Miranda's Wedding Chapter 4.
Miranda's flight arrived into Logan International Airport more or less on time, and she joined the long line of business flyers walking swiftly down the wide corridors towards the domestic exit gates. Everyone seemed so drab, dressed almost uniformly in blacks and greys, and nearly all with ears glued to their I Phones, even as they walked.
She knew she stood out like an exotic summer rose in her Prada coat and dress, and she enjoyed the sound of her clicking heels as they tapped across the foyer. It was good to be out in the world, to have a definite target, a mission. She realised that the long period of relaxation she'd needed after her September breakdown had done its good work, and she was regaining an energy she'd not had in years.
Helping Cindy give birth was a worthy initial project, then there was the Wedding of course, which she intended to mastermind and make wonderful for Andy, and then she thought she would focus on a twelve week modern art study programme for the summer. Miranda had been reflecting on their trip to Italy, and how Andy had chuckled when she had dismissed the modern art at the Peggy Guggenheim museum as "drips and daubs." She knew it made her sound like an art moron.
There must be more to the last hundred years of artistic expression than that, and she was determined to mine the best that New York MOMA had to offer by way of instruction. If she was going to criticise modern art, she at least should know as much about it as she could. It was a stupid gap in her cultural education.
These were the thoughts swirling round her brain, but as Miranda strode towards the exit she decided, not to get a taxi, but to hire a car for the day. If all went well with Cindy, maybe she would then have time to slip away and make the two hour trip over to Provincetown, to check up on the hotel arrangements, and discuss catering issues for the wedding.
It would save Andy the trouble anyway. So Miranda changed direction and headed off to the car-hire booths, choosing the one with the shortest line, which naturally had the most expensive cars.
When she later parked up at the hospital and left the keys to the zippy little Mercedes she'd chosen, with the guy in charge of the premium lot, she felt even more positive and focused. The hospital was the size of a small town, but putting on her positive but firm face, she asked the way to maternity, and was directed to the third floor.
It took a while, but eventually she negotiated various signings, and entered the right unit. She'd managed to text Geoff with the short but effective message. "Here." And he came out to greet her. He looked as though he hadn't slept in two nights, which was realistic, as he hadn't.
"Hi girl!"
"Hi, how are things?"
"They are prepping her now. Two of us can go in, if we gown up completely. The only trouble is Cindy's Mom wants to be there, and Cindy doesn't really want her faffing around. And me, you know me with the sight of blood. I worry I'll pass out like I did with the twins."
"Look, I'll go in, with Della, and keep the peace between them. You stay here, and when it's over, I'll swop with you and you can go in to see your son all wrapped up and lovely. Babies always look better after a C-section. Not like a purple prune after having to come through the birth canal. There won't be much blood on show."
"I knew you'd be able to make things OK. Thank you girl, so much."
"I'm no angel, Geoff, nor a miracle worker."
"No, but you a damn good project manager."
Miranda was already taking off her coat as they walked into the ante-room. She thought Geoff's compliment was one of the most genuine he'd ever paid her.
Della had already jumped the gun and was dressed from head to foot in the hospital scrubs. There was no-way she was going to miss her grandson's birth, but she was desperately afraid for Cindy, who was sedated on the gurney, and had already been administered a powerful epidural anaesthetic so they could perform the operation without her feeling a thing. In that way she could still be conscious enough to see her baby, just as he was born.
Miranda took the offered scrubs, mask and shoes covering, and went to divest herself of her outer clothes, her heeled shoes and all her rings, watch and other jewellery, passing them to Geoff for safe keeping. Then she thoroughly washed her hands and put on the protective clothes. Like two green space men she and Della then accompanied Cindy and her nursing team through into the theatre, while Geoff sat down outside, secretly mightily relieved not to have to join them in the operating theatre.
Miranda took Cindy's hand and squeezed her fingers. "Don't worry, honey. You'll be fine, it will soon be over." The girl looked up at her, terrified, but very happy to see her beside her.
Cindy's blood-pressure monitor was continuously beeping, recording dangerously high levels of everything as far as Miranda could tell. The doctors were obviously very concerned, and she knew Eclampsia was a real threat. They told the visitors to stand well back as the team of medics surrounded the patient. Then the lead surgeon lifted a scalpel and said, "Everybody in place? Then I'll make the initial incision. Stand by."
As she then obviously made a cut into Cindy's abdomen, Miranda felt Della sway violently beside her, and just managed to catch her before she did a "Geoff" on the floor. Two junior nurses took over, obviously used to swooning relatives, and bustled Della straight back out of the theatre. So that was as far as Della got in supporting her daughter.
Miranda ended up being the only birthing partner accompanying her ex-husband's new wife through the birth of their child. And as she confessed to Andy later, she thoroughly enjoyed it.
She loved the drama, the excitement and the absolute miracle of seeing the little fellow being lifted out, the quick cutting and clamping of the cord, the checking for vital signs and the way the doctor swung him almost like a baby lamb to clear his airwaves and get him breathing. The sound of his cry, definite and lusty, brought tears to her eyes, and she let Cindy crush her fingers, as she too was crying with adrenalin and relief. The medics immediately began sewing up their incision, and dealing with the afterbirth.
"My, he's big," Miranda said. The nurses were weighing the little boy before wrapping him up and placing him on Cindy's chest, so she could see and smell her new-born. "10. 2lbs" they announced. Cindy blinked, and lifted her finger to brush his little cheek. He had a shock of black hair, and bright blue eyes like little sapphires. As Miranda had predicted, he was a nice pink colour, not blue or purple like most new-borns.
"No way would you have enjoyed pushing him out, sweetie, your hips are too small. It's much better this way."
"But I so much wanted to give birth naturally."
"Yes, I know. But once you heal up, you'll feel fine. He's a lovely child. I am going to tell Geoff and Della. They'll be wanting to come in now."
"Thank you Miranda. Thanks so much. Will you be his godmother?"
Cindy was only half conscious so Miranda didn't think she'd remember, and now didn't seem the right time to talk about agnostic tendencies. So she replied with a smile, "Yes, of course, as long as his name isn't ridiculous. I'd be honoured."
She left the mother and baby to get acquainted, and slipped out of the theatre at the same time as they were wheeled out themselves into a post-delivery room. Cindy wasn't out of the woods yet, but having given birth safely to a healthy child everything would be so much more positive, and the risks diminished. Her life was no longer in such acute danger.
When she came through the door, Geoff and Della both leapt at her. "So? How are they? We heard him cry. How is Cindy?"
"Fine, fine, they're both fine, and the danger is over. You have a bonny son. He's gorgeous. You can both go through now and see for yourselves."
Miranda tugged off her mask and began undoing the hospital gowns and gloves she was wearing, as the others disappeared, escorted by a nurse. She sat down heavily on a chair and caught her breath, thinking about the birth she had just witnessed. It took her back nearly eleven years to her own motherhood, in her case to a long but natural labour producing not one, but two new-borns.
In the twins' case, they had definitely been purple, squealing scraps of humanity, and it had taken Geoff a full twenty minutes after Cassidy's birth before he was even conscious enough to take in the reality that he was to be the father of twin girls. She was genuinely happy for him and Cindy now though.
Geoff was still sober and determined to spend more time at home with his present wife and child than he ever had with Miranda. They would be OK, and she was also sure Della would calm down and stop fussing, now she had a grandson to cuddle and coo over.
But then Miranda thought of Andy, back home, lovingly caring for her twins, and realised how very likely she too would want a baby, or babies before too long. And who was Miranda to deny her that joy? How to build their family without a male on the scene? That was the obvious question to ask. There must be a solution somehow that would be the right fit for them.
An hour later, after a quick lunch in the hospital cafeteria, while Cindy enjoyed a deep sleep, and Geoff began phoning all his mates, his mother and even the guy who cut his lawns, with the good news, Miranda followed up her plan to drive across to Provincetown. Just before leaving she texted Andy with the good news, pleased she was getting better at hitting the right keys. It came out a little wonky, but she was improving. "BSBY COME ALL OK GOUNG to PTown. CUSoon."
She thought Caroline would be proud of her.
When she received Miranda's text, Andy was sitting next to Emily in her office at Runway, with a large sheet of paper in front of her on which they were both brainstorming the problems they had to solve regarding the wedding. She felt her phone vibrate against her leg, pulled it out, read the message, read it again to turn it into English and then gave a little scream.
"What?" asked Emily, who had gone through enough trauma in the last twenty-four hours explaining their problem to Serena. That hadn't gone down well, to put it mildly, but she had come round grudgingly in the end.
Andy looked up. "It's Miranda. She's in Boston and tells me, I think, that she's including a side-trip over to Provincetown! That means she'll be going to the Inn! I told you I haven't yet had a chance to explain about the double booking and our plan to combine the two weddings. I know I should have found the time and courage last night! She'll turn up there and they'll assume she knows the new arrangements. I can see this becoming a catastrophe!"
"Can you catch her? Phone her back! It 'll be much better if you tell her yourself."
"Obviously." Andy called the number on the text but Miranda's phone simply said in that annoying way, "The person you are calling cannot take your call right now. Please leave a message."
It wasn't at all how Andrea wanted to deal with it, but she fumbled out a message. "Miranda, darling. Call me as soon as you get this. Call me before you go to the Inn. It's really important!"
But Miranda was already in the outside lane on the highway east from Boston. Her phone was tucked away in her bag, and she didn't even hear the message bleep. Her plan was to drive as fast as was legal over to Provincetown, to talk to the owners of the Inn for half an hour. Then she could just about have time to check on the beach house, as she and Andrea hadn't been there since mid-February, and then drive back to Logan airport to catch the seven o'clock flight back to New York.
If she wasn't distracted, she could do it, just. She liked the Mercedes coupe, and having paid for it, was determined to enjoy the drive, so she turned up the radio, slid back the electric roof and put her foot down. Miranda was as happy as a bird.