Caroline Cross - The Baby Blizzard

Three

“What is it with you?” Jack demanded as the contraction finally eased and Tess loosened the punishing grip she had on his hand. He sat back, shifting to a more settled position on the edge of the bed. Despite his outer calm and the deliberate way he’d coached her along, his heart was still thundering from how close she’d come to falling flat on her face. “You take an oath against asking for help?”

Tess hitched herself up higher against the pile of pillows he’d placed at her back and sent him a reproachful glance. “Gosh, Jack. Don’t start being nice now or I’ll really lose it.”

The cheeky response tugged at him. All right. So he didn’t exactly like her. She was too willful, too smart, too here. That didn’t mean he couldn’t admire her grit. “You just don’t quit, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. But if it’s any consolation, this isn’t quite how I envisioned having this baby, either.”

Their eyes met, and something inside him stilled when he saw the look in hers a second before she glanced away. Hell. If it was anyone else, he’d swear that beneath that glib exterior, she was...scared.

The idea brought him up short. As did his sudden, unsettling realization that ever since he’d yanked open the Cadillac’s door all those hours ago, he’d been so provoked by her intrusion into his life and so preoccupied with how he felt about it, he’d taken her seemingly inexhaustible composure at face value. She’d acted as if she could handle anything, and he’d believed it.

Now, as if a blindfold had been ripped away, he could see the quiver at the corners of her mouth, the pulse pounding at the base of her throat, the effort behind her composure.

And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. “Hey,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “What’s the matter?” Nice. If they were giving prizes for stupid, you’d need a trophy case.

Thankfully, she was so busy studying the fire, she didn’t seem to notice. “Nothing. It just... hurts.”

He could see how much the admission cost her. “Oh.” Another intelligent response. Frustrated, he searched for something relevant to say. “Yeah, well...I think you’re through transition, so it shouldn’t take much longer.”

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Her head came around. Questions suddenly crowded her eyes. How come he knew so much? Where had he come by such knowledge?

It was a measure of her ability to unsettle him that for an instant Jack was tempted to explain. Except...what the hell would he say? That once upon a time he’d had a pregnant wife? That in an effort to be a good husband, a good father, he’d learned everything he could about pregnancy and childbirth, postpartum care and infant development?

Yeah, right—and then what? You going to tell her how, in the end, none of it mattered? You going to cry on her shoudder, tell her how Elise left you, explain why you gave up your son?

No way.

“Jack—”

“What?” He braced, wondering what she’d ask first.

As if she sensed his imminent withdrawal, Tess reached out and entwined her fingers with his, as if to anchor some part of him in place. “Can I get that part about this...not taking much longer...in writing?”

For a moment he was sure he hadn’t heard her right. Then he assumed she must be toying with him. Anger flashed through him. He jerked his gaze to her face.

To his surprise, she wasn’t even looking at him, As a matter of fact, her eyes were shut, her lips pressed together. She clutched at his hand as the mound of her stomach began to tighten convulsively. “Oh!” she gasped, holding on to him for dear life. “Oh, Jack, it hurts—!”

Her trust, in the face of what he’d been thinking, brought the last line of his defenses crashing down. “Easy. It’s okay—”

But it wasn’t. The contraction bowed her back, brought her arching up off the bed. She opened her eyes, staring at him in helpless distress.

He felt an edge of panic, and struggled to get a grip on himself. God knew, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do for her except pretend to be calm. He caught her other hand, as if to lend her some of his strength by the contact. “Stop fighting it,” he said forcefully. “I know it hurts, but you’re doing fine. Just don’t forget to breathe.”

She nodded, the flesh across her nose and cheeks taut with strain.

Then there was no more time for conversation, as the contractions began to come one after another, faster and faster. Everything seemed to blur together, the labored sound of her breathing, the muscle-wrenching expenditure of effort, the unrelenting, escalating cycle of pain. Jack didn’t know how much time had passed when Tess suddenly gave a tremendous shudder. Her eyes widened. “Oh! I can’t—There’s something—It’s coming—”

Earlier, out in the barn, he’d imagined this moment with dread. Not the mechanics of it; he’d barely given that a second thought. Like every rancher, he’d helped deliver his fair share of calves and foals, and he was more than familiar with the nuts and bolts of birth.

But to share such extreme intimacy with a stranger, especially one he found so disturbing... He’d been sure it would be awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing for them both.

Yet, sometime in the past hour, he’d ceased to think of Tess as a stranger. As a result, he didn’t even stop to think, much less hesitate. “Wait! Don’t push, not yet, let me check, make sure it’s all right—” Without quite knowing how he’d gotten there, he found himself kneeling in the center of the bed, his hands warm and steady against Tess’s cold, bare, shaking knees. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he looked down, saw the top of the baby’s head emerging, and felt a mixture of awe and excitement spiral through him. Moisture, unexpected and mortifying, stung his eyes. He swallowed hard before he looked up at Tess. “So what are you waiting for? Push!”

From somewhere, she found the energy to roll her eyes before she pursed her lips, braced herself against the pillows and began to strain.

Once. Twice. A third time. Jack watched her struggle with a mixture of wonder and growing concern.

“Okay, okay... The head’s clear... There’s one shoulder... now the other... Come on...you can do it...”

“Ohhh...ohhhh...” She fell back against the pillows, breathing like a bellows. She was white-faced with exhaustion.

“Come on.” He was suddenly afraid that if she stopped now, she wouldn’t find the strength—or the courage—to resume. “Again.”

“I’m so tired—”

“I know.” As if his movements were dictated by some power outside himself, he found himself reaching up and gently brushing her hair off her face. “Listen. You can do this. But you have to concentrate.”

“Right.” Her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. “Wanna trade places... and see... if you still feel... the same way?”

Something alarmingly like tenderness curled through him. “No way. Now, shut up and push.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind, apparently seeing something in his face that convinced her he wasn’t going to let up. Gritting her teeth, she dug down deep, and found some last little reserve of strength. Jaw clenched, she pushed.

Jack sat back. “That’s right, that’s it. Come on. You’re almost there—”

She strained again, calling out. For a moment, nothing happened.

And then her cry was answered by a high, wavering baby’s wail.

Stunned, Jack stared down at the squalling infant suddenly filling his hands. He felt an instant of unreality, a rush of astonishment. Swift on its heels came an explosion of elation, as bright and intoxicating as champagne. “Tess—” for some reason, his voice was shaking “—it’s a girl!”