Montana Dreaming. Karen Rose Smith
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So far, so good.
“Are you sure the baby’s coming?” he asked.
“Yes. Once the water breaks, contractions are more or less imminent. And according to the pregnancy book I’ve been reading, they won’t try to stop labor this time.”
A million fears hit him in the gut, nearly knocking him breathless, and all he could think of was getting her to the hospital, of passing the baton to medical professionals. Yet at the same time, he wanted to protect her, keep her safe—not an easy task for a man who meant to remain detached.
He circled the car to get in on the driver’s side, his heart pounding in his ears, stirring his fear, as well as his reluctance to be involved. He stole a glance at her, saw her pursed lips, her furrowed brow. She had to be more frightened than he was.
As they pulled out onto Main, her breath caught and she rubbed her stomach.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t heard the panicky edge to his voice.
“I’m having a contraction.”
Oh, no. He’d read horror stories of kids being born in taxis and cars. But surely they didn’t just pop out. Didn’t the labor process take a while?
He glanced at his wristwatch, then stepped on the gas, trying his best to zip through the lazy Saturday afternoon traffic. A lady honked at him, and he had half a notion to flip her off, shake a fist and swear at her. But he had to admit he hadn’t seen her vehicle, hadn’t realized he’d cut her off.
Damn. He’d better slow down and get his head out of his ass. A car accident wouldn’t do Juliet or the baby any good. But he didn’t want to waste precious time and found it hard not to speed.
As they turned onto White Water Drive, his pulse seemed to settle into a steady rush, rather than a frantic race. He stole a look at her, saw the apprehension in her eyes.
Do something, he told himself. Make her feel better.
Hell, he had to do something to make them both feel better. But he didn’t have a clue what.
He gripped the steering wheel as though he could control the situation as well as he maneuvered the rented sedan.
Up ahead, he spotted the colorful flags that lined the entrance of Ranch View Estates, the development that she’d pointed out to him the last time they’d traveled this road.
“How big are those homes?” he asked, hoping to stir up a conversation that might take her mind off her worries. Off his, too.
She looked out the window, but her face didn’t light up. Not like it had when she’d first made a fuss over the housing development and mentioned that she’d gone to see the models. “I’m not sure. I think the smallest one is about twenty-eight hundred square feet.”
“How many bedrooms?” he asked, trying his damnedest to keep the casual conversation going.
“Three to four, I think. The biggest model has a den that can be used as an office or another bedroom.”
“Those sure are nice-size lots. I guess a guy would have to buy a good mower.”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on something he couldn’t see.
But Mark continued to keep up the lame conversation. “And I like the ranch-style architecture.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It sure would be nice living in a gated community.” That is, if he ever got the urge to put down roots. Then it would be nice.
She started rubbing her belly with her hand and breathing weird. Was that normal?
He glanced at his watch again. They’d been on the road for about five minutes. Only three or four more miles to go. Then he could pass the responsibility on to someone else. He tried to think up something else to say, but what was the use? He had a feeling she didn’t appreciate his efforts to chat, and they were almost at the hospital.
Moments later, they pulled into the entrance of Thunder Canyon General. By this time, Mark knew the drill, but that didn’t make him feel any less nervous. Any less afraid.
As he parked the idling car under the covered portico, Juliet reached a hand across the seat and tugged at the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Thanks for bringing me here.”
“No problem.”
Had voicing her appreciation been her way of letting him off the hook? Of telling him he could just leave her here?
He hoped so. But he’d wait until he got her settled, until the doctor stepped in and took over. Then he could walk out the door and get on with his life, knowing he’d done his good deed. That he’d made sure at least one pregnant woman had gotten to the hospital safely.
Moments later, Mark brought a nurse and a wheelchair to the car. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he was able to hand over Juliet to someone medically trained. Someone competent.
Still, he followed her and the nurse through the double glass doors, past the security guard. Mark acknowledged the uniformed man, and the guy nodded in return.
While the E.R. clerk handled the paperwork and phoned the maternity ward to give them a heads-up, Mark continued to hang out, to make sure the admission process was complete and that Juliet didn’t need him anymore.
“Who’s the head of the department?” Mark asked, wanting the best for Juliet.
“Dr. Chester is the head of Ob-Gyn,” the clerk responded. “She’s out of town on a speaking engagement at the Montana Women’s Health Fair. But Dr. Hart is here.”
“Oh, good,” Juliet said. “I was hoping Dr. Hart would be working.”
As long as she was comfortable with the resident, Mark supposed it was okay. But he’d have felt better with the head obstetrician.
Before long, a heavyset man dressed in hospital greens stepped behind Juliet’s wheelchair to take her to the elevator and up to the second floor.
She glanced at Mark. “Are you going with us?”
It was just a question, he told himself. Not a request. He could tell her he’d take a rain check this time around. Besides, it was a perfect time to cut whatever flimsy connection they’d built over the past few days, a perfect chance to escape before she expected something from him. Something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—provide.
But what if she wasn’t out of the woods yet? What if she needed him—or rather someone—to be with her for a little while?
“Yeah,” he told her. “I’ll stay for a bit.”
She nodded, as the orderly pushed her down the hall, and Mark fell into step behind them.
When they reached the heavy double doors that required someone to buzz them in, the orderly pulled the wheelchair to a stop.
“What’s the deal with the password and the locked door?” Mark asked.
“A year or so ago, a woman tried to kidnap one of the newborns. She didn’t get away with it, but we tightened our security, hoping to prevent something like that from ever happening again.” The orderly punched in a code, and the doors swung open.
Mark glanced at Juliet and saw the wide-eyed expression. Was she concerned that someone might try to take her little one?
“You and the baby will be just fine,” Mark told her.
Then he forced a smile, hoping to high heaven that what he’d told her was true.
When Dr. Hart donned a pair of gloves, Mark slipped out of the birthing room. Juliet wondered whether he’d say goodbye before leaving. There wasn’t any reason for him to stay, she supposed.
She held her breath, waiting as Dr. Hart examined her.
“You’re about two