Enjoy Your Stay (31 page)

“You mean I have to walk?” I ask, all panicky now, because it means I’ll more than likely be having my baby on my unsealed driveway.

With Pep’s help, I ease myself out of the truck and look around. The water from the cane fields is slowly creeping closer to our drive. Thankfully it’s not raining now, but if the sky opens up again, our drive will be completely cut off in just a few short hours. Which means Pep will be stuck here until it recedes. I feel terrible about it. Not just the fact that he can’t return to his family for who knows how long, but the fact it could mean his job, too.

He takes my arm, and we begin walking up the steep drive, but I’m having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. Pep walks behind me so he can push me along, but it’s a struggle for both of us.

Another contraction almost brings me to my knees. I feel the baby shift inside me, and I scream loud enough to wake the dead. I’m a little panicked, and surprised it hasn’t sent Ana or one of the boys running to see what the problem is.

I’m halfway through telling Pep that I can’t go any further when I spot Sammy’s little red wagon, all muddy and abandoned halfway up the drive. Completely spent, I climb into it, and just look up at Pep with half-crazed puppy-dog eyes.

“I am too old for this shit,” he mutters, picks up the handle, and begins dragging me along behind him, my bum firmly wedged in the tray, and my legs splayed over the edge. I have to hold them up, and that of course causes me to feel things in my lady parts that I don’t wanna feel, like my kid’s head.

After another ten minutes of hearing Pep grunt and groan, and we’ve finally reached the top of the drive. Jackson’s standing with his back to us, a pair of ear-buds in his ears as he loads pieces of broken furniture into the truck. I see the end of the cot he made me, and almost lose my shit. I try hauling myself from the cart, but I can’t get out because my fat arse is stuck. I hold my arms up to Pep in a grabby motion, and give him puppy-dog eyes again. He bows his aching back, and then reaches down to help me out.

“Too fucking old,” he complains once he’s set me on my feet.

Jackson chooses that time to kill the music and spin around, and it’s been so long since I’ve seen those sparkling blue eyes and that sexy face that I almost forget how angry I am that he’s taking my cot to the tip. His hair is longer, he’s unshaven, and from the looks of the dark circles under his eyes, he hasn’t been sleeping, or he’s hungover to high heaven. He also appears to be frozen in shock.

“Hi,” I say, as the sky starts opening up again.

“What are you doing here, Hols?” he asks, and he’s angry.
Which reminds me.

“Is that my cot?”

“Uh … yeah.” At least he has the good grace to look embarrassed, as he says, “I didn’t think you’d need it anymore.”

This makes me fume. I don’t know why, it just does. “You wrecked my cot?”

“You moved away, Hols.”

“I hate to interrupt, but you think maybe would could move this inside? We’re all getting soaked to the bone out here,” Pep says.

Jack’s eyes scan Pep from head to toe, as if he’s only just discovered we have company. “Friend of yours?”

“This is Pep. He’s helping me arrrugh!” I double over as another contraction hits.

Jackson’s at my side in a heartbeat. His big hand splays protectively over my belly. “Holly, what is it?”

“I’m in labour, you jack-arse! There’s a baby trying to squeeze its way out of my vagina. What the fuck else would it be?”

“But it’s a month early. How did you even get here? The roads are closed. Ana and Elijah have been trying to get back in for days.”

“Ana’s not here?” My level of panic just skyrocketed.

“No she’s not here. Her and Cade went out three days ago to get supplies, and couldn’t get back through the floodwater. They’re holing up in some motel in Ballina.”

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod!”

“Alright, love, breathe. I’ve done this before, we’re gonna be alright.”

“I can’t do this. I thought Ana was here. I can’t have a baby and have a random trucker and a … Jackarse deliver it. I need to get to a hospital. I need a drink. I need a—” Another contraction hits, and I scream. “Faaaaaaaaaark me that hurts!”

“You ain’t got time for that darling. You ain’t got time for anything but delivering this kid. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Pep strides into the house—after wiping his boots, of course—and Jackson helps me up the stairs, but then he blocks the door with his massive frame, and says, “What are you doing here, Hols?”

“I’m kinda about to have a baby, and you’re kinda in the way, so unless you want me to drop the thing out here in the freezing rain, maybe you could move?”

“You left me. You left with him.”

“Yes, and I’ve hated every day since!” I yell. I’m wet, and shivering, and looking between Jack and my enormous belly in my soaked shirt, I realise all of us could do with some new clothes. And then I’m screaming again because the pain of another contraction is so blinding that my knees give out. Jack holds me up, and looks down at my face. “You should have gone to a hospital, Hols. We’re not … you’re having a baby, and you came to me?

“Yeah, you idiot. I drove all night in labour, and then I hopped into a stranger’s truck and prayed he would gut me and take my baby to sell to Brangelina. I came back for you. Now get me the fuck inside.”

He wraps me in his big arms, and presses a kiss to my temple. “Welcome home.”

I don’t know which was worse: thinking I’d deliver my baby in the front seat of a Mack truck, or Jack’s face when he looks at my vagina as it’s stretched all out of shape. Either way, none of this is a happy experience. Pep is down at my legs, and Jackson’s behind my head, supporting my upper torso. Every couple of minutes I alternate between screaming at him to get the fuck off me, or continue wiping my forehead with a cool cloth.

“This is all your fault,” I scream.

“Uh, no, actually, that would be your other boyfriend.”

Pep looks up at my face with his eyebrow raised. I frown at him. “Hey, it’s been a really big year.”

He holds up his hands to ward me off, “Didn’t say a thing.”

I feel like everything on the inside bottoms out and drops through the floor, and then I feel this insane urge to push. I don’t know if I’m supposed to yet, I admit I kinda skipped through reading the “birthing your baby” section in all of my pregnancy books, because that stuff makes me gag. I push as hard as I can. A scream comes ripping and tearing out of my throat and I grip Jack’s hand hard.

“Good. You’re doin’ great, Holly,” Pep says, “I can see the head.”

Jack leans forward a little, and then pulls back in an awful hurry. “Jesus Christ, that’s a head?”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, Hols?”

“I’m trying to squeeze a watermelon out through my hoo-hah, you say one more word, just one more fucking word and I will shove my fist through the head of your junk, and show you how this shit feels. Are we fucking clear, or do I need to bitch-slap you, too?”

Jack’s face is frozen in fear. He blinks a couple of times, and then his eyes dance wildly between Pep’s and the door. Another contraction hits, and I squeeze his hand so hard that I probably manage to put hairline fractures in a few of his bones. “If you even think about running I will come after you and strangle you with this kid’s umbilical cord. Don’t think I won’t do it. Because I will.”

He shoots another frantic look at Pep. “Don’t look at him, look at me. I’m the one having a fucking baby!” I scream as I feel the thing push its way further down my vagina. “Answer me!”

“I … I … am I allowed to speak now? I didn’t know there were going to be questions, Hols. I’m sorry? Could you maybe let go of my hand?”

“Fuck you and your hand!”

“Okay Hols, I think you need to just—”

“Shut the hell up, Jackarse. If I didn’t love you so much I’d be in a hospital right now, high as kite, and abusing the midwives. But I do love you, and I’m here, with a strange truckie delivering my baby, and a man who’s desperate to run for the door at the first chance he gets. So shut the hell up, man the fuck up, and hold my hand. Please?” I look up at him as another contraction hits. And this time, I bear down so hard it feels like I might split in two.

“I can’t do this,” I sob into his chest.

“Yes, you can. Come on, Hols, snap out of it, and push that baby out.” He starts yelling as if he’s just taken over for Coach Stark, whipping the Sugartown Slayers soccer club into shape.

“Don’t yell at me,” I whimper, and fat tears spring into my eyes and spill down my cheeks. “It’s not meant to come out of there. He should just go back and wait a bit longer.” I grab Jack’s shirt, pull his face down so it’s level with mine, and scream, “Why the hell wasn’t I born a boy?”

“I don’t know, Hols, but I’m really glad you weren’t,” he says, pulling his shirt from my grasp. He smooths the hair back from my sweaty forehead, and kisses the top of my head. “You can do this, baby. You got this. It’s a piece of cake.”

“This is not a fucking piece of cake, Jack. It’s nothing like cake. Cake is sweet and delicious and fluffy. Childbirth is not fluffy. It’s hard, and gross, and painful, and arrrrrgh!” I scream as my stomach convulses, and another contraction pushes the baby further into the world.

“Okay, you’re doing real good, love. The head’s out, just one more hard shove, and your baby’s gonna be here. You ready?”

“No. I can’t. It’s gonna tear me in half, I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can, Hols. Come on, baby, where’s that feisty redhead I’ve loved since the day we met?” He smooths his hand over my cheek, his thumb tracing my lips. And then he smiles down at me, and his eyes do that crinkling thing in the corner, and I let out a sob, because I can’t believe I’m back. I’m back where I belong, and I have my Jackarse, and soon I’ll have my baby in my arms. “I’m here. You can do this. I got you, and I’m never letting go. Now, I need to you focus on getting that baby out of there, so we can welcome him to the family.”

I nod and feel another gut-wrenching spasm. This time, I push with everything I have in me. It hurts like fuck, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a zipper installed to be able to close my vagina from now on, but I feel a popping sensation, and then a gush of water below, and then the pressure is gone. I let my head fall back against Jack’s lap, and for a half a second I feel like I could just pass out with relief, and then I hear the tiniest little mewling cry, and my heart bursts open with joy.

“Is he okay?” I ask, as I lean up on my elbows in order to see him better. Pep rubs the baby with a blanket, and clears the mucus from its mouth. He cuts the cord using a pair of kitchen scissors, which is probably one of the grossest things I have ever seen—and I live with Jack and Elijah, so that says a lot.

“Er … Hols?” Jack begins.

“He is a she,” Pep says with a smile. “And she’s doing fine. A little on the skinny side, but she’s got a good set of lungs on her, alright.”

“Wait, what? No, no, no, no. I can’t have a girl. I was a girl. Girls are trouble. I was having a boy, the ultrasound said so.” He wraps the baby in a fuzzy blanket and places it in my arms. “It’s a girl? Aww, she’s so little and pink.”

My heart just explodes with love. I didn’t think it was possible to ever feel this way about someone you’d only just met, but that thing that people tell you about childbirth, the bullshit they feed you about forgetting the pain instantly because you have a baby in your arms? Yeah, completely false, because I know without a doubt that no matter how long I live I’m going to remember that pain forever. I’m going to remember, and I’m going to relish it and revel in it, because it means I’ll never forget how much I loved her in this moment.

“She’s perfect,” Jack says, pulling me from my reverie. He smiles down at us and traces his finger lightly over her brows. She screws up her tiny nose, and lets out a little bleating sound. “Just like her mum.”

“You got a name for her?” Pep asks, and then it dawns on me that this is a man who was a complete stranger to me just hours ago. He drove me hours out of his way, risked his life in floodwaters, may not get back to his own family for days, and is possibly about to lose his job because of it. He bought me to my Jackarse, and he delivered my baby, and I don’t even know his real name.

“I never asked why they called you Pep?”