“You're a miracle worker.” Ray gave me a thumbs-up from across the lodge's accounting office. “No one's been able to make sense of those numbers for months.”
“Just doing my job.” I wriggled my butt, trying to find a position that didn't make my back ache. Not possible at almost thirty-nine weeks pregnant, though.
“You should be home resting.” He waggled his finger as he’d been doing for the past few weeks. “Dr. Allardi said to take it easy.”
Much as I wanted to be on the couch reading or watching TV, I’d discovered that resting made my mind race. Did we have enough diapers? What if there was a thunderstorm and we couldn’t get to the clinic? Will I ever sleep again after the baby comes?
I saved the file again because why not and winced as my back twinged. “The C-section isn't scheduled until next week.”
“But…”
Whatever Ray was about to say was cut short by a warm gushing between my legs. Oh gods, did I pee myself? My mind scrambled for an explanation.
“Indigo?” Ray leaned over me. “Are you okay?”
“My water just broke.” I figured out what happened, but while my voice was calm, panic was claiming me, and I shivered.
“Stay calm. I'll call Riven.”
“Iamcalm,” I shouted, but my response and racing heart suggested the opposite. “This isn't supposed to happen. We had a plan.”
“Babies rarely follow plans.” He was talking a mile a minute into the phone.
Not helpful, Ray.
“He’s coming from the perimeter, and now I’m phoning the hospital.”
Dr. Allardi had scheduled a C-section for next week, and we'd packed a hospital bag and gone over our birth plan. Me going into labor now and while at work wasn’t part of the program.
I had to do something. But what? As I hauled myself out of the chair, my belly tightened. Oh shit. Judy had called the Braxton Hicks contraction a practice one. Ouch and triple ouch. She was wrong. It didn’t prepare me for this, and I gripped the edge of the desk, breathing through the cramping.
Ray had given birth last year, and he breathed with me before asking how far apart the contractions were.
How did I know? That was the first one. “Water broke.” I panted. “One contraction.” More panting. “A big owie one.”
“A big owie one,” he repeated into the phone. He finished the call and said the doctor was on her way to the clinic.
I was hobbling to the lodge entrance with Ray’s help when Riven burst through the door. His panicked face was a reflection of mine. I thought of all the classes I should have attended and the practice runs to the clinic we put off because we were busy or we had aplan.
“Indigo!” His arm was around my waist.
Another contraction seized me, stronger than the first. I clutched my mate, squeezing so hard he winced. It helped a little because I imagined passing the pain to him.
“Breathe. Remember what Judy taught us.”
I tamped down my irritation. Who knew how long before the baby arrived and I didn’t want to shout, “But Iambreathing,” at screech level ten. So I did as he suggested, and he breathed with me. Instinct or maybe shared instinct took over, and I howled and so did he. Ray too. I was both signaling the pack and releasing my pain.
The drive to the shifter clinic was a blur of contractions, panting, and howling, and Riven's foot pressed on the gas. My belly cramped again, but now I wanted to bear down and push. No. That was wrong. It was too soon. I had to be at the clinic with trained medical staff.
“Riven. I… I… I… n-need to p-push.”
The car swerved to the wrong side of the road before my mate righted it. “We're almost there. Five more minutes.”
“The baby can’t tell time.” My voice was decibels higher than earlier.
My mate cursed, something he didn’t do often, as the scenery whizzed past us.
The tires squealed when we roared up to the clinic, and Riven was out of the car and around to my door before I’d blinked, thanks to shifter speed.
