Mrs. Clark cried out. Beatrix looked him in the eye. “Sue says she’s feeling intense pain in her back, and Brown’s says that often means the baby is turned the wrong way.”
Reading the lexicon was a felony on her part—reading it in the open here where any of the family could have seen her do it was a dangerous risk. But he couldn’t keep his mind on that whilethe baby is turned the wrong wayechoed in his head. He’d been turned the wrong way. His mother didn’t survive the procedure that got him out.
He steadied himself on the wall. “I could teleport her to a hospital. Should I?”
Beatrix stared at him, and he knew she understood what he was asking. Should he use their last red leaf to give Mrs. Clark a better shot, or should he save it for the very real possibility that they’d need it themselves?
“Yes,” Beatrix said. “Just check the lexicon to make sure we can.”
He swallowed convulsively to press down the dread as he flipped through Brown’s. What if Beatrix’s sister died for want of a red? What ifBeatrix—but at that point he found a notation in the book that made the issue moot.
Under “Contraindicated spells—pregnancy,” the book said:Teleportation while pregnant could contribute to birth defects and is not recommended. NOT TO BE ATTEMPTED DURING DELIVERY: As with patients who have severe wounds or internal injuries, teleportation for mothers in the midst of delivery carries a high risk of death.
Beatrix, looking at the words over his shoulder, gave a deep sigh. Another scream came from the bedroom, and she scurried back with her supplies.
Perhaps a spell could turn the baby in the womb? He flipped to the childbirth section and found it was three sentences in its entirety. The first two read:Certain spells can ease delivery or help with discomfort,but they endanger the child and mother if cast imperfectly or at the wrong time. Not to be attempted by wizards without obstetrics training.
Be aware, Brown’s added unhelpfully,that spells cannot help with the infections that pregnant mothers frequently acquire during delivery.
That was how Beatrix’s mother died.
There was nothing for it but to lend an almost entirely useless pair of hands, which he would have to scrub within an inch of his life. It was one thing, by trial, error and good luck, to deliver a calf. It was an entirely different matter to?—
He sprang to his feet, eyes wide. Then he dashed up the steps to the neighbor with the working telephone, barged in without so much as a hello-I’m-back and dialed with trembling fingers.
“Martinelli,” the man on the other end of the line said.
“Oh, thank God, you’re still at work, I thought you might have left and I have no idea what your home number is?—”
“Blackwell?” Martinelli laughed. “Slow down. What is it?”
“Sue Clark is in labor and we’re snowed in. I can’t get her to a hospital?—”
“Oh!”
“Yes, and she needs a doctor immediately—something’s wrong. Can you hop a red to a hospital, get an obstetrician and bring him here?”
There was a too-long pause.
“Martinelli?”
“YouknowI hate teleporting. It makes me queasy.”
“I know, but this is important?—”
“And that’sfourreds I’d need because I’d have to return the guy and get myself home. You’re not serious.”
“Yes I am! I’m telling you, she’s in trouble?—”
“Call the police—or better yet, the fire department. They’ll get through.”
“I’vecalledthe fucking police, and the fucking fire department, and every fucking hospital within twenty miles!”
The sweet old neighbor put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. He rubbed his temples and said in more modulated tones, “We think her baby’s turned the wrong way. She’s in a lot of pain, and—” He took a fortifying breath. “My mother died delivering me. I can’t let that happen to Mrs. Clark.Please.”
Martinelli sighed. “All right. Damn it, I can’t say no to that. Where are you? Give me the address.”
He showed up ten minutes later, a doctor in tow. Then he sat next to Peter on the living room couch, patting him on the back. “Don’t worry, I brought you the real deal.”
