen.

“He tried to cook for me once, when I was sick, and he damn near killed me. I had stomach flu, and he made me tomato soup, out of a can thank you very much, and a can of chili. I do the cooking,” Bix said firmly. Their relationship appeared to be interesting and lively, based on mutual respect and deep affection. Steven talked openly about how traumatic it had been for him when his previous partner died. They had been together for twenty-seven years before that.

“Learning to live without him was a tremendous adjustment. I didn't even go out for two years. All I did was work, read, and sleep. And then I met Bix, we dated for a year, and we've been living together for six. I've been very lucky,” he said with a grateful look at Bix.