by Mollie Molay
Luke turned back to Arden and spoke in an undertone. “See if you can get someone to use the PA system for a doctor or a nurse. And while you’re at it, find out if there are any medical emergency teams in the terminals tonight. As for you, Alcott, maybe you’d better call 911.”
“Oh, my!” Jenny Alcott reached for her husband’s hand as another pain gripped her. “That was one of the worst! Don’t you dare leave me, Larry!”
Her husband’s face turned as white as his wife’s wedding dress. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have gotten to a hospital by now!”
“I just thought it was false labor because of the excitement of our wedding. I didn’t want to miss our honeymoon!”
“’Gosh, Jenny. I knew we should have gone straight home after the ceremony. Maybe we still can.” Her husband looked frantic.
“Mr. Alcott,” Luke interjected as he felt a dampness spread against his knee. “I think it’s a little late for that.” He took one of Jenny Alcott’s hands in his and squeezed his reassurance. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be okay, you’ll see. At a time like this, it’s important to stay calm.”
“I know,” she answered between groans, “but it hurts!”
“It’s supposed to,” he answered gently as he remembered the big birth scene in the TV movie he’d watched a few nights ago. “Been to a Lamaze class lately?” he asked her husband.
“Sure.”
One look at the guy and Luke didn’t know who was worse off, the husband or the wife! Alcott didn’t look as if he remembered much of what he’d learned at class, either.
“Then maybe the two of you ought to begin some of those breathing exercises you’ve been practicing.”
With a nervous glance at each other, the bride and her groom set themselves to breathing in unison.
Luke removed the scarf around his neck and loosened his tie ready to go to work. He swore under his breath when the chain attached to his wrist pulled his briefcase into view. He shrugged helplessly. Helping Jenny Alcott give birth wasn’t going to be easy with that damn briefcase getting in the way. And the groom’s anxious glances at Luke’s wrist wasn’t helping.
Larry Alcott paused in midbreath. “Who are you, anyway? And what’s that around your wrist, a handcuff?” He struggled to his feet. “Maybe I ought to call 911, after all,” he said as the chain on Luke’s wrist rattled.
“No one who ought to worry you,” Luke answered as he struggled to be firm, yet compassionate. “Arden, why don’t you come over here and keep Mrs. Alcott busy?” he added wearily, noticing for the first time the small crowd of fellow travelers who had gathered around him and the Alcotts. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to be remembered for life because of that damn briefcase, and now the birth of the Alcott baby. But he didn’t have the luxury of being able to feel sorry for himself. He had a more urgent problem on his mind right now.
Arden hastily nodded and went around Luke to hold Jenny Alcott’s hand. Not that it seemed to help much, but the woman’s husband was too distracted to help. After glancing at his wife and back to Luke’s wrist, Alcott looked ready to faint
“Okay, Mr. Alcott, get in behind your wife and hold her between your legs.” He turned to the nearest onlooker. “How about someone calling 911? And maybe some of you can rig up a makeshift curtain with your raincoats and give Mrs. Alcott some privacy?”
Half a dozen travelers scrambled to help. In no time, Luke, Arden and the Alcotts were behind a screen made of raincoats, overcoats and jackets.
“Breathe! Breathe!” he instructed as he peered under the bride’s maternity dress.
“I’m trying to, dammit, but the pain keeps getting in the way,” Jenny Alcott answered. “Oh, dear, I’m sorry I said that. But—”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ve heard worse cuss words with a lot less reason,” Luke assured her. “But if it will make you feel better, go ahead.” He looked at Jenny. “Someone go and see if Airport Security can bring some emergency aid over here right away.” A helpful groom took off at a run. “Arden, think you could help me when I tell you to?”
“Of course,” she replied. “I used to volunteer at our senior retirement home.”
“Well,” Luke answered dryly. “I don’t imagine there was much of this type of activity going on over there. But in the meantime why don’t you take up a collection of clean, white handkerchiefs.”
“I can go and get some paper towels out of the rest room,” a breathless onlooker offered. “Will that help?”
“It’s better than nothing,” Luke agreed. He turned back to the Alcotts. “Breathe!”
Larry Alcott looked too frightened to move, let alone breathe.
“I am, I am,” Jenny shouted, “but it’s not helping. It still hurts!”
“Sorry,” Luke offered, thinking rapidly. “Mr. Alcott, please give your wife your leather belt to chew on. On the other hand,” he amended as he checked the progress of the birth, “it doesn’t look as if this is going to go on much longer.”
“She’s really going to have the baby right here, isn’t she?” Larry Alcott looked as if he was about to pass out. Luke didn’t blame him. He’d felt the same way when he’d helped deliver the baby down in Guatemala.
“’Looks like it,” Luke answered. He took the paper towels and placed them under Jenny. That taken care of, he took the handkerchiefs Arden had collected and made ready to put them under the straining mother when the time arrived.
“Airport Security says they’re sorry,” the breathless man who’d run for help announced. “The medics are too busy to come over right now. They’re short of staff because of the Christmas holiday and there’s more medical emergencies going on than they can handle.”
“Did you tell them there’s a woman here about to have a baby?”
“Yeah. When I described what was going on, they said to tell you that as long as you knew how to handle the birth go ahead and they’d have someone here as soon as they could.”
He knew how to handle it? Not any more than he would have known what to do in a tropical jungle without the old lady’s help.
Jenny Alcott groaned again and strained against her husband.
“Wait a minute,” Luke told the panting mother. “Don’t push just yet. Not until I tell you to.”
“What do you mean, don’t push?” she shouted. “I can’t stop!”
“I can see the baby’s head,” Luke finally announced. “When you feel the next pain, then you can push.”
He could feel Arden tense at his side. “Ever seen a baby born before?” he asked.
“No. And it’s not something anyone I know talks about, either,” she whispered.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be watching this. Why don’t you just concentrate on keeping the briefcase out of the way?”
“I will, but I want to watch,” she answered, her voice soft and shaken. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
The awe in her voice decided Luke. If Arden was strong enough to witness a child being born, maybe she was strong enough to see herself through her dreams for the future. And maybe, for her, this was her first adventure. As for himself, he would have been willing to forgo this one.
“Okay, you can stay, but see if you can keep that damn briefcase out of my way.” He turned back to Jenny Alcott.
“There, that’s enough,” he announced a few minutes later. “The baby is being born right… about…now! It’s a boy!” He busied himself wrapping the little guy in the handkerchiefs Arden had rounded up.
A cheer went up from the crowd. Someone shouted, “Merry Christmas!”
The father took one look at the bloodied infant and promptly fainted.
“What are you going to do with my husband?” Jenny Alcott asked, reaching for her new son and gazing down at her groom.
“Forget the poor guy for now.” Luke laughed, looking down at the prone man. “He’s probably better off out of it. For that matter, you are, too.”
Luke turned to Arden. “You can let
go of the briefcase for now. How about getting the shoestring off my shoe?”
“Shoestring? What in heaven’s name are you going to do with a shoestring at a time like this?”
“Never mind,” he answered. “Just do it. I’ll explain later.”
He wiped off the squalling infant with the donated handkerchiefs, grinning as he dodged flailing tiny arms and legs. Poor little guy, he didn’t like the public attention he was getting any more than Luke did.
When Arden handed him the shoestring, Luke tied the baby’s umbilical cord in two places. He took his pocket knife out of his pants pocket and cut the cord in between the two knots. He swore under his breath at the damn briefcase hanging from his wrist that was driving him nuts.
“What’s going on here?” A security officer pushed his way to the front of the crowd and eyed Luke. “Oh, it’s you again?”
“Yeah,” Luke replied with a wry shrug of his shoulders. “Although I’d much rather it would have been someone else.”
The officer took in the situation at a glance, extracted his cellular phone and called for help. “Someone ought to be here soon. Got everything in hand?”
“Almost. Arden, how about getting me that bottle of champagne over there?”
“Champagne?” the officer questioned. “Isn’t it a little too soon to start toasting the little guy?”
“Not yet,” Luke assured him. “I have a better use for it.”
“You’re not going to drink it?” a horrified Arden asked.
“No, but it’s not a bad idea,” Luke muttered. “Right now the champagne will work as an antiseptic until we can get a real one.”
“Wait a minute!” The revived groom stirred, sat up and looked around. “Did I hear you say I have a son?”
“Sure do,” Luke said, wiping his hands off with a clean handkerchief. “Looks like a big, healthy one, at that.”
“Jenny!” Larry sprang to his feet and rushed to his wife’s side. “You okay?”
“Yes, honey,” his happy wife answered. “And so is your new son.” She held him up for her husband to see.
The new father turned to Luke. “What did you say your name was?”
“Luke McCauley.” Luke answered before he realized what the question could mean: newspaper headlines trumpeting a Christmas miracle at JFK! At the rate things were going, he would have enough notoriety to put him on the front page of every daily paper.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Alcott said effusively, trying to shake Luke’s hand. “I’d like to name my son after you.”
“Thanks,” Luke replied, gathering up his scarf and tie. “But I already have a namesake.” Down in Guatemala. He didn’t need another. In fact, he was considering changing his name. Everyone in the state of New York would know it over their morning coffee.
“How about calling him Noel?” Arden suggested as she glanced at her wristwatch. “It’s past midnight. Today is Christmas.”
“I’d like that.” Jenny Alcott beamed. “We’ll call the baby Noel Lawrence Alcott, if you’re sure you don’t want us to call him after you, Mr. McCauley. I want to thank you, and your wife, too.”
Wife? Luke cast an eye at a shaken but happy Arden. A simple impulse was rapidly turning into a marriage!
The medical crew arrived in time to prevent Arden from answering. Just as well, she thought, eyeing a weary Luke. The last thing he appeared to want was a wife. And the last thing she wanted was a husband, fake or not. She would stay out of his way as long as he stayed out of hers.
“Here we are, better late than never!” a cheery voice announced. Two airport emergency medics arrived with a wheelchair and medical kits. A quick check told them nature had taken its course, with a little bit of help from Luke.
“Looks like one of you did a great job! Who’s the hero?”
“He is!” A dozen fingers pointed to Luke.
“Congratulations, it looks as if you’ve done quite a job for an amateur. We’ll have someone along in a few minutes to take a report. In the meantime we’ll take the lady and the baby to the hospital for a checkup. Who’s the father?”
Larry Alcott identified himself, gathered up their belongings and, with a happy wave, followed the medics.
“How did you know what to do?” Arden asked Luke as they made their way to the rest rooms to clean up.
“Don’t ask,” he answered. “This is the sort of experience I’d just as soon forget.”
“But you have done this before, haven’t you?”
“Arden,” he said just as he entered the men’s room. “Leave it alone. The less you know about me, the better.”
Chapter Eight
Six feet of blue uniform, gleaming badge and a nasty smile: Airport Security again! This one waited for him at the door to the rest room when he made his exit. Luke shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was damn tired of the whole mess.
“Your wife told me I could find you here,” the man said with a twist of his mouth when he said wife. “I’ll need some information from you for a report.”
“Report? What kind of report?” Luke rapidly searched his memory. He’d already filled out all the necessary declarations when he’d turned in the gun he’d pick up at his destination. As for the stolen luggage caper, Arden had taken care of that. What kind of report did the City of New York want from him now?
“We need to make out a report about the kid you helped bring into the world,” the guard said with a smirk.
The baby? “Jenny Alcott brought it into the world. All I did was be there for her when there wasn’t anyone else around to handle it,” Luke answered. He was trying to be patient, but enough was enough. For a bachelor and an amateur in the maternity world at that, helping little Noel into the world was two kids too many.
“Still, it was you, wasn’t it?”
Luke wasn’t sure which unlucky star he’d been born under, but it looked as if it was positioned firmly over his head. At the rate things were going, if the guard chose to follow the rules, he could be arrested for practicing medicine without a license.
“Yes,” Luke answered, resigned to the inevitable. “Now, what’s this about a wife?”
“The little lady back there.” With a frown, the security guard gestured to where Arden was hovering in the background.
“Oh, that wife,” Luke answered. In all the excitement of delivering Noel he’d forgotten the agreement he’d made with Arden to pass as husband and wife for the duration. In spite of playing at being her groom all night, he hadn’t quite gotten around to thinking of himself as her husband.
There was no denying he hadn’t been able to cool the growing attraction between them. It presented a complication he had to face, the sooner the better. Not only was the charade cramping his style, pretending to be her husband wasn’t fair to Arden. What if she took the whole thing seriously?
A skeptical look crossed the guard’s face. “Haven’t been married long enough to remember you have a wife?”
Hell! Luke recognized a snide remark when he heard it. Somehow, he’d managed to add more fuel to the man’s suspicions. Namely, who Luke was and what he was doing here. Just his luck! A quick glance at the frowning guard’s left hand told Luke the guy was married.
“Hardly,” Luke joked when what he really wanted to do was punch the guy out. Not just him—he was tired and disgusted enough to take on anyone who crossed him. He gritted his teeth and made a show of glancing at his watch. “It hasn’t even been twentyfours hours since I gave up my freedom. Hell, as a married man, you ought to know what I mean!”
“Yeah, I guess so.” The man’s reluctant smile was faint, but Luke knew he’d hit the guy where it hurt. “I’ve been married to the same woman for thirty-five years and it took ten of them to get used to having a wife,” the man said ruefully. “Give yours a little time and she’ll never let you forget her again.”
Luke nodded politely.
“Say, about that briefcase you have chained to your wrist…”
Luk
e closed his eyes. If he didn’t get rid of that damn briefcase pretty soon, he was going to hit the next guy who had a smart remark to make. Except that he’d probably land in jail. No matter how he cut it, he couldn’t wait for the night to end so he could be on his way.
“Didn’t anyone tell you they don’t use handcuffs anymore?”
“Sure,” Luke replied wearily and took a firmer grip on the briefcase handle. If the smirking guard kept that up, he was minutes away from having the damn briefcase wrapped around his neck. “Everyone keeps giving me the bad news. But it’s not me you have to convince, it’s the company that chained me to the damn thing.”
“Sounds as if they’ve been watching too many old cops-and-robbers movies, have they? Either that,” he added with a sharp look, “or they don’t trust you.”
“Don’t worry, it’s never going to happen again.” In the interest of peace, Luke ignored the warning dig. “I have a feeling this is going to be my last job. Now, what can I do for you?”
“I’m going to have to get some information from you for the record.” The guard handed Luke a clipboard and a pen. “Just routine, won’t take more than a minute.”
Routine. Like hell. Luke had been around long enough to know the authorities wanted to check his signature against the form he’d filled out to get a license to carry a gun and again when he’d checked it through to Cancún. And just maybe they wanted to pick up a fingerprint or two while they were at it.
Cancún and other faraway places were becoming more attractive by the minute.
He filled in the required lines the man indicated, wincing as he signed his name. He’d used a number of aliases in his career, maybe he should have been using one of them to start with instead of his own name. So much for the anonymity he needed. “Anything else?”
“Nope,” the man said, carefully pocketing the pen Luke had used. “Merry Christmas!”
“You, too,” Luke replied in a grim voice as he headed straight for Arden.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar figure, a man he’d worked with recently. The guy had been lurking outside the Majestic back office when the briefcase had been handcuffed to Luke’s wrist
