The Military Wife (A Heart of a Hero, #1)(79)

If her mom’s voice had wavered or shown any weakness at all, Harper would have collapsed. But the steel in her mom’s expression sent a wave of strength through Harper. Maybe it was borrowed or even false, but it worked. A sense of inevitability, as if the outcome had been preordained, calmed her panic.

“Let’s get your bag and wake Allison up.” Her mom wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her out, knocking on Allison’s door as they passed.

Allison too was dressed. “I woke up about twenty minutes ago thinking I heard something.”

“Probably me,” Harper said.

“Grab her hospital bag and let’s go, Allison.”

Even though Allison had birthed three kids, she moved with an energy that danced on the edge of panic.

A dense mugginess characteristic of July on the beach permeated the morning air already. Noon would see the temperature hit triple digits. A replica of the day she’d met Noah.

Halfway down the sidewalk to the car, she burst into tears. She had never considered herself much of a crier, but the smallest thing set her off these days. Her mom had stopped asking because most of the time she couldn’t pinpoint a problem, which meant it was unfixable.

Her mom’s arm tightened around her midsection—her waist no longer in existence—and they plowed on. Her mom guided her to the front passenger seat.

Cars on the road were sparse, which would change as day-trippers flooded the narrow strip of land. A contraction stopped her tears. Self-pity was an extravagance she couldn’t afford at the moment.

Their arrival at the hospital was a blur. While her mom spoke to a woman behind a glass partition, a man in white came out with a wheelchair and rolled Harper straight past the check-in desk and through swinging doors he opened by hitting a button on the wall. She craned around to keep her mom in sight.

“Can we wait for my mom?” The pitifulness of her request wasn’t lost on her, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’m here.” Allison grabbed her hand and walked at her side.

Harper squeezed Allison’s hand as pain shrouded her reality.

Time was measured by her contractions, a pain-relief cycle that stole her ability to function. Allison and the nurse helped her into a hospital gown and onto the bed.

The fact that a male nurse, the only man besides Noah to ever see her naked, helped her undress didn’t even faze her. Pain obliterated any sense of modesty.

“Epidural. Now.” She clutched the nurse’s arm.

“Dr. Marks should be here any minute.” The man’s voice was low and was probably meant to be soothing. It didn’t work.

“I want a freaking epidural.” She tightened her hold.

Her ob-gyn, Dr. Adele Marks, breezed in on a cloud of light perfume. She was in her midfifties, her former life as a sought-after Virginia debutante apparent in her perfectly coiffed blond-gray bob, dress, and heels. As a regular library patron, she was a long-standing family friend with impeccable taste in books. Harper trusted her.

“Harper. As I live and breathe, I thought for sure we’d have to induce you. Legs up and let’s check baby’s progress.”

“I want a freaking epidural,” Harper repeated like a broken record, her voice scratching at the end as another contraction racked her body.

The nurse said, “Contractions are two minutes apart, Doc.”

“Oh my. Let’s see where we are.”

Harper was only distantly aware of the hands shifting her. The voices around her gained in volume and urgency, and she opened her eyes to find two more nurses—women this time—flanking her bed and pulling it apart. Adele was putting on a blue surgical-type robe and gloves. The swiftness of the situation scared Harper.

“I want my mom,” Harper said, “and an epidural.”

At first she thought no one had heard, but Adele came around the bed and took her hands. “Darlin’, it’s too late for an epidural. Baby’s crowning.”

“But … but you said, first-time births usually take forever.”

“Seems like your little boy or girl wants to blow the curve.”

“My mom. Where is she?”

“I sent for her. Paperwork can wait. This baby won’t.” Adele smiled.

“I can’t do this. Not without Noah.”

Adele’s smile wilted. “Oh, darlin’, you have to. But remember women have had to bear this burden since time began. You aren’t alone. A long line of strong women stand to support you.”

Her mom took her other hand, Allison beside her. She had lost Noah, but three strong women stood with her today. She took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m ready.”

Adele moved to Harper’s feet, helping position them in the stirrups, and gave orders in a sweetly Southern but authoritative voice.

“Time to push, Harper dear, but softly. We don’t want baby to squirt out and shoot across the room.”

If she could have laughed, she would have, but her life was pain and pain was her life. Breathing was a success.

Her mom put an arm around her back and lifted her slightly. Harper grabbed her knees and crunched forward, pushing. Twice more she repeated the action.

“Perfect, Harper. Head’s out. Wait for the next contraction and give me another push.”

The contractions didn’t seem to end but rolled one into another, so Harper took a deep breath and pushed.