“Okay.”
“Do you need a hand?” I ask as she swings her legs over the bed.
“No, I’m okay.”
“All right. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I go to my room, strap Spike into his chair, then take the dogs through to the conservatory. I leave the back door open for them, and give them water and a biscuit. If I end up being a while, I’ll ring Leon and ask him to call in and check on them.
Moving as quickly as I can without panicking, I ring the midwife, and she says we’re doing the right thing, and to meet her at the hospital. After that, I collect Abby’s bag from where we keep it by the coats, add some water and a few snacks, and place it with my keys by the front door. Then I go to my bedroom to get dressed.
I’m just choosing a T-shirt when I hear her calling my name. I pull it on, run down the corridor to her room, find it empty, and realize she’s in the bathroom. I open the door and my eyebrows rise as I see her sitting on the edge of the bath. Her nightie is soaked, and there’s water on the floor. “My waters broke.” As she speaks, she puts her hand on her bump and groans, doubling over.
“Well that answers that question,” I say, pulling some towels down from the shelf. “You’re definitely in labor.” I lay the towels on the floor to mop up the liquid, then go into the bedroom. I open her wardrobe and rifle through the chest of drawers. “Where are your nighties?” I call out.
“I don’t have any others.”
I sigh and go back into the bathroom. She straightens, her wet nightdress clinging to her thighs. Her face is pale. I take out my phone, open the stopwatch, and start it going. Then I remove my clean T-shirt and pass it to her. “Take off your nightie and put this on.”
She takes it without a word. I go out into the bedroom and wait for her to come out, pacing the floor. How far is it to Kawakawa? Thirty minutes or so, maybe twenty if I drive fast. It’s her first child… surely she’s got hours to go yet?
She comes out, wearing my T-shirt. “That’s sweet of you,” she says. “I’m so sorry to be so much trouble.”
“Hardly. We knew this was going to happen at some point.”
“Yes, but—” She stops and doubles over. “Oh God.”
I help her to the bed, and then take out my phone again. It’s only been three minutes since her last contraction. Holy fuck.
I sit beside her and hold her as the contraction takes her. My heart is racing. When she finally stops, I say, “Abby, they’re only three minutes apart. You don’t have time to go to the hospital.”
She looks up at me, wide-eyed. “No, you’re wrong. First babies take hours to come.”
“Yes, but your waters have broken. Your contractions are three minutes apart. If we leave now, you could end up giving birth in the car.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean this to happen.”
“It’s okay.”
“I can’t give birth here. After everything you’ve been through…”
“Don’t think about that.”
“You don’t deserve this. I shouldn’t have come here…”
“Abby!” I speak firmly enough that it makes her blink. “Stop it. Babies come when they’re ready, and Peanut happens to be ready now. I’m going to ring the midwife again and tell her to come here. Then we’ll start getting ready, okay?”
“Okay.”
I ring the midwife. I walk out as I do, trying to calm my own breathing. The last thing Abby needs is for me to panic.
“Oh dear,” Claire, the midwife, says brightly. “It looks as if it’s going to be a precipitate labor.”
“Precipitate?”
“Fast, Noah, dear.”
“But it’s her first baby.”
“Doesn’t matter. It happens to about two in every hundred women. How has she been feeling?”
“She had backache all day yesterday, and she said it’s been getting worse for a few hours.”
“She’s probably been in labor since yesterday, then, and just didn’t realize it. It’s likely to happen fast now. Typical—I’m nearly at Kawakawa. Okay, I’m turning around, but I’m going to be about twenty minutes.”
“You’ll be able to get here in time, won’t you?”
“Hopefully. But get ready just in case. Do you have some kind of waterproof sheet for the bed?”
“Yes, I can find something.”
“Hot water, lots of towels. Keep Abby moving around if she wants to. Be guided by her. Try to keep her calm.”
“Who’s going to keep me calm?” I try to joke, although my heart’s banging like a bass drum.
“Aw,” Claire says, “you’re going to do just fine.” We had a long chat last time she was here, and I told her about Lisa, and the strange situation with Abby. To her credit, she didn’t bat an eyelid. I guess she’s seen all kinds of things in her time as a midwife.
“Remember,” she says, “if she feels the urge to push, she’s ready to give birth. She might get a bit tearful at this point and say she needs help or that she can’t do it—that just means she’s in transition. Reassure her and tell her she’s going to be fine. A woman’s body is made for this, Noah. The baby is the right way up and everything looked fine last time I saw her. It’s going to go smooth as. If it all happens before I get there, just do the best you can. Get her to pant to slow down the urge to push. And don’t worry.”
“Okay.” I can hear Abby groaning again. “She’s having another contraction.”
“Go and get ready, then. You can ring me anytime; I’ll be on speakerphone. And I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Should I ring for an ambulance?”
“I’ll do that, but I’ll probably get there before it. There’s been a bad accident near Kaikohe, and I’m guessing the emergency services have their hands full.”
“All right. Speak later.” I hang up.
I stand in the corridor for a moment. I can hear Abby breathing hard as the contraction grips her. My feet are frozen to the floor.
The baby’s coming. Oh Jesus. I can’t do this. I think I’m the one who’s in transition. How the hell can I cope with this? I can’t deliver a baby. My heart is going at a million miles an hour. I feel the way I do when I’m on the doorstep, trying to take a step into the outside world. I think of Lisa, of my own baby daughter who never took a breath, and my stomach clenches in fear.
Panic overwhelms me. Holy shit. What am I going to do?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abigail
The contraction passes, leaving in its wake a swell of panic. Oh God. I can’t give birth here, on my own, in Noah’s home. I can’t expect him to help me. His wife died giving birth to his child. His baby died. The last thing he’s going to want is to be there for me. Could I screw this up any more than I already have?
I’m sure he’s trying to work out how he can extricate himself from this event without hurting my feelings. I bet he’s cursing the day he invited me into his home. I should never have come here. I should have walked into the sea at Paihia and let it carry me away…
“Right.” His voice makes me jump. He strides into the room with an armful of items. Glancing around, he goes over to the table by the window, plonks the items on it, and pulls it across the floor to the bed. “Time to get ready.” He turns to me and puts his hands on his hips.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should never have come here.”
“Rubbish.” He speaks gently, but he’s brisk and businesslike. “It was Murphy’s Law this was going to happen. I should have prepared for it. Anyway, we’ll be ready when it happens. Stand up, and I’ll put this waterproof sheet on the bed.”
He’s trying to be kind, but I know he must be hating this. I meet his eyes, and then I burst into tears.
I wait for him to exclaim impatiently, to roll his eyes, or to walk away in anger. I should have known better. He just gives a wry smile and says, “Textbook transition,” and comes and sits next to me. “Hey.” He takes my hand in his. �
�I know it’s scary, but everything’s going to be okay. You hear me?”
“I can’t do this,” I sob.
“Yes you can.”
“It hurts too much. I want pain relief. I want an epidural.”
He sighs. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the pain women go through when having a baby. I know this isn’t ideal, and you must be terrified. But your body is made to get that baby out, and we’re going to do it together. Do you hear me?”
I look up at him as the contraction eases. His eyes are calm.
“I don’t want your first view of between my legs to have a baby’s head sticking out,” I wail.
That makes him laugh. “There’s not much we can do about that now.” He kisses my hand. “None of that matters, Abby. Nothing matters except getting Peanut in your arms, okay? This is more important than me and you. This is about a new life, about your baby boy. I’ve never admired anyone more than I admire you at the moment. I’m just crazy about you, and nothing is going to change that, including what happens over the next hour or so. Okay?”
His gaze is warm; I think he really means it.
Then another contraction hits me, and I double up in pain.
“Easy now,” he says. “Hold my hand. We don’t have any pain relief, so we’re going to have to manage this with breathing techniques.”
I suppose I should be annoyed with his use of ‘we’—he’s hardly the one trying to push a space hopper through a hole the size of a fifty-cent coin. But I like it. I don’t have to go through this alone. He’s going to be with me all the way, even though I have no doubt he’s scared shitless. And suddenly I realize I don’t care that he’s going to see me at my most ungainly and awkward. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what happens in the future. Right now, I need him, and he’s here, at my side, holding my hand, the best friend I’ve ever had.
I breathe with him, exhaling with a low groan each time, which somehow seems to help. The contraction releases me, and immediately he has me on my feet so he can spread the waterproof sheet over the bed. He tosses the duvet aside, covers the waterproof sheet with a cotton sheet and then a big bath towel, and places more towels on the side. Then he comes back to me and pulls me into his arms.
“You’re so brave,” he says, holding me tightly. “This is going to be amazing.”
“I’m scared,” I tell him.
“There’s no need. I’m here.”
He doesn’t leave my side. For the next ten minutes, as the contractions come, he holds my hand, getting me to look in his eyes as I breathe, keeping me calm. In between, I walk around the room, changing positions, trying to get comfortable, but it’s impossible. The contractions are coming one after the other, one long, unbearable ache.
I sit on the edge of the bed and try to breathe through the next one, but this sensation is new and overbearing. “Noah?”
“You’re doing great,” he says.
“I want to push. Oh God. It can’t be coming now, can it?”
“I think so. Peanut’s desperate to meet you! Are you ready to see your baby, Abby?”
I lean back, trying not to panic. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” Noah says calmly. How is he so calm? “Do you want to move up onto the bed?”
“No, I want to stay here.”
“All right.” He gets the towels from the bed and spreads a couple on the floor. “We’ll stay here.” He kneels between my legs. “We need to do this as slowly as we can. I know you need to push, but keep breathing, panting if you can, to try to slow it down.”
The urge to bear down is incredible, but I pant with him, feeling his hands on my tummy and legs, stroking and soothing.
“Easy now,” he says. “You’re doing great.”
I have no idea how much time has passed… Where’s the midwife and the ambulance? Outside, there’s a blush of light on the horizon—dawn’s coming… Ohhh… the pain is incredible… I can’t believe so many women have gone through this over the last few million years…
“Keep going, sweetheart,” Noah says firmly.
I breathe out, moaning softly, conscious that my body has taken over, and there’s nothing I can do to stop this…
“I can see his head!” Noah’s voice seems to come from far away. “He’s got dark hair, Abby! He’s nearly here. Keep going.”
My body bears down… I’m never going to be able to do this… Oh God the pain…
And then Noah says urgently, “Stop, Abby, pant, pant,” and I screw up my nose and pant… And I can feel his hands, turning the baby and guiding his shoulders out… And then all of a sudden the pain vanishes, and I collapse back onto the bed, exhausted. I’ve done it. The baby’s out.
I lift up onto my elbows. Noah has him wrapped in a towel, and I watch, stunned, as he hooks his little finger into the baby’s mouth to clear it, then rubs him with the towel… The baby coughs and takes a deep breath, and a wail fills the room…
Tears pour down Noah’s face. He lifts the baby onto my chest. “You did it, Abby.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“Are you sure?”
He opens the towel to show me the baby’s tiny arms and legs, the ten fingers and toes, and the bits and pieces that confirm it’s a boy. “He’s perfect. You’ve got a son, Abby. You did it!”
“We did it.” I’m crying now, too. “Oh my God, he’s beautiful.”
“He is. He’s amazing. You’re amazing. I can’t believe you did it.”
The baby stirs in my arms, opening and closing his fingers. He has a tiny nose and a thatch of dark hair. It’s my son. I have a baby boy.
I look up at Noah, who wipes a hand over his face and gives me a shaky smile. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you so much.”
He leans forward and gives me a long, luscious kiss. “I love you,” he says.
My head spins. What? He moves back and I open my mouth to reply, but at that moment he gets up as the midwife appears at the door.
“Abby!” Claire comes through, beaming with delight at the sight of the baby in my arms. “You did it!”
“I did. Look! He’s so beautiful.”
“He is. You clever girl.” She kisses my cheek, then turns and reaches up to kiss Noah. “Well done, lad.”
“Easy as,” he says, although when he runs a hand through his hair, I can see it’s shaking.
“You’ve done absolutely amazing,” Claire tells him. “Now why don’t you go and make us all a cup of tea, and I’ll make sure everything’s fine here.”
He nods and gives me a last glance before he backs out of the door and disappears.
Claire looks at me and smiles. “Come on then, love. Let’s check you out.” She guides the baby’s mouth to my breast, explaining that if he nurses, it’ll help deliver the placenta, and cuts the cord. She checks me out and delivers the placenta, then helps me up and onto the bed so I can lean back on the pillows.
“Nice T-shirt,” she says with a wink.
“It’s Noah’s,” I say unnecessarily. “I didn’t have a spare when my waters broke.”
“I’m glad he was here to help you.”
“He was amazing.” I think of what he said just before Claire came in, after he kissed me. I love you. Was he just caught up in the moment? Full of emotion considering what happened to Lisa and his own baby? Or did he mean it?
There’s no time to ask him. The paramedics turn up at that point, and they spend five minutes talking to Claire and making sure I’m comfortable before deciding they’re not needed and heading off. Noah brings me a cup of tea and a couple of slices of toast, then starts ringing everyone, telling them the news. Later, he tells me he’s also rung Tom, who was pleased it went well, and wishes me the best. I’m happy with that. Maybe in the future, he might want to play a part in Peanut’s life, but for now I’m relieved he’s gone.
Claire does all the regular checks on the baby, declares he’s doing well, and runs me a bath. I soak for a little while, c
leaning myself up, as she sits beside me, holding the baby and chatting.
“Everything all right in there?” Noah asks from outside the room. It makes me smile that he’s just delivered my baby, and yet he’s politely standing outside.
“Can I borrow another of your T-shirts?” I call out.
I hear him laugh. “Yeah. I’ll go and get one.”
I smile at Claire, who winks at me. “He’s very fond of you,” she comments.
I swirl the water with a hand. “I’m fond of him, too.” I reach out and stroke a finger down the baby’s arm. “So’s Peanut.”
“Are you going to christen him that?”
I laugh. “No. I’ll tell you his real name in a minute.”
Noah brings back a T-shirt, so I get out and pull it on, then go back into the bedroom. He’s made up the bed again with lots of pillows, and the early morning sun is streaming through, lighting the room in gold. He’s moved the crib beside the bed, but for now I hold the baby in my arms.
“I’ve decided what to call him,” I tell them as I lean back against the pillows. I smile at Noah. “Ethan.”
His eyebrows rise. “That’s my grandfather’s name.”
“I know. Your mother told me. I think it’s a lovely name. What do you think? Do you mind?”
He swallows hard and shakes his head, then comes to sit on the side of the bed. He looks down at the baby. “Hello, Ethan,” he says softly. Then he bends and kisses the baby’s forehead. Ethan gives a tiny, beautiful sneeze, and we both laugh.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Noah
The next few days are incredibly busy. There’s a non-stop flow of visitors, and everyone wants to stay and have a cuddle of the new baby. And of me, it seems. The guys are full of wonder at the fact that I delivered Ethan, and the girls keep giving me hugs and telling me how sweet I am. Which is okay. I’m not complaining.
Abby is one hundred percent focused on the baby, and that’s fine too. I didn’t expect anything else. I stay in the background, making cups of tea and coffee, bringing her meals, doing the laundry, and wondering how on earth I ended up as her housekeeper. It’s an amusing thought, not a serious one. I’m happy to help, and it’s nice to be super busy.
My Lonely Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 4) Page 16
