Debbie Macomber - 1225 Christmas Tree Lane

The second person she thought of was Mack McAfee. He’d been so kind, and he was a trained medical technician. He was calm and logical, which was exactly what she needed. He’d called—when was it? Half an hour ago—and urged her to go home with her brothers. There’d be plenty of time to talk to Ben and Charlotte Rhodes after the baby’s birth. Her brothers wouldn’t have the opportunity to confront David or his father now, anyway, and she’d manage, somehow or other, to prevent it in the future, too. While she was speaking with Linc, she’d realized how desperate her brothers had been to find her. Mary Jo hadn’t meant to worry them like this.

If Linc or Mel or even Ned had reasoned with her like Mack had, she would’ve listened. Too late to worry about any of that now…

Mary Jo went slowly back down the stairs to the barn. She didn’t want to dial 9-1-1 and cause alarm the way she had with her dizzy spell at the library earlier, so she decided to call the fire station directly.

Sure enough, when she picked up the receiver she saw that Caller ID displayed the last number that had been received—the firehouse. Mary Jopushed there dial button.

On the second ring, someone picked up. “Kitsap County Fire District.”

Relief washed over her at the sound of Mack’s voice. “Mack?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Mary Jo? Is that you?”

“Ye-es.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I…Grace and her family left for Christmas Eve service at the church about ten minutes ago. I didn’t go because my brothers are on their way here.”

“They haven’t arrived yet?” He seemed surprised.

“Not yet.”

Mack groaned. “I’ll bet they’re lost.”

Mary Jo didn’t doubt that for an instant.

“I’m sure they’ll be there anytime,” he said.

“I hate to bother you,” she whispered and gasped at the severity of the next contraction.

“Mary Jo!”

Closing her eyes, she mentally counted until the pain subsided.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

“I’m afraid I’ve gone into labor.”

Mack didn’t miss a beat. “Then I should get out there so I can transport you to the birthing center.”

At the rate this was progressing, he’d better not lose any time. “Thank you,” she said simply.

He must have sensed her fear, because he asked, “How far apart are the contractions?”

“Three minutes. I’ve been timing them.”

“That’s good.”

“I didn’t take all the birthing classes…I wish I had, but David said he’d take them with me and it never happened. I went once but that was just last week and—”

“You’ll do fine. If you want, I’ll stay with you.”

“You?”

“I’m not such a bad coach.”

“You’d be a wonderful coach, but you have to remember I’ve only had the one class.”

“Listen, instead of talking about it over the phone, why don’t I hop in the aid car and drive over.”

“Ri-ight.” At the strength of the last contraction, Mary Jo was beginning to think this was an excellent idea.

“Where are you?”

“In the barn at the moment.” She gave a small laugh.

“Why is that funny?”

“I’m with the animals from the live Nativity scene.”

Mack laughed then, too. “That seems appropriate under the circumstances, but I want you to go to the house and wait for me there.”

“I’d rather go back to the apartment if you don’t mind.” It was hard to explain but the place felt like home to her now, at least for this one night.

“Fine. Just don’t lock the door. I’ll be there soon, so hold on, okay?”

She didn’t have any choice but to hold on. “Okay. But Mack?”

“Yes?”

“Please hurry.”

“You got it. I’m leaving now.”

“No sirens, please,” she begged, and Mack chuckled as if she’d made some mildly amusing joke.

Walking seemed to help, and instead of following Mack’s instructions, she paced the length of the barn once, twice, three times.

She noticed that the camel was watching her every move. “Don’t be such a know-it-all,” she muttered. She’d swear the creature was laughing at her. “This isn’t supposed to be happening yet.”

A sheep walked up to the gate, bleating loudly, and Mary Jo wagged her index finger. “I don’t want to hear from you, either.”

All the horses in their stalls studied her with interest, but the only one who looked at her with anything that resembled compassion was Funny Face.

“Wish me well, Funny Face,” Mary Jo whispered as she started back up the stairs. “I need all the good wishes I can get.”

Absorbed in the cycle of pain and then relief, followed by pain again, Mary Jo lost track of time. Finally she heard a vehicle pull into the yard. A moment later, Mack entered the apartment, a second man behind him. They were both breathless; they must have run up the stairs.

Mary Jo was so grateful to see him she nearly burst into tears. Clutching her belly, she walked over to Mack and said hoarsely, “I’m so glad you came.”

“How’s it going?”

“Not…good.”

“Any sign of your brothers?”

She shook her head.

Mack glanced over his shoulder at the second EMT.

“This is Brandon Hutton. Remember him from this morning?”

“Hi.” Mary Jo raised her hand and wiggled her fingers.

“How far apart are the pains now?”

“Still three minutes, but they’re lasting much longer.”

Mack turned to the other man. “I think we’d better check her before we transport.”

“I agree.”

This was all so embarrassing, but Mary Jo would rather be dealing with Mack than any of her brothers. Mack would be impersonal about it, professional. And, most important of all, he knew what he was doing.

Taking her by the hand, Mack led her into the bedroom. He pulled back the sheets, then covered the bed with towels. Mary Jo lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes.

“Okay,” Mack announced when he’d finished. “You’re fully dilated. You’re about to enter the second phase of labor.”

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, it means we don’t have time to take you to the hospital.”

“Then who’s going to deliver my baby?” she asked, fighting her tears.

“It looks like that’ll be me,” he said calmly.

Mary Jo held out her hand to him and Mack grabbed it in both of his.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said with such confidence she couldn’t help believing him. “You can do this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

15

“Admit it,” Mel taunted, “we’re lost.”

“I said as much thirty minutes ago,” Linc said sharply. He didn’t need his brother to tell him what he already knew.

“We should’ve gotten the Hardings’ phone number,” Ned commented from the backseat.

That was obvious. “You might’ve mentioned it at the time,” Linc snapped. They’d been driving around for almost an hour and he had no idea where they were. Mack McAfee had drawn them a map but it hadn’t helped; somehow they’d gone in the wrong direction and were now completely and utterly lost.

To further complicate matters, a fog had settled in over the area. It seemed they’d run the gamut of Pacific Northwest winter weather, and all within the last eight hours. There’d been sleet and snow, rain and cold. Currently they were driving through a fog so thick he could hardly see the road.

“Read me the directions again,” he said.

Mel flipped on the interior light, which nearly blinded Linc. “Hey, turn that off!”

“I thought you wanted me to read these notes.”

“You don’t need the light,” Ned told him. “I’ve got them memorized.”