Along with everybody else in the room Elise lifted her cup of punch, although hers was the non-alcoholic kind. She listened as her new boss made a toast to the Christmas season. Mechanically, she brought the cup to her lips and swallowed. It was red fruit punch, the kind the children had been served when she’d taught Sunday school in Miracle Springs. Someone had tried to make it Christmassy by floating lime sherbet in it. The result was a sickly brown scum where the sherbet and punch had blended together, and it took all her fortitude to swallow it. She apologized silently to the baby inside her, who gave a mighty kick in response.
The party resumed, and she found an unobtrusive spot to set her cup down. The buffet was classier than the punch, and she was starving. Ignoring the warning voice that told her whatever she ate would show up when the obstetrician’s nurse weighed her, she heaped a plate with cold boiled shrimp, salmon mousse and crackers, fruitcake and rum balls.
“Only a pregnant lady would eat that combination,” her boss said, coming to stand beside her.
“I believe I qualify.” She patted the huge bulge that preceded her everywhere.
“You look like the Madonna.” John Switt shook his head at his own words. “Just don’t go having that baby in a stable somewhere.”
“At this point, I’d be glad to have this baby anywhere.”
Mary Jo Switt came up behind her husband and laughed at Elise’s words. She took his arm. “I remember just how it feels to be that close. How much longer do you have?”
“Three weeks, two days. Give or take a month.” Elise smiled at the Switts. They were a handsome couple in their fifties who resembled each other in the way that people long married often did. She envied them their togetherness.
Mary Jo was clucking like a mother hen. “Shouldn’t you be on maternity leave? Has John been making your life difficult?”
“Never. I’m just happier working. I want as much time with the baby as I can have afterwards.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Southern Pines Press can do without you,” John said, as he had every day for the last month. “You’re the best copy editor we ever had, but we can make do with free-lancers till you get back. Don’t hesitate to take off when you need to.”
The baby kicked again, and for a minute, Elise couldn’t speak. It was amazing how much a kick could hurt. “You’re so kind,” she said when she could talk again. “But don’t worry, I promise I’m not going to deliver in the office.”
“If you do,” Mary Jo said, “John’ll know what to do. He almost delivered our last child himself. You’d think I’d have known better, but I kept telling myself the baby was just restless. By the time I realized what was going on, the poor little fellow was already on his way to meet us.”
“We got to the hospital just in time for Mary Jo to give one last push,” John reminisced.
Elise wanted to hear more, but by the time she had weathered another kick, Mary Jo and John were gone, distracted by other employees. She finished the plate of food and helped herself to seconds on the fruitcake.
She was lucky to have landed this job. Because of her father’s insurance money, she had decided to work more for her sanity than financial stability. Still, even though she hadn’t sought prestigious or high-paying positions, few employers had been willing to listen to the plight of a woman old-enough-to-know-better who was unmarried and expecting a child. They hadn’t wanted the prospect of instant maternity leave, and she hadn’t blamed them. Luckily John had listened without moral judgment. He had hired her because he had believed she would do a good job, then he had made it clear that his door was always open. John and Mary Jo had helped make the adjustment to Atlanta easier.
Elise was pleased with her choice for a new location. Atlanta offered all the things that life in a small town never had. In addition, it offered the one thing she needed most of all: privacy. No one here cared that she was not married to the father of her baby, or if they did, they didn’t make a point of it. After the child was born, she would explore all the sections of the city, check into school systems and buy a house where she could raise her son or daughter in peace. She would make friends. She would survive. If she sometimes missed the town of her birth, she still knew that this was better.
Miracle Springs was just a memory now. It was a cocoon where she had lived far too many years of her life. She had traded its comforts, its unchallenging monotony for the adventures of the unknown. Some days she awoke and wept for the ease of the life she had left behind. More often she sat up and stretched, eager for the joys of a new day.
She should have left years before. But she had finally made the break. She was free, independent and as happy as she would ever be without Sloane.
The day had been long and she was tired. She traded repartee with her fellow employees, made plans to attend Christmas Eve Mass the following week with one of Southern Pine’s editors, and then excused herself to head home. The drive through downtown Atlanta’s traffic always tired her, but never more than it did this evening. The long day and the baby’s activity had taken a toll on her limited energy. All she wanted was a chance to sit in a warm tub with her feet propped high and afterwards a good night’s sleep.
No, she wanted more than that. She wanted the impossible. She wanted to go home and find Sloane waiting for her. She wanted to melt into his arms and feel his hands soothe away the constant ache in her back and the pain in her heart. She wanted to hear him ask how she felt and how their child was doing. She wanted to know that in three weeks and two days he would be standing beside her, watching their baby come into the world.
She wanted the impossible. Clay had her address. Sloane wouldn’t have trouble finding her if he wanted to. Obviously he didn’t.
She edged her car into the right lane of the interstate and took the exit that would lead to her apartment complex. Getting behind the wheel of a car was hard now, steering was hard as was sitting up straight. Climbing the stairs would be hard, undressing, too. Maybe she’d forgo the bath and go straight to bed.
She immediately found a parking place, which was unusual. Apparently some of the tenants had already gone elsewhere for the holidays. For a moment, she envied them that freedom. She climbed the open stairway, which always made her think of a cheap motel that rented its rooms by the hour, and paused outside her door. She must be tired. The faint strains of Christmas carols reached her ears, and for a moment, she had almost believed they were coming from inside her apartment. The sound was welcoming, pleasant. Maybe she would leave her radio on from now on so that when she came home, the apartment wouldn’t be so silent, so foreboding.
She stuck the key in her lock and turned it. The sound of carols grew louder. She had left her radio on. That was funny, she didn’t even remember having it on that morning. Inside she felt for the light switch. The resulting brightness made her close her eyes. She stayed that way as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, and she felt her body bend in protest. She gasped as the pain continued for long seconds and then disappeared. That was no kick,
“Lord!” She straightened and opened her eyes to find her way to the sofa and the telephone. She forgot about both when she realized she was not alone. “Sloane!”
Sloane was standing next to the sofa, his face as white as Christmas snow. “What in the hell!”
“How did you get in here?”
“You’re pregnant!”
“Did you pick my lock?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That’s why I heard carols. You turned on my radio.”
“Who the hell cares how I got in and what I did while I waited? Why didn’t you tell me?” Sloane’s face was no longer completely white. There were two red spots of anger on his cheeks and the muscle in his jaw was jumping. “My God, you’re as bad as Willow. You used me like a stud and then took my child!”
“No I didn’t! I was going to tell you. I…” She stopped and her eyes widened. “My God!” She bent over again. “Sloane, I can’t. Sloane…”
He was at her side in a split second. He put his arms around her waist. “Lean on me, Lise.”
“I can’t.” Her knees began to tremble. Something inside her seemed to give way, and she felt a rush of fluid soak her undergarments. “It’s not supposed to happen like this,” she said on a moan. “It’s supposed to happen slowly the first time. Especially when you’re my age. I don’t know what to do.”
“Let’s get you over to the sofa. Then tell me who to call.”
She was no help at all. She couldn’t move. Sloane finally picked her up, grunting at her new weight and carried her across the room. “Who do I call?” he asked after he had laid her down.
“It’s by the phone. This is too soon. I’m not due for the better part of a month!”
“You knew, didn’t you? You knew before I left town!” Sloane dialed as he spoke. “You knew, but you didn’t tell me.” He realized that he ought to stop himself, but he couldn’t halt the angry flood of words. “You kept this a secret… Hello? My name is Sloane Tyson, I’m calling for Elise Ramsey. I’d like to speak to,” he covered the receiver with his hand. “Who the hell am I calling?”
“Dr. Pinchot.” Elise closed her eyes.
“Dr. Pinchot,” Sloane continued smoothly. “Miss Ramsey is about to become a mother,” he hesitated, “and I’m about to become a father. Again,” he said, looking straight at Elise.
The voice on the other end of the line asked him to wait.
“How long have you been in labor?” Sloane asked her.
“I don’t know. I thought the baby was just kicking hard.”
“How long?”
“Two hours or so.”
“Where have you been?”
“At my office Christmas party.”
“Did you eat anything?”
“Tons.”
“Terrific. Hello, Dr. Pinchot? My name is Sloane Tyson. I’m the father of Elise Ramsey’s baby.” Sloane watched as Elsie turned her head to the back of the sofa. “She’s in labor. Hard labor. Has been for a couple of hours but she didn’t know it. She may already be in transition.”
Elise’s head spun around, and she stared at him.
Sloane covered the phone. “Did your water break?”
She nodded weakly, biting her lip as another pain ripped through her. Sloane looked at his watch and began to time the contraction. “I’d guess her contractions are about three minutes apart and they’re lasting around ninety seconds or so. But I just started to time them.”
Sloane listened to the doctor as he watched the minute hand on his watch.
“Yeah, she ate. Tons, she says.” He covered the receiver. “He wants to know if you’ve completed the childbirth training.”
The contraction ended and Elise nodded. “Last week.”
“She says yes.” He listened again. “We’ll meet you there in—” he covered the receiver again. “How long will it take to get you to the hospital?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes,” Sloane repeated into the receiver. “Pant and blow? I’ll tell her. I’ve helped before.” He hung up. “Come on, Lise. We’re going bye-bye.”
Elise couldn’t sit up. Her whole body was trembling. “This is supposed to take hours.”
“Or minutes. Depends.” Sloane slid his arms under her back and helped her sit. She bent over as another contraction began. “Come on, love. Do as I say. Now, take a deep cleansing breath. That’s right. Let it out slowly.” Sloane began to massage her abdomen. “Now light pants, like an overheated Dalmatian. That’s good.” He could feel the contraction tearing at her until her belly was as hard as a rock. “Okay, three pants and a short blow. Come on, Lise.” He demonstrated, and she followed his lead. They continued together until the contraction was finished. “Time to go.”
Elise was too weak to stand. “I can’t make it. You go ahead without me.”
“I’ll carry you if I have to.”
“Sloane, I was going to tell you.”
“When? When the kid needed tuition for college?”
Something purely imaginary burst inside her, and she began to cry.
“That’s not going to help. Come on.” Sloane helped her stand, and then he lifted her in his arms. “You realize I’m too old for this, don’t you? I’ll get a hernia.”
She sniffed, trying hard to control her tears. “Why are you here?”
“I’m beginning to think I’m here to deliver this baby. Be quiet now. We’ll talk later.”
“How do you know so much?” They were at the doorway, and Sloane was fumbling for the knob with one hand.
“Destiny. I watched a baby being born once at a rock festival. I held the girl’s hand and talked her through it. Later one of the Destiny midwives taught me the Lamaze techniques, but I never got to use them because I left right afterward.”
“And you remembered it all those years?”
“You’d better hope I did.” He felt her stiffen. “Okay, take a deep breath.” They began to pant together.
The trip to the hospital was the most difficult twenty minutes either of them had ever spent. Sloane alternately cursed traffic and panted. Elise felt every bump, every twist of the road. Finally Sloane roared into the parking lot with the speed of an ambulance and ran around the side of the car to scoop Elise out. They were in the emergency room in less than a minute.
“Dr. Pinchot’s patient is here, her contractions are two minutes apart and lasting ninety seconds or more,” he yelled to the admitting nurse.
“They don’t start and they don’t stop,” Elise corrected him on an indrawn breath.
The nurse, gray-haired and somber, took one look at the man holding the woman in his arms and called for a gurney. “Take her right to delivery,” she instructed the orderly who arrived a moment later. “Pronto.”
Sloane laid Elise carefully on the hard, sheeted surface, and touched her hair. “Only a little longer.”
“We’ve got to take her up now,” the orderly told him.
“I’m coming too.”
“Just a minute,” the nurse began. “Did Dr. Pinchot give his permission?”
“Of course,” Sloane said smoothly. “I’m the baby’s father.”
“Then you can go to admitting first.”
“I already did all the paperwork,” Elise said between gasps. “Elise Ramsey.”
“We’ll have to check. Mr. Ramsey, if you would wait.”
“Sloane!” Elise grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”
“Of course.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “We have to talk, don’t we? I’m not going to let you out of my sight until you answer a few questions.” He straightened. “I’ll be down as soon as the baby’s born,” he told the nurse. Without waiting for the orderly, he began to push the gurney himself.
“This is irregular…!” the nurse shouted.
“Highly!” Sloane agreed. The orderly took his place and Sloane grabbed Elise’s hand. “Okay, Lise. This time, start the pant-blow sequence as soon as it gets rough.”
She was beyond response. She could only feel the intense pain in her abdomen and the warmth of Sloane’s hand around hers. She did as she was told.
The delivery room was icy cold. Dr. Pinchot was already in hospital blues, and he chased Sloane out immediately, insisting that he cover his clothes, hair and shoes before he was allowed to come back in. With a nurse’s help, Sloane was back in a minute. Elise had been stripped, garbed in a hospital gown and covered with a sheet. She was gasping for breath.
“No anesthesia,” Dr. Pinchot said when Sloane returned. “Too far along and too stuffed with dinner.”
The doctor turned back to Elise. “Okay, Mom. When I tell you, I want you to push. You,” he pointed at Sloane, “get behind her and lift her up. Elise, grab your knees.”
“I don’t know how to push,” she wailed.
“Your body’s going to teach you how. Just follow its lead,” Dr. Pinchot said.
“Sloane, I’m sorry I asked you to come. You don’t have to stay. Oh!”
“Try and toss me out! Take a deep breath and hold it.” Sloane looked to the doctor for confirmation. “Okay, Lise. Bear down hard!”
The first pushing session went well. Elise welcomed working with the contractions. “How much longer?” she gasped when the doctor told her to stop.
“Depends on how well you do,” he said nonchalantly.
“Is the baby okay?”
“No reason to worry.”
“Sloane, I’m sorry.”
She felt his hands massaging her shoulders. “We’ll talk later. Just worry about the baby now. This is Clay’s brother or sister.”
Elise closed her eyes and waited for the next contraction. When it began, her body took over and pushed for her. All she could do was help it a little. She felt Sloane lift her, and she heard his voice soothing her although she couldn’t understand any of the words.
“Good job, Elise. You’re that much closer. One more push should do it,” Dr. Pinchot told her.
She drew in her breath on a sob. “Sloane. I’m scared.”
“So am I.” He came around to her side. “I love you, Lise. It’s going to be all right.”
She didn’t have time to absorb his words.
“Okay, Elise. Give it one more good, hard push and then I’ll let you hold your kid.” Dr. Pinchot stationed himself between her legs. “Looking good. Don’t shut your eyes. Look above you in the mirror and watch this baby come into the world.”
Sloane wiped her forehead. “Push, Lise. Harder. Harder!”
“Open your eyes!”
Elise did as she was told and watched the biggest miracle of all. She heard a cry: the baby’s. She heard a sob: her own. She heard a laugh: Sloane’s.
She heard a calm professional voice. “It’s a girl. Looks full term. With a mop of black hair and a powerful set of lungs.”
Elise felt something warm and wonderful on her stomach. Sloane held her up a little and she saw their daughter, eyes open and staring in her direction. Her skin was mottled and covered with a pasty white film, but she was without doubt the most beautiful baby in the world.
“Oh, Sloane, look at her!”
“Just lie back, Elise. You can hold her as soon as I cut the cord,” Dr. Pinchot said cheerfully.
Sloane eased Elise back to the table. “She looks like her mother.”
“You can’t tell that already.”
“She does.”
“I wanted a boy who looked like you.” Her voice trembled.
Sloane was filled with emotion at her words. He hadn’t known he could feel so intensely. His knees felt weak from it. “Don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he said at last. “I won’t have you be disappointed she’s a girl. She’s perfect.”
“What’s Clay going to say?”
“He’ll be as surprised as I was.”
“Okay, you two. Here she is. Not a thing wrong with her either except that she’s pretty cold and more than a little mad.”
The delivery room nurse who had efficiently hovered in the background cranked up the table so that Elise could recline. Elise opened her arms and held her daughter for the first time. “She does look like me.” She touched the wailing little bundle on the forehead with her index finger. “Please don’t cry, honey,” she soothed. The baby continued wailing as if she were insulted by the request.
“Go ahead and nurse her,” Dr. Pinchot prodded Elise. “She can’t cry if her mouth’s full.”
Sloane untied Elise’s gown and watched as tentatively she put the baby to her breast. Elise gasped as her daughter grabbed hold and began to suckle like an expert.
“It’s good for both of you,” Dr. Pinchot explained. “Makes your uterus contract, quiets her, and hopefully it will keep your mind off the stitches I’m about to put in.”
“Stitches?”
Sloane bent closer to watch his daughter eat her dinner and distract Elise. “She has my personality. Look at her. She knows exactly what she wants.”
“Sloane, help me hold her. My arms are trembling,” she pleaded.
He reached down and steadied the infant who was ignoring everything except her new connection to her mother.
“When I got off the plane and rented a car, I had no idea what I was getting myself into,” he said. “This is incredible. What a way to spend an evening!”
“You hate me.”
“I don’t understand why you did it. I expect a complete explanation in about three hours. But no, I don’t hate you. I love you.”
She shut her eyes. “You don’t have to say that. This doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t change the fact I love you, no. It changes just how fast we’re going to get married, though.” He straightened. “When does she get out of here?” he asked the doctor who was just finishing up.
“Three or four days. The pediatrician will have a look at the baby. If all goes well, it should only be three.”
“How long before she’s on her feet again?”
“She’ll be tired for awhile. But she’s done real well for an old gal.”
Elise opened her eyes and narrowed them. Dr. Pinchot laughed. “Thought that might pep you up.” He came around and plucked the baby from her breast. “We’ve got to weigh and measure her.” The baby was quiet as if she felt sleepy already. “I’ll have her back in a jiffy, and then you two can go into recovery with her.”
“Have you got a name picked out?” Sloane asked her.
She pulled the gaping neckline of her gown closed. “I’m not going to marry you.”
“No?” He smoothed her forehead in a gesture that was distinctly humoring. “Why not?”
“The whole reason I did this was to keep you from marrying me out of duty. I’m set up here. I have a job, a decent income. I have my own apartment, my own friends. I even have a woman who’ll baby-sit for me when I’m working. I’m free, independent and quite capable of taking care of myself and my daughter. You don’t have to worry. I’m not the scared, fragile little girl I used to be.”
“And you didn’t think I had the right to know anything about my child?”
“I was going to tell you.” She grabbed his hand. “I wasn’t going to do what Willow did. I just wanted to be sure you believed me when I told you that you didn’t have to marry me.”
“How long would you have waited?”
“As soon as I’d recovered from the birth.”
He picked up a lock of her hair and held it to his lips. “Why did you have to recover first?”
“I didn’t want to be weak. Don’t, Sloane.”
“Are you weak now?”
‘‘Extremely.”
He bent a little closer. “Good. Marry me.”
She tried to shake her head, but the movement pulled the hair held tightly in his hand. “You told me yourself you married once to give a baby a name. You didn’t want that baby or that wife. How do I know you want me and our daughter?”
“Because I love you.”
“Even if that’s true… what about her?” She nodded to the other side of the room.
“I already love her.” Sloane saw the disbelief on her face and he smoothed it away. “Look, Lise. When my ex-wife miscarried, I felt relieved, yes. I knew our marriage wasn’t going to be a good one, and I didn’t want to bring a child into it. But a part of me mourned that baby. I tried to ignore it, to tell myself it was for the best, but I was depressed for a long time. In my own blind way, I covered up those feelings. I told myself I wasn’t father material. But now I have another chance, another child. And you’re the two ladies I want to spend my life with. Don’t shut me out of your lives.”
“Sloane…”
“Marry me. Be my love, my wife, my adored companion, the mother of my children, my heart, my own private miracle.”
It was the last word that convinced her. She was too tired to prevent tears. “When did you decide you wanted me?”
“Months ago. Only I couldn’t find you.”
“Clay knew.”
“Clay and I were hardly speaking.”
“Sloane…”
“We’re speaking now. He told me where you were. I told him I’d bring you to Miracle Springs for Christmas. We’ll get married there—unless the thought embarrasses you.”
“Do you really love me?”
He nodded.
“And the baby? You want the baby?”
“Try and keep me away.”
“I could have made it on my own.”
“I couldn’t have.” He brushed her lips with his, then did it again. “I never want to make it on my own again. Only with you, with Clay and with that screaming little bundle over there.” They both listened to their daughter begin a new set of rebellious roars.
“She does have your personality.”
“You’re going to have your hands full with both of us.”
Elise felt peace wash over her. She shut her eyes and grasped Sloane’s hand. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”
“Ask me that after three months of wet diapers and midnight feedings.”
“It isn’t a dream. It’s a miracle,” she said, bringing his hand to her lips. “The maiden couldn’t have done any better.”
“We made this one happen ourselves.”
Elise smiled. ‘“Tis the season.”
“It’s always the season.”
Elise heard a rustle, a roar and then a quiet cooing. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Sloane proudly holding their daughter, who had nestled against him as if she knew just exactly who he was. “You’re going to make a good father,” she said sleepily.
“I am a good father,” he corrected her with a grin. “I’m going to make a good husband.”
“I believe you will.” Elise yawned and closed her eyes again.
“I take it that means you’ll marry me.”
“That’s right.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Sloane watched Elise drift off to sleep. He swayed back and forth with their baby and planned their wedding. It couldn’t be soon enough to suit him.