He called the next afternoon at three-thirty.
“Mrs. Woodhouse?”
“Dr. Hill?:’
“Yes. Congratulations.”
“Really?
“Really.”
She sat down on the side of the bed, smiling past the phone. Really, really, really, really, really.
“Are you there?”
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Very little. You come in and see me again next month. And you get those Natalin pills and start taking them. One a day. And you fill out some forms that I’m going to mail you-for the hospital; it’s best to get the reservation in as soon as possible.”
“When will it be?” she asked.
“If your last period was September twenty-first,” he said, “it works out to June twenty-eighth.”
“That sounds so far away.”
“It is. Oh, one more thing, Mrs. Woodhouse. The lab would like another blood sample. Could you drop by there tomorrow or Monday and let them have it?”
“Yes, of course,” Rosemary said. “What for?”
“The nurse didn’t take as much as she should have.”
“But-I’m pregnant, aren’t I?”
“Yes, they did that test,” Dr. Hill said, “but I generally have them run a few others besides-blood sugar and so forth-and the nurse didn’t know and only took enough for the one. It’s nothing to be concerned about. You’re pregnant. I give you my word.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll go back tomorrow morning.”
“Do you remember the address?”
“Yes, I still have the card.”
“I’ll put those forms in the mail, and let’s see you again-the last week in November.”
They made an appointment for November 29th at one o’clock and Rosemary hung up feeling that something was wrong. The nurse at the lab had seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and Dr. Hill’s offhandedness in speaking about her hadn’t quite rung true. Were they afraid a mistake had been made?-vials of blood mixed up and wrongly labeled?-and was there still a possibility that she wasn’t pregnant? But wouldn’t Dr. Hill have told her so frankly and not have been as definite as he had?
She tried to shake it away. Of course she was pregnant; she had to be, with her period so long overdue. She went into the kitchen, where a wall calendar hung, and in the next day’s square wrote Lab; and in the square for November 29th, Dr. Hill-i:oo.
When Guy came in she went to him without saying a word and put a quarter in his hand. “What’s this for?” he asked, and then caught on. “Oh, that’s great, honey!” he said. “Just great!”-and taking her by the shoulders he kissed her twice and then a third time.
“Isn’t it?” she said.
“Just great. I’m so happy.”
“Father.”
“Mother.”
“Guy, listen,” she said, and looked up at him, suddenly serious. “Let’s make this a new beginning, okay? A new openness and talking-to-each-other. Because we haven’t been open. You’ve been so wrapped up in the show and the pilot and the way things have been breaking for you-I’m not saying you shouldn’t be; it wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t. But that’s why I went to the cabin, Guy. To settle in my mind what was going wrong between us. And that’s what it was, and is: a lack of openness. On my part too. On my part as much as yours.”
“It’s true,” he said, his hands holding her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers earnestly. “It’s true. I felt it too. Not as much as you did, I guess. I’m so God-damned self-centered, Ro. That’s what the whole trouble is. I guess it’s why I’m in this idiot nutty profession to begin with. You know I love you though, don’t you? I do, Ro. I’ll try to make it plainer from now on, I swear to God I will. I’ll be as open as-“
“It’s my fault as much as-“
“Bull. It’s mine. Me and my self-centeredness. Bear with me, will you, Ro? I’ll try to do better.”
“Oh, Guy,” she said in a tide of remorse and love and forgiveness, and met his kisses with fervent kisses of her own.
“Fine way for parents to be carrying on,” he said.
She laughed, wet-eyed.
“Gee, honey,” he said, “do you know what I’d love to do?”
“What?”
“Tell Minnie and Roman.” He raised a hand. “I know, I know; we’re supposed to keep it a deep dark secret. But I told them we were trying and they were so pleased, and, well, with people that old”-he spread his hands ruefully-“if we wait too long they might never get to know at all.”
“Tell them,” she said, loving him.
He kissed her nose. “Back in two minutes,” he said, and turned and hurried to the door. Watching him go, she saw that Minnie and Roman had become deeply important to him. It wasn’t surprising; his mother was a busy selfinvolved chatterer and none of his fathers had been truly fatherly. The Castevets were filling a need in him, a need of which he himself was probably unaware. She was grateful to them and would think more kindly of them in the future.
She went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her eyes and fixed her hair and lips. “You’re pregnant,” she told herself in the mirror. (But the lab wants another blood sample. What for?)
As she came back out they came in at the front door: Minnie in a housedress, Roman holding in both hands a bottle of wine, and Guy behind them flushed and smiling. “Now that’s what I call good news!” Minnie said. “Congrat-u-lations!” She bore down on Rosemary, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her cheek hard and loud.
“Our best wishes to you, Rosemary,” Roman said, putting his lips to her other cheek. “We’re more pleased than we can say. We have no champagne on hand, but this I96I Saint Julien, I think, will do just as nicely for a toast.”
Rosemary thanked them.
“When are you due, dear?” Minnie asked.
“June twenty-eighth.”
“It’s going to be so exciting,” Minnie said, “between now and then.”
“We’ll do all your shopping for you,” Roman said.
“Oh, no,” Rosemary said. “Really.”
Guy brought glasses and a corkscrew, and Roman turned with him to the opening of the wine. Minnie took Rosemary’s elbow and they walked together into the living room. “Listen, dear,” Minnie said, “do you have a good doctor?”
“Yes, a very good one,” Rosemary said.
“One of the top obstetricians in New York,” Minnie said, “is a dear friend of ours. Abe Sapirstein. A Jewish man. He delivers all the Society babies and he would deliver yours too if we asked him. And he’d do it cheap, so you’d be saving Guy some of his hard-earned money.”
“Abe Sapirstein?” Roman asked from across the room. “He’s one of the finest obstetricians in the country, Rosemary. You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?”
“I think so,” Rosemary said, recalling the name from an article in a newspaper or magazine.
“I have,” Guy said. “Wasn’t he on Open End a couple of years ago?”
“That’s right,” Roman said. “He’s one of the finest obstetricians in the country.”
“Ro?” Guy said.
“But what about Dr. Hill?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell him something,” Guy said. “You know me.”
Rosemary thought about Dr. Hill, so young, so Kildare, with his lab that wanted more blood because the nurse had goofed or the technician had goofed or someone had goofed, causing her needless bother and concern.
Minnie said, “I’m not going to let you go to no Dr. Hill that nobody heard of! The best is what you’re going to have, young lady, and the best is Abe Sapirstein!”
Gratefully Rosemary smiled her decision at them. “If you’re sure he can take me,” she said. “He might be too busy.”
“He’ll take you,” Minnie said. “I’m going to call him right now. Where’s the phone?”