Читать книгу Detective Daddy - Jane Toombs, Jane Toombs - Страница 8

Listening to the howl of the wind outside the hunting lodge in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Dan Sorenson dropped another log onto the fire and poked it into place. A good night to be indoors, he thought. These storms usually lasted up to three days, switching back and forth from sleet to snow, until they finally petered out. Hell to try to drive in them or to venture out at all. Lucky he’d piled enough wood into the back shed before this particular April storm began.

He glanced around at the comfortable, if shabby, main room of what had been his grandfather’s, then his dad’s hunting lodge set in acres of wilderness. Its cedar logs had been carefully notched into place long ago by immigrant craftsmen from Finland; the place could stand up to whatever Mother Nature threw at it. Favoring his left leg, he crossed to a side window in a vain effort to peer into the darkness.

He checked the switch to the porch light, left in the up position and shook his head. He’d turned the light on, the same way his mother always had done in a storm.

“You never know who might have need of a light in bad weather,” she’d always said.

Certainly no one in this isolated area. But, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to shut it off. He turned away, about to head back to the comfort of the Morris chair drawn up by the fireplace when he was startled by a noise.

Was someone at the door—on this miserable night in the middle of nowhere? Impossible. And yet he was almost sure he’d heard a sort of scrabbling sound, all but drowned by the wailing wind. Better check it out. He turned back toward the door, automatically reaching for his gun. Once a cop, always a cop, but, of course he wasn’t wearing his piece, he’d left it up in the loft. Didn’t need to keep it on him here in the wilderness, especially during a storm. He reached for the knob and pulled the door toward him.

Dan caught his breath. A woman covered from head to toe with snow stood swaying on the front porch. He reached out and hauled her into the lodge, shoving the door shut against the thrust of the wind.

“C-c-cold,” she whispered.

He guided her toward the fire, and took off her soaked coat. My God—the woman was pregnant! She hugged herself, shivering.

“S-so c-cold,” she repeated.

Dan convinced her to take off her sweater, but had to help, since her fingers shook so badly. He was concerned to find that the shirt she wore was also damp. So were her pants.

“You need a hot shower right away.”

She stared at him so blankly he was afraid she was in beginning hypothermia. “Come with me,” he said, taking her chilled hand and leading her into the bathroom.

“I’ll start the water,” he told her. When he released her hand, she stood where he’d left her, her face expressionless. He was about to tell her he’d get out of the room so she could peel off her wet clothes, but she didn’t seem to move.

“Are you able to get undressed without help?” he asked bluntly.

The woman didn’t answer.

He pushed out a frustrated breath. “Look,” he said, “my name is Dan, and I’m going to have to help you take that shower. Okay?”

He started the water, testing the temperature until it was good and warm, then he pulled her shirt over her head. She didn’t react so he turned his attention to the elastic-waist pants that were pulled over the huge bulge in her abdomen. He put down the lid of the toilet, eased her onto it, then removed her shoes, socks and the pants, leaving her in a pair of under-pants and a bra that seemed dry.

As he unhooked her bra, he realized just how cold her skin was to his touch. Half-frozen. Where the hell had she come from? He quickly took off her panties, then stood her up and urged her into the shower. Because he worried she might collapse, he stayed in the bathroom watching her as she stood under the running water.

When he judged the water had warmed her, he turned off the faucets, took her hand and led her out of the stall, drying her off with a towel, then wrapping another around her. He led her back into the main room by the fire then he ran up the stairs to his loft bedroom and rummaged through an old cedar chest to find something dry for her to wear. Flannel. Yes, that would do.

He put his grandfather’s old flannel pajama top on her, trying not to touch her full breasts as he buttoned it down the front. His grandfather had been a tall and heavy man so the top hung almost to her knees. After he rolled up the sleeves for her, Dan said, “I’ll sit you down so we can get on the pajama bottoms.”

To his surprise this produced a reaction. She shook her head.

“You’d be warmer with them on.”

Pain flickered across her face and she crossed her hands over her swollen abdomen. “It’s coming,” she said.

“It?”

“The baby.”

Dan swallowed. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

He stared at her, trying to come to terms with the realization that he was the only one she could depend on for help. No, wait, there was his doctor brother in Evergreen Bluff. He couldn’t get her there but he could call Bruce and ask him what the hell to do.

Leading her to the old couch that was angled to face the fire, he settled her there, saying, “Take it easy, okay?”

He strode to the wall phone. As he reached for it, the lights went out. He lifted the receiver to his ear and confirmed even more bad news. No dial tone. The phone line was down as well as the electric line and unfortunately, his cell phone didn’t work in this remote place.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as much to himself as to the woman. “I’ll light a couple of lanterns.”

With the light from the fire guiding him, he soon had two of the kerosene lamps lit. He placed one on the all-purpose table in the main room and set the other on an end table next to the couch. He could see her huddled over, hands clutching her abdomen.

“Hurts,” she said.

Damn. He knelt on the floor beside the couch, his mind scrambling to retrieve what he’d learned in the medic classes he’d taken when he first joined the Archer City Police Force. Childbirth had been briefly included.

“As I said before, I’m Dan,” he told her. “Dan Sorenson. Can you tell me your name?”

She looked directly at him, seeming to actually see him for the first time. “Fay. Fay Merriweather. Thanks for—” she fluttered her hands in the air “—taking me in and all.”

He smiled at her. “Hello, Fay. Now tell me, is this the date when you expected the baby to arrive?”

“No, it’s about two weeks early.”

Dan took care not to show his relief. At least the baby wouldn’t be one of those real tiny, fragile premature babies.

Dan culled his mind for other questions he was supposed to ask. “Fay, have you been under the care of a doctor?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “He didn’t want me to drive to Duluth. I should have listened.”

That made two of them who wished she had. Probably three, if he included her.

“You don’t happen to be a doctor, I suppose?” she added.

“Sorry, no. I’m a cop.”

“You must have delivered babies before then.” She sounded relieved.

He nodded, with no intention of telling her it had been once only, and that the baby had more or less arrived on his own. The ambulance had shown up quickly and swept mother and child off to the hospital, relieving Dan of all responsibility.

Fay moaned. “Here comes another contraction.”

“I think you ought to be lying down,” he said.

She didn’t reply for several moments, then straightened up, took a deep breath and said, “In my prenatal classes, they said to put plastic under you if you find you’re going to have an emergency delivery. Plastic and some old towels or something you can throw away after.”

He fervently wished it already was after. “And I’ll get a blanket while I’m at it.”

“An old one,” she called after him as he strode toward the storage cabinet in the back shed.

He was grateful she’d warmed up enough to be coherent, because he was going to need all the help he could get. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to psych himself into confronting an armed perp than to face delivering a baby.

Armed with a plastic drop cloth, and a stack of worn-but-clean towels, he went back and prepared the couch the way Fay had told him. He then returned to the loft and brought out an old quilt from the cedar chest. Back in the main room, he found Fay pacing slowly back and forth.

“Ready,” he told her. “You can stretch out.”

“Thanks. I know I’m supposed to keep active as much as possible as long as I can, but I really feel exhausted.” She settled onto the couch, arranging a throw pillow under her head, but leaving the quilt folded on the top of the couch back. Looking up at him, she said. “If I hadn’t seen your light…” Her words trailed off and she began to take deep breaths.

“Another contraction?”

She nodded, and he knelt beside her again, this time tentatively resting his hand on her abdomen. Through the cloth of the flannel top, it felt rigid as a board. He checked the second hand of his watch, watching until the rigidity subsided. Before he could remove his hand, something thrust against it, surprising him. Damned if the baby hadn’t kicked him. The realization made him smile. Feisty little thing.

Fay smiled faintly in return. “I guess you felt that kick.”

“Let me put the quilt over you.”

“The fire is keeping me nice and warm.” She turned her head to stare into the flames. “I love wood fires.”

He decided this might be the time to find a knife and some string, wipe them as clean as possible with alcohol and have them handy when the need arose. By the time he returned he’d made up his mind not to tell her that he’d do his best to make sure she and her baby would be okay.

The most reassuring thing he could do for her was to keep his mouth shut about how inexperienced he really was. The more confidence she felt about his ability, the less frightened she would be. Strange how people assumed cops delivered lots of babies.

“What happened out there? Lose your way in the storm?” he asked.

“When it got really bad, I must have taken a wrong turn.”

“That can happen. You’re a long way off the route to Duluth.”

“Then the car skidded and I hit a tree,” she said. “The airbag stunned me for a bit.” She crossed her hands over her abdomen. “At least the baby seems to be all right.”

“As long as she can kick she must be.”

Fay raised an eyebrow. “She?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know why I said that.”

“Most men would have said he. They all seem to want sons.”

Since Dan didn’t want a son or a daughter, raising children in today’s world being too chancy, he didn’t comment.

“Or else they don’t want either a boy or a girl.” Her words almost made him feel she was reading his mind, but the bitterness threading through them told him she wasn’t thinking of him at all.

“Your—” he began, then changed what he’d been about to say. Since a lot of mothers today were single parents, he wouldn’t ask about a husband. “The baby’s father?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable now, he decided to stop asking personal questions. “We’ll need something to put the baby in once she’s born.”

Fay smiled slightly. “She, again. I bought a baby bed, one of those you strap into a car, but that’s where it is—in the wrecked car along with other baby stuff. And mine, too.” She glanced at a window and shook her head. “You can’t possibly go out into that horrible storm. So we’ll need something temporary.”

His gaze fastened on the handcrafted wood-box his grandfather had made to hold his logs and kindling. He rose, strode to the fireplace and dumped the contents of the box onto the floor.

“Once I clean this up, we’ll have our temporary crib,” he said.

“Looks fine to me. Have you thought about diapers?”

Diapers? Naturally not. As far as he knew most babies wore disposable ones these days. Which didn’t help in the here and now. “I saw a stack of old flannel sheets in the cedar chest. I can line the wood-box with some, and I could cut up some for diapers and others for baby blankets.”

“Good idea.”

He handed her his watch so she could time her own contractions, while he went to fetch the sheets.

Coming back, he cleaned the wood-box carefully and lined it with a flannel sheet, using two more folded for a pad at the bottom. While he worked he kept glancing worriedly at Fay. Finished, he settled the padded box near the fireplace for the heat to warm it, trying to imagine a newborn baby nestling inside. He couldn’t.

Shaking his head, he brought the flannel sheets he meant to cut up back to where Fay lay on the couch, pulled a chair over and sat next to her. He started to ask her if she was okay, then noticed that, her face tense, she was timing a contraction. Finally she sighed and relaxed.

“How long did that one last?” he asked. When she told him, he realized the contractions were lasting a little longer each time.

For several minutes she watched him pile the pieces of cloth onto the coffee table he’d pushed aside. “I’m certainly inconveniencing you,” she said finally.

“Emergencies are what cops are for.” He reinforced his words with a smile. Poor kid, she needed all the reassurance he could dig up.

“I’m so glad—” she paused, wincing. “Another one. Really powerful.”

A minute or two later, she said, “Um, Dan?”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t have a partner for my birthing classes. If I tell you what to do, would you mind holding my hand and helping me breathe the right way?”

Between contractions, she explained his role. He edged the chair closer, took her hand in his and breathed with her. “You’re doing fine, Fay. We’ll get through this together.”

“Together,” she murmured and then moaned, caught up in a contraction he thought would never end.

“Come on, breathe with me,” he told her.

Damn. He figured that pretty soon he’d have to do more than put a hand on her abdomen and that scared the hell out of him. The baby’s head comes out first, he reminded himself. Normally face down. That’s when he was supposed to tell her to push. He thought he remembered the instructor saying to try not to let the baby pop out too fast because it might injure the mother. He gritted his teeth, unsure of how to prevent that. Tell her not to push?

When the contraction ended, he got up, hurried to the phone and lifted the receiver. Still dead. As it undoubtedly would be until the storm was over. He straightened his shoulders. Okay. It was up to him. He could do this. He’d never failed an assignment yet. He’d never had one this tough, though.

“You’re limping,” Fay said.

To think she’d noticed with as much strain as she was under. “My leg’s almost healed,” he said.

Her contractions came closer and closer together. “I think something’s leaking out,” she said after the last one. She’d already put her knees up, with her feet flat on the couch, legs spread apart.

“I feel like pushing.” She gritted the words out.

He didn’t want to keep the baby from coming out, but he placed his hand against the opening as she pushed.

Fay’s breathing came in gasping grunts now and he took his hand away and saw the baby’s head. He then caught the baby as it slid out.

But something wasn’t right. She wasn’t crying. Was she breathing? The instructor’s voice came back to him. “Hold the baby upside down, insert your little finger in its mouth and extract any mucus that might be blocking the baby’s airway.”

Holding his breath, he followed through. A glob of mucus dribbled from the baby’s mouth, she coughed, then emitted a tiny wail. A moment later she was howling full throttle. He expelled his breath in a great sigh of relief.

“She’s a girl,” he told Fay as he laid the baby on her abdomen.

Fay raised her head to look at her daughter and smiled. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She sure is,” he answered absently, alarmed anew at the amount of blood soaking the towels.

“Is it all over?” Fay asked after a minute or so.

“Not yet.”

“In my prenatal class, they said the nurse would massage my abdomen after the baby was born to help expel the afterbirth.”

Dan was willing to try anything. He slid the baby higher up on Fay, and as gently as he could, he began to massage Fay’s abdomen.

“I think you have to do it harder,” she said.

He increased the pressure. The afterbirth came out and the blood flow diminished. But it seemed to him she’d lost quite a bit. A lot more than that woman who he’d helped deliver her fifth child. Too much?

“All over,” he told her.

Once he’d tied off the cord and severed it, he wrapped the baby girl in one of the small blankets he’d cut and lifted her cautiously, supporting her along his left arm while holding her there with his right. He eased her into the wood-box and returned to Fay.

“Got to get you cleaned up,” he told her. “I’ll let the back of the Morris chair down and carry you over there while I fix up the couch. You’ll be able to look into the crib from there.”

As she watched him, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chair like that. It’s sort of like a lawn chair but made of wood.”

“Really old—my grandfather’s.”

“Put plastic over it first.”

Dan obeyed, then lifted her into his arms, surprised at how light she felt. Once she was settled into the Morris chair, he disposed of everything that had been on the couch.

“I wish I felt strong enough to clean up my baby,” she said when he returned. “I’m pretty well out of commission right now, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. After what you’ve been through, you need to rest.”

Her gaze met his and, for the first time he noticed that her eyes were hazel, somewhere in between green and brown. Her pallor disturbed him.

“After what we’ve been through,” she corrected. “You said we’d do this together and we did.”

Her words warmed him as he put new plastic on the couch and covered it with the last of the flannel sheets.

“If you’ll get me a basin of water,” Fay said, “I’ll clean myself up a bit before I go back to the couch.” She nodded toward the remainder of the old towels he hadn’t used. “If you just put those on the back of the couch so they’ll be handy later, when I need them.”

Dan busied himself with gently washing the baby while Fay washed herself. When she finished, he carried her back to the couch and she stretched out with a sigh as he covered her with the quilt. He’d no more than turned away, when the baby began crying.

“She may be hungry,” Fay said.

Damn. He hadn’t even thought of the baby needing nourishment. While there was food enough for him and for Fay, there was nothing for a baby.

“If you’ll bring her to me, I’ll see if she’ll nurse,” Fay said.

Stupid of him not to think of that. He was more rattled by all that had happened than he’d thought.

Fay had bared a breast by the time he carried the baby to her and, fascinated, he watched as the tiny girl found the nipple and began to suck. Then, realizing he was staring, he flushed and turned away, muttering, “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Fay said. “Nursing a child is a natural act, after all, just like childbirth.”

It was certainly true he found nothing sexual about it. He’d felt privileged to have assisted at a miracle.

Turning back he touched the baby’s head lightly with his finger. “She is beautiful,” he said softly.

As he seated himself in the Morris chair, he realized Fay was also beautiful, something he’d been too distracted to notice until this moment. She was unnaturally pale right now; she wore no makeup, and her dark brown hair hung limply around her face. Still, none of that mattered. Beauty wasn’t always a matter of the right clothes, right hairdo or the right makeup.

As for the baby, holding that tiny body had made him understand for the first time his ex-wife’s inner need to have a child. There was something about the warmth and helplessness of a baby that triggered something deep within. Yes, even in him, the man who’d vowed never to bring a child of his own into this dangerous and imperfect world.