Sugar Daddy(150)

"You never know when you might need some towels," I replied, figuring it would cause him unnecessary distress if I explained further.

"When my mother had Hannah and the boys, she never took more than a paper sack, a toothbrush, and a nightgown."

"What was the paper sack for?" I asked in instant worry. "Should I run in and get one?"

He laughed and lifted me up to the front seat beside Mama. "It was to put the toothbrush and nightgown in. Let's go, honey."

The flooding had already turned Welcome into a chain of little islands. The trick of going from one place to another was to know the roads well enough that you could judge which flowing streams were passable. All it takes is two feet of water to float virtually any car. Hardy was a master at negotiating Welcome, taking a circuitous route to avoid low ground. He followed farm roads, cut through parking lots, and guided the pickup through currents until fountains of water spewed from the trenching tires.

I was amazed by Hardy's presence of mind, the lack of visible tension, the way he made small talk with Mama to distract her. The only sign of effort was the notch between his brows. There is nothing a Texan loves more than to pit himself against the elements. Texans take a kind of ornery pride in the state's raucous weather. Epic storms, killing heat, winds that threaten to strip a layer of skin off, the endless variety of twisters and hurricanes. No matter how bad the weather gets, or what level of hardship is imposed, Texans receive it with variations on a single question..."Hot enough for you1?"..."Wet enough for you?"... "Dry enough for you?"... and so forth.

I watched Hardy's hands on the wheel, the light capable grip, the water spots on his sleeves. I loved him so much, loved his fearlessness, his strength, even the ambition that would someday take him away from me.

"A few more minutes," Hardy murmured, feeling my gaze on him. "I'll get you both there, safe and sound."

"I know you will," I said, while the windshield wipers flailed helplessly at the flats of rain that pounded the glass.

As soon as we arrived at the family clinic, Mama was taken in a wheelchair to be prepped, while Hardy and I took our belongings to the labor room. It was filled with machines and monitors, and a neonatal open care warmer that looked like a baby spaceship.

But the room's appearance was softened by ruffled curtains, a wallpaper border featuring geese and baby ducks, and a gingham-cushioned rocking chair.

A stout gray-haired nurse moved around the room, checking the equipment and adjusting the level of the bed. As Hardy and I came in, she said sternly, "Only mothers-to-be and their husbands are allowed in the labor room. You'll have to go to the waiting area down the hall."

"There's no husband," I said, feeling a little defensive as I saw her brows inching up toward her hairline. "I'm staying to help my mother."

"I see. But your boyfriend will have to leave."

Hot color rushed over my face. "He's not my—"

"No problem," Hardy interrupted easily. "Believe me, ma'am, I don't want to get in anyone's way."

The nurse's stern face relaxed into a smile. Hardy had that effect on women.

Pulling a colored folder from the duffel bag. I gave it to the nurse. "Ma'am, I'd appreciate it if you'd read this."

She looked suspiciously at the bright yellow folder. I had printed the words "BIRTH PLAN" on the front and decorated it with stickers of baby bottles and storks. "What is this?"

"I've written out our preferences for the labor experience," I explained. "We want dim lighting and as much peace and quiet as possible, and we're going to play nature sounds. And we want to maintain my mother's mobility until it's time for the epidural. About pain relief—she's fine with Demorol but we wanted to ask the doctor about Nubain. And please don't forget to read the notes about the episiotomy."

Looking harassed, the nurse took the birth plan and disappeared.

I gave the hand pump to Hardy and plugged in the tape player. "Hardy, before you go, would you inflate the birth ball? Not all the way. Eighty percent would be best."

"Sure," he said. "Anything else?"

I nodded. "There's a tube sock filled with rice in the duffel. I'd appreciate it if you'd find a microwave oven somewhere and heat it for two minutes."

"Absolutely." As Hardy bent to inflate the birth ball, I saw the line of his cheek tauten with a smile.

"What's so funny?" I asked, but he shook his head and didn't answer, only continued to smile as he obeyed my instructions.

By the time Mama was brought into the room, the lighting had been adjusted to my satisfaction, and the air was filled with the sounds of the Amazon rain forest. It was a soothing patter of rain punctuated with the chirping of tree frogs and the occasional cry of a macaw.