Evelyn Walker. Relationship to patient: Great-Grandmother.
“She’s here,” I said. “She’s healthy. Seven pounds, two ounces.”
Seven pounds, two ounces. The same as my father.
Grandma stood up. Her hands were shaking. Dr. Hale stood up next to her and took her arm.
“What’s her name?” Grandma asked.
I looked at Sarah’s mother. At Catherine. At Dr. Hale. At my own mother, crying already. Then back at Grandma.
“We named her Grace,” I said. “Grace Ruth Walker.”
My grandmother put both her hands over her mouth.
And then she sat right back down in that blue chair and cried the way I’ve only seen her cry once before. At my father’s funeral. Except this time she was smiling.
Later that night, after everybody else had gone home, I took Grandma down the old hallway on the second floor. Past the nurses’ station. Down to the door with the little plastic number on it.
