On Cherry Hill

Selena Kitt

My stomach lurched when I saw the red and blue flashing lights appear out of nowhere behind me. I pulled over onto the grass on the side of the dirt road. I hadn't seen one car since turning down this road, but that wasn't surprising-it was four in the morning and I'd been watching for a break in the farms and fields, looking for my next turn.

I rolled down my window, letting in the cool night air with just a hint of dampness. It was a relief after the heat of the day. I dug through my wallet for my license, hearing his boots crunching the gravel as he came up to my car, waving his flashlight in through my window. It was the only light out here-there were no streetlights at all.

"Ma'am." He bent down to look into my window. I glanced over at him, my heart leaping as it always did whenever I faced someone in authority. "License, registration and proof of insurance?"

I handed him my license, flipping my glove box open and digging through. The papers were buried under fast food napkins and packets of ketchup and taco sauce.

"Here you go." I managed to keep my voice from quivering, but was unable to stop the way my hands trembled. "Officer, I'm sorry, but I'm really in a hurry. I'm on my way to a birth."

He dipped his head back down, frowning. "A birth? Are you a doctor?"

"Midwife," I corrected, adding softly, "Apprentice midwife."

His gaze was level and cool, disbelieving. "There isn't a hospital around here for miles, ma'am."

"It's a home birth," I explained, pleading at him with my eyes. His face had that square, chiseled look I always associated with cops. "I have the address. I swear I'm telling you the truth. There's a woman in labor about half a mile from here who's waiting for me to deliver her baby.

He fixed his eyes on me for a moment, assessing. It was close to the truth, but not quite, and I swear he could tell. Without a word, he took my paperwork, turned around and went back to his cruiser.

I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse, ducking down a little in the seat, hoping he couldn't see me. Charlotte's number was three on my speed dial, after "home" and "Charlie's cell." I pushed the button and waited, but nothing happened.

"Fuck," I swore, looking at the "Searching for service" screen illuminated on my phone.