Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(109)

“I’ll let you sleep,” he said, kissing her brow, pulling her close.

“Did you happen to get an update as you were closing the bar?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “We’re still at eight minutes. And Preacher is growing weak from the strain.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “God, this is going to be a fun one,” she said. “Now snuggle me close and put me to sleep.”

The call came at midnight. When she heard the phone ring, she rolled over and moaned. “I knew she was going to do this. Some women just aren’t happy unless they labor all night.” Jack lifted the phone and passed it to her. “Evening, Paige.”

“I’m sorry, Mel,” she said. “I’m at five to seven minutes now.”

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty good, but they’re getting nice and strong, lasting a minute.”

“Hmm. It sounds like I might have time to nurse Emma while I wait for Mike and Brie to come.”

“Sure,” Paige said. “I’ll meet you across the street in a half hour. How’s that?”

“It’s a date. If anything changes, call me. I can always rush and get there in ten minutes.”

They were in motion, the midwife and her partner. While she headed for the nursery, Jack called his sister and put fresh linens on the bed so the babysitters could crawl in and sleep. No reason for them to sit up all night. And while no one expected Jack to be up all night, it was his routine to be awake and available when Mel was delivering at Doc’s house. About thirty minutes later, they pulled up to the bar. They kissed goodbye and Mel went to Doc’s while Jack went into the bar, which was lit up like a church.

Preacher was pacing. “What took you so long?” he asked.

Jack looked at his watch. “We’re right on time, Preach.”

Paige stood up from the table. “Jack, I’d like you to pour John a shot.”

“No, baby. I want to be alert.”

“John, you’re way beyond alert. And I don’t think I can take another minute. Do as I say!”

Jack went behind the bar. “My man, when a woman is having a baby, you do everything she says, and you do it fast.” He brought down a bottle. “Just a little something to take the edge off.”

“I don’t know,” Preacher said.

“Preach, you’re six-four and weigh at least two-fifty. A shot isn’t going to do nearly enough good. Mel should probably have you on Xanax.” He tipped the bottle of Preacher’s preferred whiskey over a glass. Reluctantly, Preacher picked up the drink and threw it back.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Christopher all tucked in and asleep?” Jack asked.

“He is. He’ll be fine till about seven.”

Jack walked around the bar. He leaned down and kissed Paige on the head. “Have a good delivery, honey,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “I’ll do my best.” Then she dropped back into the chair, holding her tummy as a contraction got her. She started out breathing slowly, then as the pain threshold heightened, she began to pant and her face took on that look. She was starting to struggle. Jack smiled, watching. As the contraction eased, her features relaxed and finally, taking a deep breath, she smiled up at him. “They’re getting pretty good.”

“You’re doing great,” Jack said, putting out a hand to bring her to her feet.

“Aw, man,” Preacher groaned. He walked over to Paige and swept her up in his arms to carry her to Doc’s.

“Ah, Preach, don’t do that,” Jack said. “The minute she gets to Doc’s, I bet Mel is going to have her walking. It helps speed up the baby.”

“Fine,” he said. “Mel will do what Mel will do, I will do what I will do.” And out the door he went, carrying his wife to have their baby.

Jack’s shoulders shook with laughter. He hoped Mel didn’t knock Preacher over the head with a big club before morning.

Paige’s labor was not fast, but it was efficient and perfect in many ways. It took until three in the morning to get to six centimeters, but then the action picked up. Mel broke her water and by 5:00 a.m., she was almost fully dilated. She managed the discomfort very well.

Preacher, however, grew paler and weaker with every contraction. Before letting Paige begin to push, Mel brought a chair into the room. “John,” she said, “I want you to sit, and if you start to feel the least bit light-headed, put your head between your knees. If you faint, there’s nothing I can do for you—I’m busy with Paige.”

“I’m not going to faint,” he insisted. “I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

“John, you don’t have to stay,” Paige told him. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m staying,” he insisted.

For a man like Preacher to see his little wife struggle and have pain was obviously torture. He was much more comfortable in the role of protector. Mel knew immediately that he wasn’t going to be much help.

When Paige finally delivered the baby’s head at 6:00 a.m., Preacher leaned over his wife, took a look and collapsed into the chair with a groan. He put his head between his knees.

“Okay, Paige, pant. Give me just a second, we have a little cord issue. I’m going to be able to handle it fine. There we go—just pant for me, honey.” Mel slipped the cord over the baby’s head easily. “Okay, small push now. We’re there.”