“I'm fine. Better than fine.” Emily looked out at the orchard, at the rows of trees that would be her responsibility. “I'm home.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then Eve's voice, thick with emotion: “I'm so glad, sweetheart. I'm so glad.”
They talked for a while, about the farm and the people and the plans Emily was already making. Eve listened and asked questions and offered advice when asked. And when they finally said goodbye, Emily felt something that surprised her.
She felt like she was home.
CHAPTER 14
The contractions started at 2:47 in the morning.
Beth was dreaming about the orchard, about walking through rows of apple trees heavy with fruit, when a band of pressure tightened around her middle and pulled her from sleep. She lay still for a moment, breathing through it, waiting for the sensation to pass.
It passed. She relaxed.
Braxton Hicks, she told herself. She had been having them for weeks, the practice contractions that her body used to prepare for the real thing. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to wake Gabriel over.
She shifted onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position, and closed her eyes.
The second contraction came thirteen minutes later.
This one was stronger, a deep ache that radiated from her back around to her belly. Beth pressed her hand against the tight drum of her abdomen and felt the babies moving beneath her palm, restless and unsettled.
“Okay,” she whispered to them. “Okay. I hear you.”
She lay in the dark, counting the minutes, tracking thepattern. Thirteen minutes. Then eleven. Then nine. The contractions were irregular but unmistakable, each one a little stronger than the last, each one announcing that something had shifted, that the waiting was almost over.
At 4:05, she reached over and touched Gabriel's shoulder.
He woke instantly, the way he always did, his body conditioned by months of sleeping with one ear open, waiting for this moment.
“Beth? What is it?”
“I think it's time.”
He was out of bed before she finished the sentence, stumbling in the dark, knocking something off the nightstand. She heard him curse softly, then the lamp clicked on, flooding the room with light.
“How far apart?” he asked, already reaching for his phone.
“Nine minutes. Maybe eight. They're getting closer.”
“Okay. Okay.” He was pulling on clothes, his movements jerky with adrenaline. “I'll wake your mother. And Chelsea. Should I wake Emily?”
“Let her sleep. There's nothing she can do right now.” Beth pushed herself up to sitting, a process that felt like trying to move a mountain. “Help me up. I need to use the bathroom.”
Gabriel was at her side immediately, his hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet with a gentleness that belied his obvious panic. She waddled to the bathroom, one hand on the wall, and closed the door behind her.
In the mirror, her face looked pale and strange. Her hair was tangled from sleep, her eyes wide with something that might have been fear or excitement or both. She pressed her palms against the cool edge of the sink and breathed.
This was happening. After nine months of waiting, of growing, of wondering what kind of mother she would be, this was actually happening.
Another contraction gripped her, and she bent forward,breathing through it the way she had learned in the birthing class she and Gabriel had taken last month. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Ride the wave. Let the body do its work.
The contraction peaked and ebbed, leaving her shaky but okay. She used the bathroom, washed her hands, and opened the door to find Gabriel hovering in the hallway, fully dressed, her hospital bag already slung over his shoulder.
“Your mom's awake,” he said. “She's getting dressed. Chelsea's making coffee.”
“Coffee? At four in the morning?”
