Maclin isn’t even with him anymore, and he slides into a chair
beside Conlan, gives us all a wan smile. “They’re getting together
in another hour or so,” he explains. He must mean the committee.
Conlan nods, and Ellington lowers his voice but I’m sitting right
in front of him and can hear him well enough. “Marie’s having
contractions—”
“Now?” Conlan asks, half rising from
his seat. “It’s too early—”
Ellington pulls him down, holds his arm to
keep him from running off. “She’s on the terbute. There’s nothing
you’ll be able to do, sit back down.” Conlan doesn’t look so sure.
“You’re just going to worry her—”
Beside me, Shanley clears his throat.
“Excuse me,” he interrupts, leaning across the table. “I’m sorry,
but you said one of the women is in labor?” Ellington nods and
Conlan covers his face with shaky hands. “How far along is
she?”
“Seventeen weeks,” Conlan whispers,
his voice muffled through his fingers. “God, Ben, she can’t