Prince Charming in Dress Blues

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the storm has turned into a blizzard. There are drifts of snow blocking the driveway, and I’m pretty sure the roads are in no better shape.”

Her blue eyes widened, and she shot a quick look at the nearest window. Outside, the wind hammered at the glass like an angry old man demanding entry.

“Well, find a snowplow.”

“I don’t have one.”

“What kind of mountain cabin doesn’t have a snow plow?”

Pointless to wish for things they didn’t have, he thought. “I’ll mention it to Pete next time I see him.” Along with a few other things, like making sure the cabin was unoccupied before you lent it out.

“There can’t be a blizzard,” she said, interrupting his thoughts and swinging her gaze back to him. “I’m having a baby.”

Oh, man. He forced a smile he didn’t feel and told himself she didn’t need to see just how nervous she was making him. The thought of becoming an instant obstetrician didn’t exactly electrify him. But what choice did he have? Hell, what choice did either of them have? That baby was coming whether they liked it or not.

And in this situation the baby had the last word.

“Maybe we could call for help,” she said, waving the phone she still held in one hand.

“Good idea,” he said and cursed silently for not thinking of it himself.

“I’ll call 911,” she said to herself as she turned the phone on and dialed. “This is an emergency, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I’d say so,” he told her. Heck, if he had any rocket flares, he’d be firing them about now.

She held the phone up to her ear, and he watched eagerness fade into disbelief and then fear.

“What?” he asked, not really wanting to hear her answer.

“It’s not working.”

“What do you mean it’s not working?” he asked, reaching for the phone.

“It’s not dialing.”

He took it, listened for a long minute, hoping the situation would change, then gave it up. That sinking sensation crawled back into his guts and he wondered if it was going to become a permanent part of him. “The phone’s dead.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and instantly told himself how stupid that was. Of course she’d worry. She was probably terrified. Having a baby during a blizzard, with the only help available a complete stranger? Those wide blue eyes of hers shone with a glimmer of unshed tears and just a trace of dread. Hell, he was just short of panicking himself. But even as that thought registered, he put it aside. Marines don’t panic, for God’s sake. Marines fight battles. And Marines win, by damn.

She licked dry lips and gave him a quick, frantic glance. “Maybe it’s not labor. Maybe it’s gas.”

“You really think so?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and rubbing her mouth with her fingertips. “Just wishful thinking. Oh, God,” she added in a soft, panic filled murmur, “what am I going to do?”

“We can do this,” he said, making sure his voice sounded firm but comforting.

“We can?” she asked, grabbing the phone from him and shaking it as if she could bring it back to life.

“I’ll help any way I can.”

She kept shaking the phone.

He took it from her and set it back into the cradle. “Shaking it won’t help. The line must have gone down.”

“The power line?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a grateful look at the lamplight, “power’s still on. I don’t know for how long, though.”

“This is not happening,” she whispered, and sank down onto the edge of the bed.

“Yeah,” John said quietly, “it is.” Though he wished to hell it wasn’t.

She shot him a quick look. “I had this planned, you know.”

“You planned this?” He took a seat beside her.

Unbelievably enough, a short laugh shot from her throat. “No, I didn’t plan this. I planned how it would be when the baby came.”

John just looked at her. “You can plan that stuff?”

She nodded, more to herself than to him. “You just have to be organized, is all.” She glanced at him and went on. “At home, I have the doctor’s number by the phone, my packed suitcase by the front door and the baby’s layette all pressed and ready.”

“That’s a plan,” he said, and told himself she’d make a halfway decent General.

She folded her hands in what was left of her lap and entwined her fingers. “This isn’t how I thought it would be. I thought I’d be in the hospital. With nurses. With doctors. With medication.”

Her voice notched up a bit higher with every word, and he felt the tension inside her escalate. He had to keep her calm. Hysteria wasn’t going to help either of them through this.

“But I’m stuck here. In a cabin. With—” she looked at him. “I don’t even know your name.”

“John,” he told her, offering his right hand. “John Paretti.”

Her bottom lip trembled a bit, and that hit him harder than he would have expected.

She took his hand and said, “Annie. Annie Foster.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she said, and her mouth quirked into a mocking smile. “I’ll bet. You’re probably wishing you were out in that blizzard somewhere.”

“Nope,” he said, and surprised himself by meaning it. If he wasn’t here, she’d be alone. And he didn’t like the thought of that at all. Better that he was here. Not that he knew what the hell to do, but at least she wasn’t alone. At least he could be another heartbeat in the cabin. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be at this moment.”

“Really?” she asked, and this time she gave him a genuine smile that hit him like a hard fist to his midsection. “I can think of at least a dozen places I’d rather be.”

“Can’t say as I blame you any,” John said, “but try not to worry.”

“Don’t worry?”

“Well, okay,” he said, keeping his voice low and soft, “I guess you’ll worry, anyway. But the point is, at least you’re not alone. We’ll get through this.”

She reached up and pushed one hand through her short cap of blond curls, “We will, huh?”

John gave her another smile he hoped looked more convincing than it felt and reached for her hand. “Sure. How hard can it be? People have been having babies for centuries.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, “and I wish some of them were here right now.” He smiled, appreciating a woman who could make jokes when things looked black. “Oh, no…here’s another one….” Then she grabbed at him, curling her fingers into his forearm until each one of her nails dug through the fabric of his jacket and the shirt beneath, to bite into his skin. Man, she had a helluva grip.

Misery shimmered across her features. Her lips clamped tightly shut, she breathed quickly, deeply through her nose and closed her eyes as she rode the wave of pain gripping her.

John had never felt so helpless in his life.

Not knowing what else to do, he smoothed his free hand up and down her back in long, comforting strokes. And even through the thick, blue cable-knit sweater she wore, he felt her muscles tighten convulsively.

“Are you okay?” Dumb question, Paretti, he told himself as her fingernails slowly eased back out of his skin. She trembled, and he wanted to pick her up and carry her bodily through the snow. Find a hospital. Find a doctor who could give her something to ease the pain. A doctor who could take care of her and her baby.

And he couldn’t do it. All he could offer her was a shoulder to cry on and the promise that he wouldn’t leave her.

A long, deep breath shuddered into her lungs before she looked up at him. An invisible fist clutched at his heart, squeezing painfully. Sapphire-blue eyes stared back at him, and John saw fear and hope, and unbelievably enough, excitement shining in those vivid depths.

“That one was much stronger,” she told him. “I think the baby’s going to be here soon.”

He buried the knot of panic swelling inside him and said only, “Then let’s get ready to greet it.”

Three

The night crawled on.

She’d been wrong. The baby hadn’t been as close as she’d thought. Minutes were measured in soft moans that tore at John even as he admired the woman who refused to cry out despite the pain that kept blossoming inside her. He knew it was far worse now. He saw the advancement of the pain on her face. Her features tightened, draining her of color. Her blond hair lay damp against her forehead, and those lake-blue eyes of hers were glassy with concentration and agony.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help her.

Helplessness was not something he was used to feeling. Until tonight there’d never been a problem he couldn’t solve. A situation he couldn’t take charge of. As a man—a Marine—he’d prided himself on being able to handle whatever came his way. It was second nature to him to offer help. To fix whatever was broken.

But now, despite his training, despite wishing things were different, he was nothing more than a bystander. All he could do was watch as Mother Nature did what she did best.

And damned if he wasn’t humbled.

As the latest pain faded away, John watched her breathe easier, saw the tension leave her body and was probably more grateful than she for the respite.

“Oh, my,” she whispered and swallowed hard. “That was a hard one.”

He was suddenly aware that his hands were curled into tight fists. Deliberately he relaxed them and walked to her side. Picking up a damp washcloth, he wiped her forehead, smoothing her soft blond hair back and accepting her smile with all the pride he would have a medal.

“Thanks,” she said and pulled in one or two deep breaths. “This is a heck of a first impression I make, don’t you think?”

John smiled down at her. “It’s not a night I’m likely to forget.”

“Me, neither,” she assured him and rubbed one hand across the mound of her child. “But then, when this is over, I’ll have my baby.”

He watched her hand move slowly, tenderly, and not for the first time he noticed the lack of a wedding ring. Did that mean she wasn’t married? Or that her rings didn’t fit anymore? Hadn’t he heard his own mother complain about being pregnant with him and his brothers and how she hadn’t been able to wear her wedding rings for the swelling?

Probably shouldn’t say anything, he thought, but at the same time, if she was his wife, he’d be terrified at the thought of her stuck in a blizzard. Of course, if she had been his wife, she wouldn’t have been traveling alone so close to the birth of their baby.

Taking a seat beside her on the mattress, he asked, “Is there anyone who’s going to be worried about you?” And even as the words left his mouth, he thought, Oh, nice job, Paretti. Could you make her sound more alone?

She pushed herself a little higher against the pillows and shook her head. “If you mean, do I have a husband somewhere pacing the floor, the answer is no.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Pry?” she finished for him, and gave him a tired smile. “John, you undressed me and put me to bed. Before the night’s over, you’re going to deliver my baby. I don’t think a question is out of line.”

He still felt like an idiot.

“And, as I said, the answer is no,” she said in a voice pitched so low he had to strain to hear it. “No husband. No anxious father. It’s just me. And the baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

“Probably not,” she agreed, “but don’t be sorry for me. It’s an old story, certainly not a new one. I picked a lemon in the garden of love.” Her hand on her belly paused, as if she were trying to keep the baby from hearing what she was about to say. “When he found out I was pregnant, he left.”

Okay, now he knew who the real idiot was. “Stupid of him,” he said.

Annie smiled at the compliment. “Thanks. I thought so.” Really, as “burglars” went, he was a very nice man. And she was more grateful than she could say that he was there. She didn’t even want to imagine what it would have been like to be stranded, alone and giving birth. She squirmed a bit on the bed, feeling the pad of towels John had folded and slipped beneath the sheet. She just couldn’t get comfortable, she thought, and briefly longed again for that fabulous epidural she’d heard other women talking about. Funny how this had worked out. She’d never had any intention of having a natural childbirth. Annie was a big believer in taking advantage of medical science. After all, a hundred years ago women were putting knives under the bed to “cut the pain.” Who was she to go without medication when people had worked for years to make childbirth easier, safer and pain free?

Something inside her began the slow, unmistakable tightening that by now she recognized all too well. Another contraction was coming. Her body readied for that slow climb to agony. And since there was no anesthetist around to give her a hand, she settled for something else.

“Talk to me,” she whispered as her insides tightened and her back arched as she moved into the pain.

His eyes widened. “About what?”

“Anything,” she assured him. She just wanted something else to concentrate on besides her own discomfort. “Tell me about your family. Are you married?”

He laughed shortly and shook his head. “Me? No. I figure I’ll stay single and save some poor woman a lot of headaches.”

Oh, it was a big one. She tried to ride the wave, told herself that with each pain, her baby was that much closer. Keep talking, she thought. “Scared, huh?”

John’s head jerked back, and he looked at her. “Scared? Who said anything about scared?”

Despite her distress she laughed at his offended tone, then gasped and reached for his hands. Holding on tightly, she only said, “Talk, John. Talk to me.”

“Uh,” he said, letting his gaze sweep over her before settling back on her face, “I have two brothers. They’ve both gotten married recently. Nice women,” he muttered, words tumbling out of his mouth, and she clung to each one as if it were a tiny life raft. “Can’t figure out why they’d want to be married to Nick or Sam, but, hey, I never did understand women.”

A twist of her lips was the best smile she could give him. “So few do,” she said, and panted for air. “Tell me about them. About you.”

“We’re Marines,” he said, throwing the words out quickly. “All of us.”

Not a Boy Scout after all, she told herself, but close.

“More,” she said through gritted teeth, seeing the pain as a red haze that settled over her eyes, blurring the rest of the world until only his voice kept her anchored.

“My brother Sam is stationed in South Carolina. He just married a woman named Karen. She’s a real estate agent. Nice lady. Keeps Sam hopping, I can tell you.”

Her hands tightened on his.

John spoke quickly, keeping the words flowing.

“Nick, he’s stationed here. At Camp Pendleton, like me. He’s married to Gina.” John laughed shortly, and she clung to the sound of it. “She’s Italian, too, so the two of them together get pretty loud when there’s a difference of opinion. But Nick—hell, he’s a marshmallow when it comes to her.”

Calm, deliberate, he kept talking, telling her about his family, drawing her into his life. And as he talked, she listened, getting to know him not just through his words but through the gentle touch of his hands and the quiet timbre of his voice. While the wind howled outside and her body screamed inside, her mind reached out for him and held on.

“Okay,” John told her from his position at the foot of the bed, “I think this is it.”

He’d drawn on every bit of medical training he’d ever received in the Corps to help him out during the last several hours. And, God knew, it hadn’t been much. Knowing how to tie a bandage or temporarily set a broken bone wasn’t going to get him far tonight. But at least he felt somewhat prepared for what was coming.

John only hoped he wouldn’t screw this up. Let her down. He was all she had to count on now. All the baby had to count on.

His heart ached to watch her writhing in a pain she refused to acknowledge. She was either the bravest or the stubbornest woman he’d ever known. He knew damn well she was in agony, yet she’d hardly made a peep all night. Hell, he’d seen Marines wailing over a flesh wound. But Annie had simply gritted her teeth, steeled her will and ridden the pain out.

Through it all, she’d amazed him with her courage.

And now that the payoff was here…the birth imminent…he only hoped he measured up to her.

“Get set, Annie. Next time you feel like it, you give this baby a big push into the world.”

Annie nodded, propped herself up onto her elbows, took a deep breath and clenched her jaw. Every muscle in her body tightened, preparing for battle. When an overwhelming compulsion took hold, she pushed with everything she had, concentrating on moving her baby from her womb into her waiting arms.

“’Atta girl,” John said, and she heard him as if from a distance. “Keep going, don’t stop now. It’s coming. I can see its head.”

A smile bubbled up inside her, despite the pain roaring through her body. Almost, she told herself. Almost. After all these months, the moment was finally here.

“Breathe, Annie,” he ordered, “you’ve got to breathe. Take a breath for God’s sake.”

She sucked in air, used it for ammunition and bore down again. How many times, she wondered, her mind racing at a wild speed, had she seen this scene on television? Or in the movies? Push, push, someone was always shouting, and the poor beleaguered woman always ended up crying out, “I can’t.”

Well, not Annie. She felt as though she couldn’t stop pushing. Her body had a mind of its own now. She was just along for the ride. Nature had stepped in and there was no stopping it. And as suddenly as that thought came, John called out, “Okay, ease back a little now. Stop pushing for a minute.”

“No way,” she muttered. Her eyes flew open, and she looked at him where he knelt between her up-drawn legs. No modesty left, she thought idly, not caring right now who saw her in the most humiliating position a woman could find herself in. All she wanted now was to get this baby out.

The urge to push clawed at her. “Have to,” she said between gasps for air, “have to push. Have to do it now.”

“I know, honey,” he said, his voice soft, his hands against her body gentle. Then he met her gaze and gave her a smile. “The baby’s head’s out and it’s turning, so just hold back a minute or two more. It knows what to do, all we have to do is give it time to do it.”

She blew air out in short, sharp puffs and told herself to hang on. Just another minute. And finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand it a second longer, she heard him say, “All right Annie, let’s meet this baby.”

“Thank God,” she moaned and put everything she had into one last, colossal effort to push her child from her body.

“Scream if you want to, honey,” he told her in a loud, clear voice. “No one’s around to hear you.”

She didn’t want to scream. Didn’t want to waste that much breath. But as she felt her body give and stretch and pull taut, Annie heard a high, keening wail splinter the air and it wasn’t until much later that she realized the sound had come from her.

The baby cried and Annie laughed, falling back against the pillows like a runner exhausted after a marathon.

John’s voice, so familiar, so comforting, carried above the infant’s outraged screech. “It’s a girl, Annie,” he said, pleasure and awe coloring his tone.

She looked at him and he held her baby up like a prize won in a county fair.

“She’s gorgeous,” he said. “Just like her mother.”

“A girl,” Annie crooned, lifting her arms out for the messy, squalling baby whose tiny arms and legs kicked furiously.

“Let me just clean her up a little,” he said with a wink.

So tired, Annie thought as she nodded and closed her eyes. She’d never been more tired. Or more fulfilled. She’d done it. She’d given birth and now she’d never be alone again. She had a family. A daughter.

One part of her mind listened as John moved around the room, tending to the baby, talking to her.

“You caused quite a stir, young lady,” he was saying, and the baby’s cries quieted, matching his soft tone. “Your mommy’s tired now, and I’m going to be a little busy seeing to her, so I want you to just take it easy and let her rest for a bit, all right?”

Annie chuckled under her breath. It all felt so wonderful. So…right. Yesterday she hadn’t even known this man existed. And now…oh, she thought as he came toward her and laid her brand-new baby in her arms, now she couldn’t imagine not knowing him.

As she tucked the squirming bundle of her daughter close to her side, Annie felt John’s fingers trace delicately across her forehead. She tore her gaze from the beautiful sight of her daughter’s face to look up at him.

“You’re amazing,” he said and she saw admiration and wonder in his eyes. “She’s amazing.”

Annie reached up and caught his hand with hers. Unexpected tears filled her eyes as she met his gaze and said quietly, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off and staring deeply into his eyes. She wanted to tell him so much. To let him know what it had meant to her that he was there. That he was kind. And calm. And gentle. But all she could say was the same two words. “Thank you.”

He shook his head, bent down, kissed her forehead, then kissed the baby for good measure. Smiling at Annie, he said, “Annie, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Thank you for letting me witness a miracle.”

Four

John leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and stared at the sleeping woman across the room from him. She looked so small in the big bed, half-buried under a blue-and-white quilt and surrounded by a mountain of pillows.

But he wasn’t fooled by her size. He knew firsthand just how tough this woman was.

His insides flipped once, hard. Now that the emergency was over, he could take a minute to fully appreciate just how lucky they’d both been. The baby was a month early, but she was big and healthy. No complications during delivery. No problems at all, really. And as that thought fluttered through his mind, he sent up a quick, heartfelt prayer of gratitude.

The baby, lying in the crook of Annie’s arm, stirred and whimpered. John pushed away from the wall and walked quickly, soundlessly to the side of the bed. Shadows of exhaustion lay beneath Annie’s eyes, but the baby looked wide-eyed and ready for trouble.

A pair of hazy blue eyes looked up at him, and despite knowing that he probably looked like a big blur to her, John told himself that the tiny girl was staring right at him. One impossibly small hand lifted and long, fragile fingers reached for him. He sucked in a gulp of air and actually felt it when the baby’s fist closed around his heart.

“A heartbreaker,” he whispered, and carefully lifted the baby, still wrapped in her bath-towel blanket, from the circle of Annie’s arm. “That’s what you are. A heartbreaker.”

She only stared at him owlishly.

“Come on, now, let’s give your mom some sleep time,” he said, his voice taking on an instinctive, singsong rhythm. Cuddling her into his chest, John headed for the main room and surprised himself by just how much he enjoyed the feel of that new life in his arms.

He’d never imagined himself as a father—despite the fact that he’d had a damn near perfect childhood, raised by parents who loved each other. Fatherhood just wasn’t something that had appealed to him. Maybe it was the whole idea of being responsible for another human being. Maybe it was fear of screwing up an innocent kid by making stupid parenting mistakes.

But whatever the reason, he’d avoided all chances at a serious relationship that might have led to parenthood. He’d always told himself that he was perfectly happy in his life. Answering to no one but the Corps. Going his own way. Doing his own thing.

But now, he thought as he took a seat on the floor near the fireplace and leaned back against the sofa, he had to wonder. The small, sturdy weight on his arm felt good. Right, somehow. And looking down into a pair of eyes that had seen nothing of the world made him want to show her everything.