It wasn't his fault. It was hers. She was the one who had conjured up this whole romantic scenario between them. She was also the one who had allowed him lose sight of their original goals. She should have spoken up the very first time his romantic behavior toward her was unwarranted. But she had relished his attention.
She relished it now. Yearned for it. She knew it would be easy to lose herself in this rage of longing that had caught them up, and that, if she made no move to stop him, he would make love to her. And if she let that happen, his touch, his scent, would be trapped forever in her memory.
But is that what she wanted?
Making love to him would be heaven on earth. But this moment would end. And all she'd have was a memory. Would that be enough? To live with a cold and lonely memory? A memory that would surely hound her all of her days? One that would cause her pain each time it was brought forth in her mind? Was it better to have something and then lose it and know the pain of that loss or remain blissfully ignorant from the very beginning?
"Michael, please stop." She tugged him away from her and saw his gaze thick with desire, his breathing as ragged as her own. Shaking her head, she said, "I don't want to do this."
He took a deep breath, then another, and dragged his fingers through his hair. "What is it?"
"Nothing." She fumbled with the fabric of her blouse and saw her fingers trembling as she fastened the buttons.
"Laurel," he said, catching her chin and raising her face so she'd look at him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just don't want to do this." Pulling herself from his grasp, she looked away, wanting to hide the truth from him. "And anyway, we're supposed to meet Ginny and Darlene."
He sat for a moment, quiet, frowning. Finally, he said, "Oh, I get it. Mother hen is back." He stood and strode over to the fireplace.
"What do you mean by that?" Laurel bristled.
"Nothing." Banking the fire, he replaced the screen and hung up the poker. "Come on, I'll take you home."
She'd done the right thing, she thought as they rode in silence toward the cabin. She was sure of it. Living with the memory of being touched, being loved physically, by Michael would be unbearably painful. It was better not to know the sweetness of it.
"Would you make my excuses? I don't think I'll come in." Michael's voice was low as he stopped the truck in front of the cabin.
"I understand." She got out, then spun around, saying his name just as he'd uttered hers.
Their eyes met and held.
What could she say? How could she make him understand the emotions roiling in her without looking like melodramatic teen with a crush? Finally, lifting her shoulder a fraction, she said, "It's not that I—"
"Laurel! Michael!" Ginny came bursting from the cabin, stopping at the top of the porch steps. "Please! I need you! It's Darlene!"
The desperation in her voice made both Laurel and Michael run for the front door.
Taking the stone steps in two strides, Michael was the first inside. When Laurel followed, she saw the young girl sitting on the sofa, her face pale and covered with a moist sheen of perspiration.
"It hurts," Darlene whispered, clutching Michael's hand tightly.
"You need to relax. Breathe slowly," he told her.
"She wouldn't let me call for help." Ginny was on the verge of tears. "I didn't know what to do."
"It's all right now. We'll help her," Laurel assured her sister. "Should I call an ambulance?" She directed her question at Michael.
"Yes."
"No!" Darlene was panting as the pain subsided. "I don't have insurance. I can't afford an ambulance."
"But...but," Laurel wasn't sure what to say.
"It's okay." Michael's tone remained measured and calm. "Plenty of pregnant women are driven to the hospital every day. I'll take you. My truck's outside."
"But it's nothing," Darlene insisted. "It's false labor. It'll pass. I've had it off and on all week."
"At least let us call your doctor." Laurel sat down next to Darlene. "He should know about this. He'll tell us what we should do."
After getting the doctor's name and number, she pulled out her cell and began dialing. The ringing on the other end of the line seemed incessant. Laurel watched Darlene closely. She saw Michael stuff pillows behind the girl's lower back in order to make her more comfortable. He sent Ginny after a cool cloth.
The only experience Laurel remembered having with childbirth was when her mother had been pregnant with Ginny, but because Laurel had been so young, all the pain and difficulty of it had gone unnoticed. The taut lines she now saw around Darlene's mouth were pulled even tighter as the girl was hit with another contraction. Instinctively Laurel knew there was nothing false about this labor.
"Come on, already," she whispered impatiently into the receiver. Why didn't someone answer? Finally, someone did, but Laurel was disappointed to find out it was only the doctor's answering service. She left her name and number and, before she hung up, told the operator that it was an emergency.
"But it's not!" Darlene wailed. "It's not time yet."
"There's no harm in letting the doctor have a look at you." Michael tried to placate her. "All we have to do is sit tight, relax and wait for the doctor to call back."
"I need to get up. I need to walk it off."
Laurel immediately made to help Darlene rise only to see Michael's glare.
"If her body's telling her to walk, then she should walk," she snapped at him. "It's got to be better than sitting here waiting for another contraction."
Michael heaved a sigh, his shoulders rounding.
"You're right," he said, and he stood to help Darlene.
Laurel took hold of one elbow, Michael the other, as they pulled Darlene up off the couch. Immediately, the young woman gasped. Laurel looked down to see clear birthing fluid pooling on the floor at their feet.
Chapter Eight
Darlene's bottom lip quivered and she clamped it between her teeth. "But it's not time," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'll get some towels," Ginny said.
"No, no. Don't bother with that now." Laurel was afraid to move from Darlene's side. "Get her coat, Gin."
"You want to come along?" Michael looked questioningly at Laurel.
She nodded. "We'll take my car."
Ginny bustled around gathering coats, purses and keys.
They stopped about midway between the cabin and the car as the girl bent over for a full minute, a wave of pain jolting through her.
Michael took the keys from Ginny. Laurel bundled Darlene into the back seat and crawled in after her.
Ginny climbed into the front beside Michael. Darlene's tears flowed unhindered.
"This can't be happening," she sniffed. "Jim wanted to be here." She blew her nose on a tissue Ginny handed her. "He wanted to be with me when the baby was born."
"You need to stay calm," Laurel reminded her. "Take deep breaths." Reaching over, she took hold of Darlene's hand and rubbed it between hers.
It seemed to Laurel that they were creeping along on the winding, twisty road. She noticed Michael's tense silence as he drove.
"I'm awfully sorry." Darlene's pale face was covered with glossy perspiration. She swallowed and tried to smile.
"Hey, it's okay. You'll see, everything will be all right," Laurel assured her.
"You two haven't even met yet." Ginny turned around to face them. "Laurel, meet Darlene. Darlene, Laurel."
"You work with Jim. He likes working with you. He told me all about you."
I wish he'd told me about you, Laurel thought guiltily. I'd have sent him right home, trouble with Ginny or no trouble with Ginny. She squeezed Darlene's fingers reassuringly and realized what Jim had given up so that she could bring Ginny here. She smiled at Darlene. "Jim's a great guy."
"I think so," Darlene agreed. Then she clutched Laurel's hand, almost choking as she inhaled sharply. Panic and a healthy dose of fear widened her eyes.
; "Michael," Laurel urged. "We need to hurry. Her contractions seem terribly strong."
"I'm going as fast as I can," he barked.
Laurel focused her attention on Darlene, who was panting.
"Slowly. Slowly. Breathe with me." Laurel inhaled deeply.
"Tell him—" Darlene gulped at the words "—tell him to take the valley road."
"We can't take the valley road!"
"What's the valley road?" Laurel asked.
"Shorter," Darlene panted. "Just ahead."
"Yes, it's shorter. But it's a dirt road, for God's sake! You'll be jostled all over that backseat. I won't take it. You're in enough pain as it is!"
"I can feel the baby coming." Darlene's voice broke with a sob.
Laurel leaned forward. "How much shorter is it?"
"Laurel, we can't take the valley road. It's full of potholes and it's overgrown in places. Every delinquent in town goes out there drinking, so it's littered with broken glass."
Seeing Darlene's stark white knuckles made Laurel repeat the question in a sharper tone. "How much shorter?"
"Quite a bit. But it's—"
Hearing Darlene groan, Laurel interrupted Michael. "Then I think you better take it because this baby's waiting for no one."
Michael let out a breathy curse. "Hold on, then," he advised them all as he turned onto the bumpy, narrow lane.
Sliding as far toward the door as she could, Laurel turned to Darlene. "I want you to lean against the door and bring your feet up onto the seat. Ginny, lock her door."
"Here," Ginny offered, "you might need these."
"You brought towels?" Laurel's voice held a note of surprise. "Great thinking!"
"But I wasn't," Ginny admitted lamely. "I also grabbed a bar of soap and the dental floss. Don't ask me what I thought we'd do with them."
"Here," Laurel said, tucking one of the towels under Darlene's hips. "This should be much more comfortable for you."
They were jostled back and forth as the car rolled along the dirt road. Loose rocks thumped against the bottom of the car, thrown up by the tires. The shocks bounced as they hit one hole after another.
"Michael, you can slow down." Darlene wiped her hand across her face. "I think it's over."
"Over?" Laurel and Ginny asked in unison.
Darlene nodded. "The pain's almost gone." She sighed, her breath catching on a relieved sob. "I was so scared."
"So was I." Ginny's head bobbed.
Of course, this wasn't over. They'd all been standing there when Darlene's water broke. This was merely the calm before the storm. But Laurel hesitated saying so for fear of upsetting this unexpected peace, no matter how fleeting it might turn out to be.
"Even so, Darlene," Michael said his words carefully measured, "I want to get you into town so the doctor can have a look at you."
Laurel leaned forward and touched his shoulder. "I agree."
"Well, that eases my mind," he muttered.
She snatched her hand away, resting her clenched fist in her lap.
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!
Mountain Laurel Page 12
