Mary Baxter - Lightning Strikes Part 2

“It’s her grandchild.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want to do this. Please don’t make me.”

“You haveta. I told you, I already set it up.”

“For…when?” Annie couldn’t control the tremor in her voice.

“Thirty minutes.”

Annie cried out, then placed her arms over her stomach and once again felt the infant kick.

Annie’s tremors worsened. While she didn’t particularly want the child herself, having no clue as to how she was going to take care of it, she didn’t want to die, either. She had dreams of one day getting free of Todd, meeting some nice man, or even going back to school and getting educated.

“Ready?”

She backed against the wall. “I…I can’t.”

“‘Course, you can.”

“The weather’s so bad. What if we get struck by lightning?”

“Ah, hell, that ain’tgonna happen. Now, let’s go. I’m fast losing what little patience I got left.”

“Please, don’t make me do this.”

Two steps and he was in front of her, his twisted face so close she could smell his foul breath. She turned aside. He grasped her chin and jerked her back around. “You either do what I say or get out and stay out.”

“You…mean—”

“I mean you’re outta here. I told you before, I ain’t having no brat. Now, what’s it gonna be? Me or that brat?”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

She should’ve seen it coming, only she didn’t. Only after he backhanded her across the right cheek did she respond, running toward the door and opening it.

He laughed when she paused on the threshold, watching as the rain came down in torrents. “Go on, hit the road. We’re through.”

Annie whipped around. “You’re a bad person, Todd Stover. God’s gonna get you.”

He stalked toward her, his entire demeanor menacing. “I’m gonna get you if you don’t get out of my sight.”

Rather than take the chance of getting punched in the belly this time, Annie stumbled out the door onto the sidewalk, wincing as the rain dented her thin, unprotected skin.

What to do? She had nowhere to go, no friends she could turn to. Then something clinked in the back of her mind. A homeless shelter was nearby, she remembered, though she wasn’t sure in which direction.

Hot tears mingled with the cold rain as she began walking down the sidewalk, her teeth banging against each other. Maybe she’d get lucky and find it. Ducking her head, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. By the time she reached the end of the block, it dawned on her that she was the only living soul on the street. No cars were in sight.

Another flash of lightning crashed across the sky. She cried out, but no one heard her. Turning, she began to walk again, though she had no idea where, the rain crippling her both mentally and physically.

It was in the middle of the next block when the pain hit her. “Oh!” she cried, doubling over and clutching her stomach. What was happening? It wasn’t time for the baby. She had more than two months to go—at least, that was what the doctor at the free clinic had told her just yesterday.

Yet another pain more severe than the last one took her breath. Her first thought was to crumple onto the concrete and say to hell with it. She couldn’t fight anymore.

But again, she didn’t want to die, not here, not like this. She couldn’t move, though. The pain wouldn’t let her. Finally, she bent over and forced herself to move, taking tiny steps.

Help!

She had to get help. Fighting off the panic building inside her, she looked to the right, then to the left, while the thunder and lightning danced around her. She had to find a house with someone home.

A light.

Still holding her stomach, she made her way toward that ray of hope. As she drew closer, she realized it was the hospital. Slowly she moved toward the large neon emergency sign.

“Please…help me,” Annie cried around her chattering teeth as she pushed through the double doors. “I…think my baby’s coming.”

* * *

The man turned green.

“Get the pan!” Amanda beckoned Liz Roberts, then stood aside.

Liz barely made it before the patient emptied the contents of his stomach yet again. Thank God, this time it was in the container and not on her. Amanda winced. Although she had shed her soiled garments and was now wearing a clean coat, blouse and skirt, the stench lingered. What she needed was a long, hot shower. That wasn’t going to happen. She hadn’t stopped once since Olivia Stuart’s death.

She wasn’t alone. Noah was in surgery now, removing a woman’s perforated appendix, though she suspected he was about through and would be returning to the ER, something she wished she could prevent.

Not now, Amanda, she told herself, giving her head a savage shake. Now was certainly not the time to think about him. Yet she couldn’t control her deranged thoughts.

Married! That just couldn’t be. But if it were the truth, then it was best she knew. Sooner or later, she would have found out. Right now, she had to remove Noah and his latest betrayal from her mental agenda. Her job must come first. This man needed her undivided attention, and he was damn well going to get it.

“Mr. Boon, are you feeling better?”

“I think I’m going to die. I…I can’t get my breath.”

“Trust me, you’re not going to die, at least not right this minute.”

The big, burly man’s eyes said he didn’t believe her. “What the hell’s wrong with me, Doc?”

“Acute anxiety disorder.”

“What the hell—”

“In plain English, Mr. Boon, you’ve had a panic attack.”

He cursed, then looked at her like she’d lost all her faculties. Amanda suppressed a smile and didn’t dare look at her nurse, who she knew would be rolling her eyes.

“You sure I’m not having a heart attack?”

“I’m sure. But we’re going to keep you here until your heart rate settles, then I’ll give you some medicine to take with you. However, as soon as you can, I suggest you see your own physician.”

“It’s that damn job. I kept telling my boss I was going to crash and burn.”

“Well, you just did, but you’re going to be all right.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he said, lying back down on the stretcher.

“Keep an eye on him, Liz,” Amanda said, walking out of the trauma room into the hall, where she barely missed butting heads with Doris.

“Wow! That was close,” her friend said with a frown. “You smell awful.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“What happened?”

Amanda arched an eyebrow. “Guess?”

“Someone puked on you?”

“You win the prize.”

“Some prize,” Doris mumbled, then added, “You got a free minute?”

“You gotta be kidding.”

“Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“For you, I’ll make a minute. What’s up?”

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