“Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head and swallows, then points toward the other side of the townhouse. Another pain filled cry drifts to me through the darkness. I already know what he’s about to say. “Mom. She’s?—”
I stand, shoving my feet into sneakers. Taking him by the hand, together we rush around the partition toward their front door. Pushing the door open, I stop Dalton at the threshold and say softly, “I want you to take your sister into the bedroom and close the door, okay? Do you have a TV in there? A tablet to keep her busy?”
Dalton nods, his eyes flashing toward the back bedroom as another sob meets our ears. Timed apart, she doesn’t have long to go, I realize with a grimace.
“Okay, Champ, I’m going to help your mom. You can be brave for her, right?” I ask, and he nods. Penny is crying, so I scoop her up into my arms and stride down the hallway, following Dalton. I set her down at the bedroom door that he stops at and hunker down to ask her, “Where’s your teddy bear? Can you get it and hold onto it for me?” She sniffles and nods, taking hold of Dalton’s hand tightly. I stand and offer him my fist, which he fist bumps. “You got this, Champ.”
He closes the door and I continue down the hallway.
“Da-Dalton?” I hear Teddy call weakly, and my stomach clenches. “Buddy, did you find my phone?”
“Teddy?” I call softly. “Is it okay if I come in?”
“O-okay,” I hear the breathless reply, hear the briefest of hesitation in that voice, and I push the door open wider.
She’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a towel on the floor at her feet that she’s attempting to use to clean up the mess her water breaking had made on the tile floor. Her hand grips the door handle so tightly her knuckles turn white as she folds in on herself, and I can see the way her rounded stomach contracts and tightens beneath the material of her shirt. God that looks painful. She grits her teeth and pants as it eases.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, glancing over at me, “I didn’t know Dalton went to find you. I asked him to find my phone so I could call an ambulance.”
I step closer to her and smile gently. “He did exactly what he should have, Teddy. I’ll get an ambulance on the way, or I can drive you, or call Cal?—”
She starts to shake and tips her head back as another contraction takes over, and I don’t hesitate another second, stepping forward and easing myself around her so that I’m standing at her back. Her pained sob as it fades eats away at my armor. Her forehead is dotted with sweat, her t-shirt is loose but sweat makes it cling to her. The pair of leggings she has on are wet from her water breaking.
“May I?” I ask before touching her. She nods jerkily, her body sagging as the contraction fades. I slide my arms around her, under her arms, and slide my palms under the swell of her very pregnant belly. She leans back against my chest, her head falling against my shoulder as I gently lift, relieving some of the pressure and weight. “How long since your water broke?”
She breathes in and out through her mouth, slowly, methodically. “Maybe ten minutes ago? I was fine, and then it just came out of nowhere. I came back here to get my bag and that’s when my water broke. Dalton tried to help me clean up, but I told him to go find my phone?—”
With my hands supporting her stomach and her back leaning heavily into my chest, I can feel the contraction start beneath my palms. She grits her teeth again and another agonized cry escapes her. She’s trembling violently and tears track down her cheeks. I murmur soothingly into her ear. “That’s it, there’s another one. I’m going to let go for just a second so I can grab my phone out of my pocket.”
She nods again, and I pull my arm back, digging into my back pocket for my cell phone. I dial 911 and turn on the speaker feature, then set it down on the bathroom counter. Two rings, and a familiar voice answers. “911, what is your emergency?”
“Hey, Laurel, this is Xander Macomb. I have a woman who is in active labor, contractions seem to be timed less than a minute apart, and her water has broken. Can you send an ambulance our way, please?”
“Of course, what’s your location, superintendent?”
I wince at the title, something I’m still not entirely used to even six years later, but another contraction starts and I make sure I’m supporting Teddy fully again. Her shaking has intensified, remaining even when the contraction ends. I rattle off the address and Laurel assures us that she’ll get an ambulance headed our way immediately. I request that she stay on the line.
“Sweetheart, what’s your name?” Laurel asks.
“T-Teddy Hansen,” she manages to say before another pained cry escapes her lips. I hold on as tightly as I dare, fear that I might somehow hurt her tempering my hold slightly.
“Hansen?” Laurel asks, and I sense the surprise in her tone, and understand why. Logan might not have been a local EMT in this district, but word travels, especially in small, close knit towns like Sky Ridge and Cedar Valley.
I glance down at Teddy, watching a tear slip down her cheek as she squeezes her eyes shut. My eyes land on her left hand and the wedding ring set on her third finger that she hasn’t taken off yet. Not that I blame her.
“She has two other kids here in the residence,” I tell Laurel after the contraction subsides again, forcing my brain to focus. Then, speaking directly to her, I murmur, “Teddy, sweetheart, do you want me to call Cal?”
Tears track down her cheeks again and she shakes her head. “I didn’t even know you guys were back in town. Lo-Logan’s parents are in Cedar Valley.”
My chest constricts painfully, listening to the sadness in her voice, the despair and hopelessness in her tone. I hate that she’s here alone, having buried her husband six months ago. My gut clenches. Fucking hell. I hold onto her tighter, letting her lean her weight into me.
“I’m right here,” I whisper, my throat closing with emotion, knowing it means little to the woman I’m holding right now, but hoping it helps even just the slightest. “Lean into me, Teddy.”
A pitiful, keening sound escapes her through fiercely clenched teeth, her legs trembling, and then she sobs, “I can’t, can’t wait—I need?—”
She scrabbles weakly at the hem of her shirt, her fingers reaching for the waistline of her leggings. As gently as I can, I help her, peeling the leggings and her underwear down her legs. Her fingers tighten around my forearms where she’s clutching them. “Teddy, I’m going to lower you down to the floor, okay?”
