Christine Rimmer - The Lawman's Convenient Bride

“Jody.”

“Um?”

“What do you mean, dripping?”

The note of alarm in his voice had her rushing to reassure him. “It’s not that much. I exaggerated.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“You’re probably right.”

“And, Jody, you said ‘the first one.’ The first what?”

“Baby,” she blurted out and then slapped her hand over her big, fat mouth. Oh, God. She hadn’t even told her sisters, and here she was, blathering it all out to Seth, who might want to help and all but still remained essentially a stranger to her.

“So,” he tried again, clueless but still determined to stick with her and give her whatever she’d called him in the middle of the night to get. “Are you saying you feel guilty because—”

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter. It’s not why I called.”

Dead silence. Then, “Okay. Let’s go with that. Why did you call?”

Seriously? He really didn’t know? “Seth, take a wild guess.”

“I...” He was totally at a loss.

She was messing with him, and she really needed to stop. “I’m in labor. I’m having my baby, like right now, tonight, and I wonder if—”

“Wait. What? Are you all right?” Now he really was freaked. “Is there bleeding? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No. Yes! I mean, I’m fine. There’s no blood.”

“But you mentioned dripping...”

“It’s not blood—it’s amniotic fluid. My water broke. It happens. You said you wanted to help, and I need someone to give me a ride to the hospital, and I thought—”

“Wait. You’re not due for a month, you said.”

“I’m at thirty-six weeks and going into labor now is perfectly normal.”

“It is?”

“Believe me, if it wasn’t, I’d have already called 911.”

Another deep silence. And finally, “All right, then.” His voice was dead calm again. Like he’d flipped a switch from frantic future step-uncle back to law-enforcement professional, a man with a job to do and no time to waste on the vagaries of human emotion. “Are you at home?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t give me your address.” She rattled it off. “Okay, then. Fifteen minutes, I’ll be there. Did you call your doctor?”

“I will. As soon as I hang up and get through this next contrac—” A ragged yelp escaped her.

“Jody. Are you still with me?”

“Right here,” she grunted.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine—except for, you know, having a baby.”

“Tell me honestly. Do you need an ambulance?”

Given the pressure bearing down on her uterus, she longed to scream, Yes! But she’d done this before. It felt normal, if having a baby could ever be called such a thing. “I just need a ride, okay? And I need a ride soon.”

“I’m on my way.”

* * *

Fourteen minutes later, she’d been through three more contractions, in between which she’d called her doctor, wiped up the dripped-on rug, put on a maxi-pad, yoga pants and a big shirt and carried her already-packed suitcase to the front door. Not bad for a woman in active labor.

She was crouched in the front hall, panting her way through the next contraction, when the doorbell rang. “It’s open!” she shrieked and panted some more.

The door swung back, and she was looking at Seth’s boots. “Jody? Are you—”

“Kind of busy here...” She waved a hand at him and went back to focusing on her breathing, on riding out the pain.

He came and knelt at her side until that one peaked and passed off.

Only then did she meet his eyes. “Thanks for coming.” He wore jeans and a T-shirt and looked almost approachable.

She held out her arm. “Help me up?” He pulled her gently to her feet. She swayed against him for a moment. It was reassuring, leaning on him, such a broad, hard wall of a man. She could see the dark dots of beard stubble on his strong jaw, and he smelled clean and warm, like a just-ironed shirt. She was suddenly ridiculously glad she had called him. “Thanks.”

“You ready?” He bent to grab the handle of her suitcase.

“Let’s go.”

Outside, he led her to the camo-green Grand Cherokee parked at the curb. “Back or front?”

“What? You didn’t bring the cruiser?” When he only looked at her patiently, she answered his question. “I’ll sit in back. More space for rolling around in agony when the next contraction hits.”

He got her settled in, tossed her suitcase into the passenger seat and climbed up behind the wheel.

The ride to Justice Creek General took seven minutes. She knew because she was timing contractions and the spaces between them the whole way.

At the hospital, they were ready for her. She’d preregistered and her ob-gyn, Dr. Kapur, had called ahead to say Jody was on the way. They put her in a wheelchair and rolled her to a birthing suite.

Seth followed her right in there.

“Thanks.” She flashed him a pretty good imitation of a smile. “I’m good now. You can go.”

“Someone should be here. I’ll stay.”

“But I can call—”

“It’s almost three in the morning. I’m already here.”

She would have argued with him, but she knew how much good that would do her. “You’re staying no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

A nurse came in and introduced herself as Sandy. She took Jody’s vitals, waited out another contraction with her and then got a quick history. After that, she pulled a gown and a pair of canary yellow socks with nonskid soles from a cupboard.

“Your gown and some cozy socks.” Sandy handed them over and pointed at a set of long cabinets tucked into the corner. “Your street clothes can go in there. Dr. Kapur should be in soon.” She nodded at Seth. “Sheriff.”

“Thanks, Sandy,” he replied, as though he and Sandy were best pals and he had every right to be there. Apparently, Sandy was on the same page with him. She shot him a big smile and left them alone.

“You need help getting into that?” He gestured at the gown.

“No, thanks. Step out, please.”

“If you need me—”

“Thanks. I mean that. Out.”

He left and she changed into the gown and socks. Dr. Kapur came. She examined Jody and confirmed what Jody already knew. Just like the first time, her baby was coming fast.

Forty-five minutes later, Jody had flown through transition, and it was time to start pushing.

Somebody had let Seth back into the room. By then, Jody didn’t even care. Pushing a baby out left zero room for modesty. And privacy? Forget about it.

She had the mattress adjusted to prop up her back, her gown rucked up high and her legs spread wide, her feet in the bright yellow socks digging into the mattress. Seth was right there. He gave her his hand to hold on to.

Okay, he was practically a stranger, but so what? He was there and he was strong and steady, and she could hold on to him, right now, when she needed him.

Dignity? Self-control? She had none. She shouted and swore and clutched Seth’s hand for dear life.

Was it this bad last time? It must have been. She should have remembered that.

As Marybeth’s head crowned, Jody shouted, “Never am I ever having sex again! Never in this lifetime, no matter what!”

Dr. Kapur let out a soft chuckle and told her how great she was doing, that she should push just a little bit more, bear down just a little bit harder...

And she did and she felt it—the head sliding out. Moaning in agony, she looked down between her wide-open legs as Dr. Kapur freed Marybeth’s little shoulders.

And that was it. Marybeth slithered out into the world.

With another long moan of exhaustion, Jody let go of Seth’s hand and let her head fall back against the pillows.