Then Comes Marriage

by Bonnie Pega

  Libby winced and rubbed her lower back. “No. I don’t seem to be as hungry as I thought. Do you want them?”

  “If you’re sure you don’t.”

  “I’m sure. I have a catch in my back that’s driving me crazy. Maybe that’s affected my appetite.”

  “Zac could rub it for you if you like,” Hannah offered.

  It did sound good, Libby thought wistfully—the idea of his large, strong hands on her body. She glanced at him and saw the look on his face. It wasn’t a look of distaste more a look of What? Here in the restaurant?

  “No, it’s all right,” she murmured. “I’m sure it’ll get better once I get up and move around a little.”

  Hannah looked doubtful. “Well, if you’re sure …”

  Libby forced a smile, not wanting to worry them. She wasn’t sure at all; her lower back had ached off and on all day, but it seemed worse now. “I’m fine. I guess it’s about time for us to get to class, isn’t it?”

  She wholeheartedly threw herself into Lamaze class. When the visualization and breathing exercises helped, she began to suspect she was in early labor. The pains hadn’t been very regular, but had been increasing in intensity. She didn’t say anything to Zac or Hannah, wanting to talk to her doctor first. The minute she arrived home from class, she called Dr. Morgan.

  “Back labor,” he chuckled. “Throws a lot of people off. They’re expecting pains in front. How frequently have they been coming?”

  “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I don’t know. They haven’t been regular at all, but they are getting stronger.”

  “Why don’t you come on over to the hospital and let me check it out? Don’t break your neck getting here, though; first babies usually take their sweet time. So relax.”

  Relax? How in the world am I supposed to relax? I’m in labor! She laid the receiver back in the cradle and stared at the far wall. She’d waited, planned for, and prayed about this day coming, and now that it was here, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t at all ready. The phone rang and Libby reached a trembling hand out to it. It was Hannah.

  “Libby, you seemed so quiet tonight that I’ve been worried about you. Are you sure you feel okay?”

  Libby took a deep breath and willed her heart to quit its frantic pounding in her ears. “Actually, Hannah, I just talked to my doctor, and he seems to think I’m in labor.”

  “In labor?” she squealed. “I’m going to send Zac over.”

  She hung up before Libby could say a word. When the phone rang two minutes later, she knew it had to be Zac.

  “Are you in labor?” he barked into the phone.

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll be right over.” The phone went dead, and Libby shook her head and hung up the receiver. God, she was scared. And nervous. And excited. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, she wanted to go to sleep and wake up when it was all over.

  She did none of those things. She didn’t have the luxury of time. She figured it was about twenty minutes from Zac’s house to hers. Maybe she’d have time for a shower. She braided her hair to keep it out of the way, made a couple of phone calls, and brought her suitcase downstairs.

  She was getting ready to go back upstairs and duck in the shower when Zac showed up. She glanced at the mantel clock. Ten minutes. He hustled her straight out to the car and she got in, surprised there wasn’t a speeding citation lying on the seat.

  He started the car, then turned to her. “Do you have everything?” He glanced down at a notebook in his hand. “Do you have lollipops, lip moisturizer, socks, uh, cassette player, focal point, uh, your suitcase, the baby’s things? Do you need to call anyone else? Are you preregistered at the hospital?”

  She smiled, touched by his nervous concern. Strange, she didn’t feel nervous at all now. She felt as if she could handle anything as long as Zac was with her. “Yes, no, and yes.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yes, I have everything, including my suitcase and the baby’s things. No, I don’t need to call anyone—I’ve already done that. Yes, I’m preregistered.”

  “Have you already called Deb?”

  “I left a message at her hotel in Boston, but I don’t know if she’ll get here in time.” Her voice sounded so calm, she thought. No one would ever know how nervous she was—not unless they saw her hands twisted together in her lap.

  “You mean you’re in labor and Deb’s not here? What are you going to do about a coach?”

  Libby bit her lip. Having to go through something as intimate as labor with a total stranger was the last thing she wanted to do. This was an experience to share with someone special. The loneliness that had been her constant companion for the past months swept over her again. “I don’t know,” she finally said hesitantly. “Maybe one of the nurses can help.”

  “You mean you’re in labor and you don’t have a coach at all?” Zac’s voice got louder with each word.

  Didn’t he think she’d already realized that? “Well, I can’t see where I have much of a choice,” Libby retorted sardonically. “I could always forbid the baby to come until Deb can get here, but somehow I don’t think he or she is going to listen. Hey, you ran a red light back there.”

  “Do you want to drive?” Zac grated out the words.

  “If my car were repaired, I would have done exactly that—and without running any lights either.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with the way I drive. I always drive like this.”

  “It’s a wonder your car hasn’t more dents than it—” She broke off abruptly.

  “Another one?”

  “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Are you breathing?”

  “Except when I’m talking to you.” She took a deep cleansing breath, then turned to Zac. “By the way, would you mind stopping by the drugstore before we get to the hospital?”

  “Drugstore! What in the world do you need at the drugstore?”

  “I need one of those little car air fresheners in lemon or strawberry.”

  “What?”

  “Weren’t you listening when the Lamaze instructor talked about aromatherapy and how these pleasant smells can be used to mask that hospital odor?”

  Had he been there? wondered Zac. Yes, he’d been there all right, immersed in thoughts of her. He pulled into the parking lot of the first drugstore he came to. “I’ll run in and get something. You wait here in the car.”

  Two minutes later he was back. “They don’t have strawberry or lemon.”

  “Could you see if they have vanilla?”

  “Vanilla. Gotcha.”

  Three minutes later he was back with a paper bag. “I found the vanilla. Do you need anything else?”

  Libby finished counting her breaths, checked her watch, then answered, “Not a thing.”

  “How far apart are the contractions?”

  “The last two were four minutes apart. This one was eight minutes later.”

  “You know, if we called Mabel, she’d do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Coach you through labor.”

  “I already called her, but I didn’t get an answer.”

  Zac ran his finger around his collar. Suddenly his shirt seemed too tight. “Well, if she doesn’t get the message in time, I’m sure there will be a nurse who can help you. That’s what you said. Right?”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she murmured.

  Zac wished she sounded sure. He’d just leave her in the hands of the medical professionals. That’s all he’d promised Hannah he’d do. He certainly didn’t plan to be Libby’s Lamaze coach. He had no intention of being her Lamaze coach. He glanced at Libby and saw her breathing through another contraction. Still, it didn’t seem right for her to be going through this alone.

  Surely somebody would show up. Maybe Deb would, but just to be sure, he’d try Mabel’s number again when they reached the hospital.

  The nurse finished hooking up the fetal monitor and turned to leave. “You need to wear this for twenty minutes. Th
is might be a good time to try the positive imagery you learned in Lamaze. You know, they didn’t have all these new stress management techniques when I had my twins fifteen years ago.”

  Zac took the chair next to the bed and stretched his feet out in front of him. “Okay, what’s your fantasy?”

  “What do you mean, what’s my fantasy?” Libby looked up from the fetal heart monitor she’d been watching with interest.

  “For the imagery.”

  “You’re going to try imagery?” Libby’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “But Hannah said you have absolutely no imagination.”

  Zac looked affronted. “I have a great imagination. Anyway, I can do this until Deb gets here, or I can get hold of Mabel. You just lay your head back on the bed and listen.”

  Libby complied, getting comfortable. After all, she had to stay hooked up to the fetal monitor for the next twenty minutes anyway. And she really did want to hear what kind of fantasy Zac would come up with. She had more curiosity about him than was good for her. Besides, listening to him talk made her feel safe, secure. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “This is supposed to be your fantasy, so you should come up with an idea.”

  “Why don’t you surprise me?” Libby laid her head back on the pillow and watched his face. He had a nice face, she thought—extra-determined jaw, though. He was probably stubborn and opinionated. He was also strong and dependable.

  “Okay. Close your eyes and relax. We’re going to the mountains. There’s a rustic lodge with a huge stone firepl—”

  Libby opened her eyes and made a face. “I don’t like cold weather.”

  Zac rolled his eyes. “How about the beach?”

  “I love the beach.” She closed her eyes again.

  “We’re getting on a boat. It’s a fifty-foot cabin cruiser and—”

  “I don’t like boats.”

  “But you said you like the beach.”

  Libby opened one eye and peered at him. “I do like the beach. The beach, Zac, that means warm sand and waves and all that.”

  “But that’s boring.”

  Libby opened her other eye and pursed her lips. “Whose fantasy is this supposed to be anyway?”

  Zac sighed. “Fine. You’re walking on a warm, sandy beach. Feel the warmth travel from your feet to your legs, to your thighs, through your whole body, all the way to your fingertips. There’s a cool breeze off the ocean, and you can feel the mist on your face.” He glanced at the monitor and noticed a contraction beginning.

  “Take a deep breath of that breeze. Continue to take slow deep breaths … slow deep breaths …” Zac kept one eye on the monitor. “Okay, now a deep cleansing breath. That’s good.”

  “They’re getting stronger,” Libby murmured.

  “They’re supposed to. Now, back to the beach.” He continued to describe the beach scene until the nurse came in to unhook Libby from the monitor.

  Libby smiled gratefully. “I can get up and move around now, right?”

  “Right. Walking around will speed up labor a bit. And it will help your back labor too.”

  Libby sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Zac. “Um, I guess you’ll be leaving now,” she said, and looked down at her entwined fingers. Please, please don’t go, she begged silently.

  Zac looked at her for several moments. “I … well, I’ll stay until we get someone else, okay? I’m sure Deb will be here or we’ll get in touch with Mabel soon.”

  Zac walked Libby up and down the hospital corridor for what seemed like hours to her. Every time she had a contraction, she stopped, grabbed hold of Zac, and breathed. In between her contractions she thought over and over of how strong Zac was, how caring, how supportive.

  After one particularly bad contraction she looked down, vaguely surprised at the puddle of water on the floor. “Uh-oh.”

  “What do you mean uh-oh?”

  “I think my water just broke.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  THREE

  “My notebook … I can’t find it.” Zac frantically patted his pockets.

  Why was he worried about his notebook, she wondered, when she was soaking wet? Libby grimaced as her wet gown clung to her legs, but said matter-of-factly, “I think I should go back to my room and you should probably get a nurse and tell her what happened so they can mop the floor.”

  Zac turned, hooked his arm around her, and began walking her back to the room. “You amaze me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re so calm and in control. I really admire that. But you’re in labor, for Pete’s sake. A little nervousness is allowed.”

  He was nervous enough for the both of them, Libby thought, and forced back her own jitters. “Women have babies every day,” she said, pleased at how controlled she sounded. “I don’t know why you’re getting so rattled. Hannah said you’re usually the epitome of cool control.”

  “I’m not rattled,” Zac denied emphatically. “Anyway, I’ve never been through labor before.”

  “Neither have I. You’re not going to fall apart on Hannah, are you?”

  “Of course not. I haven’t exactly fallen apart on you either. But her husband should be here for this.”

  “Where is he?”

  “God only knows. He didn’t even acknowledge when she sent him a letter telling him she was pregnant. He’s always been a rolling stone, but I never thought he was an idiot too.”

  “Must be hard on her going through this alone.”

  “You’re doing it.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Does your ex-husband—” He broke off when Libby grabbed his arm. He put his hands at her waist and supported her while she lay her forehead on his chest. “Slow, even breaths … that’s it … slow and even … it’s almost over … cleansing breath. Great.”

  She continued to stand there, leaning on him. It felt so good to be taken care of, however briefly. As if sensing she needed the closeness, Zac put his arms around her and held her.

  “It’s all right, baby. You’re doing fine,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Are you getting tired?”

  “A little.”

  “Not ready to run any marathons, I guess.”

  She shook her head and curled her fingers into the smooth fabric of his shirt. “I feel like I already have. Do you think I can do it, Zac? Maybe I should just go ahead and have the epidural.”

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “No. I just want to do what’s best for my baby.”

  “I think what’s best for you is best for the baby. Go for broke, Libby.” He laid his cheek against the top of her head and squeezed her close. “I don’t have any doubts at all that you can do it.”

  “But what will I do if we can’t find Mabel or if Deb doesn’t show up? Zac, I don’t want a stranger to coach me.” She knew she was playing on his sympathy but didn’t care. She didn’t want anyone but Zac with her.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll work out.”

  “I can’t help worrying. Please stay with me, Zac. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t think I could go through this with a stranger.”

  Zac sighed, as if giving in to the inevitable. “I’ll stay.”

  Libby leaned her head tiredly against his shoulder and allowed him to help her back to her room. Her contractions became stronger and closer together. Zac rubbed her lower back to help ease the almost constant ache. As labor intensified, Libby withdrew into herself, quiet and preoccupied, trying to stay on top of the contractions. Yet through it all she remained aware of Zac’s presence, his encouragements, his patience.

  During the contractions he breathed along with her. In between he wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, offered her ice chips, applied lip balm to her dry lips, even put socks on her chilly feet. He seemed to know instinctively when she needed distracting chatter and when she needed quiet.

  The contractions were now lasting a minute and a half and were only a minute apart. Zac marveled at her strength, her intensity, her beau
ty. She still retained that inherent air of serenity, although Zac could tell by the lines of effort etched into her brow and the beads of sweat on her face that it was being strained. And though he hadn’t wanted to stay, he was fiercely glad that he was there for her.

  “I’m so tired,” she suddenly moaned, and grabbed his hand. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Yes, you can. It’s not going to be long now.” He tenderly stroked tendrils of hair back from her face. “Think about the baby, Libby,” he urged. “How soft his skin is going to feel, how tiny his little hands and feet will be. How right it’s going to feel to hold him. You can do it, baby, I know you can. It’s just a little bit longer now, and then—”

  “Oh, God, it’s another one. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t.”

  Zac grabbed her hands and looked straight into her eyes, trying to infuse her with his strength. “Yes, you can. Breathe with me, baby. Breathe with me.”

  It was only a few minutes later when Libby suddenly caught her breath. “Zac? Something’s different. There’s a lot of pressure and I … oh. I need to push.”

  “You can’t!” Zac exclaimed, his heart pounding. This was it. He grabbed the signal and pushed the nurse-call button. “Don’t do anything until the nurse gets here.” He frantically searched through his head for what they were supposed to do in this situation.

  “What are we supposed to do now? I know you’re not supposed to push until the nurse gets here,” he muttered. “My mind seems to have gone blank.” Where the hell is my notebook? He tugged it out of his back pocket and flipped a few pages. Pant. That’s it. “You’re supposed to pant.”

  “Okay, Libby. Blow out. Short little puffs … come on, you can do it. Lean your head back more … come on. Little puffs … that’s it … that’s it.”

  The nurse came in and examined Libby. “Well, I think we’re about ready to push. Let’s put the head of the bed up a little higher. With the next contraction, lean forward and grab your knee. Let your coach grab the other. Then take a deep breath, let it out, take another, and hold it.”