Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Spotting the kettle on the stove, I grabbed it and began filling it with water from the sink. As I stood there, the wind howled, whistling at the kitchen windows. I made a mental note to check the exterior caulk next time I was here during the day.
While I waited for the water to boil, I opened several cupboard doors searching for a mug. On my third try I found the right one and perused the selection, wondering which one would make her smile.
There was one that said Best Dad Ever. There was one with a photo of Sylvia’s kids Whitney and Keaton on it, taken maybe ten years ago, that said #1 Grandma. There were several Cloverleigh Farms mugs, and then there was one that said, I had my patience tested. I’m negative.
It made me smile, since patience was not generally one of my adorable wife’s virtues. She went at everything with gusto, because if a thing was worth doing or a cause was worth fighting for—and there was nothing Meg loved more than a cause—then it was worth every once of passion she had. I admired that about her. I always had.
Daphne, Meg’s mom, had told me the tea bags were in the pantry, so I went in there and hunted around for a flavor I thought Meg would like. Her favorite flavor was Twinkie, of course, but since there wasn’t any Twinkie tea, I pulled a bag from the box that said Calming Lavender Rose. Meg could use a little calming, poor thing. I was used to wearing a lot of heavy gear on the job, but I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to carry an eight-pound human being in my belly at all times.
The kettle was whistling by then, so I turned off the gas, stuck the tea bag in the mug, and poured water over it. I was just replacing the kettle on the stove when the lights flickered, and then went out.
“Shit,” I said. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I turned on the flashlight. Using the small beam to guide me, I grabbed the mug of tea and made my way back from the Sawyer home to the inn. It was eerily silent in the hallway, and a strange prickle of worry was making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
But it was just a power outage. Not that big a deal. And the Sawyers probably had a generator somewhere. Still, I hurried along the corridor, anxious to get back to Meg. Maybe we should have stayed home, I thought, praying that tonight would not bring any surprises. Cloverleigh Farms was a lot farther from the hospital than our house in town. And the roads were awful. A sweat broke out on my back beneath my clothes.
Stop worrying, I scolded myself. It wasn’t like me to panic. But as I entered the inn, I decided that Meg and I should probably head home before the storm got worse.
The music had gone off, but I could hear agitated voices, and the fire gave the only light. Everyone appeared to be over by the couch near the fireplace. My heart started to pound.
“Meg?” I called out, starting to move faster. Hot tea sloshed over the edge of the mug, but I hardly felt the sting. As I got closer to the crowd, I spotted Meg on her hands and knees near the coffee table. Frannie was on one side of her, rubbing her back, and Daphne was wiping off the leather couch with a white towel.
“Meg!” I set the mug down hard and dropped down next to her, panic seizing my chest. “Honey, are you okay?”
She was panting hard. “My water. It broke.”
I could actually feel the blood rushing away from my brain. My vision blurred for a second. “Okay,” I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded. “Okay. So you’re in labor.”
“You think?”
I swallowed. “Sorry. Uh, okay I’ll get the car.”
“No! Don’t leave me!” Her eyes flashed with panic in the firelight.
“Okay, baby.” I brushed her hair off her face. “I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here.”
“I can go get the car,” Mack offered. “I’ll get mine. It has a nice big backseat. You can ride together back there.”
She shook her head. “I can’t ride in the car right now. No way.”
“But Meg,” I protested. “We have to get you to—”
“Just give me a few minutes, okay? This will pass.” She continued to breathe through her teeth. “It has to pass. And then I’ll be able to move.”
“My labors took hours,” offered Sylvia, who stood nearby with her toddler on her hip.
“Mine too,” said Chloe from the couch. She stood up and handed her baby to Oliver. “Mom, why don’t we find some candles? That will be relaxing and give us a little more light.”