Over before they'd really even begun.
* * *
Within a few minutes of Shelby and Guy leaving for dinner, the violent spring storm that had been threatening all day finally hit. Perfect, as it suited Faith's mood. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed and rain thrashed against the windows of the clinic.
She tried to bury herself in paperwork, and it might have worked too, if her heart would just stop aching. Or maybe that was her stomach.
Definitely, food would ease the problem, it always had before.
One more glance at her watch.
He wasn't coming back.
Well, fine. It was what she'd expected, what they'd agreed to, so time to get over herself. No better way to do that than having Japanese food.
Besides, she suddenly didn't want to be alone, couldn't stand her own company. So she drove to the restaurant in the booming thunder and driving rain and hoped Shelby and Guy had ordered a huge feast.
They were thrilled to see her, and greeted her with hugs that almost, almost, broke her. "You want to know how I get over a man I'm too chicken to fight for but really want?" Shelby asked, scooting over to make room for Faith.
Faith let out a choked laugh. "What are you talking about? You've never been too chicken to fight for a man."
Shelby cocked her head and considered. "You're right. Guy, you tell her then, tell her how to get over a man."
"Hey, I don't have to get over anyone either, they all have to get over me!"
Faith sighed, then jerked around at the sound of a startled cry at the table behind them.
A woman had pushed back from her table, her eyes wide, her mouth open, her hands on her obviously very pregnant belly. "Oh my God," she cried, and made the unmistakable face of a woman bearing down.
Her husband leaped up and whipped his head around uselessly, a panicked look on his face. "Uh… honey? A contraction?"
"Well, it's not a picnic!"
Faith tossed her cell phone to Guy to call an ambulance and kneeled at the woman's side. "Ma'am? You're in labor?"
"Oh God. Yes!"
Faith stroked her arm. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. My name is Faith and I'm a nurse."
"Oh, thank God." The woman gripped Faith's fingers so hard the bone crunched. "I have to push."
"I know, but not yet." Faith massaged the woman's hands and arms until she relaxed slightly. "Breathe."
"Oh my God, that helps. Keep doing it."
"I will, you keep breathing."
"I need drugs!"
"Okay, just relax a moment." She and Shelby had found that with certain pressure points and therapeutic massage, they could often ease a woman's birthing pain with no drugs at all, and she kept her hands on the woman. "What's your name?"
"Susan."
"Uh, honey?" Her husband bent down and let out a shaky smile. "Maybe we should go to the hospital?"
"Go away, Frank, you smell like teriyaki sauce and it's going to make me puke!"
Poor Frank retreated a few steps.
Susan's pulse was thready, she was sweaty and her breathing was uneven. "Take a nice deep breath," Faith reminded her. "There you go. Just breathe with me, okay?"
"Breathing doesn't work!"
"Humor me for a minute. In and out… there you go, that's right." Faith brushed the woman's hair back from her forehead and was encouraged at how her touch seemed to soothe her. "Now, how close are the contractions?"
"Uh-oh… her water broke," Shelby said from the woman's other side. "Guy?"
"Ambulance is on its way."
"Here comes another one!" Susan cried, and slid off her chair in a boneless heap to the floor, much to the horror of everyone dining around them.
The manager pushed his way through the crowd, a small Japanese man who was wringing his hands. "No baby here, no baby here! People eating!"
Guy intercepted him. "Do you have a private room where she can go until they arrive?"
"Yes, follow me." The Japanese man bowed to all the tables around them, apologizing.
Guy scooped up Susan, and with Faith holding her hand and Shelby leading the bewildered Frank, they followed the owner out of the main dining room. He took them into a room behind a beaded curtain. A huge papier-mâché dragon head peered down on them as they gently set down Susan on a pad.
She immediately started panting, and pulled her legs back as if to push. "I have to!" she cried when Faith tried to coax her into breathing again.
She was right, she had to, because when Faith checked, the baby was already crowning. The ambulance wasn't going to get here in time.
The baby came in less than four minutes.
The paramedics arrived in six.
Guy drove Frank to the hospital, Shelby went with Susan in the ambulance, and in all of the excitement, Faith ended up alone in the parking lot, in the pouring-down rain, realizing she was still starving.
In fact, her head was pounding, and her limbs felt a little shaky. She had that semi-queasy feeling she now recognized as low blood sugar but she didn't want to go back inside and eat alone. She could make it home.
Besides, she had to get used to being alone again.
She pulled out of the parking lot and was a little startled by how heavy the rain was, how slick the roads seemed. Dark had fallen, so she squinted through the windshield wipers that were furiously working to keep her vision clear.
Slow and easy, she told herself, and was thankful for the light traffic. Up ahead the light switched from red to green and she kept her foot on the accelerator. Then, unexpectedly, it turned red again. When she hit the brake, the car went into a slide, and her heart kicked up into her throat.
She passed through the crosswalk. Skidded, skidded… and finally stopped just over the line.
Gasping, she sagged back. She was okay.
Except she hadn't realized how badly her head hurt, or how shaky she really was. The lack of dinner combined with the candy bars from the night before really had gotten to her. She should have taken a sugar pill, which she kept with her in her purse for her low-sugar days. If she could pop one in her mouth now, within a minute she'd feel better, good enough to get home and feed herself. And if she managed that without killing herself on the road, she promised herself right there and then, in a solemn vow, she'd never, ever, screw up her diet again. Reaching for the passenger seat and her purse-
It wasn't there. She'd left her purse at the restaurant.
The light turned green, and she decided she was closer to home, that she'd call the restaurant when she got there to tell them she'd left her purse, and again hit the gas. The rain continued to hit the car hard, bouncing up off the trunk, so that she could hardly hear herself think. The swish, swish of the windshield wipers added to the mix, joining the pounding in her head.
God, she was so very tired, but finally, finally, she pulled onto her street. She waited for the overwhelming relief, she was almost there, safe and sound no less, but it was all she could do to get the car into the driveway.
Shaking like a leaf, she turned off the engine-and put her forehead to the steering wheel. She just felt so… damn… tired…
Luke drove home from his late meeting on autopilot. In his driveway, engine still running, windshield wipers whisking away the drumming rain as fast as it hit the window, he stared out into the night at his house.
It was dark. Probably cold.
No doubt Carmen had the entire place clean as a whistle, but the warm, sweet touches of a real home wouldn't be there. They never had been. There were no flowers on the table, freshly picked from the yard, with specific scents for specific needs. There was no fresh tea brewing that would act as a soother, an antibiotic or a mood lifter. There would be no pink toothbrush with a smiley face on the handle sitting on the bathroom counter next to a wide and baffling array of pots and bottles, all of which would smell like Faith.
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