Sanctuary. Brenda Novak

think you do. Because they’ve made all your decisions for you. And now…you have to start thinking for yourself.”

      THAT NIGHT Hope’s shift at the hospital seemed to drag on forever. They had two mothers in labor, several newborns in the nursery and an ob/gyn who wasn’t responding to his page. But despite concerns that she or Sandra Cleary, her supervisor, would have to deliver the baby if the doctor didn’t arrive soon, Hope couldn’t keep herself from reflecting on Faith. Soon her sister would be doing exactly what the two women in rooms 14 and 15 were doing—giving birth. Then she’d have a newborn in the house, as well as a sister with whom she’d had no contact for almost eleven years—

      “Hope, can you visit Mrs. Walker’s room?” Sandra asked. She had her head down and was busy finishing up some paperwork at the nurses’ station. “She’s signaling for us.”

      “Of course.” Hope visited Room 14, where she’d already spent much of her time since coming on duty at ten. Mrs. Walker asked if they’d heard from her doctor yet. Hope had to tell her no.

      “What happens if he doesn’t get here?” Mr. Walker asked, worry creasing his forehead.

      “Everything will be fine,” Hope assured him. “I’ve been a nurse for five years and Sandra’s been here longer than I have. Between us, we’ve seen hundreds of births and even delivered a few babies. And there’s always the emergency physician on duty downstairs.” She didn’t add that he’d only be able to help if there wasn’t someone with a more pressing condition—like a heart attack—in the emergency room. She figured that was a little too much information at this point.

      They seemed to accept her words, probably because they had no choice, and Hope fetched Mrs. Walker another blanket to keep her legs warm.

      “I’ll be right back,” she said, and went to the nurses’ station to see if Sandra had heard anything from their missing doctor.

      “Not yet,” she responded, tucking several strands of shoulder-length brown hair behind one ear. “I swear, if we have to deliver this baby…”

      If they delivered the baby, the stress would probably take a year off their lives, yet they’d make their normal salaries, nothing more. The doctor, who’d most likely turned off his pager, would still receive his full fee. Considering all the things that could go wrong…

      Hope didn’t even want to think about all the things that could go wrong. “He’ll get here,” she said as confidently as possible, and glanced at the clock. Was it too late to call Faith? Hope hated leaving her alone so soon. She’d dug a Bible out of her attic for Faith to read before bed, hoping that might help her sister acclimate. But Hope’s world was so foreign to Faith, she could be feeling pretty lost. She could even be weakening and thinking about going back….

      Unfortunately, it was past midnight. Too late to call. And Mrs. Walker was signaling for a nurse again.

      Heading back to room 14, Hope told herself to quit worrying. Somehow, everything would work out for the best.

      HOPE’S EYES were gritty with fatigue as she drove home from the hospital the following morning. She’d had to stay a couple of hours beyond her usual shift because Regina Parks, one of the morning nurses, had called in sick right in the middle of a surprise, preterm delivery.

      At least Mrs. Walker’s doctor had shown up in time to actually earn his fee. After that, everything had gone smoothly—until the emergency that had kept her late. A teenage girl had arrived at 6 a.m., already in advanced labor. Fortunately, the emergency doctor had been available to help, and the baby, a boy, took his first breath just minutes before Hope left. The baby was tiny, barely four pounds, and had respiratory problems, but the doctor thought he was going to live.

      Hope remembered the young mother’s excitement over her infant and wondered how Lydia had ever inspired her to become an obstetrics nurse. When faced with the normal scenario of appropriately aged mothers, attending fathers and supportive families, she could usually do her job without letting things get to her. But every once in a while someone like this young teenager came in—someone who invariably pulled her back to the day she herself had given birth. Then such a powerful longing gripped her, she could barely function. She’d told Faith she felt confident that her daughter was living a princesslike life. But there was no way to know for sure. Hope could only assume the best, and pray. As far as she’d drifted from organized religion, she still prayed about that. And she still dreamed of meeting her child, of touching the little girl she’d secretly named Autumn, if only just once.

      Forcing her attention away from the empty ache she felt whenever she thought of Autumn, Hope stretched her neck to ease the tension knotting her muscles and pulled into the garage. With any luck, she’d find Faith in good spirits and be able to get some rest. She felt as though she could sleep for a week if—

      The sound of voices reached her ears as she got out of the car and approached the house. Was it the television? She wanted to believe it was, but a flash of movement inside the front windows told her she and Faith had company.