the sadness in his eyes.
“Mick? Mick O’Callaghan?” A shout echoed through the building.
“Last room on the left, Pastor,” Mick shouted back.
The sound of someone clambering past the debris in the hall reached them. A moment later, Pastor Frank’s bald head appeared in the doorway. “Mick, what are you doing in here? Eddy was raving about you delivering a baby.”
His eyes, behind silver wire-rimmed glasses, widened as he caught sight of Caitlin. “For goodness’ sake. Are you?”
“Not yet, but we could be. Did you call for an ambulance?”
“I did.” The sound of a distant siren followed his words.
Mick turned to her and smiled. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”
He gripped her hand again. The warmth and strength of his touch made her believe him. He would take care of her and her baby.
Twenty minutes later, two paramedics loaded the stretcher she lay on into the ambulance. Another contraction hit, stronger this time. As she tried to pant through it, the need to push became uncontrollable. One of the paramedics started to close the door, shutting Mick out.
“Wait,” she shouted. “He’s got to come with me.”
She wasn’t sure why she needed Mick. Maybe it was because he truly seemed to care—about her, and about her baby.
She stretched her hand out and pleaded, “Please, Mick, we need you.”
The two paramedics looked at Mick. The older one said, “Okay, O’Callaghan, come on. We’re wasting time.” He motioned with his head, and Mick jumped in. Moments later, the ambulance rolled with red lights and siren.
Mick knew he’d be late getting home for sure now. He would have to call once he reached the hospital. The last thing he wanted was to worry his mother. Yet, for some reason he knew he couldn’t let Caitlin go through this alone.
She didn’t have anyone. He couldn’t imagine what that must be like. Besides his mother, he had two sisters, a dozen nephews and nieces and more cousins than he could count. There were enough O’Callaghans in Chicago to fill the upper deck at Wrigley Field, while this destitute young woman was totally alone.
No, God had set his feet on the path that led to Caitlin today. Mick couldn’t believe the Lord wanted him to bail out now. Taking her hand, he smiled at her and said, “You got it now. Just breathe.”
The siren wailed overhead. Caitlin struggled to block out the sound as she panted through the contraction with Mick coaching her. Why didn’t they shut it off? She couldn’t concentrate. She needed to hear his voice telling her everything was going to be okay. And she needed to push.
She was pushing by the time the ambulance reached the hospital. Her stretcher was quickly unloaded and wheeled into the building. People came at her from all directions, yelling instructions, asking for information and giving orders she couldn’t follow. All she could do was bear down and push a new life into the world as she clung to Mick’s hand like a life-line.
A sudden gush of fluid soaked the stretcher, and her tiny baby slid into the hands of a startled doctor. “We have a girl,” he said. Mick lifted Caitlin’s head so she could see.
“She’s so small.” Dread snaked its way into her soul as they whisked her daughter to a table with warming lamps glowing above it.
“Is she okay? Why isn’t she crying?” Caitlin tightened her grip on Mick’s hand. So many people crowded around the baby that she couldn’t see her. She tried to sit up, but a nurse held her back.
“Your baby’s being taken care of.”
“Just tell me she’s okay. Please, someone tell me she’s okay.” Frantic now, Caitlin struggled to push the nurse aside, but a sudden, sharp pain in her chest halted her.
She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t get any air. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She collapsed back onto the bed as the crushing pain overwhelmed her.
Long minutes later, they wheeled the baby’s bed up beside her. Caitlin turned her head and focused on her daughter’s small face. For an instant, all her pain faded away.
Her baby was so beautiful—so tiny—so perfect. But she wasn’t moving. Someone spoke, but Caitlin couldn’t hear them over the roaring in her ears. Then they pushed her baby’s bed out the door. Their faces were all so grim.
“Is she dead, Mick?” Caitlin whispered, terrified to hear the answer.
“No,” he answered quickly. “They’re taking her to the NICU. It’s a special intensive care just for babies. They’ll take good care of her there. She’s going to be fine.”
“Why isn’t—she crying?” The pain in her chest made it hard to talk.
“It’s because she’s so premature,” Mick answered. “She has a tube going into her airway to help her breathe, and she can’t make any sound with that in.”
Caitlin’s own breathing had become short, labored panting. A frowning nurse slipped a plastic mask over Caitlin’s face and spoke to the doctor. He frowned, too.
Caitlin looked from face to face. She didn’t know any of these people. Who would look after her baby?
She gripped Mick’s arm, pulling him closer. “Go with her.”
He glanced at the E.R. staff, then back to her. “I think I should stay with you.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. She forced a smile to her trembling lips. A strange cold was seeping into her bones. “Stay with—Beth. Watch over her for me.”
He patted her hand. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
Nodding, she whispered, “Thank you,” and watched him hurry out the door.
The nurse beside her claimed her attention. “I need you to tell me your name.”
“Caitlin—Williams,” she wheezed.
“Are you allergic to any medication? Are you using any street drugs?” Caitlin shook her head at each question the nurse fired at her. The room grew dark around the edges.
So this was what it was like to die. She wanted to cry because she knew what would happen to her daughter now—the same things that had happened to her. It wasn’t fair.
“Who is your next of kin?” The nurse continued to insist on answers. Caitlin only wanted to close her eyes and rest, but more people crowded around her, taking her blood pressure, listening to her heart, poking needles in her arm, sticking wires on her chest. They were all frowning.
“Is the man who came in with you the baby’s father?” the nurse asked.
“What?” Caitlin tried to focus on the woman’s face.
“I said, is that man the baby’s father?”
Would Mick
