Mountain Laurel

by Donna Fasano

The car lurched with a jarring thud as Michael hit an enormous hole, and when it bounced out, the tire exploded with a bang. He brought the car to a bumpy stop.

  Michael swore softly. “I can’t believe this. Sit tight. I’ll have the tire changed in no time.”

  “Wait,” Ginny said. Rummaging in the glove compartment, she pulled out a flashlight. “You’ll need this.”

  The instant Michael opened his door, Laurel placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a small gasp. How was she going to tell him?

  “Michael?” she called, swallowing nervously.

  “It’ll be safe,” he informed her testily. “I’ll brace the other tires with rocks.”

  He got out, and she called his name even as he stalked toward the back of the car. She heard him jiggling the key into the trunk lock.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Laurel asked Darlene. Seeing the girl nod, Laurel glanced at Ginny, “Stay with her.”

  The chill in the air nipped at her fingers and cheeks, and she rubbed her hands together, hurrying around to the rear of the car where Michael had the trunk lid open, a beam of light sweeping across the dark interior.

  “Michael.”

  “Thanks, Laurel, but I don’t need any help,” he said without looking up. “Go back inside, where it’s warm.”

  “I don’t want to help.”

  He reared up, turning to face her, irritation plain on his face. “What is it, then?”

  “It’s not there.”

  “What?”

  “The spare tire,” she blurted. “It’s on the car. The flat one, on the car.”

  He stood there staring at her as the news sunk in.

  “You mean to tell me that you didn’t get the other tire fixed?” His question was low, ominous.

  “No, I’m not telling you that!” Anger sharpened her retort. “I took it, but the attendant was busy. I had to leave it there.”

  “But surely he lent you a spare.”

  She shook her head.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  Once again, she was left looking the idiot. But she wasn’t embarrassed; she was plain mad. Her jaw was tight as she told him, “He didn’t have one to fit my car.”

  The breeze that fluttered her hair seemed to have grown colder. As if the idea had entered their minds simultaneously, they both whipped out their cells.

  No service, she read on the tiny black screen.

  “I got nothing,” he said, and then sighed as he flipped closed his phone and tucked it into his pocket. “So we’re stuck out here with no way to call for help, a flat tire and no spare.”

  Laurel nodded, shrugging helplessly.

  He sighed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You get into the car and lock the doors. If you get cold, turn the engine on. There’s plenty of gas.”

  “You going into town?”

  “It’s closer for me to run back and get the truck. I’ll be back here in less than half an hour.” He slammed the trunk’s lid down and handed the keys to Laurel.

  Hearing a weak tapping on the back window, they both turned to see Darlene laboring breathlessly.

  Laurel opened the back door and stuck her head inside. “I thought you said everything was okay.”

  “Guess I lied.” Darlene struggled to smile, but the furrow biting deeply into her brow and the fear plain in her gaze contorted the effort.

  “The baby’s coming,” Ginny said.

  “She’s right. The baby’s. Coming. Right now.” Darlene let out a low, jagged whimper.

  Pulling herself out of the car, Laurel turned frightened eyes toward Michael. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Okay.” He came up beside her and put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Together, we can do this.”

  She squared her shoulders, strengthened by his confidence.

  “I’m going to brace her from behind,” Michael stated. “It’ll be much more comfortable for her than pushing against the door.”

  “But I can’t…” Laurel’s voice trembled.

  “Of course you can,” he assured her. “Just put on your catcher’s mitt. Mother Nature will take care of everything else.”

  When Laurel leaned into the car again, Ginny was unlocking the back door. Michael wedged himself behind Darlene, one knee on the seat, one on the floorboard.

  “Comfortable?” he asked Darlene, who only panted in reply. He looked up at Laurel. “This baby’s coming awfully quick for a first delivery.”

  “Must run in my family,” Darlene said breathlessly. “I remember…my mother telling me…I was born on our kitchen floor.” She shifted on the seat. “But Mom said…I was a full term baby.”

  Everyone was still and silent as Darlene was hit by another wave of pain.

  Laurel looked up at Michael nervously. “What now?”

  “We wait.”

  Darlene huffed and puffed, strained and pushed, as the process intensified. Before long, the newborn lay cradled in Laurel’s hands. The baby jerked in surprise when he sucked in his first breath.

  “He’s beautiful!” Laurel exclaimed, wrapping the infant in a towel and cleaning his eyes and ears with another.

  “It’s a boy?” Darlene asked. “Is he okay?”

  “He looks perfect to me,” Laurel assured her. She placed the swaddled baby in Darlene’s arms. “Ten fingers, ten toes.”

  The stillness that settled over all of them seemed a bit anticlimactic after the wonder they had just experienced. Then the baby let out a long raspy cry.

  Ginny giggled at his solo. “He’s going to be another Justin Bieber.”

  “Or Andrea Bocelli,” Laurel said.

  “Or Tim McGraw.” Michael gently wiped Darlene’s damp face with a tissue Ginny had given him.

  “I do know that we need to tie off the cord,” Laurel said. “I don’t think we should cut it or anything, just tie it off. The fluid in the placenta will make him sick.” She shrugged at Michael’s questioning expression. “The miracle of public television.”

  Looking around the cramped back seat, he suggested, “How about a shoelace?”

  “Here, use this,” Ginny said, passing Laurel the container of dental floss.

  Laurel smiled. “It’s cleaner than a shoelace.”

  They all laughed, more with relief that the ordeal was over than at Laurel’s joke.

  Laurel slid her arms out of her coat and tucked it around mother and baby.

  “It’s cold in here,” Ginny balled her hands under her chin.

  “Slide over and start the car.” Michael handed her the keys. “Turn the heater on.” He eased himself out of the car, closed the door and walked a few steps to stretch his cramped muscles.

  “Thank you, Laurel,” Darlene said.

  “You did all the work.” Laurel patted the girl’s hand.

  “We just cheered you on,” Ginny said.

  Laurel looked from Ginny’s beaming face to Darlene’s tired one and marveled at the wondrous event they’d all experienced. She felt exhilarated. The miracle of life was just that—a miracle. But she knew it was not something she’d want to experience again. Not, that is, on a deserted dirt road in the middle of a forest. She personally would prefer a clean, well-equipped hospital.

  She felt a pang of regret that Jim had missed the birth of his son. She sighed, pushing the thoughts away. This was not a time of regrets but a time of celebration, the celebration of new life!

  Letting the euphoric smile take over her entire being, she shook her head in disbelief at what she’d taken part in. A baby had been born right before her eyes.

  “I need to pull the knots out of my back muscles,” Laurel said.

  She left Darlene cooing to the baby, closed the car door and walked along the dirt lane. Never in her life had she felt so moved, so elated, as when that tiny infant had fallen into her hands. He was so helpless, his first scratchy cries almost making her weep.

&nb
sp; Rubbing her lower back, she bent backward and stared up at the starry sky. She realized for the first time how lucky they were that the birth was uncomplicated. The implications of what could have happened forced a chill through her, and she whispered a quick prayer of thanks.

  She sucked in her breath in awe as a long, sparking arch of a shooting star streaked across the night sky. She grinned and, not wasting a moment, wished for health and happiness for the new baby boy.

  “You were great.” Michael was beside her, brushing at a wisp of her silky hair.

  “I was, wasn’t I?” Laurel laughed. “But then, so were you, and so was Ginny, and most of all, so was Darlene.”

  “We were awfully lucky,” he said seriously.

  “I was thinking that myself.”

  Their gazes caught and held in the magnitude of the moment.

  Michael rested his hands on her shoulders. “What happened between us this evening…”

  She silenced him by placing a finger across his lips. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “I wanted you, too.”

  Understanding wrapped around them like a warm, woolen cloak. Their embrace was sweet, poignant. Laurel’s heart was stirred with remorse. How could she have rationalized herself out of a few tender moments in his arms?

  Cradling her face between his hands, he searched her eyes. “We need to talk.”

  She gave him a small smile of assent.

  “I’m going for help.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Now, get inside the car and warm up. I won’t be long.”

  He turned and jogged in the direction they had come.

  “Michael, take the flashlight.”

  “I’ll be all right,” he called. “You may need it.”

  Be careful, she silently called as she watched him run down the rocky dirt lane. You’re carrying my heart.

  Laurel slid into the front seat with Ginny, wanting to give Darlene as much room as possible. Her deep, even breathing was a contrast to the baby’s tiny sighs as mother and son slept.

  “She was worn-out,” Ginny said.

  “How about you?”

  “I’m okay. It was amazing, though, wasn’t it?”

  Laurel took a deep breath. “Amazing is a pretty good word to describe it.”

  “Darlene’s the mother of that tiny little baby.” Ginny whispered the words as if in awe. “Do you know that Darlene is less than a year older than I am?” Shaking her head, she looked at Laurel. “That could be me back there.”

  “Heaven forbid, Gin.”

  “But it could!” Ginny repeated.

  Laurel saw Ginny’s pensive expression, heard the severity of her words.

  “What are you saying, honey?”

  “Look at her. She’s holding down a job, taking care of an apartment, and now she has a helpless baby that she’s responsible for.” Ginny exhaled with a sound of disgust. “I’m just a kid compared to her. If any of that would have happened to me, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

  “Now, you don’t know that. People take what life tosses at them. Darlene’s been thrown a curve ball and she’s done a pretty good job of catching it, that’s all.”

  Ginny looked out at the darkness. “I’ve missed every one that’s come my way.”

  The lugubrious admission startled Laurel.

  “Not every one,” she quipped, trying to lighten Ginny’s mood.

  “Getting to know Darlene, the kind of person she is and the things she’s done—it all makes me feel so…so young.”

  “But, honey, you are young,” Laurel said. “And so’s Darlene. You both have some growing up to do. She’s tried to do it in too little time and you’ve tried to sneak a little extra. But what neither one of you knows is that life doesn’t work that way.”

  Seeing Ginny’s curious expression, she continued, “You see, you have to come of age when it’s your time. If you try to rush it or put it off, it only gets you into trouble.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Ginny mumbled.

  “And you can’t turn around one day and say ‘I’m a big person now.’ It doesn’t work that way, either. You have to go through all the motions. You have to have all the kid experiences and all the teenage experiences before you can become an adult. Of course, it’s not unknown to skip a few, as Darlene has done, but just because she has a baby and will soon have a husband doesn’t mean she’s all grown up.

  “But she’ll do it,” Laurel said emphatically. “She loves that baby and she’s a fighter. But it’s not going to be easy.”

  Laurel stared out through the moon-shadowed trees contemplating the obstacles that could potentially hinder Darlene’s path, of which her immaturity was only one. It would, in all probability, be a hard road for the young couple and their ready-made family.

  “Laurel?”

  Ginny’s voice brought her back to the present.

  “I know that, up to this point, I haven’t been all that I could be. But I want you to know that that’s all going to change.”

  Hiding her surprise, Laurel tried to anticipate what Ginny was going to say next.

  “Wanting me to go to college is something that you’ve made very plain.”

  Laurel had trouble holding back her smile of victory.

  “But,” Ginny continued, “my not wanting to go has also been clear from the start, hasn’t it?”

  Her cheek muscles relaxing, Laurel swallowed. “Yes, it has,” she said, leery of her sister’s tone.

  “I’m going to make some changes,” Ginny said boldly, “but you need to understand that my attitude about college isn’t going to be one of them.”

  When Laurel opened her mouth, Ginny raised her hand, arresting the argument before it was started.

  “Why should I spend four years in college when I have a career at home waiting for me? I don’t expect to waltz right in and take over, but you have to admit, I do have some experience. I know how to sell, I know how to count money, right? Well, that’s a start, isn’t it?

  “I want to learn the rest, too. I want to know how to take inventory, how to order merchandise, how to keep the books, calculate insurance, make work schedules, fill out payroll, everything.” Ginny’s gaze was steady as she added, “I want to learn.”

  Laurel’s hopes of Ginny’s college education started to tumble, then nosedived, until they hit rock bottom. Ginny didn’t want to go to college. She had made that clear enough, had been saying it loudly all along. But now she was making some definite decisions about what she did want, and that was something that was both brand new and pleasantly surprising.

  Well, Laurel thought, wasn’t that part of the growing process? Making choices and living with those choices?

  “I understand.”

  “You do?” Ginny’s voice was dubious.

  “Yes, I do. And I’ll teach you everything I know about the store.” She took hold of Ginny’s hand, her words low and somber. “I want you to know that I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

  So, college was out. Well, at least Ginny was back on track. If not on the right road, at least she was headed in the right direction. Then why was it, Laurel wondered, that Ginny didn’t look that happy?

  ~

  The bright lights of the emergency room did nothing to keep Laurel’s heavy eyes from drooping. She almost felt as though she were the one, rather than Darlene, who had just given birth. Chuckling to herself, Laurel chalked up her fatigue to emotional stress. It was a lot of work supporting a woman in labor. Every new father who had ever done would surely agree.

  Slowly drawing her eyes open, she saw Michael talking to a doctor at the admissions desk. She stifled a yawn and went over to join them.

  “She’s in great shape,” the doctor said. “You did fine.”

  “How about the baby?” Laurel asked.

  “Healthy as can be. His tummy’s full and he’s all tucked in for the night. Darlene is, too.” Then the old man’s eyes lit with a teasing glint as he asked, “What in the world were you all doing ou
t on the old valley road while Darlene was in labor?”

  “Don’t ask,” Michael advised gruffly. He took Laurel by the elbow, steering her back over to the empty waiting area.

  “We did a good job,” Laurel said.

  “The doctor seemed to think so.” Glancing about him, he asked, “Where’s Ginny? I’ll take you two home.”

  “She went in to say good-night to Darlene and the baby. She won’t be long.”

  They sat down on the worn vinyl-covered chairs.

  “I called the service station. They’re going to tow your car in in the morning and someone will drive it over to you as soon as it’s fixed.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “And I told them not to bring the car back to you unless it had a new tire on the front and a new spare in the trunk,” he said gruffly. “I can’t tell you how angry I was when I found out they let you drive off without a spare.”

  Holding his gaze was impossible. Leaving that service station without a spare tire had been monumentally stupid. “Things turned out okay.”

  “It’s incredible that we didn’t face a huge tragedy.” He shook his head in wonder.

  “You look tired,” she remarked, wanting desperately to change the subject.

  “So do you. I guess all this nervous tension has taken its toll on both of us.”

  Rubbing his hand over his face, he got up and paced to the window. He stared out for several seconds, his hands stuffed into his pockets, before returning to Laurel’s side.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He sat down on the edge of the seat. “You and this situation we’ve gotten ourselves into. I’m not going to be able to rest until it’s out.” He leaned forward and placed his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in the palm of his hand. His eyes, dark with questions, bore into her.

  She, too, had thought about him while she’d waited in the darkness of the car for him to return. Reliving the times she’d spent with him, she’d found herself smiling. He’d made her happy; of that she was sure. Even when they’d been forced to act for Ginny, being with Michael had been fun. When they were together she felt whole and happy—as though everything was right in the world.

  She loved him. And she’d come to the conclusion that a commitment wasn’t important. Taking what happiness she could, she had decided, was what she wanted.