Debbie Macomber: 1225 Christmas Tree Lane

“Good.”

She set down the receiver and turned to Pastor Flemming. “A young woman who’s staying with us has gone into labor.”

“So I understand.”

“I’ll collect my husband and get going.” Grace hated to miss the pageant but there was nothing she could do about it.

Returning to the pew, she explained to Cliff what was happening. Maryellen twisted around and Grace told her, too.

“She doesn’t have anything for the baby, does she?” Maryellen asked.

Grace hadn’t even thought of that. She had blankets and a few other supplies for her grandchildren, but the disposable diapers would be far too big.

“Jon and I will stop by the house and get some things for Mary Jo and the baby and drop them off. I’m sure I still have a package of newborn-size diapers, too.”

Grace touched her daughter’s shoulder, grateful for Maryellen’s quick thinking.

“We’ll bring Lisa, Rich and April back to the house,” Kelly whispered. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Me, neither,” Lisa said. “There couldn’t be a more ideal way to celebrate Christmas!”

17

“You’re doing great,” Mack assured Mary Jo.

“No, I’m not,” she cried, exhaling a harsh breath. Giving birth was hard, harder than she’d ever envisioned and the pain…the pain was indescribable.

The second EMT came back into the bedroom. “I talked to your friend and she’s on her way.”

“Thank God.” It was difficult for Mary Jo to speak in the middle of a contraction. The pain was so intense and she panted, imitating Mack who’d shown her a breathing exercise to help deal with it.

Mack held her hand and she squeezed as tight as she could, so tight she was afraid she might be hurting him. If that was the case, he didn’t let on.

“Get a cool damp washcloth,” Mack instructed the other man.

“Got it.” As though thankful for something to do, Brandon Hutton shot out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I’m going to check you again,” Mack told her.

“No!” She clung to his hand, gripping it even tighter.

“I need you here. Beside me.”

“Mary Jo, I have to see what position the baby’s in.”

“Okay, okay.” She closed her eyes. Sweat poured off her forehead. Now she knew why giving birth was called labor. This was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Unfortunately there wasn’t time to go to any more classes, or to finish reading the books she’d started…. She’d thought she had two more weeks. If only she hadn’t waited for David, or believed him when he’d said he wanted to attend the birthing classes with her. This was what she got for trusting him.

Suddenly liquid gushed from between her legs. “What was that?” she cried.

“Your water just broke.”

“Oh.” She’d forgotten about that. She had a vague recollection of other women’s stories about their water breaking.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked. What she hoped was that it meant her baby was almost ready to be born and this agony would come to an end.

“It’s good,” he told her.

“It’ll be better now, right?”

Mack hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Tell me.”

“Your labor may intensify.”

This had to be a cruel joke. “Intensify.” She couldn’t imagine how the pains could get any stronger than they were now. “What do you mean…intensify?”

“The contractions will probably last longer….”

“Oh, no,” she moaned.

Although she’d discovered this was Mack’s first birth, he knew so much more than she did. He’d at least studied it and obviously paid attention during class. Mack had joked that he was getting on-the-job training—and so was she, but that part didn’t seem so amusing anymore.

“The baby’s fully in the birth canal. It won’t be long now, Mary Jo. Just a few more pains and you’ll have your baby.”

“Thank God.” Mary Jo didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

“Rest between contractions,” Mack advised.

Brandon Hutton returned with a damp washcloth. Mack took it from him and wiped her face. The cool cloth against her heated skin felt wonderfully refreshing.

At the approach of another pain, she screamed, “Mack! Mack!”

Instantly he was at her side, his hand holding hers. Her fingers tightened around his.

“Count,” she begged.

“One, two, three…”

The numbers droned on and she concentrated on listening to the even cadence of Mack’s voice, knowing that by the time he reached fifty, the contraction would ease.

Halfway through, she started to pant. And then felt the instinctive urge to bear down. Arching her back, Mary Jo pushed with every ounce of her strength.

When the pain passed, she was too exhausted to speak.

Mack wiped her forehead again and brushed the damp hair from her face.

“Water,” she mumbled.

“Got it!” Brandon Hutton tore out of the room, like a man on a quest.

Recovering from the pain, she breathed deeply, her chest heaving. She opened her eyes and looked up at Mack. His gaze was tender.

“How much longer?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Soon.”

“I can’t stand much more of this…I just can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down the sides of her face.

Mack dabbed at her cheeks. As their eyes met, he gave her an encouraging smile. “You can do it,” he said. “You’re almost there.”

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he told her. They continued to hold hands.

Brandon came back with the water. “Here,” he said.

Mack took the glass and held it for Mary Jo, supporting her head. “Just a sip or two,” he cautioned.

She nodded and savored each tiny sip.

The sound of a car door slamming echoed in the distance.

“Grace,” Mary Jo said, grateful the other woman had finally arrived.

“I’ll bring her up.” Brandon quickly disappeared from the room.

Another pain approached. “No…no…” she whimpered, gathering her resolve to get through this next contraction. She closed her eyes and clung to Mack, thanking God once more that she wasn’t alone. That Mack was with her…

Mack automatically began to count. Again she felt the urge to push. Gritting her teeth, she bore down, grunting loudly for the first time, straining her entire body.

“Mary Jo.” Grace’s serene voice broke through the haze of pain. “I came as soon as I heard.”

The contraction eased and Mary Jo collapsed onto the mattress, sweat blinding her eyes.

“The baby’s in the birth canal,” Mack told her friend.

“What would you like me to do?” Grace asked.

“Hold on to her hand and count off the seconds when the contractions come.”

“No…don’t leave me.” Mary Jo couldn’t do this without Mack at her side.

“I need to deliver the baby,” he explained, his words so gentle they felt like a warm caress. “Grace will help you.”

“I’m here,” Grace said.

“Okay.” Reluctantly Mary Jo freed Mack’s hand.

Grace slipped into his spot. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Mary Jo said.

“How would you do that?” Grace asked, clasping her hand.

Somehow she found the strength to smile. “I squeeze hard.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” Grace said reassuringly. “You squeeze as hard as you need to and don’t worry about me.” She reached for the damp cloth and wiped Mary Jo’s flushed and heated face.

“I…don’t have anything for the baby,” she whispered. That thought suddenly struck Mary Jo and nearly devastated her. Her baby wasn’t even born yet, and already she was a terrible mother. Already she’d failed her child.