That’s it. Four things we know about Jonah.
“He also doesn’t mind standing around in a coffee hut all day.” Erik doesn’t add much to the knowledge pool.
“He’s always been quiet,” John comments, which coming from a guy who doesn’t talk a lot himself is saying something.
A sharp blast of icy wind shakes the boughs around the windows and jostles the decorative bells.
“Why are we standing around outside? We’re not banned.” I jerk my thumb toward the door. “I’m going inside for a beer.”
John agrees and we head inside.
There’s no sign of our wives, Ashley, or Cari near the front of the bar. We order beers and find a spot near the wall to stand.
“How long until we send a search party into the women’s room?” John asks, then swallows a third of his pint.
“They’re fine.” I sip my own beer and watch Olaf yell at more customers who start singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” near the door.
“No blocking the exit,” Olaf shouts from his spot behind the bar. In that position, I can imagine him hiding behind a wall of snow, lobbing snowballs at his enemies. Maybe next year I’ll bring him a supply of real snow to toss at anyone who pisses him off. Knowing him, he’d probably complain about the snow melting on the wood floor.
“Hey.” Hailey slides next to me.
“Hey yourself. Everything okay with Ashley?” I sling my arm over her shoulders.
Diane makes a small gagging noise. “She barfed again.”
“We’ve all been there,” I confess, vaguely recalling a night right after I turned twenty-one. “I upchucked off the back deck.”
Ashley appears at her side in leggings and a long sleeve T-shirt wearing Diane’s sweater, her onesie balled up in her arms. “Ugh. This might be worse than when I threw up on the ferry.”
“I’ve never prayed at the porcelain throne here,” John brags.
“Me neither.” Diane grins up at him. “Then again, I didn’t grow up here.”
“We’ll make you a plaque,” I tell them. “Are you okay, Ashley?”
“I feel better, but think I’ll call it a night. Where’s my dear husband?” She scans the crowd.
I point to the front door. “Out in the cold with the rest of the exiled snow people.”
Cari joins our group. “Oh no. For how long?”
“Only two weeks.” John laughs.
“Erik will be disappointed, yet relieved it’s not for longer,” Cari says, with a disapproving shake of her dark hair. “He’s a magnet for trouble.”
“Olaf must be feeling generous with the holiday spirit.” Ashley gives us a weak smile. “And on that note, I’m going to go home. If I don’t see you before, Merry Christmas.”
“Hopefully we’ll have this baby before then,” Diane says as they hug. “You’re on the phone tree list, right?”
Ashley nods. “Roslyn’s too.”
Hailey fidgets next to me. We’re way past her having any reason to be jealous over Ashley. Our mutual history is ancient. But the two women are never going to be best friends. Still, Hailey rubs Ashley’s shoulder and gives her a friendly smile. “Hope you feel better.”
“You too. Get off your feet and drink some water.” Ashley squeezes Hailey’s hand. “And with that, this girl is going home.”
She and Cari weave their way through the crowd around the pool table.
My eyes go to Hailey. “Are you okay?”
“My back’s bothering me and I’m feeling a little crampy.”
“Are we sure Ashley’s not contagious?”
“I hope not.” Hailey’s hands drop down to support her belly. “There’s been enough vomiting tonight.”
“And enough talk about it, too.” John finishes his beer before setting it on the ledge behind us. “We need to collect Alene from my aunt. They’re at the gingerbread house display down the street.”
Diane’s eyes widen. “I completely forgot about our daughter. I’m a horrible mom.”
“Blame the Kelso brothers and their shenanigans,” Hailey offers. “That’s what Tom does.”
I nod. “Always makes me feel better.”
John pulls his phone from his jacket pocket. With a couple of taps, he opens up a picture of Alene happily smiling, face streaked with red, green, and white icing. “She’s fine.”
“We should go give your aunt a break.” Diane wraps her blanket scarf around herself.
“You’re going to freeze out there.” John pulls off his jacket and cocoons her inside it. Even pregnant and about to deliver a baby, the coat swallows her up. Because John’s a giant.
Beside me, Hailey sighs.
“I can give you my jacket if you want,” I whisper to her. “Anything for you.”
She sighs again. Or exhales with force. I can’t tell the difference.
“Hailey?” I step away from her to get a better look at her.
Carolers open the front door and begin entering the bar as they sing and play their tambourines.
“Christmas, Christmas,” the women in their festive holiday sweaters sing. The carolers in the front jam themselves between the exterior door and the swinging bar doors like cows in a chute.
“No!” Olaf shouts.
The soloist drowns out his voice as she sings the first words, “The snow’s—”
“Leave! You’re trespassing!” Olaf waves his white bar towel in a circle around his head. “Out!”
Only they can’t exit because they’re shoved together in the narrow space, blocked by the ones behind them, all belting out the joy of the season at the top of their voices.
“I just peed myself,” Hailey shout-whispers in my ear over the carolers’ singing.
Chapter 11
Add peeing herself to the list of things I never expected to hear my wife tell me in public. Especially not at the Sip n’ Stroll. Or standing in the middle of the Dog House.
Or anywhere.
“Better here than in the fancy baby store on a thousand-dollar chair,” I shout back, figuring that will make her feel better.
Or not.
Her eyes are wide, and I take her expression as embarrassment.
“At least you didn’t puke.” I lean close to reassure her and speak directly next to her ear. “Don’t worry. Olaf’s had far worse on this floor. He’s got a bucket of industrial cleaner in the back. He’s distracted enough I can probably grab the mop and take care of it before he notices. In fact, steal that empty barstool and chat him up while I clean up.”
Frowning, she presses her hand against her belly.
“Oh, right. You probably don’t want to sit in pee pants.”
Her brows crease together and she continues to sweep her hand low over the baby.
“Sweetheart, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure it’s happened to other pregnant women, too. Want me to find Diane? Maybe she has some spare maternity leggings at the studio.” Reassuring her, I pat her shoulder, slowly turning her in the direction of the stool with my other hand.
“Tom,” Hailey says my name so quietly I barely hear her
“You’re right. We should go home. How many times can we listen to Sally take a solo on this song before we want to jump off the bluff? And you’re completely sober. I’m an asshole. We should’ve left after your jumbo cup of cocoa. No wonder you peed.”
“Tom.” She repeats my name, but this time with a serious tone. “Stop.”
I lift my hand off of her shoulder so she can face me.
The carolers finally finish “Baby Come Home” and the crowd politely claps while Olaf tries to herd them out of the bar.
“If you want to stay, you all have to buy something to drink. Cash only,” he bellows at them as he tries to get through the crowd.
“I think my water broke,” Hailey shouts at the same time the room quiets. Her words echo around the bar like we’re in an empty cavern.
“Your water broke?” I yell into the silent void because maybe the two guys at the urinals i
n the men’s room didn’t hear her the first time.
Embarrassed color heats her skin while she nods. “I think so.”
Two young bucks in elf onesies take giant steps away from our general area like she might blow again.
It’s too late to avoid the splash zone. Not that there’s much to see. Not like in the movies. Given the lighting in here, I can’t see anything on the floor. But I’m not about to put my face down there to take a closer look.
“Tom?” Hailey’s voice is far away and muffled.
Olaf’s grumbling and stomping around, madder than normal. He rings the large brass bell at the end of the bar he normally reserves for last call or closing time. “I’m only going to say this once, so everyone listen up. I need you caterwauling miscreants to zip it, and back the hell up. Clear the damn door! There hasn’t been a baby born in this bar in over fifty years. That’s not going to change tonight. We’ve got a woman in labor. I need all you numskulls to clear a path to the door.”
While he’s rambling on, I’m staring at the floor. Someone snaps their fingers in front of my face.
“He’s frozen,” a woman’s voice comments and a few people snicker at the movie pun.
“Carry him out if you need to, but you better get to the hospital.” Olaf’s familiar snarl breaks through the fog.
“Your water broke?” I ask for confirmation.
Hailey nods. “We should go.”
“To the hospital?”
“I think we can go home and call our OB,” she corrects me. “I don’t think I’m having contractions.”
“You’re not due for another two weeks.” I’m not ready. I thought I was prepared, but I’m not. Panic and flashbacks from the birthing videos release a cold sweat down my back. “Are you sure it wasn’t pee?”
“I went while we were all in the bathroom.”
“There’s a storm coming in. We should go to Coupeville.” I don’t want to delay and get stuck.
“We’ll probably be sent home,” Hailey says, with a grimace. “Oh. Uff.”
Her face crumples and she grips my arm tighter.
“Contraction?” I stare at her stomach as if I can see through her body.
“Maybe?” She exhales through her mouth.
Resolved, I straighten my back. “That’s it. We’re going to Coupeville.”
“We don’t have my bag or the things for the baby with us.” Hailey stalls. “Just because my water broke doesn’t mean I’m having the baby tonight.”
“We’re going to the hospital. Storm’s kicking up and I don’t want to recreate some sort of pioneer home birth with boiled water and shredded bed sheets. Someone can swing by the house and get everything. Text your mom on the way to Coupeville.”
Hailey nods and exhales again. “That was definitely a contraction.”
She’s in labor. Something clicks inside my brain. “How bad’s the pain? Should you sit down?”
“No sitting. No babies born in this bar. I’ll call nine-one-one if I have to.” Olaf’s shooing people out the door. Even though he’s slowly clearing us a path, he tells us to go through the side door.
Outside the wind howls through the trees as it blows up from the water behind us. Temperature’s dropped and a fine mist of sleet is falling. The kind that turns to ice if it gets cold enough.
“Nope. We’re going back inside. You can sit down and I’ll go get the truck.” I pause to breathe. “First, we need John and Diane. They’ve been through this. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Tom,” Hailey touches my arm, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure I have hours and hours of labor to go. Get the truck and I’ll text Diane.”
Lifting my eyebrows in doubt, I study her face. “Are you sure?”
“Fine. But if I do have the baby here, we’re naming him Olaf. Go.” She leans up to kiss my cheek.
I’m halfway down the deck when I catch she called the baby a boy. Grinning, I spin around and yell, “No way our son’s going to be named after a snowman!”
She grins as she goes back inside the bar.
As I cross the street, I spot John and Diane in front of the Clyde. Alene sits on his shoulders, banging out a drumbeat on his head. I reroute to tell them the news.
Diane’s eyes grow big and she’s already crossing the street before I can finish giving them the details.
“Go get your truck,” John reminds me of my mission. “We’ll go to your house and bring your stuff to the hospital.”
With a quick thanks, I jog through the alley and cut through the parking lot to shave off a minute of my trip to the studio.
My lungs burn from the frigid air by the time I reach my rig. Inside, I crank up the heat to warm things up for Hailey.
A paper-thin layer of ice coats my windshield. The wiper blades scratch over it as more tiny pellets hit the surface.
Damn ice. Better we’re going now than later tonight. We might not make it up the island if the wind keeps up. With one main road, a few downed trees can cut us off pretty quick. There’s always the ferry, but if the storm gets bad enough, they’ll stop the runs early tonight.
Honking my horn, I send people scampering out of the way. I pull to a stop in front of the Dog House, not caring I’m going the wrong way on the street. Until I get Hailey to the hospital, I can’t waste another second. She says we have hours, but that’s how those stories on the news about babies born in the back of cabs always start.
Flanking Hailey, Diane and John escort her out the door. I jump out and run around to her side.
“I think she’s having a real contraction,” Diane explains while Hailey pants beside her.
“Hold up.” Hailey lifts her hand and bends forward, breathing heavy.
I freeze and watch her, helpless to do anything.
“You should start timing them,” John tells me. “They’re going to ask when you arrive at the hospital.”
“Right, right.” I scramble for my phone and drop it on the wet asphalt. I cringe before picking it up and exhale when I see the screen isn’t cracked. “Timer.”
My fingers feel too fat to punch in my code or open the timer.
“Here.” Hailey holds out her hand. “I’ll handle the phone while you drive.”
“Contraction over?” I rub her back as I help her around the truck to get in.
“For now.”
Diane leans around me. “Breathe through the pain. Don’t hold your breath. We’ll be right behind you.”
The two of them hug for a second before Diane steps back. Hailey nods, her eyes watery.
“Okay, this truck is going to baby town and I need everyone to get the fuck out of our way,” I tell the crowd of holiday strollers.
Sally’s in the middle of her solo on “Do They Know it’s Christmas Time?” and messes up her words.
Her head spins around to face me as the lights on her yeti sweater blink and flash blue, casting her face in an eerie light. “Baby?”
Shit.
“Gotta go.” I climb into the truck and put it in gear.
“Guess we won’t need to worry about making an announcement,” I tell Hailey. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see Sally pull out her phone and start tapping the screen.
“Saves us the effort.” Hailey types on her own phone and I can hear ringing as she switches to speaker phone. “Hi, Mom. The baby’s coming.”
Chapter 12
Hailey has several more contractions on the drive to Coupeville. Despite my urge to speed, I follow the posted limits, even slowing further when we hit water on the road and possible black ice. The last thing I want is to end up in a ditch because of impatience.
Beside me, Hailey breathes through another contraction. There’s nothing I can do for her other than to hold her hand and match my breath to hers. When her grip loosens, I know the pain has passed.
“How long was that one?” she asks.
I glance at my phone in its holder on the dashboard. “Thirty seconds.”
“Longest thirty seconds ever,”
she mutters. Staring at her own phone and its separate timer, she says, “Closer to eight in between that time.”
“That escalated quickly,” I joke with her. Because if I lose my humor, it will allow the creeping panic to take over. My role is to be strong, to support her through this process.
She half laughs, lacing her fingers through mine.
Tiny ice pellets fling themselves against the roof and windows of the truck, pinging off the metal and glass like miniature BBs. The windshield wipers create a soothing rhythm against the sound of tires on the wet road. Clouds block out any moonlight on the dark two lane road. My brights highlight the falling drops and downed branches from the wind.
“Helluva night,” I say to fill the silence.
Hailey pats her belly. “You better not be teasing us, little one. We could be home in bed, eating ice cream, cuddling with Nameless, and watching Netflix.”
“You realize our entire lives are about to change, right?” So much for being cool about what’s about to happen.
Her laughter fills the cab before ending with a snort. “Yes, I’m aware. This winter will be all of the above, plus breastfeeding and diaper changes.”
“I’m not sure I’m into wearing a diaper. I think we can pause whatever we’re watching long enough for bathroom breaks.”
“Stop, I might actually pee if I laugh more.” A crease forms between her brows. “I think I’m having another contraction.”
“How long has it been?” I reset the timer on my phone as I roll to a stop at the one traffic light in Coupeville.
“Seven minutes and ten seconds.” The words come out in a rush as she breathes through the pain.
“We’re almost there.” I take the right turn and another right to pull into the hospital lot. Parking in front of the doors, I jump out and rush inside, leaving the truck running and Hailey waiting in the cab.
“My wife’s in labor,” I shout as soon as the sliding doors open.
“Where is she?” an older woman with gray hair asks from the desk.
“In the truck.” I gesture in the general direction of the door.
“First baby?” she asks, peering over her glasses at me with her judging eyes.
Wingmen Babypalooza: A Wingmen Novella Page 9
