“Okay, but please hurry.” It seemed a small eternity before he returned. By then she was finishing another cramp. Once he had the candles lit and the tablecloth situated beneath her, he called Dr. Nyland on his BlackBerry.
“Tell her this is Marshall Roark and my wife’s water burst,” he said to whoever had answered and didn’t want to patch him through. While waiting, he kissed Genevieve on her damp forehead. “How are you doing, babe?”
“I’m not scared if that’s what you’re wondering. I know you won’t panic.”
“We have it under control. No need to panic. Nah, I won’t panic.” Another flash and instant, earsplitting blast of thunder had Marshall burying a shuddering Genevieve against his chest. “Jeez. There went the boathouse, I suspect.”
“Or the roof. I hope Mother is keeping an eye out her window and checking for smoke here. I know the roof is fireproof, but what about—?”
Marshall held up his hand and said, “Yes, Doctor. That’s right. How close? Damned fast considering all you suggested we read. She says she was probably having mild contractions all day. But this is her first baby, and you think that means a longer labor, right?” He made a face. “Yes, it being an honor aside, she’d prefer you deliver our child.” He sighed. “Yes, Doctor, if we survive this tornado that’s in the area, I’ll put on my big-boy pants.”
Genevieve choked and he winked at her.
“Here’s Genevieve. Reassure her while I go get what else that I need.”
Once he was out of earshot, Genevieve said, “Tracy, I can’t believe you said that to him.”
“Oh, he has a good sense of humor,” Dr. Nyland replied. “It just doesn’t stretch too far where you’re concerned. You have a good man there.”
“I know it. So now tell me again what to be prepared for. Wait—another contraction is starting.”
By the time Marshall returned, the wind had picked up to gale force. Genevieve was doing the natural childbirth breathing with Dr. Nyland. Outside, something banged against the house.
“I don’t care if that’s another woman in labor trying to get inside,” Marshall muttered. “We’re booked solid.”
Genevieve managed a pained smile. “Cute. Can you help me out of these sweats? Get my short terry robe from my closet. I’m going to have to nurse after you clear the baby’s nose and mouth passages.”
He hurried to the closet and did what she asked, then assisted her into changing into it. Helping her ease onto her side for a moment, he slipped on the new gloves he’d taken from a sealed bag. After that he kissed the inside of Genevieve’s knee and checked to see if the baby’s head was showing yet. “Oh, my God—he’s got my hair!”
“Did you hear that, Tracy? Little Robert—oh!—has Marshall’s hair—oh! I have to push.”
And then it was happening. Genevieve thrust the BlackBerry at Marshall and rose up on her elbows.
“Push!” he rasped, his gaze zipping from hers to the tiny, dark head emerging from her.
Exhausted, Genevieve slumped back onto the pile of towels he’d placed for her to use instead of pillows.
“Catch your breath, my love. You’re doing beautifully. I’m getting his mouth and nose clear. Are you listening, Doc? He’s moved to his side naturally just as you said he would.”
“Marshall, I need to push again,” Genevieve groaned.
“Go ahead, darling. I have his head in my palm. Only when you’re ready.”
Genevieve was ready. Oh, she wanted this done and to hold her baby. She pushed hard and one little shoulder emerged.
“Don’t pull,” she warned him breathlessly.
“I remember, but I so want to. It’s killing me to see you suffering.”
“Hush. I have to push.” And she did.
The rest of the baby emerged wet and slick like a little seal landing on a beach.
Marshall made sure his face was clear and grinned wide when the little one uttered a lusty cry. “You want your mommy. I understand completely.”
He tenderly set the child onto Genevieve’s chest. “Our son,” he said, leaning over to kiss her gently. “Thank you, my heart.”
“Oh, he’s perfect,” she whispered.
Marshall tied the shoelace he’d found in his closet between four and six inches down the umbilical cord above the baby’s belly button. Then he helped Genevieve coax their son to her breast. Only then did he grab a washcloth and pick up the BlackBerry. “Hear that, Doc? Just waiting on the placenta. She’s starting the contractions now. Is she amazing or what?”
Once the placenta was discharged and Marshall had tied it off, too, Genevieve reminded him to finish his job. “Cut the cord now.” She’d been adamant on that even if they had given birth in the hospital. She’d loved the tales about the child having a special affinity with whoever did that.
When that was done, Marshall fell back against the bed and stared at his family with awe.
“You’re crying,” Genevieve said, reaching to brush his cheek. She had never loved him more.
New sirens sounded, bringing in the outside world. The all-safe signal. Dr. Nyland disconnected soon afterward, having informed them that the EMTs would be there at any moment and she would see them at the hospital.
The house phone started ringing before Marshall could get up to pull the drapes open and go unlock the front door. He looked at the display and said, “It’s your mother.”
“Hand me the receiver,” Genevieve said. Once he did, she clicked the green phone and said, “Hi, Grandma…Yes, during the storm.” There was a loud scream on the other end that had Genevieve moving the phone to arm’s length. “You and Bart better get here quick before the EMTs take me away,” she told her.
There was laughter and tears as the growing family looked on in wonder at their little miracle. The ambulance soon arrived and Marshall walked beside his wife and son as they wheeled her outside. The sky was clearer than ever, the sun was glorious, just as Genevieve had described to Marshall on their wedding night—but there was also a rainbow brilliant in the southeast.
“How are we ever going to tell him this story?” Marshall said as they reached the truck. He bent quickly to kiss her for the short time apart, while he followed in his car.
With one arm wrapped protectively around their son, Genevieve reached up with the other and stroked his cheek. “We’ll tell him the truth—it started with a house.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6595-4
IT STARTED WITH A HOUSE….
Copyright © 2010 by Helen R. Myers
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It Started with a House... Page 18
