went out to her. She was frightened all the time now, of everything.
“She won't do anything of the sort. She just wants to be there with you. And no one is going to steal the baby. You have to make up your own mind.” But he was still trying to influence her. He thought his mother was right. At fourteen and a half, she didn't need the burden of a child. She was still a baby herself. And he was even more sure of it the night she began to have labor pains. She panicked and locked herself in her room, sobbing hysterically, and he and John had alternately threatened to break down the door. Eventually, while he talked cajolingly to her, John went out on the roof, slipped in through the window, and unlocked the door, and let her brother in. She was sobbing hysterically on the bed, convulsed with pain, and there was water all over the floor. Her water had broken an hour before, and the pains had grown severe. But she threw her arms around Lionel's neck and sobbed, clutching him with each pain.
“Oh Li, I'm so scared … I'm so scared …” No one had told her it would hurt this much. On the way to the hospital in the cab, she moaned and dug her nails into his hand, and refused to go away with the nurse. She hung on to him and begged him to stay with her, but when the doctor came, he told her to be a good girl, and two nurses wheeled her away as she screamed.
Lionel was visibly shaken and John was pale as they spoke to the quiet older man. “Can't you give her a sedative?”
“I'm afraid not. It may slow her labor down. She's young, she'll forget it all afterwards.” That seemed difficult to believe and he smiled sympathetically at them. “It's hard on girls her age, they're not really prepared to go through childbirth, physically or mentally. But we'll get her through and shell be just fine.” Lionel wasn't as sure. He could still hear her screaming from down the hall, and he wondered if he should be with her. “Have you called your mother yet?” Li shook his head nervously. It was eleven o'clock at night, and he wasn't sure if they'd be asleep. But he knew she'd be furious if they didn't call, so he dialed his old home number with trembling hands. Ward answered and Lionel spoke at once.
“I'm at the hospital with Anne.”
Ward didn't waste time handing the phone to Faye. For once, he spoke to Lionel himself. “We'll be right there.” And he was as good as his word. In ten minutes, they were at UCLA Medical Center, looking slightly rumpled, but wide awake. And the doctor made an exception, and let Faye stay with Anne, at least as long as she was in the labor room. None of them were prepared for how long it would take. Even the doctor didn't know, although he was usually good at predicting that, but again with teenagers, nothing was sure, she could race through it suddenly or it could take three days. She was dilating well, but she would stop at each stage for long hours, begging for release, for drugs, for anything, clutching at her mother's hand, trying to sit up to leave and then collapsing with the pain, clawing at the walls, and begging the nurses to let her go. It was the worst thing Faye had ever seen, and she had never felt so helpless in her life. There was nothing she could do to help the child, and she only left her once to go outside and say something to Ward. She wanted him to call the attorney first thing the next morning, in case Anne agreed to give the baby up after it was born. They would have her sign the papers immediately. They had to review them again in six months, to make them permanent, but by then the baby would be gone, and hopefully she'd have started a normal life again. Ward agreed to call him the next morning, and she suggested he go home. It could take hours, and the three men agreed. Ward dropped Lionel and John off, without saying much to them, and the two boys went upstairs. They were surprised to realize that it was already 4 A.M. and Lionel never got to sleep that night. He crept stealthily out of bed,