“He said she’s holding up okay, all things considered, and he promised to keep us posted.”
“I want to find the motherfuckers who bombed our house and make them pay for hurting our friends and killing our colleagues.”
“I’m right there with you.”
* * *
Jeannie kept telling herself to remain calm, but her silent pep talks weren’t working. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest at any moment as another intense contraction followed the one before it.
She wasn’t ready for this. They still had two more birthing classes to go, and she hadn’t packed her hospital bag or finished shopping for the baby or finished up at work or?—
“Jeannie.”
Michael’s voice penetrated the panic, forcing her to redirect her attention to his handsome face. “Breathe.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“Then how am I still alive?”
“You need some deep breaths to calm the panic you’re trying so hard to keep hidden from me.”
“How are you so damned calm?”
“I’m not calm on the inside.” He sat on the edge of her bed, took her hand and coached her through another contraction.
The medicine she’d been given to stop them hadn’t worked. Since the baby wasn’t in any distress, they said she could attempt a vaginal delivery.
“Ever since I heard that HQ had been bombed, I’ve been anything but calm,” Michael said.
He’d removed his tie and suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of a light-blue dress shirt.
“I’m sorry that you have to receive that kind of news, far too often, when something happens at work.” She puffed her way through another contraction and fought a growing need to push. They’d said not to push until they told her to. “Where’s the nurse? I need to push.”
“I’ll get her.”
Jeannie hated that she’d again caused him to be stressed because of her and her job. It’d been a lot, beginning with the kidnapping and assault and most recently being held hostage by Jaycee Patrick’s mother. And now her workplace had been bombed, pushing her into early labor. Through it all, Michael had been steadfast in his love and support. She wondered when he would say enough was enough with her job.
She’d begun to think that herself at times, well before a bomb went off at HQ. It was one thing for her life to be in danger because of her job, but now it had put her child’s life in danger, too. That was unacceptable. When she wasn’t dealing with contractions one on top of the other, she’d have to give that issue some considerable thought. For now, though, her only focus was bringing her baby safely into the world.
Michael returned with her nurse, Zehn, who examined Jeannie and declared her ready to deliver.
The room was soon full of people, including a neonatal specialist who’d be in charge of the baby. They’d been told the baby would most likely need some time in the NICU, which was routine for premature babies. Maybe so, but none of this was routine for her or Michael.
“Did you call my mom?” Jeannie asked.
“She’s on her way.”
That was a relief. Everything was better when her mom was there.
Jeannie hadn’t realized tears were rolling down her face until Michael wiped them with a tissue. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Oh, honey, you’ve got this. You’re a warrior goddess. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
“I’m not sure I’ll survive if she doesn’t.” Jeannie had been referring to the baby as “she” throughout her pregnancy. Usually, he responded with “he,” but he’d be thrilled with either.
“She will. I fully expect her to be born with your steely determination and endless strength to face whatever comes her way.”
