Malena Lott - Dating da Vinci

“Oh, just a bunch of Lifers,” she said, which made me cringe. Lifers was the nickname she'd given to anyone who attended Life Church, but it came off sounding haughty. I wanted to remind her the term had been used in prisons long before she started using it.

Scrabble began sounding pretty good again, but my curiosity got the best of me. After a quick kiss to my kids, which was promptly wiped off by Bradley, I was out the door.

A HOMELESS MAN WEARING socks for gloves and a stained Longhorns knit hat greeted me with a toothless smile as I entered the back door of the makeshift homeless shelter that once housed a mid-century clothes manufacturer. I imagined the place had been alive with the buzz of a hundred sewing machines before technology wiped out the need for so many human laborers. I refused to think the same clothes were now being produced in a sweatshop in a third-world country, which was probably the case. I made my way through the maze of cots, which were blocking the route to the kitchen, due to overcrowding from a bout of hurricanes that set the homeless awash in Austin.

A curious Hispanic boy noticed me and followed me to the kitchen. He looked to be about William's age, dirty but happy. I remembered why I didn't like helping in soup kitchens: I always wanted to take the children home with me.

“ Hola, señora,” the boy said, tugging on my jacket.

“ Hola, muchachito.”

The boy grinned, revealing both his front teeth missing. I asked him if he spoke English. He shook his head. He told me he and his parents had just arrived in a truck, and his mother was going to have a baby.

I had the sinking feeling they were illegal aliens and they would be out of the homeless shelter before INS arrived the next morning. I congratulated him on becoming a big brother and handed him a carrot that Judith had just peeled. I kissed my mom-in-law on the cheek and removed my jacket. The boy crunched the carrot like Bugs Bunny but didn't take his eyes off of me.

“I think someone has a crush,” Judith said. “Poor thing needs a bath like no one's business. Don't tell me. Illegal, right?”

“ Ssh! Mom,” I scolded.

“What? He can't speak English. What difference does it make?”

I asked the boy if he needed anything else and he repeated that his mother was having a baby. A terrible scream rang through the metal warehouse. “Oh, God,” I said, looking at the small group of volunteers in the kitchen. “He means his mother is having a baby right now! ”

Judith threw down her peeling knife. “I'll call the hospital.”

The boy's eyes widened. “ Mi mamá dice que el hospital nos llevará a la cárcel.”

“What did he say?” Judith said, rummaging through her designer bag for her tiny phone.

I thumped my forehead. “He's right. He says they can't go to the hospital because they'll deport them.”

“Well, the law's the law,” Judith said with a terse smile. I marveled that a woman who believed volunteerism was saintly and would spend hours peeling potatoes for the homeless would so quickly turn against them.

I grabbed the phone from her hand. “No hospital. We can't have a new mom deported. She'll be terrified. And she'll only go kicking and screaming.” I'd seen my share of illegal immigrants at the Panchal Center. While you had to have documentation to work for Panchal's temp agency, anyone could learn to speak English, green card or not.

The boy tugged at my arm as his mother's wails continued. “ ¡Ven! ¡Ven! ”

“I'm coming,” I told him. “We need a doctor.”

“Oh, Lord,” Judith said. “Unless you have some midwife skills I don't know about…”

“Is there a doctor in the house?” Cortland said, traipsing through the door with a bushel of potatoes.

I caught my breath. “Thank God! A woman is having a baby. Out there.”

Cortland plopped the heavy crate onto the counter and rolled his shoulders back. “A baby, huh? Might be a lot more fun than peeling potatoes.”

“You can't be serious,” Judith said.

“I'll need hot towels, some rubbing alcohol, and clean sheets.”

The volunteers rushed to carry out his orders, while I shook my head in amazement. Cortland and I followed the boy, Manuel, out into the main room where his mother's screams were even louder.

“What did she just say?” Cortland asked,

“She said, 'Get this baby out of me,'” I translated, suddenly feeling faint as we came upon the woman lying on her back on the cot, legs bent in delivery position. Her husband asked me if his wife Maria was going to be okay.

“ Sí,” I told him. “He's a doctor.”

The couple made the sign of the cross as Cortland spread the sheet over her, then knelt down to check her progress. “I can see the head,” he said with a grin.

“Okay, I'm just going to go over there at a safe distance,” I said, backing away.

“Oh, no, you're not. I need you to translate for me.”

Maria pulled me down by my arm and squeezed my hand until it was white with pain. “Fine. Powerful grip,” I said, wincing myself. “Just get her baby out now for all of our sakes.”

“I'm glad you came,” he said to me, then concentrated on Maria. “Push hard now.”

“ Empuje! ” I told her, and she squeezed my hand harder as I held one knee and her husband held the other. Maria bore down, grunting and filling the air with Spanish curse words.

A moment later, Cortland pulled a bright pink baby from under the sheet, turned it over and tapped it three times on the bottom, causing it to wail. “It's a girl!” Gently, he handed off the baby to its mother.

Judith had prepared a makeshift crib out of a box, and another Lifer handed him more hot towels and a suture kit.

Cortland handed me a pair of scissors and nodded toward the umbilical cord. “You want to do the honors?”

“Me? What about the father?” The baby's father shook his head, and I took the scissors. Two snips and the baby was free of its mother.

An hour later, we sat around the kitchen, drinking coffee while the potatoes sat on the counter unpeeled. “Well, it's a little anti-climactic to peel them after what we've been through,” I said, putting my feet up on an empty seat.

“Pretty handy to have a doctor around,” Judith said proudly, rubbing Cortland's shoulders. “You just never know what life will throw you.”

He seemed tired but happy. His chill had worn off.

Judith grabbed her old coat that she always volunteered in and wrapped a red scarf around her neck. “I'm beat. Only so much excitement an old lady can take in one night.” She winked. She only joked about being old because she didn't look old at all.

I'd nearly forgotten my purpose for coming there. “Mom G., I wanted to ask you about something.”

She swung her purse over her shoulder. “What is it, darling? Is it the boys? I can sit tomorrow if you like.”

“No, I'll have Zoe, so she'll want to play with the boys. It's not that. It's about Monica.”

Judith rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air. “I have nothing to say about that woman.”

Cortland looked at us back and forth, before it seemed to register which Monica we were talking about. I didn't care if he heard. I'd waited long enough.

“I know you don't like her, but I need to know how Joel took the break-up.”

Judith jaw fell slack, as if I'd just slapped her. “How do you think he took it? Joel had his entire life planned out. He loved her and she betrayed him.”

“But did he forgive her?”

“You mean did he stop loving her?”

“Maybe.”

“He loved you, Ramona. With all his heart. That's all that mattered.”

“But it was different, wasn't it? Just tell me.”