Page 107 of Hold the Pickle
The elevator dings, and we all step in. I push seven for maternity.
“Thanks,” Camryn says. “Are you going where we are?”
I nod. “I’ve moved to neonatology.”
“Will we see you?”
“Maybe. I sometimes come in on healthy babies, but it’s more likely I’m brought in for support in more complicated cases.”
“Then I hope I don’t see you,” Camryn says with a laugh. “But seriously, if there is a problem, can we ask for you?”
“Of course.”
She takes Max’s hand. “That makes me feel better.”
We pause on two, and a man pushing a woman in a wheelchair gets between us.
I’m glad, because I’m dying to ask about Nadia, and I’m less likely to do so with an audience. I shouldn’t do it. Especially not with Max right there.
But the couple gets off on three, and we’re alone again.
“Nadia’s fine, by the way,” Camryn says. “I talked to her last week.”
I finally can’t hold back. “Is she coming to see you? She was going to help with the baby.”
“All the Pickles are en route,” Max says, his low voice rumbling in the small space. Is that a warning sound? Should I avoid her?
The doors open to our floor.
Camryn squeezes my arm. “I’ll tell her to find you. Where do you tend to be?”
“In the NICU, but it’s controlled entry. She can text me. I can stop by your room.”
“You can stop by whether she’s there or not. I love knowing you’re here. You saved her in that bar. I haven’t forgotten that.”
I step out and let them go ahead. They pause at the nurse’s station for directions. I head the opposite way to assist with the twins.
Nadia will be here.
Maybe today, if she drives.
I have a feeling that the minute I see her, I’ll know what to do.
37
NADIA
When we get the call that Camryn has checked into the hospital, Mom and I quickly pack the car to drive to LA.
Dad stays behind with the cats. He holds Ferris and Doppelgänger as he says, “I’ve seen lots of babies. You ladies take care of Cam.”
Mom’s eyes tear up again. She keeps having bursts of crying. This is the first Pickle grandbaby on Uncle Sherman’s side. She’s in deep mourning for her sister, Aunt Pat, who isn’t here to meet her first granddaughter. She died so young.
I drive through the desert, mostly holding Mom’s hand. I know she’s worried Max will be sad about his mom, and Uncle Sherman will be clueless without Pat to navigate this huge family moment.
“I’m going to be there for her,” Mom says. “Cam’s family isn’t worth a damn. She doesn’t have a mother figure anywhere.”
She’s right. There is a huge rift between Cam and her family. She and her brother Franklin were close growing up, having to raise themselves with delinquent parents. Franklin was wildly overprotective and didn’t want her dating anyone.
