He flipped over onto his back and then sat bolt upright when he heard a sound like a groan of pain. Misty whined, and Lucas heard her trot to the bedroom door.
Lucas grabbed his flashlight and flicked it on, listening. There it was again.
Had Glenda fallen again? Was she hurt?
He tossed the sheets aside, pulled on some clothes, and hurried through the dark, the flashlight beam dancing ahead of him.
But when he yanked aside the door and sent the light into the other suite, it wasn’t Glenda who stood by the kitchen table, doubled over, groaning.
It was Summer.
“What’s happening?” he called out, hurrying to her side, Misty already there.
She looked up, her eyes wide with panic, her mouth grimacing.
“My water broke. I’m in labor.”
Chapter 12
He looked as terrified as she felt. For a moment she felt embarrassed that he saw her like this, but then none of that mattered anymore as she was gripped by a deep, muscle-wrenching pain that squeezed every ounce of strength out of her body.
“Just breathe,” Lucas said, holding her arm, supporting her as she doubled over again.
And beating through her head, in time to her heartbeat, were the words—too soon, too soon.
And right in the middle of a snowstorm? What if something happened? They couldn’t even call an ambulance.
She clung to Lucas, her nails digging into his arm.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” he said.
“What are we going to do?” she cried out, then breathed again.
Slowly the pain eased away and she could straighten.
“Let’s get you into bed.” Lucas slipped his arm around her, his presence like a strong bulwark against the storm of pain and panic. “Can you walk back to your room?”
She nodded, swallowing down her fear. She was a nurse. She could handle this.
Lucas glanced at his watch as she walked. Timing the contractions, she realized.
“I doubt you’ve assisted with a birth before,” she gasped.
“No, but I learned something about it when I took an EMS course.”
“Something? That’s not exactly a qualification,” she said with a laugh.
“Just trying to be supportive,” he said.
She pulled in a long, slow breath, breathing in and out, concentrating on that as another contraction seized her in an iron embrace.
Finally they were at her bedroom and Summer was glad she had tidied up this morning. Silly thought.
Distraction.
Lucas set the flashlight on her bedside table. He helped her into the bed. His gentle attentiveness was like a shelter in the tempest of the moment. She pressed her lips together as another wave of pain washed over her.
“What’s happening?” Glenda stood shadowed in the doorway, looking from Summer to Lucas. “Please don’t tell me you’re having the baby?”
“Okay. I won’t,” Summer gasped.
Glenda stayed in the doorway, still, quiet, assessing.
“Okay, Lucas, you need to go to my room and gather up some sheets,” she said, moving into the room, her voice full of authority. “Get some blankets, hang them by the fireplace and bring them here when they’re warm. Get some candles in here so I can see better.”
Summer didn’t want Lucas to leave, but at the same time wasn’t sure she wanted him to see her go through this. She remembered dealing with childbirth when she was a student nurse, and she wondered if she would ever want to have a baby. She remembered how embarrassed she felt for the woman at the total lack of modesty. How raw it all was. How indelicate. And now she was going through it herself.
He looked into her eyes, stroked her face, and gave her a smile. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then, to her surprise and, she had to admit, pleasure, brushed a soft, warm kiss over her forehead. She clung to his hand, but then he pulled away.
Glenda stood at the end of the bed, biting her lip.
“You haven’t done this before either, have you?” Summer asked.
Glenda shook her head, her face shadowed by the half-light beaming into the room from the flashlight on the bed-side table. “No. But I’ve been watching YouTube videos the past couple of days because I heard a storm was coming. Just in case.”
“Perfect. My baby’s birth brought to you by social media,” Summer gasped.
“Nice to see you still have a sense of humor.” Glenda walked over and helped her to sit up. “You’ll want to get more comfortable,” she said.
“Is that possible?”
“We can try.”
A few minutes later Summer had her aching legs up on a pillow, another one behind her head, a blanket covering her. Lucas knocked on the doorjamb and entered the room.
“Got some warm blankets and candles.” He stood in the doorway, his eyes on Summer a pile of blankets over one arm, candles in the other. She wished he would come in, and yet, didn’t want him to see her so helpless and in pain. It was such an intimate moment. Something that should happen between husband and wife.
This is all wrong, she thought.
He brought the blankets into the room, his movements cautious and careful, as if afraid of frightening her. As Glenda laid them on her, creating a comforting warmth, he set a candle on the table beside the flashlight and lit it. Then he lit two more and put them on the dresser behind Glenda. It wasn’t much light, but it was better than fumbling around in the half-light cast by the flashlight.
“Anything else I can get or do?” he asked, standing beside Summer, holding her hand.
“Send up some prayers.”
“Already on that.”
Summer heard the faint click of claws on the floor and knew that Misty had followed Lucas into the room.
“How far apart are her contractions?” Lucas asked as Glenda pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down.
“About two minutes.”
Summer felt a sudden surge of panic and adrenaline. So close.
“I’m really having this baby here, aren’t I?” she asked, struggling to keep the terror out of her voice.
“Yes. But you’ve got help.” Glenda massaged her legs. “You’re not on your own.”
“Are you sure we can’t call someone?”
No one replied to her rhetorical question. As if taunting her, another gust of wind howled past the house.
“Do you want me to stay?” Lucas asked, still holding Summer’s hand.
“For a little while.” She gasped as another contraction bore down. “My legs ache,” she moaned.
“Is there anything I can do?” Lucas asked Glenda.
“Bring me more towels, a decent-size bowl, and some face towels soaked in cold water for compresses. I’ll need more from time to time, so keep them ready.”
Summer lay back, her eyes closed now, focusing on her breathing, reminding herself not to panic. “I should have paid more attention in the neo-natal classes,” she gasped.
“Your body knows what to do,” Glenda said, her voice soothing. “And we’ve got prayer warriors working on your behalf.”
Her contractions grew closer together. Pain took over, blurring time. Lucas laid some cold compresses on her forehead, Glenda laid some on her legs. All she could do was breathe and follow Glenda’s orders. Grasp the sheets as she tried to let the pain flow over her and not fight it as Glenda encouraged her. Contraction followed painful contraction, and Summer knew the time was getting close.
Her own prayers blended with the whispered ones she heard from Glenda.
“I think you should go now,” she heard Glenda mutter to Lucas.
She wanted him to stay, but she was gripped in another wave of pain as he left. And behind that, an overwhelming urge to push the baby out.
It was time.
* * *
“A few more pushes, honey, you’re almost there.”
Lucas leaned against the wall beside the half-opened door, listening, his hands shoved into the pockets of
his blue jeans, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life.
He wanted to leave but didn’t dare. He wanted to go inside, but had been told specifically by his grandmother to stay out here. His grandmother had wanted the door closed but Lucas told her it should stay partially open at least, to let the heat in from the fireplace.
But that meant he could hear, all too well, what was happening.
He heard another strangled cry.
He laid his head back against the wall, praying incoherent prayers, pleading, begging, struggling to find the right thing to say.
As if in reply, he heard a joyful whoop from his grandmother, a cry of relief from Summer.
And then, there it was. The quivering wail of a newborn baby.
After a few interminable minutes Glenda called out for him to bring the towels and the bowl. Lucas grabbed them, and hurried inside. Summer lay on the bed, a sheet draped over her legs. Sweat poured down her forehead, her hair was a tangled mess, but the smile on her face was beatific. She looked down at her baby, swathed in a soft towel and nestled in her arms, and Lucas’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her blissful expression.
Her eyes drifted to his, and her weary smile grew.
“A little girl,” she whispered.
Lucas stood there, stunned at the sight. Moments ago she’d clung to his hand, her fingers digging into his arms with an unbelievable grip.
And now it was as if a blanket of peace had fallen over the room and where there had once been two women, there were now two women and a baby.
Despite the wind pushing at the house as if seeking entry, and the snow slashing against the windows, inside, in this half-darkened room, all was quiet, still, and full of wonder.
He came closer as his grandmother, still sitting on the chair at Summer’s feet, cleaning her up from what he could tell.
“I’ll leave you two alone now,” she said, her voice hushed as she gathered up the bag she had put the bowl and all the soiled towels in. She must have also felt the quiet even as the snowstorm raged outside.
Lucas wanted to protest. She made it sound as if this child was theirs.
But once he and Summer were alone, he pulled a chair up beside her, tucked it in close, and lay his arm over her head, protecting her. His other hand rested on the tiny bundle in her arms, amazed at the sight of the tiny head, the wisp of dark hair drying.
Then her little hand crept up, pressing against her mouth.
“It’s all there,” he said, breathless with wonder. “Tiny ears, eyes, and look at that hand.” He slipped his finger into her palm, and this tiny human instinctively curled her fingers around it. “She even has fingernails. They’re like little grains of rice.”
Summer chuckled at his wonder and he was, once again, surprised she could smile. That she could laugh after all she’d been through.
“She’s pretty amazing,” Summer said, her voice holding a curious tone as she stared down at the baby.
It took every ounce of willpower not to ask her what the baby’s name was. And what would happen next.
For now, they were together, this baby was born, both of them were safe for now.
He stroked Summer’s head, the baby still clinging to his finger. He leaned in and kissed her again, still trying to find his way through this shifting and changing relationship.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, smiling at him, her eyes bright. “I wish…”
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice quiet, sensing what she would say. “We’re here and the baby was delivered just fine and nothing bad happened.”
She lifted her shoulder, pressing his hand between it and her cheek. “You mean so much to me. I’m so sorry for all the time we spent apart.”
“Me too, but I believe God brought us back together for a reason. After all, I wasn’t supposed to be here for at least another few weeks, and you would have been gone by then.”
“And here we are.”
“And here we are,” he echoed, easing out a gentle sigh. “I’m so thankful.”
Summer sighed and as he glanced at her again, she yawned.
“You must be tired,” he said. Then waited, as if not sure what to say next. What to do. He wanted to stay here by her side, supporting her, looking at this miracle. This baby that once was just a bump inside Summer’s stomach and now was here, present. A whole human being.
“I’m exhausted actually,” she said, her voice rough.
Lucas poured some water into a glass and gave it to her. Thankfully, there was a pitcher in the refrigerator. He didn’t dare take too much out of the taps and get air into the lines.
She took a drink, then dropped back against the pillow. The baby stirred in her arms, releasing a tiny squeak of protest.
“She’s probably getting hungry,” Summer whispered.
“Then I better go.” He didn’t want to but guessed Summer didn’t need him around for this.
“Could you help me sit up?” she asked.
“Of course.” He shifted some pillows behind her, then carefully slipped his arms around her and eased her upward.
“Thanks.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“I…I guess.”
She gave him a grateful smile and as he stood, he bent over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are one amazing woman,” he said. He looked down at the baby who was waking up, growing restive. He brushed a kiss over her cheek as well. “Welcome to the world, baby girl.”
He struggled to think of something to say when the lights suddenly flicked on.
Misty sat up, barking at the sudden intrusion.
Lucas yanked his phone out of his pocket, hope surging through him followed by an intense frustration.
Still no reception, which meant they couldn’t call out.
“Hallelujah,” Glenda said as she returned to the room, using her walker this time. “The power is back.”
Lucas glanced back at Summer, and in the bright light he saw the exhaustion on her face. And behind that, uncertainty.
Chapter 13
She hadn’t thought she would feel anything toward this child.
Summer shifted the tiny, towel-wrapped bundle in her arms, staring down at her delicate features, the tiniest fist imaginable curled up against a cheek of such tender skin it made her heart ache. Summer bit her lip, feeling like a tiny boat caught in an overwhelming storm. She had no direction, no compass, no way to go.
She was battered and tossed, and everything she thought she knew had been thrown aside.
Swallowing down a sob, she traced her finger down the baby’s delicate cheek, her heart twisting and contracting as the little girl opened her scrunched-up eyes, her tiny mouth pursed as she looked directly at her.
Summer closed her eyes, breaking the connection.
What am I going to do?
“Are you okay?” Glenda asked, flicking on the light beside Summer’s bed then turning off the overhead light.
“Tired,” was all she could manage. She clung to the memory of Lucas by her side, supporting her. She wished he had stayed but at the same time, she guessed he wouldn’t want to watch her nursing a baby.
“Of course you are. That was…wrenching?”
Summer managed a smile at Glenda’s hesitant choice of words. “It was an experience. But I think the baby is hungry,” she said, easing the rough towel away from the little girl’s head. “And do we have something softer to wrap her in?”
“I ripped up some sheets that might work better.”
Guilt at her lack of preparation crowded Summer’s other emotions. She should have had soft receiving blankets ready to go. Should have had clothes for this baby who came naked into this world and now had nothing to wear.
But she wasn’t supposed to be having the baby here. That was to have happened in a hospital where they had all the necessary baby stuff. And from there this precious child was supposed to be given to a family who probably had everything ready to go.
&
nbsp; “Are the cell phones working yet?”
Glenda gave her a careful smile, shaking her head. “Lucas has been walking outside, in the snow, trying to get reception but so far, nothing.
Another feeble cry from the baby in her arms, her tiny hand batting at her chest, reminded Summer of what she needed to do.
Glenda was about to take the tiny bundle from her arms but Summer shook her head. “I should feed her. I think she’s hungry.”
“But your milk isn’t in yet.”
“No, but she’ll need that first feed, the colostrum.” Despite trying to keep her distance from this pregnancy, Summer knew how important that first feed was. She needed to do what she could for her baby.
Glenda helped her with her nightgown, shifted the baby, and, to Summer’s surprise, the little thing latched on and gave a few sucks, paused, then a few more. After a minute she lay back, clearly as tired as Summer was.
But in those few seconds a wave of unexpected and confusing attachment coursed through Summer.
“I think the baby will sleep now.” Summer handed her to Glenda, who had already laid out the sheets on the foot of the bed.
Glenda unwrapped her and checked her over.
“What are you looking for?” Summer asked, suddenly concerned.
“Counting toes and fingers and checking her umbilical cord. Not sure what else to look for. I’ll be glad when we can get the two of you to the hospital.”
“Me too.” Summer yawned, laying her head back and closing her eyes, now overcome with an utter weariness.
“You should get some rest.” Glenda made quick work of re-wrapping the baby into a tight, snug bundle.
“Little baby taco,” she cooed, picking her up and holding her close. Then Glenda gave Summer a sympathetic look.
Baby taco. That was no name for a child, but Summer couldn’t even process possibly changing that situation. Giving the baby a name was the job of the future parents.
And that’s when the tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes and thickened her throat.
“I never thought… I didn’t plan…” Summer faltered, overwhelmed by sorrow and exhaustion.
The Cowboy’s Return Page 18
