Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(22)

The storm had worsened, thunder vibrating the entire trailer. Although it was seven in the morning, it was black as midnight. "Shit," I said, thinking that getting into a car with Miss Marva in this kind of weather was risking our lives. There would be flash-flooding, and her low-slung Pinto wagon wasn't going to make it to the family clinic.

"Liberty," Mama said in surprised disapproval, "I've never heard you swear before. I hope your friends at school aren't influencing you."

"Sorry," I said, trying to peer through the streaming window.

We both jumped at the sudden roar of hail on the roof, a battering shower of hard white ice. It sounded like someone was dumping coins onto our house. I ran to the door and

opened it. surveying the bouncing balls on the ground. "Marble-sized," I said. "And a few golf balls."

"Shit," Mama said, wrapping her arms around her tightening stomach.

The phone rang, and Mama picked it up. "Yes? Hey, Marva, I—You what? Just now?" She listened for a moment. "All right. Yes, you're probably right. Okay, we'll see you there."

"What?" I asked wildly as she hung up. "What did she say?"

"She says the main road is probably flooded by now, and the Pinto won't make it. So she called Hardy, and he's coming to get us in the pickup. Since there's only room for three of us, he'll drop us off and come back to get Marva."

"Thank God." I said, instantly relieved. Hardy's pickup would plow through anything.

I waited at the door and watched through the crack. The hail had stopped falling but the rain held steady, sometimes coming in cold sideways sheets through the narrow opening of the door. Every now and then I glanced back at Mama, who had subsided in the corner of the sofa. I could tell the pains were getting worse—her chatter had died away and she had drawn inward to focus on the inexorable process that had overtaken her body.

I heard her breathe my father's name softly. A needle of pain went through the back of my throat. My father's name, when she was giving birth to another man's child.

It's a shock the first time you see your parent in a helpless condition, to feel the reverse of your situations. Mama was my responsibility now. Daddy wasn't here to take care of her. But I knew he would have wanted me to. I wouldn't fail either of them.

The Cateses' blue truck stopped in front, and Hardy strode to the door. He was wearing a fleece-lined windbreaker with the school panther logo on the back. Looking large and capable, he entered the trailer and closed the door firmly. His assessing glance swept over my face. I blinked in surprise as he kissed my cheek. He went to my mother, sank to his haunches before her and asked gently, "How does a ride in a pickup sound, Mrs. Jones?"

She mustered a faint laugh. "I think I might take you up on that, Hardy."

Standing, he looked back at me. "Anything I should bring out to the truck? I've got the cover on the back, so it should stay pretty dry."

I ran to get the duffel, and handed it to him. He headed for the door. "No, wait," I said, continuing to load objects into his arms. "We need this tape player. And this—" I gave him a large cylinder with an attachment that looked like a screwdriver.

Hardy looked at it with genuine alarm. "What is it?"

"A hand pump."

"For what? No, never mind, don't tell me."

"It's for the birth ball." I went to my bedroom and brought back a huge half-inflated rubber ball. "Take this out too." Seeing his bewilderment, I said, "We're going to inflate it all the way when we get to the clinic. It uses gravity to help the labor along, and when you sit on it. it puts pressure on the—"

"I get it," Hardy interrupted hastily. "No need to explain." He went out to stow the

objects in the truck, and returned at once. "The storm's at a lull." he said. "We need to get going before another band hits us. Mrs. Jones, do you have a raincoat?"

Mama shook her head. As pregnant as she was, there was no way her old raincoat was going to fit. Wordlessly Hardy removed his panther jacket and guided her arms through the sleeves as if she were a child. It didn't quite zip over her stomach, but it covered most of her.

While Hardy guided Mama out to the truck, I followed with an armload of towels. Since the water hadn't broken yet, I thought it was best to be prepared. "What are those for?" Hardy asked after loading my mother into the front seat. We had to raise our voices to be heard above the din of the storm.

"You never know when you might need some towels," I replied, figuring it would cause him unnecessary distress if I explained further.

"When my mother had Hannah and the boys, she never took more than a paper sack, a toothbrush, and a nightgown."

"What was the paper sack for?" I asked in instant worry. "Should I run in and get one?"

He laughed and lifted me up to the front seat beside Mama. "It was to put the toothbrush and nightgown in. Let's go, honey."

The flooding had already turned Welcome into a chain of little islands. The trick of going from one place to another was to know the roads well enough that you could judge which flowing streams were passable. All it takes is two feet of water to float virtually any car. Hardy was a master at negotiating Welcome, taking a circuitous route to avoid low ground. He followed farm roads, cut through parking lots, and guided the pickup through currents until fountains of water spewed from the trenching tires.