Midwife Cover - Cassie Miles (22 page)

“What do you mean?” Dee asked with a whimper.

“You told me that you were the lead in a musical.”

“
Oklahoma!
Everybody said I was really good.” Her mouth relaxed into a tiny smile. “I liked wearing the costumes and dancing around.”

“And the applause,” Petra said. “Everybody was applauding for you. Do you remember what that felt like?”

Dee nodded. “I was a star.”

“That’s the feeling I want you to remember when you have your next contraction. Think of a whole auditorium full of people who are standing and clapping for you.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because it’ll take your mind off how much it hurts,” Petra said. “And it’s kind of true. Right now, you’re a star. You are performing a miracle.”

“That’s right.”

Petra left her bedside and adjusted the music she’d brought especially for Dee. Scanning through the show tunes, she found the track for
Oklahoma!
“When the contraction starts, I want you to sing along.”

“No way.”

“Hey, I’m the midwife here. I know what’s best.”

Dee clenched her hands into fists. Another contraction was starting.

“Now,” Petra said. She turned up the volume. At the top of her lungs, she sang along until Dee finally joined in. Together, they belted out the chorus.

Before the end of the song, the contraction was over.

Dee was breathing hard but not sobbing. “That was better.”

“You have a terrific voice. Have you ever thought of singing professionally?”

“Like on one of those reality shows,” she said. “I could do that.”

The distraction worked. For the next hour, they sang their way through labor. Dee felt good enough to get out of bed and walk around. She waddled into the bathroom, brushed her hair and splashed water on her face.

While they were in the middle of “Seventy-Six Trombones,” Margaret entered. Scowling, she folded her arms below her breasts. “What are you two doing?”

“It’s a new technique,” Petra said. “I call it the Liza Minelli method.”

“How much longer is this going to take?” Margaret asked.

“Why do you need to know?”

“There are arrangements to be made. I have to take the baby.”

“No, you don’t,” Dee said. “I’m keeping my son.”

Margaret glared at her. “You can’t do that, heifer. You signed a contract.”

“But I changed my mind.”

Petra stepped between the two women. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, Dee needs to concentrate on labor.”

“This is your fault.” Margaret jabbed her skinny finger in Petra’s face. “Before you came here and started filling her head with stupid ideas about the miracle of birth, Dee couldn’t wait to get rid of the kid.”

“How about a little sympathy,” Petra said quietly. “You were once in Dee’s position.”

“That’s different.”

“And you kept Jeremy.”

“Miss Francine said it was all right. She wanted me to keep him.”

“Why?” Petra questioned.

“Because my son is…” Margaret’s voice trailed off. “None of your business. I know you’re up to something. I’m not sure what it is, but I know.”

Had she somehow figured out what was going on? Margaret seemed so ineffectual and naive. Was there a different side to her personality? “Tell me.”

“I’m out of here.”

Dee groaned. “I want my baby.”

“Don’t worry.” Petra returned to her bedside. “Nothing bad is going to happen to your child.”

She continued with the contraction sing-along, but her mind was in a darker place. It sounded like Margaret would take the baby as soon as she cut the umbilical cord, and Petra couldn’t allow that to happen. She wouldn’t let this baby be hauled into an uncertain future.

How much more time did they have? After the next contraction, she examined Dee. She was at eight centimeters. Hard labor would be starting soon.

Until now, the day had been crawling along. Now, she wanted to stop the clock. She checked the time. It was a little before noon.

Brady was supposed to be here for his sitting with Francine at one. Would it be soon enough? She needed him to be here for backup.

“Just keep singing, Dee. I have to make a phone call.”

“Don’t leave me alone,” she wailed. “I’m having contractions all the time.”

“Four minutes apart.” She couldn’t leave her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.”

She opened the door to the birthing suite and looked around. Margaret wouldn’t help, but there might be one of the other women who could sit with Dee for a few minutes.

At the far edge of the house, she spotted someone on horseback. An iconic Western figure, similar to the silhouette she’d glimpsed last night, he was watching and waiting.

Frantically, she waved her arms and called to him. “Robert, over here. Robert.”

The big man rode toward her. “What’s the trouble?”

“It’s Dee. She’s getting close to having her baby.”

At the mention of Dee’s name, he swung down from the saddle. “I’m kind of dirty.”

“She won’t care.”

Petra ushered him through the door just as Dee started singing about her secret love. Her voice trembled with vulnerability as she continued to sing and to reach toward Robert. Her blue eyes were shining at the verge of tears. She might not have the best voice in the world, but she was quite the little actress.

Robert took one look at her and melted. He crossed the room, enclosed her hand in his huge grasp and knelt beside her bed. “I’m here, Dee. It’s all going to be okay.”

Petra hoped that was true. She stepped outside and called Brady on her cell. As soon as he answered, she said, “It looks like Dee is going to give birth within the hour. Remember what we said about Rachel. I think Rachel would advise you to be here when that happens.”

“Would Rachel say I should come right now?”

The mere sound of his voice took the edge off her panic. Her mind filled with a vision of Brady, strong and calm. He’d have a plan for what should happen.

She knew he’d take care of her and Dee. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen. He’d promised. “I need you.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Not right away,” she said. “When you come for your sitting, see me first.”

She ended the phone call.
I need him
.

* * *

P
ETRA’S PHONE CALL
LIT
Brady’s fuse. Even though she’d used their code word, she didn’t want him there until one o’clock—less than an hour from right now.

It wasn’t enough time.

He’d compiled a significant amount of evidence. Research on Terabian indicated that the doctor was already wanted for trafficking in black market organs. His association with Lost Lamb was enough to shut down the place.

If that wasn’t enough, Cole’s visit to Mancuso’s office had produced a double set of books, similar to accounting ledgers. But this paperwork pertained to adoptions. Using a facade of legal birth certificates and adoption papers, Mancuso ran illegal adoptions that amounted to selling the babies.

For the past couple of hours, Brady had used every shred of his organizational skill to arrange for a two-pronged bust. In a simultaneous action, the FBI would take over the compound where Terabian had his clinic and Lost Lamb.

For the assault at the compound, Brady set up a team of FBI agents under the command of the ITEP task force. Because the guards at that location were armed and dangerous, they’d use a military strike. The chopper was on the way.

The arrests at Lost Lamb required more finesse. This was a potential hostage situation; they had to be careful not to let the pregnant women get caught in the cross fire. Brady had assigned Cole to lead the effort. Along with four other men recruited from local law enforcement, Cole would disarm Robert and the other men who worked there. And he would take Francine into custody.

She was the primary target. From the evidence, Brady knew that Francine was running the show. She was the spider at the center of the web.

Brady was waiting for Cole to get here. As soon as he arrived, they’d go over the details. The two-pronged assault would start. But Brady couldn’t wait. Petra needed him.

He checked his wristwatch. Six minutes had passed since the last time he looked. He paced through his studio, through the bedroom and onto the balcony overlooking the front of his house. Last night, he and Petra stood right here, caressed by moonlight, warmed by each other’s bodies.

He returned to his studio. His plan of attack was meticulously outlined on the whiteboard. Details were arranged. Possible obstacles were accounted for.

The bug in Francine’s office was on. If she had any suspicion of what was happening, he’d know it first. A hell of a lot of good it would do him if he was here while Petra was taken hostage.

Through the transmission from the bug, he heard Margaret complaining, and Francine telling her that she was a disappointment. When this was over, Margaret would be an invaluable source of information if she could be convinced to turn on the woman she called Miss Francine.

Under his bulletproof vest, his skin itched. He was protected, but Petra wasn’t. She was at the ranch, caught in the web. Three more minutes ticked by.

Brady placed the call to Cole. “I’m going in. I’m leaving the house right now.”

“Hold on,” Cole said. “I’m about twelve minutes away from your place.”

“It’s all arranged. You’re in charge.”

Brady couldn’t wait.

Petra needed him.

As he drove away from the house, he knew that he was behaving in an irresponsible manner. Protecting Petra wasn’t his primary objective of these arrests. But it was the only thought in his head. He had to keep her safe.

Even though he was early for his appointment, he knew Francine wouldn’t object. He’d stowed the canvas with her portrait in the back of the truck. That picture was his ticket inside. He had managed to turn Francine’s cruel, grasping nature into a cold beauty. She’d love it.

As he approached the entrance to Lost Lamb, his phone rang. He answered, “What?”

“I’m at your house,” Cole said. “Your plan is clear. I can take it from here.”

“Good.” Because there wasn’t a choice. Brady had to be at Petra’s side. “Start when you’re ready.”

“Take care of her, buddy.”

“I will.”

The only other time in his life when Brady had allowed his emotions to rule his actions was when he fought back against his abusive father to rescue his sister. It hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, but it was necessary.

He had to be sure Petra was all right. She was everything to him.

* * *

B
RADY DROVE THE TRUCK
past the main house toward the birthing suite at the rear. His undercover identity was pretty much blown, but he didn’t want to come across as a federal agent on an arrest mission. Still, he clipped his Beretta to his hip.

There was a horse standing outside the room where Petra was delivering Dee. What the hell was that about? As Brady left the truck, he heard music from inside.

Without knocking, he whipped open the door. A strange scene confronted him. Dee was on the bed, halfway sitting up and leaning forward. Robert was behind her, supporting her against his massive chest. And Petra was in position to deliver the baby.

Petra had been working hard, and he could tell. He saw the strain in her features. When she looked up at him, recognition flashed in her eyes. She whispered, “You’re here.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Good vibes,” she said. “Send out good vibes.”

If she’d asked him to strip naked and chant, he would have done it. He stepped back and watched as she did her job.

Staring at Dee, Petra said, “I can see the top of his head. You’re almost done. One more push.”

“I can’t,” Dee wailed.

Robert’s low voice rumbled. “You’re doing great. You’re going to have this baby.”

Brady had seen a baby being born once before. When his sister was in labor, he’d been in the delivery room with her husband. They’d been in a hospital with everything sanitary and sterile, but his sister matched Dee in intensity and strength.

She pushed. And pushed. Petra encouraged her, and she pushed again.

He saw the baby, saw as the infant took his first breath and made a cry that sounded like a hiccup.

As Petra cheered and Dee sobbed, he and Robert stared at each other in amazement. There was no greater miracle. Brady was stunned.

He watched as Petra did her job, cleaning the baby and sucking mucus from the nostrils. Red-faced, the tiny boy squalled. His arms and legs jerked and wiggled. He was perfect.

Petra looked to Robert. “You washed your hands, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you ever held a baby before?”

“Yes.” Brady was touched when he saw the big man’s eyes fill with tears.

“Get over here,” Petra said. “Put this blanket over your sleeve and take the baby while I finish up with Dee.”

Brady moved to stand beside Robert. In a few minutes, he could be arresting this man, but for right now they were the same. When Petra placed the tiny bundle in Robert’s arms, both men stood in awe.

Returning to Dee, Petra kept up a soothing dialogue while she cut the cord and delivered the afterbirth. She was gentle and efficient at the same time. He couldn’t help but admire her skill.

Someday, he thought, this might happen for them. He and Petra might become parents. He wanted that for her.

After she cleaned up and got Dee settled on the bed again, Petra took the baby and held him to her breast.

“Be healthy,” she whispered into the tiny ear. “Be strong. Be wise.”

Brady was overwhelmed with emotions. He could almost see the light from the good vibes she was always talking about. The world was, indeed, a beautiful place.

He gently wrapped his arm around her waist. “You’re going to make a great mom.”

She shook her head. “This won’t happen for me. I can’t have children.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Alone at the house, Petra locked the front door, climbed the staircase and collapsed on the bed she and Brady had shared last night. She stared up at the ceiling and replayed that terrible moment when she’d told Brady that she wasn’t physically capable of giving him a child.