FIFTY-SEVEN
Frank Cantrell woke up in the middle of the night. His phone was ringing.
He answered the phone and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Hello? What? Okay!”
Helen stirred beside him.
Frank said, “Okay, okay. Bye!”
“Who was that?” she asked.
“We have to call everyone.” He jumped out of bed. “Helen, we have to go.”
“Now?”
“Right now,” he said.
Frank pulled open dresser drawers. He dressed as fast as he could. “I’ll go wake Kelly!”
“Your mother?”
“I’ll call her. You call Sarah.”
Charlie sat in a wheelchair in the E.R. at Rochester General Hospital when James’ family strode through the automated doors.
“Over here!” She waved at them.
Frank asked, “What are you doing here? Nurse? Excuse me, nurse? This woman is about to have a baby.”
“They know,” Charlie said.
“They know
