She just watches me but doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry I allowed him to do what he did to you. I’m sorry I stood by and watched. I’m sorry I didn’t help you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner.”

Fat tears drop from her eyes. I reach for the box of tissues on the counter and hand her two. She takes them, thanks me, and blots at her eyes, careful of her makeup.

“You can stay,” I tell her. “I’d like it if you did. I think Mercedes would like it, too.”

“I’m not sure about that.” She pushes to her feet. I do too.

“I am. Come to the house. Give us your gifts yourself.”

“I have a flight to catch,” she argues, but it’s weak. I can see she wants to be here.

“Has your friend ever been to New Orleans?”

28

Judge

Mercedes goes into labor two weeks and a day before her due date.

“We should go,” I tell her. I wanted to leave for the hospital hours ago, but she refused. She wanted to stay home as long as possible.

“Okay,” she finally says, dragging herself out of bed. “Call Solana,” she tells me as she walks toward the closet tugging at her nightie as she does. “She’ll tell Georgie,” she continues, having to pause to lean against the dresser when another contraction hits. “They’ll meet us at the hospital. If you—” She stops speaking, squeezing her eyes shut as I wrap my arms around her. She leans into me.

“Mercedes.” I hold her tight as her knees wobble with the pain that must be excruciating. I wish I could take it over from her.

“I need… my clothes.” She points, taking a deep breath in. The contraction has passed. I check my watch.

“You’re not putting on clothes. There’s no time.” I wrap one of my sweaters over her shoulders and turn her to the door where the bag we packed waits, organized and ready for just this. “We need to get to the hospital.”

“My shoes at least.” She’s wearing fluffy socks.

“You don’t need them,” I say and sweep her up in my arms. She doesn’t fight me only because another contraction has her full attention.

Lois, who moved into the house a few weeks ago, opens her bedroom door. She’s ready too.

“It’s time?” she asks excitedly.

Mercedes makes a fist in my shirt, tugging hard enough to pull out some chest hair.

“It’s time,” I say. “Call the doctor and let him know we’re coming.”

“Wait, Judge, the suitcase,” Lois says, rushing to grab it. How did I forget to take it? I literally just looked at it. But I’m a little out of sorts, I guess. Perhaps more than I realize.