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assist at home birthings； a practice he's been at some pains to keep from the attention of both the AMA and the Suffolk County Police Department ever since the great Midwife Busts at the Santa Cruz Birth Center a few years back。 Doc says that pregnant women aren't sick； that a lady ought to call the tune at her own birthing； all other things being equal … he has oxygen and other useful things in his car； and he hasn't lost one yet。
〃She was a primipara；〃 he said with satisfaction； 〃but her pelvic clearance was adequate； presentation was classic； she did a modified Lamaze； and damned well too。 Fine healthy boy； eight pounds and some； sucking like a bilge pump the last I saw him。 Lord； I'm thirsty myself。〃
Somehow news of new life makes you feel just plain good； and the Doc's own joy was contagious。 When the last glass had been filled； we all stood up and faced the fireplace。 〃TO MOTHERHOOD！〃 we bellowed together； and it rained glasses for a while。
And when the racket had stopped； we heard a sound from inside the joint's single rest room； a literally unmistakable sound。
Rachel。 Weeping。
Absurd situation。 Over two dozen alarmed and anxious men； accustomed to dropping everything and running to anyone in pain。 All of us clustered around the bathroom door （labeled 〃Folks〃） like winos outside a soup kitchen； and not one of us with the guts to open up the damned door because there's a lady in there。 Fast Eddie's ferocious glare would have stopped us if scruples hadn't。 Confused and mortally embarrassed； we shuffled our feet and looked for something tactful to say。 Inside； the sobbing persisted； muted now。
Callahan coughed。 〃Rachel？〃
She broke off crying。 〃Y。。。 yes？〃
〃You gonna be long？ My back teeth are floatin'。〃
Pause。
〃Not long； Mike。 I'll hurry。〃
〃Take your time；〃 he rumbled。
She did； but eventually the door opened and she came out； no tear tracks evident； obviously in control again。 Callahan mumbled thanks； glared around at us furiously and went in。
We came to our senses and began bustling aimlessly around the room； looking at anything but Rachel； talking spiritedly。 Callahan flushed it almost at once and came back out； looking as innocent as a face like that will let him。 He went back behind the bar； dusting his meaty hands。
Rachel was sitting at the bar； staring at where a mirror would be if Callahan believed in encouraging narcissism： plain bare well； criss…crossed with all the epigrams； proverbs and puns Callahan's found worth recording over the past I…don't…know…how…many years of。。。 ahem。。。 flashing wit。 The one she was looking at was attributed to a guy named Robinson。 It said： 〃A man should live forever or die trying。〃
〃Women too； I suppose？〃 she asked it。
Callahan looked puzzled； and she pointed to the quote。 He studied it a minute； then turned back to her。
〃You got a better idea？〃
She shrugged； held out her hand。 The big barkeep filled it with a glass of I。 W。 Harper and poured one for himself。 The sparkling conversation going on around the room seemed to sort of run down。 She sipped daintily。。。 then said a word I'd never heard her use before and gulped the rest。
Then she rose from her chair and walked to the chalkline before the fire。 The silence was total now。
〃To Motherhood；〃 she said distinctly； and deep…sixed the glass。 It sounded like a shattering heart。
She turned then and looked at us speculatively； trying to decide whether to cut loose of it。
〃I've been here over three months；〃 she said； 〃and in that time I've had a lot of laughs。 But I've seen some real pain； too； and I've seen you boys help the ones that hurt。 That man with one leg； the one whose fiancée entered a nunnery； and was too devout to let himself be sad； the ski instructor who'd gone blind； poor Tom Flannery。 I've heard much stranger stories； too； and I think if anyone can help me； you can。〃
I calculate that by now I must have heard at least a hundred people ask for help of one kind or another in Callahan's … it's that kind of a place。 I only remember one getting turned down； and he was a special case。〃 We indicated our willingness to help any way we could； and Fast Eddie fetched her a chair and a fresh drink。 She had enough posure back to thank him gently； and then she began talking。 During her entire narrative； her voice remained flat； impersonal。 As though she were giving a history lesson。 Her first words explained why。
〃It's a long story；〃 she said wearily； 〃at least it has been for me。 An unmonly long story。 It begins on the day of my birth； which is October 25； 1741。〃
〃Huh？〃 said Doc and Long…Drink and I and … loudest of all … Fast Eddie。 〃You mean 1941；〃 Eddie corrected。
〃Who's telling this story？ I mean 1741。 And if you boys aren't prepared to believe that； maybe I should stop right now。〃
We thought about it。 pared to some of the things I've heard … and believed … in Callahan's； this was nothing。 e to think； it explained a few things。 Those eyes of hers； for instance。
〃Sorry； Rachel；〃 Callahan said for all of us。 〃So you're 232 years old。 Go on。〃
Eddie looked like he'd been hit by a truck。 〃Sure t'ing；〃 he said bravely。 〃Sorry I innarupted；〃
And in the six or seven hours that ensued； Rachel told us the most incredible tale I have ever heard； before or since。 I couldn't repeat that tale if I tried； that uncharacteristically impersonal voice seemed to go on forever with its catalog of sorrows； outlining for us the happinesses and heartbreaks of more than two hundred years of active womanhood。 You could probably drag it out of me word for word with deep hypnosis； for I never stopped listening； but the sheer length and weight of the narrative seemed to numb my forebrain for indeterminate periods of time； the aggregate memory is largely gone。 But different bits and pieces stuck in the minds of each of us； and I pared notes later。 Me； for instance； I recall how； when she was describing what it was like to be crammed in a root cellar while a roaring fire overhead ate her first husband … and her first six children。 She kept saying over and over again how cramped it was and how frustrating not to be able to straighten up； it struck me that even after all the intervening years her mind continued to dwell on merely physical hurts。 Tom Hauptman now； he remembered in detail the business of her second husband； the minister； going mad and killing her next five kids and himself because anyone who refused to age like God intended must be sent by Satan。 Tom said what struck him was how little progress churches have made in two hundred years toward convincing people that the unknown is not by definition evil。 Long…Drink is a war games nut … he retained the part about the Battle of Lake Champlain in 1814； which claimed her third husband and two more children。 Fast Eddie remembers the story of her first days as a whaler's whore in Nantucket because she stopped in the middle and asked him solicitously if she was shocking him。 （〃Not me；〃 he said defiantly； 〃I'll bet you wuz a terrific whore！〃 and she smiled and thanked him and continued； clinically； dispassionately。） Spud Montgomery recalls the three children tha