A Piece of Texas Trilogy

by Peggy Moreland

  Satisfied that the fluids were transferring at the proper rate, Marjorie took Addy’s hand and held it between her own. “He’s on his way.”

  Addy gulped again. “He better hurry.”

  Her expression sympathetic, Marjorie stroked Addy’s damp hair back from her face. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re a long way from delivering.”

  Groaning, Addy closed her eyes. “I can’t be. The pain is already unbearable.” She opened her eyes and looked at Marjorie, tears blurring her friend’s image. “You’d tell me if something was wrong with the baby, wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course I would,” Marjorie assured her.

  Addy searched her friend’s face, trying to determine if she was telling the truth or just saying that to keep Addy from becoming more upset. Unsure, she looked away. “You should go back down to Emergency. You’re on duty.”

  Marjorie glanced toward the door and worried her lip. “I really should. There was a bus wreck on the interstate. The call came in just before I came up to check on you.”

  Addy pulled her hand from Marjorie’s. “Then go. They need you more than I do.”

  “But I hate leaving you alone,” Marjorie fretted.

  “I’ll be okay. Really.”

  “I’ll call Mack,” Marjorie said, already digging in her pocket for her cell phone. “He gave me his number and said for me to let him know if there was a change in your condition.”

  “No, please,” Addy begged. “He’s done enough for me already. Promise you won’t call him.”

  Marjorie eyed Addy stubbornly for a moment, then sagged her shoulders in defeat. “Oh, all right,” she said, and shoved the phone into her pocket. “I’ll come back and check on you again as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks, Marjorie.”

  Addy waited until the door closed behind her friend, then covered her face with her hands and gave in to the tears that had threatened since her labor had started again. She couldn’t lose her baby, prayed God would keep it safe. She wanted this baby so badly, needed it. In spite of all the sacrifices she would have to make to support and care for it, she wanted this baby to live.

  And while she was praying, she added a thanks for Mack’s unexpected appearance at her house and the steps he’d taken to protect her baby’s life.

  Even as the prayer formed, she lowered her hands from her face and frowned, wondering about Mack and realizing that, although she’d asked him his name, she’d failed to ask him why he’d been at her house.

  There were any number of plausible explanations, she reminded herself. He could be a bill collector or a solicitor. Her frown deepened. But that didn’t make sense, as she didn’t have any outstanding bills and solicitors were prohibited in her neighborhood. She supposed he might have become lost and simply stopped to ask directions, which wasn’t unusual, as her neighborhood was made up of a tangle of streets that baffled even the most gifted map reader.

  Whatever his reason, she thought, dismissing her concerns as unnecessary considering his kindness to her, she wished he was still with her. She knew it was stupid, foolish even, to yearn for someone she didn’t even know. But while he’d been with her, both at her house and in Emergency, she’d felt safe, more in control, better capable of handling the pain, of facing whatever happened. Not so alone.

  She opened her hands to look at them, remembering how sure his grip had felt on hers, how firmly he’d held her hand. How strong he’d seemed, so in control. He didn’t even know her, yet he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital, stayed with her, even offered to call her mother.

  Why couldn’t she have fallen for a guy like Mack? she asked herself miserably. She bet he wouldn’t have stolen from her or lied to her as Ty had done. And he probably wouldn’t have run the way Ty had when she’d told him she was pregnant.

  Gulping back the regret that crowded her throat, she closed her eyes and willed her body to relax and her mind to clear, knowing she had to keep her thoughts focused so that she could deal with the next pain when it came.

  There’d be plenty of time for regrets later.

  A thick band of clouds blocked what light the moon might have offered, leaving the interstate a black ribbon that stretched for miles and miles in the darkness. But Mack didn’t mind the darkness or the lack of traffic he encountered. In fact, he welcomed it. It gave him time to think.

  And Adrianna Rocci—or Addy, as her friend had called her—had given him a lot to think about.

  An unplanned pregnancy. An irresponsible boyfriend. A mother who ranked right up there with Joan Crawford on the nurturing scale. And now her baby’s life was in jeopardy. How much more could the woman take, before she snapped?

  It wasn’t right, he told himself. No one should have to go through something like this alone. She should have a husband or, at the very least, family with her to offer emotional and physical support. Hell, the woman was going to be all but tied to a bed for the next six weeks! Who would take care of her house? Get her mail? Pay her bills? Who would sit with her to help pass the time? Hold her hand when she was scared? Stand at her side during the birth?

  He narrowed his eyes at the dark highway ahead, wishing he could get his hands on Ty. Castration came to mind as sufficient punishment, but even that seemed too kind. Getting a woman pregnant, then abandoning her…It just wasn’t right. Yet that was Ty’s style. Hit and run, love ’em and leave ’em, that was his standard modus operandi. In Mack’s estimation, Ty was immature, irresponsible and a royal pain in the ass. Unfortunately, women seemed to find him irresistible. And why wouldn’t they? he asked himself. Ty was a good-looking man, smooth talking, fun loving. It was in the integrity department that he came up short. Just like his old man.

  Mack scowled at the reminder of his stepfather. Jacob Bodean was nothing but a two-bit con artist out trolling for a free ride, when he’d met Mack’s mother. Recently widowed and still grieving over the loss of her husband, his mother had been an easy mark for a scumball like Jacob. Playing on her weakened emotional state, within two months Jacob had sweet-talked her into marrying him. Another fourteen months and Ty had been born.

  It had taken Mack’s mother six years—and the loss of a large chunk of the fortune Mack’s father had left her—before she’d figured out that Jacob was only interested in her money and was going through it as fast as he could write checks. It had cost her another chunk of money to get rid of him and to win custody of Ty. Mack often wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off washing her hands of them both.

  But Ty is blood, he told himself, as his mother had often reminded him and, like it or not, he was now Mack’s responsibility. On her deathbed, his mother had made him promise that he would look after his half brother. The trust fund she’d set up for Ty prior to her death, naming Mack as executor, had added a legal obligation to the moral one he’d already assumed.

  Both had been stretched mighty thin over the years.

  Mack had bailed Ty out of more trouble than he cared to think about and was sick and damn tired of mopping up a grown man’s messes. For God’s sake, he thought, his anger with his half brother building. Ty was thirty-four years old! It was past time for him to settle down and take care of his own damn mistakes.

  Mack drew in a long breath and slowly released it, telling himself that working up a steam over Ty wasn’t going to help Addy’s situation. And Addy definitely needed help.

  He patted his shirt pocket, remembering the check he’d planned to offer her, in hopes of buying Ty’s way out of yet another paternity suit, if that’s what she’d had in mind. But after finding her lying on the floor already in labor, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to broach the subject. How could he, when she was worried sick she might lose her baby?

  But he had to do something, he told himself. He couldn’t just leave her hanging out there alone. She’d seemed like a nice person, nothing at all like the other women Ty associated with, who had greedily snatched up the money he had offered them. Yet, what options di
d Mack have other than to offer her money? He sure as hell couldn’t force Ty to do the honorable thing and marry the woman and give the baby his name. Even if he could, he certainly wouldn’t be doing Addy any favors, saddling her with a man like Ty.

  His cell phone rang, and he quickly plucked it from the console, where he’d laid it, and flipped it open. “Mack,” he said.

  “This is Marjorie Johnson. The nurse from the Emergency Room?”

  He tensed at the hesitancy in the woman’s voice, knowing the call had to be about Addy. “Has something happened to Addy?”

  “Her labor started again. The doctor says he can’t stop it this time. I wanted to stay with her, but I’m on duty and don’t get off for another five hours.”

  He glanced at the illuminated clock on the dash and quickly calculated the time. “I can be there in less than two.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she said in relief, then added in a rush, “But please don’t tell her that I called. When I suggested it, she insisted that I not bother you. Said you’d done enough for her already.”

  He saw an exit sign up ahead, and took it.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Mack headed straight for Labor and Delivery and the room number the attendant at the information desk had given him.

  The room he entered was larger than the tiny cubicle he’d left her in during her stay in the ER. There was also more equipment on hand, all of which was humming and blinking, busily monitoring her vital signs as well as those of her baby.

  She lay facing the dark window, her back to him. From his vantage point, if he hadn’t known better, he would never have suspected she was pregnant. Her shoulders and hips appeared slim beneath the bedcovers, her waist a shallow dip between the two.

  He thought for a moment that she was asleep, then heard a low groan and watched as her fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. He waited until they slowly relaxed, then said quietly, “Addy?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes widened in surprise. Shifting awkwardly to her back, she stretched out a hand. “Mack.”

  Her voice was no more than a whisper, but the relief in it resonated through him and settled somewhere near his heart. He crossed to the bed and gripped her hand within his.

  “I thought you were going home,” she said.

  “I was,” he admitted, then shrugged. “Decided I didn’t want to miss the birthday party.”

  She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Did Marjorie call you?”

  Mindful of his promise, he avoided her question by asking one of his own. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “I’m scared, Mack. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  He chafed her hand between his. “Everything’s going to be all right.” He tipped his head toward the row of equipment and teased her with a smile. “Hell, there’s enough technology in this room to send a man to the moon and back. Getting a baby here safely ought to be a snap.”

  She glanced toward the machines and winced. “It does seem a bit much, doesn’t it?”

  “What I want to know is, do all patients get this kind of preferential treatment or is it reserved for hospital employees?”

  She laughed softly. “Since I’ve never been a patient, I wouldn’t know.”

  She opened her mouth to say something more, then slammed her eyes shut and emitted a low groan.

  He tightened his fingers around hers. “Another pain?”

  Her teeth gritted, she nodded.

  He racked his brain, trying to remember the techniques he’d learned in the Lamaze classes he’d attended with his wife. “Look at me,” he ordered.

  She opened her eyes and fixed them on his.

  “Breathe slowly,” he instructed. “Work with the pain, not against it.”

  He kept his gaze on hers while she hauled in a deep breath, released it, drew in another. Unconsciously he matched his breathing to hers, while he waited for the pain to pass. After what seemed like hours, her grip on his hand slowly relaxed and she released a long shuddery breath.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She wet her lips, nodded. “They’re coming faster now. Harder.”

  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing just fine. A couple more like that one, and I’ll bet that baby will be here in no time.”

  “I’m going to hold you to—”

  Her eyes went wide, her body rigid.

  Without thinking, he laid a hand on her stomach and felt the tautness beneath his palm and knew she was already having another contraction. “Relax,” he soothed, and began stroking his palm over her stomach.

  Eyes wild, she fought him, struggling to escape his hold on her, as well as the pain.

  He clamped down hard on her hand, refusing to let go. “Look at me, Addy,” he ordered sternly. “Focus. We can do this.”

  She shook her head wildly. “Maybe you can, but I can’t. It hurts!”

  “It won’t last forever.” He increased the pressure on her hand. “Come on, Addy. Look at me. Focus.”

  She opened her eyes and bared her teeth. “I hate you,” she snarled. “You’re mean and hateful and I wish you’d get the hell out of here and leave me alone.”

  Mack ignored her, knowing it was the pain talking. His wife had hurled similar accusations at him—and worse—while giving birth.

  “Hate me all you want,” he told her, “but I’m staying. We’re going to get through this. Together. Now breathe.”

  She tried to wrench her hand away, then jackknifed to a sitting position, her eyes wide, her fingers clamped around his hard enough to crush bone. “It’s coming!” she screamed. “Oh, God, get the nurse. The baby’s coming!”

  Mack grabbed the remote control clipped to the bed rail and punched the call button. Within seconds the door opened and a nurse strode into the room. She took one look at Addy’s face and shouldered Mack aside, taking his place beside the bed.

  “How far apart are the contractions?” she asked, as she checked Addy’s pulse.

  Mack dragged a shaky hand down his face, more than happy to relinquish control to the nurse. “Less than a minute.”

  The door opened again and a doctor sauntered in. “How’s my favorite patient?”

  Mack burned him with a look. “How do you think?” he snapped impatiently. “She’s hurting like hell and needs something for the pain.”

  “No!” Addy cried and fell back against the pillows, holding her hands protectively over her stomach. “No drugs. I’m doing this naturally.”

  The doctor looked at Mac and shrugged as if to say “you heard the woman,” then stepped to the end of the bed and lifted the sheet to visibly check her progress.

  “The head’s crowned,” he reported, then dropped the sheet and strode to the sink, his steps quicker now, his expression all business. As he squirted disinfectant on his hands, he glanced Mack’s way. “If you’re the father, you’ll need to scrub up. Otherwise—” he tipped his head toward the door “—the waiting room’s at the end of the hall.”

  Addy lunged, managing to catch Mack’s sleeve. He glanced back and saw the fear in her eyes, the pleading. He set his jaw, knowing there was no way in hell he could leave her to face this birth alone.

  “Where do I scrub?”

  Mack sat in the chair by the window, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his head tipped back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling. Though exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing, his body charged with adrenaline…and all because of the tiny bit of humanity, swaddled in a blue blanket and sleeping peacefully in the bassinet across the room.

  He dropped his chin to look in that direction, and his heart did a slow flip. A boy, he thought, and had to swallow back the emotion that filled his throat, weighing in at a fraction over five pounds but healthy as a horse and with a set of lungs to prove it. Though there had been concerns that the baby wouldn’t be fully developed,
he’d passed all the tests like a champ, and wouldn’t have to spend any time in an incubator, as most preemies were required to do.

  Unable to resist, he heaved himself from the chair and crossed to peer down at the baby. Bundled up snug in the blue blanket, only the infant’s face was visible, revealing rosy cheeks and a nose no bigger than a button. Dark fuzz covered his head, but Mack knew from experience that he’d probably lose it and what grew back might be a different color entirely. His own son’s hair had been coal-black at birth, but by the age of two, it was cotton white. He wondered what color it would’ve been if he’d lived?

  Stifling a groan, he dropped his chin to his chest. He didn’t want to think about his son. Not now. Remembering made him hurt, and Mack had hurt for too many years.

  Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and stared hard, until he succeeded in shoving back the memory and was able to bring the baby into focus again.

  His smile wistful, he reached to smooth the back of his fingers over the baby’s cheek, marveling at its softness, the miniature features.

  “You’re one lucky guy,” he whispered to the sleeping infant. “You’ve got a helluva mother. Even when the pain was really bad, she wouldn’t let them give her anything to ease it, for fear it would hurt you.” He smoothed a knuckle across the baby’s opposite cheek. “Trust me. That kind of love is a rare thing.”

  The baby scrunched up his face, as if preparing to cry.

  “Whoa, now,” Mack warned and quickly lifted the baby from the bassinet. “None of that. You don’t want to wake up your mom, now, do you?”

  Cradling the baby in his arms, he tiptoed back to the chair and eased down. The infant yawned, rooted around a moment, then settled back to sleep, holding one hand curled in a fist against his cheek.

  Mack stared at the infant, and his heart seemed to stop, then kicked into a pounding beat. The baby’s coloring and features mimicked those of his son so closely, he could be Mack’s child. Unable to tear his gaze away, he stared, his heart thundering against his rib cage, as he wondered if this baby was an answer to the problem that had been troubling him lately.