* * * * *

She came back to him and told him the doctors had had a consultation,
and had agreed to wait a little longer. She came back and told him they
had decided they could not wait much longer, and would have to undertake
a Caesarean. She came back and told him she had begged them to give her
a little more time to try and do it herself, but she was afraid they
were going to give her something to knock her out. She came and she
went, but even when she was gone she was never so far away that Andy
could not hear her. He wanted to stop his ears to the hysterical
outpourings, but he was helpless, and he hated himself for wanting to.

When she came back the next time, with weakness turning her voice into a
hoarse whisper, he begged her to take the drugs. But she wasn't
listening to him. "Andy, Andy," she said, "listen to me please. It's
important. They've decided on the Caesarean, and I haven't got much
time. I've been thinking of the way we've been talking, and I think it
happened because I needed you so much. That's how I got all the way to
where you are. I needed you with me with every part of me, and somehow
part of me found you. But Andy, you must have needed me, too. You must
have needed me, Andy, or how did you get back to me?"

* * * * *

Despite the weakness of her voice, the fear in it rang out loudly. He
tried to laugh and told her he was perfectly fine, except for worry
about her. He made up a story about lying on his bunk, sipping a cool
lemonade and listening to soft music, trying to calm his nerves over the
prospect of becoming a new father and wondering where he would get the
cigars to distribute to the boys.

But she wouldn't believe him. She insisted that he tell her the truth,
pleading with him, crying out her love and her fear and her need. At
last he told her of the crash, speaking lightly, pointing out that the
patrol ship would be back with daylight and all would be well. He didn't
mention the fact that he had no body below the neck, but he knew she
knew it was worse than he described.

Then she was gone again, for so long a time he thought the operation had
started. But the wind still blew raggedly in his ears, and she came
back, slowly, but with new vibrancy in her voice. "Andy, you dope," she
whispered with a brave attempt at sprightliness. "Why didn't
you--tell--me--sooner?" She was gasping, but hurried on. "I can tell the
doctor,