The Visit - continued, page 5

      "The doctor says she's okay?  Nothing's the matter?"  I feel like I have just been pardoned by the governor. That last cigarette and I was ready for the chair.  And here's a reprieve.  "Are you sure?"
      I have to go in and see Clara to believe it.  I push open the door and there are the doctor and Brian and Clara. No police or social service workers.  Not even a nurse.  The doctor smiles. "We have a pretty nervous mother, but it's nothing she won't get over, right?" He looks at Peggy who manages to look slightly, but only slightly, embarrassed.
      I look the doctor straight in the eye and say "You have kids?"
   When he says  No, I say, "Well, wait till you have them before you call anyone nervous.  It's a nervewracking job, having kids, and they don't come with an instruction manual, you know."
      Peggy hugs my arm and laughs,  but I think she really wants to cry again.  Clara is still whimpering once in a while but she seems calm, if pale.  She snuggles in her mother's arms and breathes shallow coarse breaths.   Brian signs some papers, and we get the baby and get in the car.  On the ride home Clara falls asleep in Peggy's arms and she puts her to bed in the portacrib while I empty the bathtub and put the soap and towels away.  Tim comes downstairs and looks at me but I just shake my head. When I get in bed he wants to talk about Peggy but I won't.

      In the middle of the night I hear a noise downstairs and go to investigate.  Peggy is awake in the den where she and her family are staying, and staring down at the hard-sleeping  Clara.  It is  four a.m. and the baby has slept through two of her usual feeds.  "She must be exhausted from all the crying," I say, wishing Peggy would go back to bed and get some rest herself but also remembering how I liked watching my own children sleep.  But Peggy is not watching with pleasure, she is watching with pain; I see her place her hand on the baby's back to feel for her careful even breathing.  "I couldn't believe it," she whispers back.  "I thought something had happened to her.  I woke up with such a start!"  In the dim of the nightlight, I can see Brian snoring peacefully on his back.  I give Peggy's arm a squeeze and go into the kitchen for some milk and an aspirin; my head and stomach still feel queasy.  I don't think I'll feel right until the kid graduates with honors from Harvard.  When I pass by the den again Peggy is still standing near the portacrib, her hand poised to set back down on Clara's back.