"With the most experienced male staff you have."
The receptionist said "That would be Jared, and he's booked quite heavily." Over the phone, Linda could hear a couple of pages turn, most likely booking sheets. "Ah, but I see he has an hour available next Friday at three p.m. Did you want to come in then?"
"No, that won't do. I was hoping to come in for a lesson either today or tomorrow." As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she wondered how she was even going to swing coming in for a lesson later in that day. She'd have to drive in the opposite direction to go home and put on a skirt and a blouse or a dress with her dancing shoes and then return, through heavy traffic, to make it on time for the lesson. Meanwhile, the phone clunked and rustled on the other end, as if the receptionist was frantically perusing the booking sheets.
"I'm not sure what we can do, Mrs. Herron," she said. "I don't know if anyone's available over the next couple of days."
"Listen," she said. "It doesn't have to be the most advanced instructor. I know you usually have at least four there. I'd even consider a trainee."
"Well, what time did you want to come in tomorrow?" she asked.
Linda shrugged, as she heard the sound of retching coming from one of the nearby rooms. "Early," she replied. "Four p.m. would be good."
"I can get you a lesson with Roger. He's new, but he's really good."
"That would be fine." After she hung up, she tried to get all of her ducks in a row. She would have to have Inge pick up Hayley from school, then stay overtime until Stephen came home from work. It would probably be okay. Inge went to church functions, but most of those happened at the end of the week. Once Linda had made the arrangements, her spirits picked up.
Soon, she would be dancing again, feeling the magic again. For the next couple of hours, patients, doctors and family members commented about her smile rather than her extended belly.
An hour before she was to go home, the unit clerk Gayle paged her. She arrived at the central station and saw a line on Gayle's phone blinking. Gayle was a soft-spoken, mousy woman who'd been a convenience store clerk before she hired on to the unit, and often thanked God out loud for helping her find better employment. "You have a phone call," she said, soto voce, as if she was afraid of waking everyone on the floor.