It turned out that Linda's obstetrician was already rounding at the maternity ward, and he checked on her within fifteen minutes of the time she arrived in the suite. A nurse accompanied him as they quickly checked on Linda together. He tested for dilation and additional discharge, squinting as he looked through a scope and registering a few hmms along the way. He had sat down on a wheeled stool to examine her, and when he finished, he pushed himself away to address her.
"Well, everything seems in order," he said. "We're you doing anything strenuous at the time it happened, housework, heavy lifting, or anything like that?"
"I was dancing," Linda said, knowing that she probably sounded sheepish. However, none of the literature she'd ever read about her pregnancy explicitly forbade dancing, just heavy duty physical activity like heavy lifting.
"Dancing?" the doctor repeated, narrowing his eyes, appearing incredulous. "Can you help me here? Was it belly dancing, ballet, or hip hop?"
"Ballroom dancing," Linda said. "We were dancing foxtrot and waltz. At one point, he pressed his chest against me to lead me. It's called 'leading from the diaphragm.' That may have caused it, I don't know."
The doctor nodded. He gathered the knees of his slacks and pushed himself up off the stool. When he stood he leaned toward Linda and patted her on the shoulder. "The main thing is, you're okay. But you might want to hang up your dancing shoes for another three months."
He was a nice guy. She laughed. As the doctor and the nurse walked out of the room, Linda called out for the nurse's attention. "Can I put my street clothes back on, now?"
She turned. "We'd like to keep you here just a little bit longer, if you don't mind, in case anything changes."
"No, I don't mind," she replied.
To pass the time, she picked up one of the women's magazines from a bedside table and started to read an article about gardening. She'd only read two columns of it before Stephen whisked into the room, his suit jacket off, his tie undone, sweat on his brow and an anxious expression on his face. Without saying a word, he leaned down to give her a big hug, rocking her back and forth. When he released her, he sat on the edge of the bed and his expression had softened somewhat. "They told me you're okay," he said. When he was concerned, his eyes always turned a paler shade of their normal hazel color.