Up at Butternut Lake: A Novel (The Butternut Lake Trilogy)

by McNear, Mary

  Jax glanced around, suddenly aware of some commotion at the bar. She’d been oblivious to her surroundings, but now she realized how much more crowded the place had gotten. How much rowdier, too.

  “Come on, I’ll take you out through the kitchen,” Frankie said. “The owner here’s a friend of mine.”

  Frankie cleared a path for her, and Jax followed him, obediently, through the kitchen and out into the parking lot. Then he walked her to her pickup.

  “Thanks, Frankie,” she said, reaching up to hug him. It wasn’t easy. Her arms couldn’t even come close to spanning his girth, but she did her best. And he patted her awkwardly on the back with one of his huge hands.

  “Frankie?” she said, thinking of something. She stood back and looked up at him. “Whatever happened to your sister?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking down. “After what happened, she never spoke to me again. She said she’d loved her husband. Go figure, huh?” He tried to smile, but Jax saw he couldn’t.

  Jax closed her eyes, just for a second. It seemed to her, sometimes, that there was altogether too much pain in the world.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Frankie said, seeing her expression. “Things didn’t work out too badly. I did my time, and I learned how to cook while I was doing it. And my sister? Maybe she figured things out. Who knows? Maybe she even met a nice guy.”

  “I hope so,” Jax said, hugging him again.

  But as they were hugging, Jax felt another one of the false contractions she’d been having lately. This one, though, was stronger than the others. So strong it momentarily took her breath away. It felt amazingly close to the real thing.

  She sucked in a little breath, and Frankie looked down at her with concern.

  “It’s the baby,” Jax explained, running a hand over her belly. “She’s just making her presence known.”

  Frankie nodded, doubtfully. “You two better be getting home,” he said, opening the front door of her pickup for her. She climbed in and let him close it behind her. And then, looking at her, Frankie grinned, his first true smile of the night.

  “Now go home to those beautiful little girls,” he said cheerfully. “And give them each a kiss good night.”

  “I’ll do that,” Jax said, gratefully, starting up the truck. And she did.

  CHAPTER 26

  But the next night, less than twenty-four hours after she’d left the Mosquito Inn, Jax was back in her pickup again. This time, though, she drove out to Butternut Lake.

  “Jax?” Allie said to herself, standing at the kitchen window and holding a just-washed dinner dish in her hands. She put the dish in the dish rack, wiped her hands on a hand towel, and hurried out to meet her just as Jax was sliding awkwardly out of her truck.

  “Jax,” she said, reprovingly, and she would have said more, but something about Jax’s demeanor stopped her. Maybe it was the way her shoulders were set, or the way her jaw was clenched. But whatever it was, Jax looked determined. Absolutely determined. And not at all like a woman paying a casual social call. She looked like a woman on a mission.

  “Jax? What is it?” Allie asked, swallowing the lecture she’d planned on giving her again. The one about not driving alone, at night, in the country, at this stage of her pregnancy.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” Jax said, “but your phone was busy and—”

  “Oh, it’s been off the hook,” Allie explained. “I just noticed it a little while ago. Wyatt must have knocked it over while he was playing.”

  “Well, I tried your cell phone, too,” Jax said. “But it went straight to voice mail.” Allie frowned, wondering if she’d forgotten to charge it again. It was something she knew she had to get back into the habit of doing.

  But Jax interrupted this thought. “Is Wyatt still awake?” she asked.

  “No,” Allie said, shaking her head. “He needs to be asleep every night by eight thirty. It’s the only way I can stay sane.” She paused, waiting for Jax to say something. But Jax only nodded. She looked uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable, really. She looked like she was in pain.

  “Jax, can I get you something? A glass of water, maybe?”

  “Okay.”

  “Come on inside,” Allie said, feeling a first flicker of anxiety.

  Jax followed her up the cabin’s steps, but when they reached the front porch she said, “If you don’t mind, Allie, I think I’ll wait out here.” She lowered herself down onto the top step, then, and there was something about the way she did it—slowly, laboriously—that made Allie feel doubly uncomfortable. Jax—even a very pregnant Jax—was usually so light on her feet. So spry. She made pregnancy, even during the hot summer months, look easy. But not tonight, Allie thought. Tonight, Jax was making it look hard.

  “I’ll be right back,” Allie said, hurrying into the cabin and pouring Jax a glass of water at the kitchen sink. As she did so, she tried to reassure herself. Well, of course Jax was tired. And uncomfortable. She was eight and a half months pregnant, for God’s sake. Even the easiest pregnancies, Allie reminded herself, are difficult in the last weeks. And Jax—no matter how easy she made marriage, and pregnancy, and motherhood look—was, in the end, only human.

  “Here you go,” she said, coming back out onto the porch and handing Jax a glass of water.

  Allie sat down beside her and watched while Jax took a tentative sip from the glass. It was only then that she noticed, under the porch light, that Jax’s face was unnaturally pale, and covered, even on this warm night, with a sheen of perspiration.

  “Jax? Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” she asked, some internal alarm sounding in her brain.

  Jax nodded. But what she said next took Allie completely by surprise.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Walker?”

  “Walker?” Allie echoed. “Not since the picnic on Wednesday. Today’s Friday, so two days ago. Why?”

  But Jax didn’t answer. She was sipping her water again.

  “Why, Jax, do you think that’s strange?” Allie asked, her voice sounding small in the quiet night. “That he hasn’t called me, I mean?”

  But Jax answered this question with another question. “Did he tell you, the day of the picnic, that he was planning on having a visitor?” she asked, putting her glass of water down, a little unsteadily, on the top step between them.

  “A visitor?” Allie repeated, surprised. “No. I don’t think so. Why? What’s going on?” she asked. Whatever impatience she was beginning to feel with Jax was tempered by her concern at Jax’s appearance. She really did not look well.

  Jax took a shaky breath now, then said, “This morning after the girls left for day camp, I went over to Pearl’s. Caroline was busy, so I sat down at the counter, and I was drinking a cup of tea when this woman came in and sat down on the stool next to mine. Allie, I swear, when I turned to look at her, and realized who she was, I was so surprised, I almost spit out my tea.”

  “Who was she?” Allie asked, curious, but, at the same time, puzzled. Had Jax come all the way out here to tell her about some mystery woman?

  Jax took another nervous sip of her water. “It was Caitlin. Walker’s ex-wife.”

  Allie just stared at her.

  “I know. It didn’t make sense to me, either,” Jax said, rushing on. “Nobody’s even seen her here, in town, since she and Walker split up. At first, I thought maybe she was just passing through. Or meeting Walker for a cup of coffee. You know, ex-spouses trying to be civil, that kind of thing. But when I struck up a conversation with her, she told me she was going to be visiting Walker. And when I asked her for how long, she said she didn’t know yet. She said it was going to be an ‘open-ended’ stay. Those were her exact words, actually.” Jax shot Allie a worried look.

  “That’s strange,” Allie murmured. But she didn’t know what was stranger. Walker’s ex-wife visiting him. Or Walker not telling her his ex-wife was visiting him.

  “It is strange,” Jax agreed. “But it’s
true, Allie. She’s there right now. Her car is parked in his driveway.”

  Allie frowned. She was having difficulty processing what Jax was saying. But then something occurred to her. “Jax,” she asked, “how do you know her car is parked in his driveway?”

  Jax looked guilty. Then embarrassed. “When I passed his cabin, on my way here, I took a little detour. I drove down his driveway—not all the way down—just far enough down for me to see her car.”

  “You were spying on him?” Allie asked, incredulously.

  “Sort of,” Jax said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Why?”

  “Because I needed to know. I needed to know because if she was there, and you didn’t know, I wanted you to hear it from me. I mean, I didn’t want you to call him and have her answer the phone. Or go over there and have her answer the door.”

  When Allie didn’t say anything, she continued. “You were so happy the night after the picnic,” she said. “I’d never seen you that way before. You seemed so . . . so in love with him. I didn’t want you to get hurt. Or if you did get hurt, I wanted to try to minimize the hurt somehow.”

  Allie nodded, distractedly, still trying to make sense of all this. “Jax,” she said, finally, “let’s not jump to conclusions. There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this.” But even as she said these words, she didn’t really believe them. If there were a perfectly reasonable explanation, why hadn’t Walker already given it to her?

  “You’re right,” Jax said, nodding vigorously. “I’m sure everything’s fine.” She gave Allie’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and Allie was surprised at how cold and clammy Jax’s hand felt on this warm night.

  “Jax, what’s wrong?” Allie asked, suddenly, as she watched a spasm of pain travel across Jax’s face.

  Jax started to answer her, then gave a little, strangled cry. Her hands flew protectively to her belly. “It’s the baby,” she said, a little breathlessly.

  “Is she . . . is she okay?” Allie asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “Oh, she’s okay,” Jax said, reaching her hands around to awkwardly massage her own lower back. “She’s just letting me know she’s on her way, that’s all.”

  “On her way?” Allie repeated, uncomprehendingly.

  “I’m in labor, Allie,” Jax said, matter-of-factly. She stopped rubbing her back long enough to finish the water in her glass. “This baby’s coming. Pretty soon, I think.”

  Allie just stared at her. She’d heard her. She just didn’t believe her.

  “Allie, it’s okay,” Jax said, seeing the expression on her face. “I’ve done this before, remember? Three times, in fact.”

  “Was that a contraction?” Allie asked.

  “That was a contraction,” Jax agreed, rubbing her lower back again. “Last night, I was at a bar with Frankie, and I felt something I think now might have been a very early contraction. But, obviously, I didn’t take it seriously.”

  Allie stared at her, then said the first thing that came to her mind. “You were at a bar with Frankie last night?”

  “Not drinking,” Jax said quickly. “Just talking. It sounds strange, but—”

  “Never mind about that now,” Allie said, impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you just had your first contraction, right?”

  “Actually,” Jax said, a little sheepishly. “That wasn’t my first contraction. I’ve been having them for a while.”

  “A while?” Allie said. “How long is ‘a while’?”

  “Since before I decided to drive out here. But at that point, the contractions were still pretty far apart, and, well . . . I was worried about you.”

  Allie considered this. “Jax, you drove out here, even though you knew you were in labor, because you were worried about me?” she asked, incredulously.

  Jax nodded. “I know, it sounds a little crazy. But I was sure I’d have enough time to come out here and then get back before . . .” She trailed off, her face contorting in pain again. When the moment passed, she continued, “With my last pregnancies, I had long labors. And I mean long. With all three girls, my contractions started a couple of days before I had to get to the hospital. But this time”—she shook her head—“this time things are moving a lot faster.”

  “Oh, Jax,” Allie said, reaching out to rub her lower back for her. “You’re coming out here, like this, is quite possibly the nicest, but also the stupidest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Jax said, with a little laugh, once the pain had subsided.

  “Listen, I’ll call Jeremy,” Allie said, springing into action. “He’s a fast driver, right? Faster than me, anyway. Even with the drive out here, he’ll get you to the hospital in less time than I could.”

  But Jax shook her head. “Jeremy’s in St. Paul. He left this morning. His cousin was in a motorcycle accident there yesterday.”

  “Jeremy left this close to your due date?” Allie asked, stunned.

  “He was only going to be away for tonight,” Jax said. “And we both thought there’d be plenty of time for him to drive back if I went into labor.”

  “Okay,” Allie said, willing herself to be calm. “Jeremy’s not here. But I am. I’ll wake up Wyatt, put him in the backseat of the car, and drive you to the hospital myself.”

  “Allie, there isn’t time. I’m sorry. The hospital’s thirty minutes away from here. And, from the feel of things, I haven’t got thirty minutes.”

  “Jax, I thought you said you had long labors.”

  “I used to have long labors. Now, apparently, I have short labors. Because this isn’t like the others, Allie. This baby is coming fast. Much faster than I ever thought possible. The contractions are really close together now.”

  “Oh, Jax, you shouldn’t have driven out here,” Allie said, dismayed.

  “I know. But I’m here now,” she answered. “And there are probably worse places to have a baby.”

  Allie blinked at her, uncomprehendingly.

  “Allie, I’m sorry,” Jax said, her jaw clenched in obvious pain. “This wasn’t the plan. I would never have willingly put you in this position. I was so sure I’d have more time.”

  “Jax, you’re not saying you’re going to have the baby here, are you?” Allie asked, as Jax’s words finally cut through the fog that had descended around her brain.

  “I’m not sure I have any choice,” Jax said, with a little shake of her head. “But, Allie, look at it this way. Women used to have babies at home all the time. Other mothers would help them. You could help me. I mean, you’ve had a baby before, right?”

  “In a hospital, Jax,” Allie said, sounding slightly hysterical, even to herself. “I had a baby in a hospital. Not in some backwoods cabin.”

  “Okay, but you know what it’s like,” Jax said, encouragingly. “It’s not that hard.”

  “Jax, are we talking about the same thing?” Allie asked, dumbfounded. “Because let me tell you, having a baby was, bar none, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I didn’t have a natural childbirth, either. I got to the hospital as soon as was humanly possible and I begged them to give me the drugs.”

  Jax laughed. Although how she could laugh at a time like this was beyond Allie.

  “Okay,” Jax conceded. “Having a baby is a little hard. I’ll grant you that. But we don’t have to do this alone, Allie. Call 911. It’ll connect you to the Butternut Volunteer Fire Department. They have an ambulance, so they can get here quickly. And they’re all trained paramedics, too, so they’ll know how to deliver a baby. They’re good guys. Trust me. I went to high school with half of them.”

  “I’ll call right now,” Allie said, heading for the telephone in the kitchen. Having something concrete to do, she knew, would help keep the panic at bay for a moment. She picked up the phone, dialed 911, and spoke to the emergency dispatcher. When she hung up, she went back to Jax.

  “They’re coming,” she said, the relief audible in her voice. “Do you thin
k you can wait until they get here?”

  Jax nodded, her face tight with pain. Another contraction.

  “We need to start timing these,” Allie said, checking her watch. “But, Jax, do you think you’d be more comfortable inside?”

  Jax shook her head. “I like it out here on the porch,” she said. “I can see the stars from here.”

  “The stars?” Allie said, looking up into the night sky. It was inky black tonight, with a million pinpoints of light in it. She was amazed that Jax had even noticed.

  “Okay,” Allie said, sitting down beside her and reaching out to rub her lower back again. “We’ll stay out here. But is there anything else I can do while we wait for the ambulance to get here?” she asked, keeping an eye on her watch so she’d be ready when the next contraction came. “Can I bring you another glass of water?”

  Jax’s body suddenly tensed with pain. Allie looked at her watch. Three minutes. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. Please let that ambulance get here before that baby’s born. There are a lot of things I know I can do. But bringing a baby into this world is not one of them.

  “You know what you can do for me, Allie?” Jax said, when the contraction had ended. “You can call Jeremy on his cell phone. I’ll give you the number. But try not to scare him, okay? He’ll have a long drive ahead of him tonight, and I don’t want him to get in an accident. Also, I left my neighbor, Sally Ann, with the girls. You’re going to need to call her at my house and let her know I’m going to be late.”

  That’s an understatement, Allie thought. But she called Jeremy and Sally Ann, and, for both of them, she did her best impression of being calm. Jeremy, though, was anything but calm when Allie explained the situation to him. He was furious at himself for being so far away and worried sick about Jax.

  So Allie reassured him and put Jax on the phone, but only for a minute. She could see it was a strain on Jax to speak normally.

  After she said good-bye to Jeremy, Jax got up and paced up and down the length of the front porch, pausing occasionally to lean against the wall of the cabin, her eyes closed in some combination of pain and concentration. Allie continued to time her contractions and waited, anxiously, for the ambulance to come. In the end, it took only twenty minutes for it to get there. But to Allie, it felt like a lifetime.