Watching through the window, he’d noticed they were dealing with some kind of situation at the nurse’s station involving a woman in a wheelchair, a chubby brunette, and two hulking men with red hair. He plastered on his best smile as someone buzzed him in.
He blessed his good luck which made him positive that this was meant to be. He was meant to have his kid for his own. His to raise. His to shape. Supplies were waiting at home in the event that the bitch had already had him. He was sure it was a boy. Positive.
“Luck is on my side,” he muttered to himself, pulling his ball cap down and keeping that convincing smile in place. The last thing he wanted was to draw undo attention while he was on his fact-finding mission.
He looked in the nursery window and spotted several babies. Some crying, some sleeping. An even number of boys and girls. He didn’t recognize the last names on any of the bassinets but that didn’t mean nothin’. Any of them might be his. He needed more information.
He passed the first patient room in the long hall, noting it was dark and vacant. He hit pay dirt when he glanced in the next room and saw the blonde bitch he’d been watching earlier that morning, the one that belonged to Cross and Teller and that other fellow. He couldn’t see much else in the room because his view was blocked but she was laughing at something. The little sign on her door said, “Warner, Grace. Under observation.” He committed that name to memory for later research. With a stealthy hand, he pushed down on the door handle to take a listen to the conversation to see if his bitch was in there. He’d know her voice anywhere. Didn’t matter what alias she used.
* * * *
Jessica struggled to breathe through the contraction while the labor and delivery nurse spoke with Lydia, Tank, and Troy, content to let them answer her questions. A flurry of activity was occurring around her, but all she could focus on was the contraction barreling through her abdomen.
She’d read several books and had all the knowledge a well-read layperson could hope for but nowhere had it hinted about how quickly dignity was lost when a woman was in labor. Her water had broken all over poor Tank, wetting his shirtsleeve and his jeans, and even his boots.
“What time did her water break?”
“How long has she been in labor?”
Tank had hurried with her in his arms to one of the ranch trucks. Troy evidently had called Lydia because she’d met them at the truck as Tank loaded Jessica, her hospital bag in hand. Seconds later they’d been headed for the hospital. Serious contractions had begun and the fact that she was sitting, in soaked pants, in either Tank’s or Troy’s truck, likely ruining the seat, had suddenly become the least of her concerns.
The Rockin’ C Ranch was a little ways out of town and Tank made the drive as fast as he could. Lydia had held her hand and done her best to make her comfortable as she focused on the breathing technique she’d been taught by Emma in their private childbirth classes at the remote cabin. More amniotic fluid leaked out as they arrived in Divine and turned in the direction of the hospital. She’d probably terrified both Tank and Troy when she’d said, “I–I think I feel like pushing.”
Lydia had spoken rapidly into her phone and then turned to Jessica. “Emma says she’s on her way. She says try to blow through your contractions. We’re almost there, honey.”
Jessica nodded and blew like Emma had instructed, struggling because the urge to push was difficult to deny. She’d closed her eyes and released control of everything else, trusting that they’d get her where she needed to go. One of the guys had lifted her in gentle arms and whispered comfortingly to her until she was placed into a wheelchair and rolled forward. Quiet surrounded her until they arrived by elevator in the labor and delivery wing.
The barrage of questions had started immediately but she did her best to stay calm and blow when each contraction gripped her anew.
“We’ve contacted Anesthesia for an epidural and the doctor should be here soon,” she heard a nurse say.
She spoke softly, trying to stay focused on relaxing. “I don’t think there’s time for that.” She gasped as the contraction stole her breath and shifted anxiously in the chair. “This baby is coming now. Like right now.”
She opened her eyes to look up at a curvy nurse with jet-black hair and brown eyes that shone with kindness and understanding.
“I’m Tracey, Miss Bright. I’m going to take care of you. Dr. Emma is on her way but even if she doesn’t get here in time, you and me, we got this under control, okay? Follow me, guys,” Tracey said authoritatively as she hurried to a room across the hall.