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him, he grinned and stretched his arms above his broad shoulders. Wouldn’t it be something to take his baby home from the hospital in a grand, eight-cylinder car like that Packard! What a way for his little man or little gal to start life! Style, that’s what it would be. He could see himself behind the wheel, sporting to work or taking his family to church. They could even go to Kickapoo Park in the summer and picnic on the wide running boards. Carole and the baby deserved a car like that. So much better than his third-hand, beaten-up Chevy coupe with brakes that worked sometimes and with an old Indian blanket covering tears in the front seat’s upholstery.
    Twenty minutes later George was still in that same chair, lost in visions that mixed fatherhood and automotive grandeur, when the plump nurse returned to the room and announced, “Mr. Hall, your wife is fine and you have a little girl!”
    All thoughts of the car suddenly evaporated. In fact everything evaporated from his head.
    “Oh, thank God!” he shouted. “This is all the answer to prayer I needed. She’s healthy…. They are healthy. Amen!”
    Leaping from the chair, a rejuvenated George raced up to the nurse, threw his arms around her, lifted the woman up into the air, and spun her around like a rag doll. If she was surprised or put off by his actions, she didn’t show it. Without complaint, she took the unscheduled ride, circling the room four times and then, without as much as a thank-you, was plopped down on the wooden floor. Once back on the ground, she straightened her uniform and hair before asking the obvious, “Would you like to see your daughter?”
    “Would I?”
    “I take it that is a yes.” She laughed. “You just follow me. Do you have a name picked out?”
    “Rose, you know, like the flower.”
    “Yes, Mr. Hall, I’ve heard of the name. This may come as a shock to you, but I know it’s a flower.” She added, “It seems I recall they come in a variety colors.”
    “By the way,” he asked, “do you want a cigar? I’ve got some in my coat pocket. I can go back and get one. My jacket’s in the waiting room.”
    “Ah, no,” she replied. “And don’t you dare light one of those nasty things up in my hospital. You hear me?”
    “Yes,” he almost sang out. “I don’t smoke anyway!”
    “Yeah,” she groaned, “that’s what they all say before they see their new kid. Then they all light up like a five-alarm fire. But not in my hospital! If you do I’ll ring your scrawny neck.”
    “Sure,” he laughed, “not inside the building. I’ve got it.”
    “You’d better!”
    The pair rounded a corner in the wide hall and quickly made their way to a large plate-glass window. On the other side was a nursery containing ten tiny cribs. Seven of them were serving as the resting place for newborns. A white-clad, older nurse sat to one side of the room keeping watch on each of these welcomed additions to the world. For a few minutes George’s eyes roamed from one infant to the next wondering which one of the little ones was his Rose. He was about to pick one on the far right when the nurse elbowed him in the ribs.
    “She’s not one of those. Look toward that door in the back.”
    George lifted his gaze to the oak entry. Just as he did it swung opened and another nurse, this one thin, redheaded, and not more than thirty, carried a tiny bundle into the room. Looking their way, she smiled. Several quick but gentle steps later she was on the other side of the glass from the new father and the veteran nurse.
    “There, Mr. Hall, is your Rose.”
    As he took in the wonder of the moment, studying the hairless head, the wrinkled, red face, and the tiny hands, he sighed in wonder. “She’s so small.”
    “And your wife is more than glad she’s not bigger,” the nurse added. “Now, take one more good look, and then I want you to go grab your suit jacket and those nasty cigars, get into your car, go home, and get some rest. And