Worthy of Riches (35 page)

Ray followed her, pulled on his coat and gloves, then turned to Jean. “I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“I know.”

He opened the door, and frigid air carried in tiny snowflakes. Celeste hurried for the car. “I'm real sorry,” Ray said, his voice heavy.

SNOW FELT LIKE TINY SHARDS OF GLASS AS THE WIND WHIPPED IT INTO RAY'S face. He pulled his hood closed and huddled low.

Celeste gripped his arm and peered into the swirling white. “Are you sure we're going the right way?”

“Yeah. This is the way,” Ray said shortly.

“How do you know?”

Ray didn't answer but kept moving.

Several minutes later he rested his hand on the side rail of the small bridge just before the Haspers'. “We're almost there,” he called, the wind carrying away his words.

“Thank the Lord!” Celeste yelled.

Ray and Celeste stumbled down the drive, keeping their hands on the fence line as a guide. The Hasper house appeared amidst the white squall, and father and daughter hurried toward the porch. Huddling against the door, Ray pounded on the wooden barrier.

Almost immediately the door opened and light flooded the porch. “What the … ?” Adam asked. “What are you two doing back here? Are you all right?”

Ray ushered in Celeste. “We're fine, I think. Just cold.” He stripped off his coat and gloves. Celeste headed straight for the stove.

“I'm freezing,” she said, shivering and huddling close to the heat.

Jean set down a bowl and hurried to Celeste. “What happened?” Taking Celeste's face in her hands, she examined her skin. “I don't see any frostbite.” She looked at the girl's hands, then rubbed them.

Ray joined his daughter at the stove, holding out his hands to the heat.

“What happened?” Jean repeated.

“We slid off the road. Only thing to do was to come back.” Ray glanced at Celeste. “The storm's really picked up. I wasn't sure we were going to make it. I'm sorry, Jean, but we'll have to stay until it passes.”

“Just thank the Lord you're all right,” Jean said. “We need to get you into warm, dry clothes. Laurel, could you find Celeste something to wear from my closet?”

Laurel pushed herself up.

“No, Laurel, you stay down. I'll do it,” Miram offered. “I think I have some things that would fit you, Celeste.”

“Thanks,” Celeste said and followed Miram out of the room.

Jean sized up Ray, then shook her head. “I don't know if I can come up with something for you. Will wasn't a small man, but he certainly wasn't as big as you.”

“I'm not real wet. Mostly just cold. I'll just stay here in front of the stove and be warm soon enough.” He held his hands out to the heat. “Hmm. Smells like baking apples.”

“I have a pie cooking. How about a cup of coffee? That ought to help heat you up. And I'll get you a blanket.”

Jean hurried to her chest and removed a wool blanket. Returning to the kitchen, she draped it over Ray's shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said, pulling it close.

Rubbing sleepy eyes, Brian walked into the kitchen. “What's going on? I thought I heard something. Is Santa here?”

“Sorry, Brian, it's just me. My car slid off the road, so Celeste and I had to come back.”

Brian smiled. “Good, but don't stay up too late or Santa won't come.”

“I won't. I promise.” Ray winked.

“OK, young man. Off to bed now,” Jean said.

“Where's your car?” Adam asked.

“'Bout a mile down the road—in the ditch.”

“You can't do anything about it tonight,” Jean said. “You're welcome to share a bed with Brian, and Celeste can have the sofa.”

“I'm sorry to put you out.”

“Nonsense. That's what being neighbors is all about.”

“And Luke?”

“He'll understand.”

Jean lay staring into the darkness. Wind shrieked around the house, driving snow against the window glass. She burrowed deeper beneath her covers, but the closeness of the blankets did little to dispel her chill and her loneliness. Will's place in the bed was still empty. He wouldn't be here for Christmas this year. He'd always been the one who cut the tree and hauled it into the house, and then he'd settle in his chair and watch the family hang the decorations. After the children were tucked into bed, he and Jean would set out gifts and enjoy a few quiet moments to reflect on the holiday. Jean had always baked Will's favorites at Christmas. This year the gesture felt empty.

She pressed her hand against her chest as if doing so would dispel the ache there. “When will the pain stop?” she asked the darkness. “Please, Lord, make it stop.”

A soft knock sounded at her door. “Yes. Who is it?”

“Mama, can I come in?” Laurel asked.

Jean pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard. “Come in.”

Laurel opened the door, and a splinter of light cut through the darkness. Holding a lantern high, she stepped in and walked to the bed.

“Is everything all right?”

“I think I'm in labor.”

Jean's pulse picked up. “What's happening?”

“I've been having pains for a couple hours. They're getting worse and coming more often.” Laurel sat on the foot of the bed. Glancing at the window, she asked, “What should we do?”

Jean smiled. “First, we thank God. We're about to have a new member added to the family.” She climbed out from under her blankets and hugged Laurel. “How close are the pains?”

“About every ten minutes.”

“Well then, I guess it's time to get you to the clinic. Dr. Donovan said he'd meet you there, right?”

“Mama, the storm's real bad.”

Jean climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Resting her hand on the glass, she peered out. Bursts of white crystals hit the window. “Well, you certainly can't go out in that.” She faced Laurel. “Someone will just have to go for the doctor.”

“I heard you talking. What's going on?” Luke asked, stepping into the room.

“Laurel's in labor. We were supposed to take her to the clinic, but the storm's too bad. We'll have to bring the doctor here.”

“I'll go,” Luke volunteered. “Just give me a minute to get some warm clothes on.” He disappeared.

Jean could hear him moving about upstairs. “How about a cup of hot tea for you?”

Laurel rested a hand on her abdomen, grabbed the bedpost with her free hand, and leaned over. She breathed slowly and evenly until the pain passed. “That was the strongest one yet. Tell Luke to hurry,” she said, her voice tense.

Jean gently rubbed her daughter's back. “I will. Everything will be fine.”

“They're getting worse.”

“Since this is your first baby, it will probably take its time getting here. Luke will be back before then. Don't you worry.” Jean smiled. “Do you think you can wake that husband of yours? We'll need to make up the bed for you.” She helped Laurel up the stairs and to her room. Adam still slept.

Luke traipsed in. “I'm leaving now,” he said, then turned and jogged down the hall.

“What's going on?” Adam asked groggily.

“Your wife is in labor,” Jean said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Laurel sat beside her husband. “I'm going to have the baby, so Mama and I have to get the bed ready. You need to get up.”

“You're having the baby now?” Adam sat up. “Here?”

Laurel chuckled. “Not
right
now, but soon.”

“I thought you were going to the clinic.”

“The storm's too bad. Luke's gone to get the doctor.”

Adam ran his hand through his hair. “What can I do?”

Laurel doubled and hugged her stomach. “Ohhh.”

“Try to relax,” Jean said calmly. “It will hurt less.”

“This one's bad.” Laurel grimaced. “I don't know if I can do this.”

Jean smiled. “I'm afraid you have no choice.”

An hour passed, and Luke didn't return; another hour went by, and he still wasn't back. Laurel's pain had settled in her back, and the contractions were close together. Celeste and Miram took care of Brian and Susie and hovered around Laurel when they could. Ray was content to keep the fire stoked and coffee brewing while Adam paced and Jean sat with her daughter.

Susie and Brian asked to open their gifts, so Ray oversaw the distribution. Susie mothered a new baby doll, and Brian chugged a shiny fire truck up and down the stairway.

Adam walked to the window, the door, then back to the window. “When are they going to get here? She needs the doctor.”

“They'll be here soon,” Jean said, gently leading Adam out of the room. “Try to stay calm.”

Swallowing hard, Adam nodded. “But they ought to be here.”

“I know.”

Laurel groaned, and Jean returned to her, taking her hand and smoothing the back of it. “Breathe slowly and relax; just relax.”

Adam took a cloth from a bowl of water on the nightstand and wrung it out, then gently ran it over Laurel's face and neck. Laurel grabbed his wrist. “It hurts so much. I didn't know it would be like this.”

He placed a hand over hers. “It'll be over soon.”

“Once that little bundle gets here, you won't care a whit about the pain,” Jean said. “You'll have that baby in your arms, and nothing else will matter.”

Laurel dropped back on her pillows. “I wish it were here.”

Jean rewet the cloth and laid it on Laurel's forehead. “Adam, could you ask Celeste to boil some water and get us some clean cloths?”

Adam hurried out the door, acting as if he were glad to have something to do.

“Mama, I'm scared. I wish the doctor would come.” Laurel glanced at the window. “Where is he?”

“I'm sure he's on his way. You know how busy doctors can be.”

“I don't want to have the baby here. I'm supposed to be at the hospital.”

“Women have been having babies at home for centuries. You'll be fine.” She patted Laurel's hand. “I'll be right back.”

Jean met Adam in the hallway. “Do you know anything about delivering babies?”

“Me? No.” A panicked expression hit his face. “Is she that close?”

“I think it will be soon. If the doctor doesn't hurry, we'll have to deliver this baby. I've had my own, but I've never helped with a birth.” She looked at Ray, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You've had two children. Do you know what to do?”

Ray took a slow breath. “I helped with my son, but my wife had trouble. I don't really know much.”

“Could you help me if we need it?”

Ray was slow to answer, but finally said, “Yeah. If you need me.”

A cry came from the bedroom, and Jean hurried back to her daughter.

“Mama, I have to push,” Laurel said. “I have to.”

“All right, honey. If you have to, then do it.” Jean looked at Ray, then back at Laurel. “Mr. Townsend knows about delivering babies. He said he'll help.”

“The doctor's not here?”

“No.” Jean forced a smile. “But you're in good hands. I've had five, and Ray helped deliver two. With God's help, we ought to do just fine.”

“Ahhh.” Laurel gripped the bed sheets and pushed, gritting her teeth.

Wishing he could be anywhere but where he was, Ray said, “We need to know if the baby's coming. Jean?”

Jean leaned over her daughter. “Bend your legs for me, honey, so I can check you.” Keeping the sheet over her daughter's legs, Jean looked. “I can see the head. It's almost here!” She glanced at Ray. “I'll need your help.”

“You have it.”

“Adam, get the hot water and the washrags. And get me a pair of scissors.”

Adam kissed Laurel and hurried out of the room.

“I'm scared. I've never had a baby before.”

Ray leaned over her. “You're strong. You'll do it.” He looked at Jean. “I need you to check and make sure the cord isn't wrapped around the baby's neck.”

“I'll try.” Jean did as she was told. “I don't feel anything.”

Another contraction came and another and another. Laurel pushed, but the baby didn't come down.
It ought to be here,
Ray thought, sick at his stomach and remembering Ellie. Something had gone wrong then, and he knew it was happening again.
Where is that doctor? We need the doctor.
Ray wanted out. He couldn't go through this again. He stepped back.

Taking Ray aside, Jean said, “Something's wrong, isn't it?”

He nodded. “We need to check again to see if the cord's wrapped around the baby's neck.”

“I already did, but I couldn't feel anything. Maybe you ought to try.”

Ray wiped sweat from his forehead. “All right.” He returned to the bedside. “Laurel, this is gonna hurt, but I've got to see if the cord's hung up.”

Laurel nodded. “Please hurry. I'm scared. Don't let my baby die.”

Ray placed his hand between the baby and the wall of the pelvis. He felt for the cord. Laurel moaned.
Yes. There it is. “
Laurel, don't push!”

“I have to.” She panted. “Please! Do something! Please!”

Ray pushed the baby back slightly, got his fingers under the cord, and gently eased it back over the baby's head. He felt to make sure there wasn't another loop. He couldn't feel one. “That ought to do it.”

Another contraction hit, and Laurel pushed. The baby nearly fell into Ray's hands. It was out but lay blue and still.

Ray lifted the child and gently shook it, then patted its back and bottom. It didn't cry. “No. Not again!” He grabbed a towel and started rubbing the baby all over. “Come on! Come on! Breathe!” He stared at the child, willing it to live.