Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(98)

He smiled. “That’s getting real obvious.”

“You’re my very best friend, Paul.”

“Thanks, Vanni,” he said, but he furrowed his eyebrows. Suspicious.

“I want you to be with me during the delivery.”

“With you how?” he asked.

“I want you to be the one to encourage me, coach me, coax me. Hold my hand. Support me.”

“Um… Isn’t that Mel’s job?”

“Mel is going to be very much a coach, but she’s also going to be the midwife and she’ll be busy with other things. Especially when the baby is coming out. I need you to do this.”

“Vanni,” he said, scooting forward on his chair, “I’m a guy.”

“I know. Guys do this.”

“I can’t…Vanni, I shouldn’t…. Vanessa, listen. I can’t see you like that. It wouldn’t be…appropriate.”

“Well, actually, I thought about my brother or my dad and frankly, that really doesn’t appeal to me. So,” she said, lifting a video from the table beside her, “I got us a childbirth movie from Mel.”

“Aw, no,” he said, pleading.

She stood up and popped it into the VCR, then sat down again with the remote in her hand. “Jack delivered his own son,” she said.

“I know, but in case you’re interested, he wasn’t thrilled about it at the time. And he refuses to do it again—he’s adamant about that. And, Vanni, this isn’t my son. This is my best friend’s son.”

“Of course I know that, Paul. But since it is your best friend’s son, he’d be so grateful.” She started the video. “Now, I want you to concentrate on what the partner is doing. Don’t worry about the mother. Most of the time while I’m in labor you’ll either be behind me, or helping me walk or squat to use gravity to help with the dilating, or reminding me to breathe properly. It’s not like you’re going to have your face in the field of birth.”

“I’m starting to feel kind of weak,” he said. “Why don’t you ask Brie or Paige, if you need someone for that?”

“I could do that, but to tell you the truth, I’m much closer to you. And you’re here—right here. You can do this. We’ll watch the movie together and if you have any questions, just ask me.”

He looked at the screen, his brows drawn together. He squinted. This was an unattractive woman, giving birth. Well, not just yet—she was working up to it. Her big belly was sticking out, which was not what made her plain. It was the stringy hair, monobrow, baggy socks on her feet and—“Vanni, she has very hairy legs.”

“If that’s what worries you I can still manage to shave my legs, even though I have to admit I’ve lost interest.”

The hospital gown on the woman was draped over her belly and legs in such a way that when she started to rise into a sitting position, spreading her thighs and grabbing them to bear down, she was covered. Then the doctor or midwife or whoever was in charge flipped that gown out of the way and there, right in Paul’s face, was the top of a baby’s head emerging from the woman’s body. “Aw, man,” he whined, putting his head in his hands.

“I said watch the coach—don’t worry about the woman,” Vanni lectured.

“It’s pretty damn hard to not look at that, Vanni,” he said.

“Concentrate.”

So he looked up and saw that behind the woman, supporting her, was a man—presumably her husband—holding her shoulders and smiling and telling her to push. But Paul’s gaze dropped, because how could he help it? And there, again, was the baby’s head.

“This is cruel and unusual,” he muttered.

“You go to war and shoot animals in the woods—surely you can do this,” she said, getting very bossy as she did so. “Big animals—you shoot big animals. This is a lot nicer than that.”

“Depends entirely on what you’re used to,” he grumbled. He watched as the man on the screen told the woman to pant, pant, pant and then push, push, push. Well, how hard was that? And the woman was sweating as if she had just run a marathon. She grabbed her own thighs again, pulled herself up, bore down with a grunt and a snarl as if bench-pressing 350, and holy shit! The head popped right out of her! “Aw, man,” he whined again, ducking and swinging his head, bringing himself right to a standing position, turning his back on the TV. “Vanessa, where is your father?”

“I sent Dad and Tommy to the stable so we could watch this movie together.”

“Vanessa, I cannot do this. It’s not like I’ve been expecting to do this for a long time. Or if you were like some stranger, a woman suddenly having a baby in my taxicab or something—”

“Look, Paul,” she said, pointing. He glanced back at the screen over his shoulder and saw the whole baby come sliding out, all gross and mucky, right into the doctor’s hands. And the cord, still attached, was threaded up inside the woman.

Paul sat down and put his head between his knees, because it would be so embarrassing to faint and have her revive him. “Vanessa,” he said miserably, “you are making the biggest mistake of your life here.”

Her hand was on his knee. “We can watch it several times until you get used to it. Desensitized, as it were.”