On Cherry Hill

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 here, 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 said, bending 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 said, managing to keep my voice from quivering, but 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 that 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.

I was in the middle of nowhere, of course there was no service. Charlotte had called me at three-fifteen to tell me that Katie’s water had broken and told me to meet her there. This was only the fifth birth we’d done together, and I couldn’t believe I might miss it because of some cop!

I heard his boots kicking gravel again and shoved my phone back into my purse, looking up at him as he leaned over to talk to me. “Do you know why I pulled you over, ma’am?”

“No.” I shook my head, seeing him raise his eyebrows at me under his hat.

“You have a headlight out,” he said, pointing to the front of my husband’s car. I always took his car when I went to a birth, because he had to take the kids to the sitter, and the car seats were in the minivan I usually drove.

I sighed, closing my eyes in frustration. I thought it had seemed darker down here than the last time I’d traveled this road. Charlie had sworn he was going to have it fixed.

“I didn’t know, officer,” I insisted. “This is my husband’s car.”

He frowned again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “It’s registered in your name.”

“Both of our cars are in my name,” I explained, leaning my arm on the window. “Officer, there’s a woman in labor, I really have to—”

He took off his hat, revealing dark, close-cropped hair. “Ma’am, do you realize you’re driving on a suspended license?”

I stopped, staring at him, blinking fast. “No,” I replied, incredulous. “That’s not possible.”

“Can you get out of the car, please, ma’am?” he asked, taking a step back...