Linc waited impatiently for the call to connect. After what seemed like minutes, the phone automatically went to voice mail. “She’s not answering that, either.”
“Maybe her cell battery’s dead,” the sheriff said. “It could be she’s out of range, too.”
Actually, Linc was curious as to why the sheriff himself had responded to dispatch. One would think the man had better things to do—like dealing with real crime or spending the evening with his family. “Listen, Sheriff, is Cedar Cove so hard up for crime that the sheriff responds personally to a possible break-in?”
Troy Davis grinned. “I was on my way to my daughter’s house for dinner when I heard the call.”
“So you decided to check us out.”
“Something like that.”
Linc liked the sheriff. He seemed a levelheaded guy, whereas his deputies were a pair of overzealous new-bies, hoping for a bit of excitement. He’d bet they were bored out of their minds in a quiet little town like Cedar Cove. The call about this supposed break-in had sent these two into a giddy state of importance.
“The only essential thing here is finding our sister,” Linc reiterated to the sheriff.
“The problem is, we don’t know where to find her,” Ned put in.
The sheriff rubbed the side of his face. “Did you ask around town?”
No one at the pub had been able to help. “Not really. We asked the guys at some tavern, but they didn’t seem aware of much except how full their glasses were.”
The sheriff grinned and seemed to appreciate Linc’s wry sense of humor.
“She’s very pregnant,” Ned felt obliged to remind everyone. “It isn’t like someone wouldn’t notice her.”
“Yeah.” Mel once more thrust his arms out in front of him and bloated his cheeks for emphasis.
Linc rolled his eyes.
“Wait,” Deputy Pierpont said thoughtfully. “Seems to me I heard something about a pregnant woman earlier.”
That got Linc’s attention. “Where?” he asked urgently. “When?”
“I got a friend who’s a firefighter and he mentioned it.”
“What did he say?”
Deputy Pierpont shrugged. “Don’t remember. His name’s Hutton. You could go to the fire station and ask.”
“Will do.” Linc stepped forward and shook hands with the sheriff and then, for good measure and goodwill, with each of the deputies. “Thanks for all your help.”
Troy Davis nodded. “You tell your sister she shouldn’t have worried you like this.”
“Oh, I’ll tell her,” Linc promised. He had quite a few other things he intended to say to her, too.
After receiving directions to the fire station, they jumped back in the truck. Finally they were getting somewhere, Linc told himself with a feeling of satisfaction. It was just a matter of time before they caught up with her.
It didn’t take them long to locate the fire station.
Rather than repeat their earlier mistakes—or what Linc considered mistakes—he said, “Let me do the talking, understand?”
“Okay,” Ned agreed quickly enough.
“Mel?”
“Oh, all right.”
They walked into the station house and asked to speak to the duty chief. The man eyed them cautiously.
Linc got immediately to the point. “I understand that earlier today you responded to an incident involving a young pregnant woman. A firefighter named Hutton was mentioned in connection with this call. Is that correct?”
When the chief didn’t reply, Linc added, “If so, we believe that’s our sister.”
The man raised his eyebrows, as if determined not to give out any information.
“She needs her family, chief.”
There must’ve been some emotion in Linc’s voice, some emotion he didn’t even know he’d revealed, because the man hesitated, then excused himself. He returned a few minutes later, followed by a second man.
“This is Mack McAfee. He’s the EMT who responded to the call.”
“You saw Mary Jo?” Linc asked. He extended his hand, and Mack shook it in a friendly fashion.
“I did.”
Linc’s relief was so great he nearly collapsed into a nearby chair. “That’s great!”
“She’s okay, isn’t she?” Ned blurted out. “She hasn’t gone into labor or anything?”
“No, no, she had a dizzy spell.”
“Dizzy?” Linc repeated slowly and cast a startled look at his brothers.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Mel asked.
Linc felt sick to his stomach. “I was twelve when Mary Jo was born and I remember it like it was yesterday. Mom got real dizzy that morning and by noon Mary Jo had arrived.”
“That’s not generally a sign of oncoming labor,” Mack reassured him.
“It is in our family. Dad told me it was that way with each and every pregnancy. According to him, Mom had very quick deliveries and they all started with a dizzy spell. He barely made it to the hospital in time with Mary Jo. In fact—”
“She was born while Dad parked the car,” Mel said.
“He dropped Mom off at the emergency door and then he went to look for a parking space.”
That tale had been told around the kitchen table for years. Once their father had parked the car and made his way back to the hospital, he was met by the doctor, who congratulated him on the birth of his baby girl.
“Do you know where she is?” Linc asked with renewed urgency.
“You might talk to Grace Harding,” Mack said.
“Who’s Grace Harding?”
“The librarian.” Mack paused for a moment. “Mary Jo was at the library when I treated her.”
“The library?” That didn’t make any sense to Linc. Why had Mary Jo gone to the library?
“What was she doing there?” Mel asked.
“That isn’t as important as where she is now,” Linc said. “Mack, do you have any idea where she might’ve gone after she left the library?” He remembered seeing it earlier. The building with the mural.
Mack shook his head. “She didn’t say, although I told her to put her feet up and rest for a few hours.”
“She must’ve gotten a hotel room.” They should have realized that earlier. Of course! If Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes were out of town, that was exactly what Mary Jo would have done.
“I don’t think so,” Mack said. “I thought I’d check on her myself and discovered she isn’t at any of the motels in town.”
“Why not?”
“No rooms available.”
“Where would she go?”
“My guess,” Mack said slowly, “is to Grace Harding’s house.”
“Why her place?”
“Because it seems like the kind of thing Mrs. Harding would do. I have the Hardings’ phone number. I could call if you’d like.”
Linc couldn’t believe their good fortune. “Please.”
The firefighter was gone for what seemed like a long time. He returned wearing a grin. “You can talk to her yourself if you want.”
Linc bolted to his feet, eager to hear the sound of his sister’s voice. He’d been upset earlier—angry, worried, close to panic—but all he felt now was relief.
“She’s at the Harding ranch in Olalla.”
The three brothers exchanged smiling glances. “Is she all right?”
“She said she’s feeling great, but she also said she’s ready to go home if you’re willing to come and get her.”
“Wonderful.” Linc couldn’t have wished for anything more.
“I’ll give you directions to the Harding place. She’s on the phone now if you’d like to chat.”
Linc grinned, following Mack to the office, his brothers on his heels.
This was finally working out. They’d get Mary Jo home where she belonged before Christmas.
14
“No, please,” Mary Jo said, looking at Grace and her family. “I want you to go on to the Christmas Eve service, just l
ike you planned.”
“Are you positive?” Grace seemed uncertain about leaving her behind.
Mary Jo had bowed to their entreaties and been their guest for a truly wonderful dinner, but she had no intention of imposing on them any further that evening.
“I am.” There was no reason for them to stay home because of her, either. This crazy adventure of hers was over; she’d admitted defeat. Her brothers were on their way and she’d be back in Seattle in a couple of hours.
“I’d like to meet those young men,” Grace said. “But it sounds as if they’ll get here while we’re at church.”
“You will meet them,” Mary Jo promised. “Sometime after Christmas.” In one short afternoon, she’d become strongly attached to both Grace Harding and Cliff. Her two daughters, her daughter-in-law, their husbands and the grandchildren had made Mary Jo feel like part of the family. They’d welcomed her without question, opened their hearts and their home to her, given her a place to sleep, a meal, the comfort of their company. In this day and age, Mary Jo knew that kind of unconditional friendship wasn’t the norm. This was a special family and she planned to keep in touch with them.
While the fathers loaded up the kids and Cliff brought his car around, Grace lingered.
“You have our phone number?” she asked as they stood by the front door.
“Oh, yes. Cell numbers, too.” Mary Jo patted her pants pocket. Grace had carefully written out all the numbers for her.
“You’ll call us soon.”
Mary Jo nodded. Grace was like the mother she’d lost—loving, protective, accepting. And now that she was becoming a mother herself, she valued her memory even more profoundly. It was Grace who’d reminded Mary Jo of everything her mother had been to her, of everything she wanted to be to her own child. Even though her baby wasn’t born yet, she felt blessed. Because of her pregnancy she’d met Grace, and she was grateful for everything it had brought her. A new maturity, the knowledge that she could rise to the occasion, that she had the strength to cope. This brand-new friendship. And, of course, the baby to come.
“If your brothers are hungry when they get here, there are plenty of leftovers,” Grace was saying. “Tell them to help themselves.”
“Thank you.”
Cliff brought the car closer to the house and got out to open the passenger door. Still Grace lingered.
“Don’t hesitate to phone if you need anything, understand?”
“I won’t—and thank you.” Wearing her coat like a cloak, Mary Jo walked outside with her into the softly falling snow.
“Wait in the house,” Grace said.
“I’ll be fine in the apartment. It’s comfortable there.”
The two women hugged and Grace slid into the car seat next to her husband. Maryellen, Kelly and Lisa, with their families, had already left for the church.
Grace lowered the window. “Thank you for being so patient with Tyler,” she said, giving her an apologetic look.
Mary Jo smiled, completely enchanted with the six-year-old who’d received a drum for Christmas and felt obliged to pound away on it incessantly.
“He’s a talented little boy.” In fact, she loved all of Grace and Cliff’s grandchildren.
“Now go inside before you get cold,” Grace scolded.
But Mary Jo remained in the yard until the car lights faded out of sight. Then, pulling her coat more snugly around her, she strolled toward the barn. Several of the participants in the live Nativity scene were inside a corral attached to the barn and she went there first.
“Hello there, donkey,” she said. “Merry Christmas to you.”
As if he understood that she was talking to him, the donkey walked toward her until he was within petting range. Mary Jo stroked his velvety nose, then walked back inside the barn.
“Hello, everyone.”
At the sound of her voice, Funny Face stuck her head over the stall door.
“Hi there,” Mary Jo greeted the mare. “I understand you’re very special to Cliff,” she said. Funny Face nickered loudly in response.
Apparently curious as to what was causing all the commotion, the camel poked her head out, too. “Sorry, Camel,” Mary Jo called, “but your reputation has preceded you and I’m not giving you a chance to bite my arm.”
After several minutes of chatting with the other horses, Mary Jo washed her hands at a sink in the barn and headed up the stairs to the apartment. About halfway up, her back started to ache again. She pressed one hand against it and continued climbing, holding onto the railing with the other.
When she reached the apartment, she paused in the middle of removing her coat as she felt a powerful tightening across her stomach.
Was this labor?
She suspected it must be, but everything she’d heard and read stated that contractions began gradually. What she’d just experienced was intense and had lasted several long, painful seconds. Another contraction came almost right away.
Mary Jo checked her watch this time. Three minutes later there was a third contraction of equal severity.
Only three minutes.
At the class she’d attended, she’d heard that it wasn’t uncommon for labor pains to start at fifteen-minute intervals. Perhaps hers had started earlier and she hadn’t noticed. That didn’t seem possible, though. How could she be in labor and not know it?
The next pain caught her unawares and she grabbed her stomach and doubled over.
“That got my attention,” she announced to the empty room.
Not sure what to do next, Mary Jo paced, deliberating on the best course of action. Her brothers were due any moment. If she told them she was in labor the second they arrived, they’d panic. One thing Mary Jo knew: she did not want her three brothers delivering this baby.
None of them had any experience or even the slightest idea of what to do. Linc would probably order the baby to wait until they could get to a hospital. Knowing Mel and his queasy stomach, he’d fall in a dead faint, while Ned would walk around declaring that this was just perfect. He was going to be an uncle to a baby born on Christmas Eve—or Christmas Day, depending on how long this labor business was going to take.
Another pain struck and again Mary Jo bent double with the strength of it. She exhaled slowly and timed it, staring at her watch. This one lasted thirty seconds. Half a minute. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast! Labor was supposed to last for hours and hours.
Mary Jo didn’t know what to do or who to call. Her mind was spinning, her thoughts scrambling in a dozen different directions at once. She considered phoning Grace. If she was going to give birth here, at the ranch, she wanted a woman with her—and she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have than Grace Harding. But Grace had left just a few minutes before and the only way to reach her was by cell phone. Unfortunately, as she’d learned earlier, coverage in this area was sporadic at best. And she hated to interfere with the Hardings’ Christmas plans.
The second person she thought of was Mack McAfee. He’d been so kind, and he was a trained medical technician. He was calm and logical, which was exactly what she needed. He’d called—when was it? Half an hour ago—and urged her to go home with her brothers. There’d be plenty of time to talk to Ben and Charlotte Rhodes after the baby’s birth. Her brothers wouldn’t have the opportunity to confront David or his father now, anyway, and she’d manage, somehow or other, to prevent it in the future, too. While she was speaking with Linc, she’d realized how desperate her brothers had been to find her. Mary Jo hadn’t meant to worry them like this.
If Linc or Mel or even Ned had reasoned with her like Mack had, she would’ve listened. Too late to worry about any of that now…
Mary Jo went slowly back down the stairs to the barn. She didn’t want to dial 9-1-1 and cause alarm the way she had with her dizzy spell at the library earlier, so she decided to call the fire station directly.
Sure enough, when she picked up the receiver she saw that Caller ID displayed the last number that had been
received—the firehouse. Mary Jopushed there dial button.
On the second ring, someone picked up. “Kitsap County Fire District.”
Relief washed over her at the sound of Mack’s voice. “Mack?”
There was a slight hesitation. “Mary Jo? Is that you?”
“Ye-es.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I…Grace and her family left for Christmas Eve service at the church about ten minutes ago. I didn’t go because my brothers are on their way here.”
“They haven’t arrived yet?” He seemed surprised.
“Not yet.”
Mack groaned. “I’ll bet they’re lost.”
Mary Jo didn’t doubt that for an instant.
“I’m sure they’ll be there anytime,” he said.
“I hate to bother you,” she whispered and gasped at the severity of the next contraction.
“Mary Jo!”
Closing her eyes, she mentally counted until the pain subsided.
“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
“I’m afraid I’ve gone into labor.”
Mack didn’t miss a beat. “Then I should get out there so I can transport you to the birthing center.”
At the rate this was progressing, he’d better not lose any time. “Thank you,” she said simply.
He must have sensed her fear, because he asked, “How far apart are the contractions?”
“Three minutes. I’ve been timing them.”
“That’s good.”
“I didn’t take all the birthing classes…I wish I had, but David said he’d take them with me and it never happened. I went once but that was just last week and—”
“You’ll do fine. If you want, I’ll stay with you.”
“You?”
“I’m not such a bad coach.”
“You’d be a wonderful coach, but you have to remember I’ve only had the one class.”
“Listen, instead of talking about it over the phone, why don’t I hop in the aid car and drive over.”
“Ri-ight.” At the strength of the last contraction, Mary Jo was beginning to think this was an excellent idea.
“Where are you?”
“In the barn at the moment.” She gave a small laugh.
1225 Christmas Tree Lane Page 11