“Hospital—now!” she gasped. Her bag was already packed and in the car. One-point-five minutes later we were on the road: I’d had to all but carry her out to the car. Eleven minutes after gunning my Toyota’s more than reliable power train we pulled into the emergency bay of Milton C. Armistead Memorial.She was taken up to the second floor immediately by half smiling nurses who seemed in a hurry to me but not especially concerned. Well I sure as hell was concerned. At any rate I was relegated to a smallish, but at least warm waiting room off the main corridor leading to the inner sanctorum of the gyno-wing. For the record, she’d decided after all of those Lamaze classes that I should not be in the delivery room with her. That had surprised me, but it was her decision and that was that.I’d been on my cell for some little while. Everybody I called wanted to talk. My brother was first. Then Aunt Delia, and finally my parents—they were the worst in demanding details. But now I just waited.. Perhaps you merely stumbled down from the mountain of your own accord. It will be a wonderful dream when I sleep tonight.” The old man squeezed her hand. “Please, Rebecca. Would you favor an old man’s whim and show me this fabled jewel? Perhaps I, too, will find guidance down from my mountain to the netherworlds to which I must travel.”Rebecca fished the stone from her pocket and held it out to the old man. He stared at it for a long while, but it was her hand that held his attention.“Is this not the hand that was red and blistered when we met?”“Yes, it healed quickly.”“Gods of thunder!” whispered the old man. “It is indeed the key to the ivory veil.” He reached out a bony finger and touched the stone. “Thank you, my goddess.” Rebecca placed a hand over her womb, imagining she felt an impossible response from the hours-old fetus. The events of that night were so like a fantasy, yet so real. The images. The lovemaking ... The goddess within her.“She is free,” Rebecca answered.The old.
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