Janice Johnson - All That Remains

“Where were you going?”

Those big brown eyes sought his. “Um…to visit a friend. Molly Hayes. No, Rothenberg. She got married. Do you know her?”

Alec shook his head. “I haven’t lived in these parts that long. I’m sorry. If I haven’t encountered them on the job, I probably don’t know them.”

“Oh.” Then, in an entirely different voice, she groaned, “Ohhhh.”

Galvanized, Alec shifted to his knees, gripped her shoulder—so fragile his hand felt huge—and guided her as gently as he could to her makeshift pallet. “Lie down. That’s it.” She clenched her teeth, her body bowed so that he doubted anything but her shoulders and heels touched the pallet. Alec unpried the fisted fingers of one hand and took it in his. She grabbed on so hard it hurt. Hell, maybe she could have pulled him in the window on her own, especially in the grip of a contraction.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured. “That’s it, honey. Ride it out. It’ll pass. That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He listened with incredulity to his own drivel. For God’s sake, how was that supposed to help her? As if she didn’t know the contraction would pass.

When it did, she collapsed like a rubber raft with the air valve opened.

“Do you have a watch? How often are they coming?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “No watch.”

“I have one.” The glass was slightly fogged, but the second hand still swept around. “We’ll time you.” Her lips were chapped, and he saw a streak of blood. She’d bitten down too hard, he guessed. “Did you take a childbirth class?”

“I got books.”

Alec didn’t waste time discussing what she’d read. “Here’s what you’re going to do.” He demonstrated the breathing technique he’d been taught in the medical part of the police academy. He remembered that much, thank God. “Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Four pants, then blow. Got that?”

She nodded, those brown eyes fastened on his face as if nothing and nobody else in the world existed to her right now. “Yes. Thank you.” She hesitated. “Have you… Are you a paramedic?”

“Cop. But we have some training, too. I’ve delivered a baby.”

Hope lit her face. “You have?”

He hated to dampen that hope, but admitted, “A long time ago. I was a patrol officer. Woman was trying to drive herself to the hospital. She didn’t make it.” His mouth tilted into a rueful grin. “Scared me, but we managed.”

“Do you think…” She bit her lip, then winced. “I mean, that we’ll manage now?”

“Of course we will.” He found himself smiling and meaning it, although something complicated was happening inside him that he suspected was partly fear. Yeah, they’d manage—if nothing went wrong. If the baby wasn’t breech, or her placenta didn’t separate. If she dilated fully without drug intervention. If the baby didn’t suffer distress, or get the cord wrapped around its neck, or… Alec didn’t even want to think about the myriad nightmarish possibilities.

Most childbirth was uneventful. Cling to that.

Okay.

“You’re cold,” he said gruffly. “Let’s tuck you in.”

He wrapped a hand around one of her feet and found it icy. Swearing, he gathered blankets and bundled her in them.

There was a chimney at one end of the space, he saw, but no opening for a fireplace. At some point, a floor had been laid up here, but rooms were never framed in. Alec didn’t think the Maynards had children, which meant they’d never needed to add upstairs bedrooms.

“I had a fire downstairs,” the woman said. “It felt so good. But then water started coming in. I brought the matches up and even a little bit of wood, but…”

“The bedding was smart. We can keep you cozy. The baby, too, when it comes.” He paused. “Do you know whether it’s a boy or girl?” Or, from the size of that belly, both.

She tried to smile, but it trembled on her lips. “A girl. I haven’t named her yet. I guess I’m superstitious.”

“You call her it?”

Now a tiny laugh escaped her. “Cupcake. She’s Cupcake.”

“Ah, that’s more like it.” He laid a hand on her belly. “Hi, Cupcake.”

Beneath his hand, muscles seized and her belly became rock-hard. Cupcake’s mother groaned. Alec glanced at his watch. Five minutes, give or take a few seconds. Too bad he didn’t know how long it took to get from contractions five minutes apart to the actual birth. Assuming there was any norm.

He turned her face so she had to look into his eyes. “Breathe,” he reminded her. “One, two, three, four, blow. One, two, three, four… That’s it.” He counted and praised until the tension left her body once again.

“Better?” he asked.

She closed her eyes, but whispered, “Yes. Better.”

“Now I’ve met Cupcake—” he touched her belly again “—you and I might introduce ourselves. I’m Detective Alec Harper, Rush County Sheriff’s Department.”

“Oh.” Her eyes opened. “My name is Wren.” She studied him warily. “Um…will you need to put my name in a report or anything like that?”

He went on alert. “Is someone looking for you?”

After a moment she gave a small nod. “Cupcake’s father. He’s…” She swallowed. “I’m running away,” she finished, with an air of finality. “For Cupcake’s sake. And mine.”

“There’s not a warrant out for your arrest?”

She stared at him. “For my arrest?”

“You’re not in trouble with the law?”

“For heaven’s sake, of course not!”

“Then I promise Cupcake’s father won’t find you by any doing of mine.”

Those eyes, as soft as a Hershey’s bar melted for a s’more, kept searching his face. “Okay,” she said. “Fraser. My last name’s Fraser.”

“Ren? How do you spell it?”

“Like the bird. W-R-E-N.” She sighed. “I suppose that’s how I looked to my mother. Small and brown-feathered and sort of plain.”

He’d swear he heard a lifetime of sadness in words she said lightly.

“It’s a pretty name,” Alec said. Somehow, he hadn’t let go of her hand, which lay trustingly in his rather like the small bird they were talking about. “Wrens may not be colorful, but they’re quick and cheerful and full of life.”

“Still, it would be rather nice to be a blue jay. Or a cardinal.”

He grinned at her. “Blue jays are thieves, you know. Lousy characters all around. Cardinals are in bad taste. Too flashy.”

Wren gave another tiny giggle that warmed his heart ridiculously. His hand tightened on hers, and she looked down as if bemused to see where it lay. But she made no move to remove it from his.

Another contraction came. Gaze fastened desperately on his, she breathed her way through it. When it passed, she said, “Do you mind talking to me? You said you’re a detective?”

“Major crimes,” he said. “Homicide, rape, assault.”

“Do you like what you do?”

He felt his mouth twist. Funny she should ask him that. He might still be married if he’d been willing to give up what he did. He wouldn’t have lost India and Autumn, the two people he loved most in the world.

“Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I like my work. I never wanted to be anything but a cop.”

“Then that’s what you ought to do,” Wren said firmly. “You’re lucky.”

Lucky. That was one way of putting it.

“You?” he asked.

“Nothing special.” Her voice brightened. “I did graduate from college.” The brightness left her. “But I majored in history, which is pretty much useless. I wanted to do grad school to become a librarian, but—” She grimaced. “I told myself I’d still do it, but…later.”