Child of Grace

by Hannon, Irene

  Time to change position again, move around. She needed to walk these off so she could go back to bed and try to sleep.

  For a few minutes she wandered through the house, favoring her sore knee. She picked up a newspaper and disposed of it. Straightened a picture on the wall. Wiped down the counter again.

  Just when she began to believe the contractions were history, another one rolled over her. Six minutes and twenty-two seconds since the last one, according to her watch. It lasted thirty-five seconds.

  This wasn’t good.

  But jumping to conclusions was foolish. Until there was a definite pattern, there was no need to call Dr. Evans.

  Resettling herself on the kitchen stool, she picked up the pen and waited.

  Forty-five minutes later, after tracking seven contractions that were now coming every five and a half minutes and lasting forty seconds, she accepted reality.

  This baby was coming. Ready or not.

  Not being the operative word.

  Fingers fumbling, she tapped in Dr. Evans’s exchange and left a message. Four minutes later, the OB called her back and listened as Kelsey gave her a recap.

  “It’s possible we’re dealing with Braxton Hicks, but all indications are you’re in the late stages of the early phase of labor.” The doctor’s voice was calm but firm. “I want you to go to the hospital so we can do an assessment.”

  “I don’t even have a bag packed.” Kelsey combed her shaky fingers through her hair. “And it’s too soon. The baby’s not due for almost five weeks.”

  And I haven’t decided what to do with him or her yet!

  “Babies don’t always abide by our rules. As for the bag, don’t bother packing. The hospital will have everything you need for the immediate future. I’ll alert them you’re coming. And I’ll meet you there if this progresses.”

  As Kelsey ended the call, another contraction struck. Once it passed, she wobbled down the hall toward the bedroom to dress.

  Should she call Dorothy?

  No.

  Even though the older woman had planned to drive her to the hospital in Holland, waking her at this hour would be rude. Her date with Charles last night could have run late.

  Besides, the pains weren’t that bad. She could cope long enough to drive herself. It wasn’t far.

  In less than five minutes, Kelsey was dressed and out the door. The breeze off the lake was cool, and she shivered as she quickened her pace toward the detached garage in the dark. Too bad she hadn’t picked a warmer sweater.

  Halfway to the car, she halted as another contraction took hold. While they were growing progressively more intense, they were still manageable. And at this hour, foot to the floor, she could get to the hospital in Holland in less than fifteen minutes. The facility was only three contractions away.

  She could make it.

  As her abdominal muscles relaxed, she struck out for the garage again. But a sudden, odd gushing sensation brought her to an abrupt stop.

  It was too dark to see what had happened, but the biting chill from the wind as it hit the damp fabric clinging to her legs was telling.

  Her water had broken.

  This baby was coming.

  Now.

  Fear gripped her lungs in a vise, cutting off her air.

  No way could she drive now.

  But if she roused Dorothy, waiting for the older woman could take too long.

  Calling 911 was a possibility—except the notion of an ambulance ride only ratcheted her pulse up even more.

  That left only one option.

  She considered Luke’s dark house through the trees. He might not appreciate being pulled into this mess, considering his reaction to her story last night. But he was a doctor—and he was steps away. Asking for his help was logical.

  Yet logic wasn’t the catalyst that sent her stumbling toward his house in the dark.

  It was a decision of the heart.

  For in this moment of crisis, she needed the kind of comfort only Luke could provide.

  And it had nothing to do with his medical knowledge.

  * * *

  At the pounding on his back door, Luke came instantly awake—a souvenir of his frontline experience that would likely haunt him for years to come.

  Groping for his jeans in the dark, he squinted at the bedside clock. Four-twenty. Either someone was very drunk—or in big trouble.

  He shoved his legs in the jeans, snatched up a T-shirt, and pulled it on as he strode barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen.

  One look through the window and he had his answer.

  Someone was in big trouble.

  Kelsey.

  A surge of adrenaline set his nerve endings tingling. He flipped on the deck light, unbolted the door, and yanked it open. She spoke before he could ask the obvious question, hysteria raising her pitch.

  “The baby’s c-coming. My water broke. I was going to d-drive myself, but…” She gasped and gripped the door frame to steady herself, her features contorting with pain.

  Shoving the door aside with his shoulder, Luke slid an arm under her knees and lifted her against his chest. Dampness seeped into his T-shirt, and she shivered as he tightened his grip.

  “You’re fine, Kelsey. I’m here. Hold on to me.”

  He didn’t have to coax her. She clutched his T-shirt, bunched it into her fists, and buried her face against his chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

  It was the longest sixty seconds of his life.

  When the contraction released her, the tension in her muscles eased—but her shaking continued unabated.

  After setting her gently in a kitchen chair with a reassurance he’d be right back, Luke grabbed a blanket from the hall closet. When he returned, he draped it around her shoulders, then dropped to one knee beside her and took her hands. Panic etched her features, and she gripped his fingers as if she’d never let go.

  “Don’t worry, Kelsey. We’ll deal with this.” He used his best bedside manner, striving to instill confidence and control. She didn’t need to know his insides were quaking, just as they had the day his three buddies had been killed by the roadside bomb—and the day Carlos had died. “Did you call your doctor?”

  “Yes. She told me to go to the hospital. In Holland.”

  “Did you time the contractions?”

  “Yes. They’re five minutes apart and last about a minute—and they’re getting stronger.”

  “Got it. We’ll take my car.”

  He snatched his keys off the counter, grabbed a pillow and more blankets from the bedroom, and rejoined her in the kitchen. “Give me two minutes to put these in the car.”

  Ninety seconds later, he returned to find her huddled in the chair, still shaking, waves of fear rolling off her. “It’s too soon, Luke.”

  “Babies are born early every day. You’re less than five weeks from your due date. You’re early, but not dangerously early.”

  “But I…I’m not ready. I haven’t decided—” She gasped and gripped her midsection.

  Luke went down on one knee beside her again, putting himself at her level. “Look at me, Kelsey.” Once he had her attention, he continued. “Focus on my eyes and breathe with me. Come on, you can do this. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” He drew in a long breath. She did the same. He held it for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly. She mimicked his actions. He repeated that exercise until the contraction passed.

  “Now let’s get you to the hospital.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

  “I’ll walk. I don’t want to give you a h-hernia.”

  Despite her fear and panic, she was trying to make a joke. Reaffirming what he already knew.

  This was one gutsy woman.

  Once he had her in the car, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine. As he backed out, her sharp intake of breath heralded the arrival of another contraction. He twisted his wrist to see his watch before pulling onto the main road.<
br />
  “Kelsey, I want you to picture a rosebud and imagine it opening one petal at a time. Take in a long, slow breath through your nose to the count of five, hold it five, let it out through your mouth in five. Here we go.” He kept tabs on her shadowy figure in the backseat as he counted, repeating the process over and over until the contraction ended. Sixty-two seconds.

  She was definitely in the second stage of labor.

  “That one was worse.” Her voice hiccupped.

  “Have you taken any childbirth classes?” It didn’t much matter at this point, but conversation would distract her. Force her to think about something besides the pain and fear.

  “I signed up for the evening class. Dorothy and I only made it to the first one. Last week.”

  “Dorothy?” He pulled onto I-196 and floored it.

  “She was going to be my labor coach.”

  Luke tried to picture the proper, every-hair-in-place, pearl-wearing older woman in that role. Failed. But if that’s who Kelsey wanted… “Would you like me to call her for you?”

  No response.

  He flicked another glance in the rearview mirror. “Kelsey?”

  “We haven’t learned enough yet. She’s not…prepared for this.”

  Neither was the occupant of his backseat. But he left that unsaid.

  “Tell me what you covered in the first class.”

  She started to brief him—then fell silent. “Another one is coming.”

  Luke consulted his watch. Only four minutes since the last contraction. This was moving fast.

  Too fast.

  “Let’s repeat what we did with the last one.”

  Once more, he walked her through the contraction.

  By the time it ended, he was exiting the highway at Holland. “We’re almost there. Try to relax as much as you can.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  At the whisper of a tease under the strain in her voice, his admiration for her rose a few more notches.

  Since he’d driven by the hospital on his way to meetings with potential supporters of the youth center project, it wasn’t hard to find. And with the streets deserted, he was able to get there faster than usual. Still, as he pulled into the ER entrance, another contraction hit.

  After setting the brake, he slid out of the car, opened her door, and took her hand. He crouched beside her, and as she gripped his fingers, her features twisted.

  “Watch me, Kelsey. Concentrate on my face. Breathe with me.”

  She did her best to follow his instructions.

  Once the contraction passed, she sagged against the pillow wedged behind her. He brushed her hair away from her damp forehead, then touched her cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute with a wheelchair.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he stood and jogged toward the entrance. They needed to get her to a room and prepped fast. Because based on the rapid progression of her labor, this baby was coming soon.

  Very soon.

  * * *

  As Kelsey waited in the car for Luke to return, limp as a rag doll, she fought back another wave of panic.

  All her life she’d been a planner. In both business and personal matters, she’d always thought ahead, prepared for contingencies, done her best to avoid surprises or last-minute decisions.

  But she’d blown it with this baby.

  Now, under the most stressful circumstances, with pain dulling her usual clear, precise thought processes, she’d have to make a choice about the future of this baby that would affect her future as well. For the rest of her life.

  And she wasn’t ready to do that.

  The pain built again, and she pressed her hands against her stomach, bracing.

  Before it became unbearable, Luke returned to talk her through the contraction, his voice composed and steady. Focusing on his face was more calming than picturing an unfurling rosebud. Those dark eyes sucked her in, and she let herself fall into their caring depths, concentrating on the man in front of her and the breathing he was coaching her through.

  The instant the pain subsided, though, he stood and motioned to the aide with the wheelchair. With their assistance, she eased into it and was rolled inside.

  Whatever Luke had told them when he’d gone to round up a wheelchair had galvanized the staff. Rather than stop at the desk, they continued straight toward the birth center. She was wheeled into a private birthing room where a nurse was waiting. The woman already knew Luke was a physician, because she called him Dr. Turner.

  Just as the aide rolled her up to the bed, another contraction took hold.

  There was a muted, clipped exchange between Luke and the nurse. A moment later he lifted her onto the bed and took her hand, coaching her through the pain again.

  When it ended, he moved aside to make room for the nurse.

  “Hi, Kelsey. I’m Sandra, and I’ll be with you until your baby arrives. I need to do a preliminary evaluation to see how far along you are, then I’ll listen to the baby’s heart and help you change into a gown.”

  The nurse went to get a pair of latex gloves, and Luke released her hand. Stepped back. “I’ll wait outside.”

  As he turned away, a suffocating terror swept over her. “Luke!”

  He angled back toward her.

  She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Bunched the sheet in her fingers. She shouldn’t ask him to stay. He had obligations to attend to. The baby wasn’t his. In fact, her child was a stumbling block to their relationship.

  But how could she get through this without his gentle touch…his quiet confidence…his steady support?

  As if reading her mind, he moved to the foot of the bed. “Would you like me to stay until the baby is born?”

  “Yes.” Gratitude filled her heart as she whispered the response.

  “Then I will.”

  The nurse returned to the bed. “Give us five minutes.”

  With a nod, he exited.

  Sandra chatted with her during the exam and while she helped her change…but that conversation took a distant second place to thoughts about the compassionate army doctor who had taken up residence next door—and in her heart.

  A man who could be poised to play a starring role in her future.

  Yet much depended on the momentous decision she faced. A decision that had been thrust on her far sooner than anticipated. Nor was this the way she’d planned to make it—under stress and in crisis mode.

  At this point, all she could do was pray for wisdom and guidance in the hours to come—and hope she didn’t make a mistake she’d regret for the rest of her life.

  14

  Luke propped a shoulder against the wall in the hall outside Kelsey’s room and wiped a hand down his face.

  What a night.

  How much sleep had he clocked after the bombshell she’d dropped? Two hours, maybe? Definitely not enough. Instead, he’d spent the dark hours tossing…and grappling with the implications of the choice before her. Praying she’d make the one that would clear the path for their friendship to transition to something deeper.

  Because one thing had become clear as the long night dragged on minute by agonizing minute. Accepting the child she carried as his own would be next to impossible. How could he not think of the man who’d brutalized her every time he looked at her son or daughter? That, in turn, could lead to feelings of anger and resentment toward the baby. Feelings a child—and a mother—could pick up.

  Meaning everyone would be best served if the child was adopted by a couple who had no baggage and could offer the baby the unconditional love he or she deserved.

  His only hope during those sleepless hours had been that in the month before the child was born, Kelsey could be persuaded to see his logic.

  But that opportunity was gone. The baby was coming and Kelsey would be forced to make her decision under less than ideal circumstances.

  Now what?

  The question echoed in his mind, unanswered.

  Nor did he have a clue why God would b
ring a woman like Kelsey into his life, then set up roadblocks on the path to romance.

  “I have a feeling you could use a caffeine infusion.”

  He turned, and an aide extended a disposable cup of coffee toward him. Considering the day’s worth of stubble on his face, his uncombed hair, and his stained T-shirt, that had to be a gross understatement.

  “Thank you.” He reached for it and took a gulp of the strong brew.

  “Long night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is this your first?”

  It took a moment for her meaning to register. “I’m not the father. I’m a…friend.”

  The misstep didn’t seem to embarrass the woman. “Friends are awesome too. Sometimes more helpful than fathers, to be honest. A fair number of them are basket cases.” She winked and motioned toward a doorway behind her. “There’s a pot of coffee in there if you need more.”

  “Thanks.”

  With a nod, she continued down the hall.

  “Dr. Turner?” The nurse leaned out of the doorway behind him. “Kelsey could use her coach.”

  Downing another swig of the hot brew, he followed the woman back inside.

  Even before he checked the readout from the sensor that had been attached to Kelsey’s stomach, he knew this contraction was bad. Her breathing was labored, every muscle was taut, and her grip was crushing as he set his coffee on the bedside table and took her hand.

  “I’m here, Kelsey.” He got up close to her face. “Look at me, sweetheart. We’ll breathe together.”

  She tried hard to follow his instructions, but it was becoming more difficult for her to distance herself from the pain.

  By the end of the contraction, she was shaking and shivering.

  Smoothing the hair away from her forehead as she collapsed against the pillow, he spoke to the nurse. “How far along is she?”

  “The cervix is anterior and seventy-five percent effaced. It’s at seven centimeters.”

  “Have you called her OB?”

  “I’m going to do that now.”

  “She could use a warm blanket.”

  “On my list.”

  As the woman exited, Kelsey exhaled. “Wow.” Her voice was shaky.