The Baby Blizzard

Instead, that past, in the form of her grandmother, had lit out for God knew where. The baby was early. And she didn’t have the calm, ultracompetent Dr. Fetzer to depend on. Instead, her designated stork was the ultimate charm school dropout—and an undependable one, at that. True, he’d brought her the things he’d promised. But that had been more than forty minutes ago. While Tess could practically hear her childbirth instructor prattling on about how first births usually took forever, that obviously wasn’t the case here. If Jack didn’t show up soon, he was going to miss the main event.

Not, she chided herself, that she was counting on him to be much help. He’d made it clear he’d prefer not to be part of the delivery. And as much as she’d have liked to hold it against him, she couldn’t—not when her own mind shut down every time she tried to visualize the two of them sharing such intimacy. It would be daunting enough with someone she already knew, or with someone older or kinder or more approachable. But to even consider it with Jack... Well, the idea was simply impossible.

Although she supposed that anything would be better than being alone...

The contraction began to ease. She waited until she was sure it was over before she released her stranglehold on the mantel, and even then she didn’t lift her head until she heard a faint, unfamiliar rumble. She glanced around, then realized the noise was the sound of the furnace coming on. Her heart started to pound. Moving carefully, she walked to the door and looked down the hall, and was rewarded when a light bloomed on at the base of the stairs. A moment later Jack appeared, a stack of supplies in his arms.

Finally. For the second time that night, tears of relief welled in Tess’s eyes. Only this time, she was unable to will them away, and they spilled down her cheeks. Mortified, she ducked back inside and shuffled toward the fireplace, praying he hadn’t seen her. Her back to the door, she barely managed to strike a casual pose when she heard him stride into the room.

His footsteps ceased. “What are you doing up?” She could hear the surprise in his voice.

Apparently his time at the barn hadn’t done a thing to improve his manner. She swallowed. “I was cold,” she murmured, her voice raw.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. “So why aren’t you in bed, under the covers?”

“My back hurts. I don’t want to lie down.” She certainly didn’t feel compelled to explain that being upright gave her an illusion of control she wasn’t ready to surrender.

“Huh.”

She could feel him studying her. She pretended absorption in the fire, grateful for the flickering shadows.

“How far apart are the pains?”

“Two minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat again. “What took you so long?”

“I had to feed the horses.”

“Ah.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him head toward the dresser.

“I brought some things. Towels. More sheets and blankets. Some scissors and string.” Light flooded the room as he switched on a lamp.

“Ah,” she said again. She wondered what he planned to do with the string. She’d just decided she didn’t want to know when the familiar tightening began to spread across her middle. She bit her lip and pressed a hand to the small of her back, making a wordless little murmur of protest as the contraction rolled through her like a wave. She reached blindly for the back of the chair to one side of her, her fingers digging into the plush-covered frame until the pain began to ebb.

Gradually she grew aware of the awkward quality of the silence, unbroken except for the crackle of the wood in the fireplace and the steady wail of the wind whistling around the house. She swiped at her damp face, feeling foolish when she realized her hand was shaking.

Jack cleared his throat. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She straightened and turned slowly in his direction. To her surprise, he was only a few feet away, as if he’d started toward her, then changed his mind. For a moment, their eyes met. The line of his mouth tightened, and she realized-how she must look, her cheeks shiny, her nose red, her eyes puffy. She looked away.

“I brought a tarp for the mattress,” he said gruffly. He took a step toward the bed, then stopped and gestured toward the thermos sharing space on the dresser with the other things he’d brought. He gestured toward the dresser. “Are you thirsty? I made some coffee.”

Just the thought made her stomach roll. She shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Okay.” He moved to the far side of the bed, peeled back the covers and unfolded a rectangle of canvas. Determined not to dwell on the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, she focused on his hands. They were large, with long, elegant fingers, their every gesture deft, sure and competent. She supposed she ought to feel reassured.

She didn’t.

As if he felt her watching him, he looked up. His gaze flickered over her. “Interesting outfit.”

She fingered the sheet, folded in half and wrapped around her waist, that she was wearing in lieu of her pants. “My water broke.” She couldn’t resist the little devil that made her add, “Be glad you weren’t here. It wasn’t pretty.”

He gave her a sharp glance, his hands stilling briefly before he resumed smoothing out the sheet he’d stretched over the tarp. He shook his head. “I bet you were a real pain in the butt as a kid.”

She couldn’t contain a slight smile. “Still am.”

He flashed her another look, and she thought she detected a flicker of surprise in his leaf-green eyes. He pulled the covers back into place. “Yeah, well... I suppose you come by it honestly.”

“How do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I’ve done business with your grandmother. She can be a little...difficult.”

Tess made an unladylike sound. “Impossible is more like it. Where Gram’s concerned, there’s only one way to do anything—hers.”

He came around the bed. She tensed as he closed the distance between them, then felt foolish as he reached past her for the poker, squatted down and attended to the fire. “Is that why you left? You couldn’t get your own way?”

She looked down at his dark head, taking note of the way the hair feathered over his shirt collar. “I suppose you could say that. I wanted to go to college, see more of the world than northern Wyoming. Gram wouldn’t hear of it. As far as she was concerned, the Double D was the world.”

Jack tossed another log on the fire. “But you went anyway, right?” His voice had an edge she didn’t understand.

“That’s right.” She was darned if she’d explain that she’d written regularly, concerned that her grandmother might worry. Or that every letter had been returned, bearing the single word Refused penned in Mary’s decisive handwriting. He’d obviously already reached some sort of conclusion about her character—and it wasn’t pretty.

He climbed to his feet. He was so close she could see the faint, silvery line of a scar high on his right cheekbone. “So why show up now? Or—” he glanced pointedly down at the taut bulge of her belly “—do I need to ask?”

She wondered again why he seemed so determined to assume the worst. “Look. I’m not indigent, and I didn’t come here for a handout or to beg a roof over my head. I came because I thought my grandmother ought to know she was about to have a great-grandchild.”

“Yeah? I bet the kid’s father is thrilled about that,” he muttered.

It was the second time that night he’d brought up the baby’s father, and Tess had enough. “Save your sympathy,” she said tersely, “at least for Gray. He’s dead.”

If she meant to surprise him, she’d succeeded. Although his expression didn’t change, she could see the shock in his glorious green eyes—and an unmistakable flash of regret for what he’d said.

All of a sudden, she felt exhausted, and more than a little ashamed herself. She turned away, back toward the fire. “Please. Just go away—Oh!” She gasped as a bolt of pain lanced through her, doubling her over.

She forgot her anger at Jack as she realized that this contraction already felt far worse than the preceding ones. She gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached, but it didn’t help. Instead, the pain increased, winding tighter and tighter. Tess began to panic. She couldn’t do this, she thought frantically, little black dots dancing behind her eyelids as she squeezed her eyes shut. She could handle an accident, a blizzard, Gram’s rejection, Gray’s loss, a hostile stranger—but not this excruciating, overwhelming, unrelenting pain, too. She swayed, biting her lip to keep from crying out, afraid that if she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Suddenly a hard, steely arm came around her. “Breathe,” Jack ordered, his deep, impatient voice close to her ear.

Disoriented, she forced her eyes open. “What?”

He stared down at her, his expression grim. “I said breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Like this.” He demonstrated.

Gasping fitfully, she shook her head. “I—I—can’t.”

True to form, he disagreed. “You can. Look at me and concentrate.”

His certainty—and some last little remnant of bravado—brought her chin up. Clutching his arm, she ignored the tears blurring her vision and attempted to pattern her breathing after his. It wasn’t easy. At first she felt so frantic and light-headed that with every breath she was sure she was going to hyperventilate.

Jack wasn’t having it, however. Through the sheer force of his will, he kept her focused until she was gradually able to inhale and exhale more and more deeply. At some point, the pain seemed to lessen a fraction.

Even so, an eternity seemed to pass before the contraction finally ended. Dazed, every muscle in her body quivering, Tess sagged against Jack. He felt wonderful, lean, hard, warm and solid, and she was suddenly too grateful for his presence to be concerned with anything else. “Thanks,” she said when she finally found her voice.

He tensed, but didn’t move away. “Why the hell didn’t you take a childbirth class?”

She swallowed a sigh. Forget cupcake—remember? “I did. I’ve just never been very good at following directions.”

Silence. And then a grunt. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you practice being rude?” she asked mildly, finally looking up at him. “Or is it a natural talent?”

Their gazes met for a long, measuring moment. Whatever he felt was impossible to decipher, but for once he was the first to look away. “Can you walk?”

“Yes. Can you?”

He shook his head. “What I meant,” he said caustically, “was do you think you can make it to the bed?”

She considered. Her lower body felt leaden, the muscles weighted. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Because you need to lie down before the baby shows up and drops out on its head.”

She sighed, this time loudly and on purpose. “You know, Jack, you really have a way with words.”

“Can you walk or not?”

It was only five feet. How hard could it be? “Sure.” She let loose of him and took a step.

A second later, a new contraction struck her, and her knees gave out.

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!”

For an instant she looked blank. “What? I thought—are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

Her lips began to tremble. “Is she okay?”

“She’s perfect.” Quickly he toweled off the baby, wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to her mother. “Honest. Ten fingers and ten toes.”

“Oh. Oh, my.” Tess looked down at the little red face and managed a shaky smile. “She’s...beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed. The damn moisture was filling his eyes again, and he seemed to have something stuck in his throat. Nevertheless, there was something he had to say. “You...you did great.”

She glanced up in surprise. For a long moment, their gazes met. Until, with no warning, her face crumpled and she began to cry, great wrenching sobs of exhaustion, relief and joy.

For the second time that night, Jack didn’t stop to think.

He simply moved up the bed and gathered her and the baby into his arms.

Jack awoke slowly the next morning.

He was conscious first of the light. It was silvery-white against his eyelids, indicating that it was well past dawn, his usual time for rising. Perplexed, he started to stretch, only to be further disconcerted when he felt the chair at his back. Hell. Why wasn’t he in bed? He rolled his head, winced at the crick in his neck—and froze as his cheek brushed against an impossibly silky little head. In nearly the same instant, he registered the soft, slight weight resting against his chest.

The baby. Memory rushed back. The storm, the accident, Tess... And then later, the accelerated labor, the incredible moment of birth...

He raised his head and opened his eyes, forgetting to breathe as he took in Tess’s daughter’s serene, sleepy little face, so close to his. His gaze traced the fan of spidery black lashes that brushed the rose-petal cheeks, took in the button nose and the Cupid’s-bow lips parted to form a perfect O. Beneath his hand, he could feel each delicate bump of her spine, the steady ebb and flow of her breathing, the rhythmic flutter of her heart.

An odd pain squeezed his heart. He hadn’t lied last night. She was perfect.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.