She concentrated her efforts on keeping the child calm while Augustine gave instructions to whomever was on the other end of the phone.
Within minutes, an ambulance screeched to a stop directly beside them. A paramedic emerged and said something in rapid French that Dree had no chance of understanding. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French very well.Le bébé est bon, mais tu should examiner elle,”Dree tried, even though she knew she was messing it up horribly.
Augustine said, “Just talk. I’ll translate.”
The paramedics knelt beside Dree, Augustine, and the baby. She repeated the results of her brief examination and recommendations. Augustine was watching her, translating rapidly for the paramedics.
One of the paramedics said something, and Augustine asked Dree, “How long was she underwater?”
The baby must be presenting as a girl, so Dree started using feminine pronouns. She said, “I don’t know. I heard her scream, and when I looked over, I saw the water close over her head. At that point, I was just running and trying to get her above water. It probably wasn’t more than five or ten seconds before I managed to scoop her out of the water.”
Augustine rattled all that off in French.
The EMTs were examining the baby and working on her. Another one said something to Augustine, who said something back, several times.
Dree asked him, “What was that?”
“They were asking if this was our child, or if we knew who the parents were. I also gave them our names and my phone number in case they have any more questions about the incident.”
A woman’s scream echoed around the courtyard, and a young woman wearing fashionable leggings and a bright dress raced toward them, yelling in some other language, maybe an East Asian language from the clipped syllables. Her long black ponytail flowed behind her as she ran, one arm outstretched, and the other towing two more toddlers.
“Oh, bless her heart,” Dree said.
The woman ran up to them and reached for the baby. The paramedic said something quietly to her, and she leaned over and braced herself on her knees, breathing heavily.
The baby screamed a long wail and reached for the woman, nearly toppling out of the paramedic’s arms in her desperation.
“Ah,” the paramedic said and handed the baby off, but he convinced the woman and the children to go in the ambulance with them for a quick check-up.
The paramedics loaded the kids into the ambulance, leaving Dree and Augustine sitting on the cement together.
Dree’s coat was soggy. She asked Augustine, “She’s going to be okay, right?”
“Like I said, France has good social services. They’ll help the mother and child, and we have universal health care. They’ll all be taken care of.”
Dree held onto Augustine’s hand, and he pulled her to her feet. The tight skirt was not good for maneuvering and standing up. She wavered as she managed to stand because the dress bound her around her knees and her high heels were pretty high.
Augustine caught her around her waist again and held her against his chest to steady her. “You were amazing with her. I’m glad you were here to make sure that she was okay.”
They were lying to each other, right? So, Dree shouldn’t tell him that she was a nurse practitioner because that would be breaking the contract they had with each other.
Dree said, “You calmed her down so beautifully. It was a lot easier to make sure she was okay because I didn’t have to fight her.” Dree slipped her arms around Augustine’s tight waist. “You are going to make a good daddy someday.”
Augustine laughed. “Yes,someday.Come on. Sayyida is waiting for us at the entrance, and I know better than to keep her waiting.”
Augustine kept one arm looped around Dree’s waist as they retraced their steps back to the crystal pyramid in the center of the courtyard.
At the entrance, Augustine skirted the velvet ropes and the signs that said “Closed” in many languages and knocked on the glass door.
Over by the elevator, an oval of a woman wearing flowing layers of hijab fluttered toward the door and opened it for them. “You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago.”
Augustine laughed as they walked in. “I apologize for being late. May I present Dree Clark, who I vouch will absolutely not touch nor in any way molest your collections. Dree, this is my very good friend Sayyida El-Amin, who helped me facilitate a charity event here a few months ago.”
If Dree hadn’t been looking directly at Augustine, she would have missed the faint crease at the sides of his eyes and his sudden, slight confusion as expressed by the lines between his eyebrows and a small shake of his head.
He been doing that a lot lately, sometimes when they were talking, and sometimes like at the ballet last night when he been describing the music of the ballet as Mozart’s piano concertos.
She wondered what that meant.
