ess that separated them
she was calling his name, her voice riding on the mournful wind sighing
in his ears. He could hear her--it was as simple as that. He still
didn't know if he was dreaming or dead. He didn't care. She was calling
to him and he could hear, and although it wasn't the miracle he had
wanted to pray for, still it was a miracle. He didn't question it; the
comfort of hearing her voice after the terrible loneliness was enough.
He didn't wonder how it could happen, didn't doubt that she could hear
him answering her, as he was doing now. At first, so overcome with joy
and relief, so thankful for the miracle, he didn't even recognize the
tones of pain in her voice.

"Elsie, Elsie, Elsie," he cried out with his mind, reaching for her,
wanting to seize her and hold her and never let her slip away again. "I
hear you, my darling. I hear you!"

"Thank God!" Her voice broke, and the sound of sobbing carried on the
wind reached his ears. For a moment it puzzled him. He had been crying,
but her sobs were something different. The night suddenly seemed to turn
much colder. "What is it, Elsie?" he called in fright.

* * * * *

The sobbing became a choking cough. He heard her grunt and gasp, and
then a small scream turned his blood into ice. After a long moment she
spoke again, panting, her voice strained and scratchy. "Thank God you
can hear me, Andy. I've called and called. I prayed that I didn't care
what happened, just so long as you could be with me. And you are, you
are. It's a miracle and I don't know how. But you're with me and I
won't be afraid any more. I won't ... oh ... oh ..."

* * * * *

Andy suddenly understood. "Elsie," he cried frantically. "Where are you?
Are you in the hospital? Is everything all right? Is the doctor there?
_Elsie!_" He shouted her name aloud, angrily, trying to force it through
the immense absorbent space between them, cursing and screaming at his
own helplessness.

"Be quiet, Andy," she said at last. "Stop carrying on so. I'm all right
now--it's just that the pain comes and sometimes I don't know what to
do."

"But are you all right? Did the doctor--?"

"Shhh, Andy. Of course I'm all right. I'm in the labor room and there
are lots of nice people to take care of me. Dr. Bell says it's like this
often with first babies. And since I'm smaller than I should be--that
doesn't help any. But I'm going to be all right."