by Anna Sugden
A short time later they decided to make some popcorn and watch a movie. J.B. went for snacks and drinks while Issy selected a DVD.
The house phone rang as J.B. walked back into the living room with a tray balancing a bowl of buttered popcorn and two mugs of hot chocolate. “Could you get that?”
“Okay.” Issy lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
She listened. “This is Isabelle.” She listened again. Instantly she looked embarrassed. “Oh. Hi. Yes, he’s here. Hold on. I’ll get him for you.”
She held out the phone. “It’s your mom.”
They did an awkward swap; phone for tray.
“Hey, Ma,” he said cheerily. “Merry Christmas. I planned to call you guys in a little while. How’s it going?”
“Merry Christmas, Jean-Baptiste. We missed you.”
In the background he heard his old man say, “I don’t know why. He never comes home for the holidays.”
J.B. ignored his father. “I missed you, too. Thanks for the presents.”
They discussed gifts for a few minutes before his mom asked, “Who’s Isabelle?”
J.B. looked over at Issy, who was studiously watching a car ad as if her life depended on it. He wasn’t sure what to tell his mother. He couldn’t spring the information about the pregnancy on his parents over the phone, but he couldn’t say she was only a friend, either. Not when Issy was sitting right there.
“We’re dating.” He hoped his casual tone would stop his mom reading too much into it.
“That’s nice.” His mother sounded pleased. “Have you been seeing her long?”
“A few weeks.”
He read the disappointment in the stiffness of Issy’s body. Crap. This was why he didn’t like relationships. Too many potholes to trip a guy up.
“I hope we’ll get to meet Isabelle at some point,” his mom said carefully.
“Yeah.”
He realized suddenly that he hadn’t considered how this situation—Issy and Peanut—would work with his family. His parents would want to know their grandchild, as would his brothers and their families. They wouldn’t understand how he could be involved with his child and not be married to Issy. Even if they did, they wouldn’t understand why he didn’t want joint custody.
Why did everything have to be so freaking complicated?
He hung up a short while later; Issy kept watching the TV. “I didn’t want to announce the news to my mom over the phone.”
“I understand.” She sighed. “Maybe this will all be easier once Peanut finally arrives.”
“For sure,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Now let’s get back to where we were and watch that movie. And don’t hog all the popcorn.”
“You can talk.” Issy grabbed a handful of popcorn and nestled into his arms.
As the movie started, J.B.’s mind wasn’t on the opening credits but on the sinking feeling that once the baby arrived, things would get very complicated indeed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ONE MONTH TO GO and Issy was fed up with being pregnant.
The romance of a new life growing inside her had given way to the reality of nagging backaches, swollen ankles, Braxton-bloody-Hicks and having to pee every five minutes. She was as big as a whale and she couldn’t stay in any position for too long, because she was too uncomfortable. The wonder of feeling Peanut move had switched to pleas for stillness as the baby kicked almost nonstop.
He or she clearly took after J.B., who was rarely still, even when he slept.
Issy huffed at the television about the bias of pregnancy as she watched J.B. skate up the ice into the Red Wings’ zone. “Men have it so easy.”
There he was gliding along while she waddled everywhere. She couldn’t even see her puffy feet anymore. It was all right for him, climbing neatly over the boards for his next shift, while she struggled to stand, sit, lie or do anything that required moving her behemoth body.
Her back spasmed painfully. Issy rubbed the base of her spine and debated using the heating pad to soothe the muscles. Maybe when the game was over. She’d have to go through the delights of hoisting herself up from the sofa to pee, anyway.
It was late in the third period of the afternoon game and the Cats had a narrow one-goal lead. She’d learned enough to know that the Red Wings would probably pull their goaltender shortly, for an extra attacker, to try to get an equalizer. She hoped they weren’t successful. Not only because the Cats could use the win but, since J.B. had scored the potential game winner, he might feature in the postgame show.
Despite a lot of frantic action around the Cats’ net, Ike and his defense held strong and the 2-1 score became a final. Issy cheered as she watched the players congratulate their goaltender. She enjoyed seeing the faces of the guys she knew. It had been a tough road trip through Canada—Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton and Winnipeg—with mixed-bag results.
Thankfully, it also meant the team was on their way home at long last.
She admitted part of the reason she was feeling down was that she hadn’t seen J.B. much since Christmas. Certainly not on consecutive days and no sleepovers. The increased intensity of the second half of the season—road trips, back-to-back games and the All-Star break—had cut into their time together. They’d spoken on the phone and used FaceTime, but it hadn’t been the same.
Valentine’s Day had been a wash because the Cats had been in Winnipeg. Not that she’d ever been fussed about such holidays, but flowers and chocolates didn’t make up for kisses and cuddles. Which she sorely needed. As for sex—ha. Even if J.B. had been around, she doubted he’d want to make love with Shamu.
Seeing J.B. on the postgame interview didn’t do much to improve her miserable mood. For a start, he barely looked out of breath after a hard-fought period, while she was winded after walking from the living room to the bathroom and back. Where were the bags under his eyes? Oh, right. He didn’t have trouble sleeping.
It wasn’t his fault. Actually, yes, it was.
Instantly she felt bad. No pregnancy meant no Peanut.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her bump, which kicked several times in response. “I’m not wishing you away.”
Once the interview was over, Issy plugged in the heating pad. As she eased herself onto the sofa, another spasm jolted through her back. At the same time an ache similar to a really bad menstrual cramp gripped her stomach.
Her breath whistled out through her teeth as she rode out the contraction. “Wow, that was a bad one.”
So bad, it made her feel sick and desperate for the toilet. Heaving herself to her feet again, she had to stop for several moments to get rid of the dizziness.
“This can’t be good,” she muttered, hurrying down the hall to the bathroom.
But by the time she got there, the pain and the nausea had subsided.
“I hope this won’t be a feature of the next month, Peanut.” She couldn’t handle too many more of those blasted Braxton Hicks if they were as bad as that last one. She’d been told they’d vary in intensity, getting worse as her due date approached, but she hadn’t expected them to be so bad.
The pain struck again as she splashed water on her face. Not as bad or as long, but still enough to make her catch her breath. She held on to the sink until the contraction had passed.
Perhaps she’d eaten something that disagreed with her. Pretty much everything gave her indigestion these days, so she only ate plain food. She’d have chicken soup from the local deli for dinner—that wouldn’t upset her stomach.
Back in the living room, Issy lay on the sofa, trying to think calm thoughts. The dull ache in her back remained. The pain in her stomach had turned into a weird tugging sensation. Peanut was, for the first time, strangely still. Instead of being relieved for the respite, she began to feel nervous. Was something wrong?
She’d give it little longer. If the spasms continued, she’d call her doctor. Issy didn’t want to bother her in case it was nothing, but better to get checked out than not.
>
With the heating pad warming her back and the quilt covering her, she rested her hand on her belly and closed her eyes.
The phone woke her.
“Hey, Bella.” J.B. had started calling her that again when she’d complained of feeling orca-like. He said it would remind her that she was beautiful. Yeah, right. “How’s things?”
“Pretty good, considering.” There was no point worrying him when he was so far away.
She gritted her teeth as another spasm took her breath away.
“Is Peanut behaving or practicing kicking?”
“A bit of both,” she managed to say.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“It’s not one of the better days, but I’m fine.” Trying to distract him, she changed the subject. “Another nice win and a pretty goal.”
He took the bait. “Just what we needed after the previous couple of losses. A prolonged slump can be killer, especially at this time of year with the run-in to the playoffs and everyone so tight in the standings.”
“Didn’t you tell me every team goes through a bad patch?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t stop you wanting to win every game and getting frustrated when things don’t go to plan. It’s all about momentum for the next couple of months. We want to hit the postseason on a high.”
Although Issy didn’t claim to understand how he and his friends felt, she was beginning to appreciate the pressures and strains of playing professional sport. She was also gaining an insight into the truth behind J.B.’s sunny personality and devil-may-care smile. His fierce commitment to the game, his team and his fitness, the knowledge that he cared deeply, and his rigid discipline had impressed her.
“You will. I bet you’ll be glad to get home.” The Cats planned to fly back to New Jersey the day after tomorrow, straight after the final game on their road trip in Buffalo.
“For sure. I’ll be glad to see you, too. Seems like forever since we were together.”
Knowing he’d missed her gave her a warm feeling inside, overriding her discomfort. J.B. was still uncomfortable about expressing his feelings, so she was pleased whenever an admission slipped out. “For me, too. I—”
Pain struck without warning.
Sharp. Piercing. Right in the middle of her stomach.
She doubled over and gasped. The intensity was so severe she didn’t know what to do with herself.
Wave after agonizing wave... Bile rose in her throat.
This definitely wasn’t good.
“What’s happening?” She heard J.B.’s voice as if from far away.
She tried to respond, to reassure him, but all that came out was a long, low moan.
“Issy?”
“Hurts. Bad,” she forced out through gritted teeth.
She tried to sit up, to stand, but couldn’t. She had to get to the bathroom. Now.
The tugging sensation she’d felt earlier returned but a thousand times worse. Then the pressure released with a pop and fluid began to leak down her legs. She knew what that meant and it was far worse than not good.
She let out a high-pitched cry. “No!”
“Issy? Speak to me!”
“Please. No.” Issy closed her eyes as the pain subsided. “Don’t let my baby come now.”
* * *
TERROR GRIPPED J.B.
This couldn’t be happening!
Issy was alone and in labor, while he was stuck in an airport lounge hundreds of miles away from her.
What the hell can I do?
He had to get her help. Someone had to go to her. She couldn’t be alone.
“Issy, is Sapphie in New Jersey?”
“No-o-o.”
Her wailing answer winded him worse than a slap shot at close range.
“Is everything okay, man?” Mad Dog, who sat opposite him, leaned forward.
J.B. shook his head, unable to verbalise his fear. “Issy’s in trouble.”
Instantly the guys around him were alert.
“Is it the baby?” Ice Man asked.
J.B. nodded. “She thinks it’s coming.”
“Now?” Jake looked worried. “She’s not due for another month.”
“I know, but nobody told the freaking baby that.”
To J.B.’s relief, the veteran guys took over and started snapping out instructions.
“Paddy, call 9-1-1 and get her an ambulance,” Ike said sharply. “J.B., ask Issy if she can get to her front door and make sure it’s open for the paramedics.”
Numb and as if in a daze, J.B. did as his friend instructed.
“Tell her to do it now, before the pain comes back,” Jake added.
“Move while you can, Issy. You don’t want them to have to break down your door, do you?” His attempt at humor fell flat.
“But I need a bag. It’s not packed. I’m not ready.” Her panic crucified him.
“Honey, don’t worry about that now. Just grab your coat and purse, and let the ambulance guys do the rest.”
“Okay. Don’t hang up.”
“I won’t. I’ll stay on the line as long as you need me.” J.B. jumped up and started pacing.
Ike continued to bark orders. “Blade, tell Coach Macarty what’s happening. Mad Dog, get hold of Sapphire. Kenny, call Tracy and get her to find a way for Larocque to get home. Tell her to charter a plane if she needs to.”
Ike’s wife ran a service-providing business called Making Your Move, which specialized in relocation, transport and travel. If anyone could find a way for him to get from Detroit to Newark in an emergency, she could.
“Ambulance is on its way,” Paddy said.
“Did you hear that, Issy?” J.B. tried to keep his voice calm. “Help will be with you shortly.”
Issy’s wail of pain stabbed him in the heart.
He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to be there with her. Helping her. Not standing in a freaking lounge twiddling his thumbs.
“Not long now, sweetheart. Hang in there.”
“What if something goes wrong? This is bad. What if Peanut—?”
“It won’t,” he interrupted forcefully, even though the same fear was turning his veins to ice. “Everything will be fine.” He couldn’t add “trust me,” even though he desperately wanted to. “You’ll get the best medical care possible and both you and Peanut will be fine.”
“Tell her Maggie and the other Cats’ wives will meet her at the hospital. She won’t be on her own,” Jake said.
J.B. sent his friend a grateful look and relayed the message, which calmed her a little.
Issy let out another cry of pain. “But Sapphie’s my birthing partner. I need her here.”
“We’re trying to get hold of her.”
Mad Dog sent him an urgent look, which had J.B. covering the phone. “Sapphie’s not answering. I can’t reach her. I’ve left a voice message and texted.”
“Keep trying.”
Hysteria built in Issy’s voice again. “Sapphie’s in California. She can’t get here in time.”
J.B. tried to sound calm and measured, even though he’d never been so scared in his life. “I’ll be there. I’ll help you. I won’t let you do this alone.”
“Promise?”
“Definitely. How hard can it be?” He added in a singsong voice, “Pant, pant, breathe, breathe, push. Rinse and repeat.”
She let out a gasping laugh. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to—”
Issy broke off and there was a commotion on her end of the phone. “The paramedics are here. I’ve got to go.”
He didn’t want to hang up but knew he had to. “I’m on my way back to Jersey, so hang tough and do what the medics tell you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When the call disconnected, his knees gave out and he sank to his seat. He leaned over, putting his head between his knees to counteract the nausea washing over him.
She’s in good hands. She’ll be okay. He kept repeating the mantra over and over.
Slowly he lifted his head. He cleared
his throat, trying to ease the constriction tightening it. “The paramedics have her,” was all he managed to squeeze out.
The relief around him was tangible, as if the whole lounge had done a massive exhale.
Kenny strode up, his phone still to his ear. “Tracy’s got two options. A private jet can fly you to Teterboro, but it’ll take three hours minimum before they can get everything lined up. She’s started the clock on one, if you want to go that route.
“The other option is that the Pistons are flying to New York for their game against the Knicks and are wheels up in sixty minutes. If you can get to their hangar ASAP, they’ll give you a ride on Roundball One. You’ll be back in Jersey before you’ve even taken off with the other option.”
No contest. “I’ll ride with the Pistons. Tell Tracy thanks.”
Kenny gave him a thumbs-up and relayed his message. “She’ll get a team rep to escort you over there.”
J.B. stood and grabbed his bag. When he saw Dale Macarty walking toward him, J.B. realized he couldn’t just leave. He had a responsibility to the team. Crap. He hoped his coach wouldn’t stand in his way, because whether he approved it or not, J.B. was out of there.
Luckily, Macarty was understanding. “Anything you need from the organization, let me know and I’ll get Hardshaw to pull whatever strings he has to.”
The Cats’ general manager wasn’t his favorite person, but he’d walk through fire for his team. He could make things happen. “Thanks, but I think we’ve got it covered. I’ll try to get to Buffalo for the game tomorrow night, but it’ll depend on what’s happening back in Jersey.”
“Don’t worry. Do whatever you have to and get to your lady’s side. And stay there until she gets the all-clear. We’ll manage without you.” Coach gave him a half smile. “Even you’re not indispensable.”
J.B. didn’t have to think up a smart retort because a tall guy in a sport coat with a Pistons logo on the breast pocket entered the lounge. “I’ll keep you posted.”
As he followed the team rep, J.B.’s friends walked with him, in equal measure wishing him luck and giving him a hard time about flying with an NBA team.
The next few hours were kind of surreal—passing both quickly and slowly at times. The ball players welcomed him and were sympathetic about his situation, but gave him space, too. J.B. spent most of the flight silently begging the heavenly powers for Issy and their baby to be safe. If they survived, he’d do whatever it took to look after them from now on.
