“Sondra? Are you all right?”
A short, mirthless laugh met his inquiry.
“What’s so funny?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Because I promised myself that if anyone else called me and asked if I’d had the baby yet, I’d do something rash.”
“Oh.” He paused, then said in a level tone, “I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t ask.”
“So what do you need?”
“Is Kenny’s family coming to help you when the baby’s born?”
“No!”
Dylan jerked at how harsh she sounded. “It was just a thought.”
“They want nothing to do with the baby.”
“What!”
“You heard me. I’m tired, Dylan. Did you need anything else?”
“It may not be my business, but an explanation would be nice.”
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
She’d said she was tired, but in an instant, she’d gone from sparky to sad, and he didn’t want to hang up without making sure she was okay. He’d hit a nerve, and it bothered him. He quietly invited, “Give me the Reader’s Digest condensed version.”
A long silence crackled over the line. Sondra sighed. “The Thankfuls equated Kenny’s injury with complete disability. His parents presumed he wasn’t capable of. . .being a complete husband. They want nothing to do with a baby they’re sure isn’t their son’s, and they threatened to cut their daughter off without any college funds if she kept in contact with me.”
“Oh, Sondra!” Dylan breathed in shocked sympathy.
“It doesn’t matter. My son and I will get along just fine without them.”
“Sure, you will.”
Comfort. How can I comfort her, Lord? Help me take away the sting of their rejection.
His gaze happened to land on the refrigerator, and inspiration struck. “I’m dying for some ice cream. What if I grab a carton and come over?”
“Sorry. I’m lousy company. I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Okay. Sweet dreams, honey.”
❧
Sondra hung up the phone, sat down, and cried. The weatherman took unholy glee in announcing the temperature hit all-time records for the fourth day in a row. She bet he wouldn’t be half that perky if his wife were overdue and suffering from the heat.
Her attitude disintegrated even further over the next week. Twelve days overdue, she strained to be barely civil.
“Mornin’, city-gal,” a soft, teasing drawl sounded from beside her as she sat on the porch steps just past sunrise the next day.
Sondra jumped. “How’d you get here without me knowing it?”
Dylan gave her a lazy grin. “Because you’re not all here, if you get my drift.”
“If I were any more ‘here,’ my feet would grow roots.”
“Ah. . .cabin fever. A terrible case of it, if I don’t miss my guess.” Dylan took a seat beside her, rested his forearms on his knees, and stared off at the horizon. “I need to tend to some things, but I’ll come by tonight at seven. I’ll take you to town, and we’ll get an ice cream cone.”
“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”
Dylan gave consideration to her question, then pursed his lips as he turned to study her. A scampish grin tilted his mouth, and his wink warned her he was about to deliver one of his tongue-in-cheek zingers. “I don’t think I’d tag you as pathetic. More pitiful, if you ask me.”
“Oh, get out of here!”
“Are you talking to me or the baby?”
❧
Dylan was going to have to hurry to be at Sondra’s on time. A man had to be in sorry shape if all he could think about the whole livelong day was eating an ice cream cone with a pregnant widow. Dylan glanced at a mirror and saw the sorriest looking man he’d ever seen.
The phone rang, and he barked, “Hullo,” as he clamped the receiver between his shoulder and ear so he’d have both hands free to yank on a sock.
“Dylan, there’s been a change—”
“Oh, no, there hasn’t,” he interrupted. “You have to get out a bit. What harm is there in a trip to Dairy Queen?”
“I changed my mind. . .or maybe I should say my mind was changed.”
“So change it back.”
“Dylan, I don’t want you to argue with me.”
Stubborn woman.
“Do you even know what you want?”
She went quiet for a moment, then said in a strained voice, “I want you to take me to the hospital.”
Fourteen
“The hospital!” He nearly dropped the phone and managed to jam his other sock painfully between his toes in his rattled state.
“Teresa’s not home, and—”
“I’ll be right over!”
“I think I’d better get moving. The contractions are getting strong—”
She went silent, and he barked, “You hang on. I’ll be there in a jiffy.” He hung up.
He didn’t bother to button his shirt, drove like a maniac, and came to a screeching halt in front of her place.
Cool as a cucumber, she sauntered down the steps and opened the passenger door. “Thank you for coming.”
He hopped out of the cab and hastily fastened his shirt as he went around to her side. In those brief seconds, she tucked a little suitcase into the cab. Her methodical actions didn’t reassure him in the least. He’d learned when things were tough, Sondra got very subdued and businesslike. “How far apart are the contractions?”
She gave no answer. Instead, she started to pant softly. Her hand went to her tummy and brushed back and forth in cadence with her breathing. After a minute, she let out a sigh and gave him a wobbly grin. “I’m about as ready as I’m going to be.”
“You were ready weeks ago.” He grinned for her benefit. If she wanted to put an I’m-okay veneer over this, he’d play along. “You’re fretting like a hen, ’bout ready to nest on her egg awhile. Guess we’d best get you to the hatchery—I mean, hospital.”
Her lips bowed up in a smile. He knew he’d done the right thing. She needed him to be calm.
Yeah, that’s me, all right. Mr. Easygoing. . . Relaxed as barbed wire and sedate as a charging bull. She’ll never know, though. I’ll play it mellow, act unruffled, and she’ll stay composed.
“Upsy-daisy.” He gently cupped her middle and hoisted her into the truck, then pulled her seat belt out so it reached its fullest length. She snagged the buckle and snapped it into the holster. He’d have rather fastened it himself. It would have given him a good excuse to get close and kind of hug her. That realization made him mad at himself. He needed to get his head examined. He needed to get
her
examined.
She started panting once again.
“Just hang on!” He slammed her door shut, raced around, and vaulted into his seat. They were in motion before his door closed. He quickly buckled his seat belt and shot her a worried look. “How close together are the contractions?”
She didn’t answer right away—a fact that made him antsy as could be. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and whispered, “Six minutes or so.”
“Six min—”
“Dylan?” She squeezed his arm. He cut off his impending tirade and waited for whatever she wanted to say. She smiled sweetly as her cheeks filled with color. “Could we still stop by Dairy Queen and get me an ice cream cone to eat on the way?”
❧
It should have been an hour-long drive to the hospital; they made it in thirty-nine minutes. Traffic had been light, and though he normally drove in a conservative manner, Dylan turned into a maniac behind the wheel. Sondra gave him a couple of worried glances and muffled more than a few gasps at the harrowing way he drove.
Each time she gasped, he moaned, “Another one? Already?”
She wasn’t sure whether to say anything or not. The man looked downright sick. He looked like he needed medical attention more than she did! In fact, he acted as rattled as she felt. If she had any sense of humor left, she would have thought it was pretty funny that she was hurting and he was sweating bullets, but she’d forgotten how to laugh, and a thousand fears and doubts assailed her.
For all of his panic, Dylan carried on with his trademark kindness. “Hang on, Sondra. I’ll have you there real soon.”
“I’m okay.”
“Sure you are.” His eyes accused her of lying, but he didn’t challenge her. Instead, he wondered, “Why are you clutching that teddy bear so tight?”
“He’s my focal point. I’m supposed to stare at him when I’m having a contraction.”
“My staple gun’s under the seat. Want me to stick him to the dash so you can relax a little?”
“What?!”
“Forget it. That was a bad idea. I just thought maybe you’d like your hands free to rub your belly.”
“I have two hands.”
Dylan chuckled softly. “Once the baby’s here, you’re going to wish you had another pair. He’s going to keep you mighty busy.”
“It’ll be a nice change. I’ve been bored to tears for weeks now.”
“Have you missed taking the little chicks to the kids?”
She nodded. “Nickels volunteered to do it for a while so I can get the baby settled.”
“That’d be real fine,” he said. He tried to carry on a bit of conversation to distract her. It didn’t work, but she appreciated the effort—as long as he kept his staple gun out of sight.
Relief flooded her when she saw the hospital. “You can drop me off at—”
“Drop you off? Are you out of your mind?”
Sondra dug her fingers into the teddy’s plush brown fur and began to pant once again. She’d done her best to keep from moaning, but the pains kept growing stronger. She didn’t want Dylan to see her lose control. Having him think well of her mattered too much—more than she’d ever confess.
Early in life, she’d learned to keep some walls up to protect herself from being hurt. She’d let down the walls with Kenny—and now, look what that got her. A heart full of grief and waves of gut-wrenching pain.
Dylan was already too adept at slipping past her defenses. When she realized she’d started into labor, she’d longed to call him—to have him drop everything and be with her. Instead, she convinced herself to hold off, then call Teresa. When Teresa failed to answer, she’d felt a flare of gladness that she had an excuse to lean on Dylan yet again. Though heading for heartache, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
The next contraction hit.
Lord, help me through this. I need Your strength. I can’t do this on my own.
She made it through and let out another cleansing breath. She hoped it didn’t sound weak and choppy to Dylan.
He parked and came around to help her out. His long, ropy arm went across her in an almost-hug. He held it for a heartbeat before he unlatched her seat belt.
For an instant, Sondra nearly yielded to the temptation to lean into his warmth.
No. It’s not right. He’s a partner. Okay, he’s a friend.
The temptation to depend on him was frightening. He’d made it so easy for her to rely on his wisdom and strength. There wasn’t another soul on earth she’d ever counted on like this. Physically vulnerable and emotionally raw, she forced herself to lean back into the truck seat.
“Another one?”
She wet her lips and shook her head. Dylan must’ve figured she couldn’t slide out without his support. He tempered his strength to pull her free, then set her on her feet. The movement triggered an unexpected contraction, and she cried out.
“It’s all right, darlin’. Here—let me help you.”
She’d knotted his shirt in her palms, but she shook her head. Her eyes swam with unshed tears and her voice sounded thick as she quavered, “I’ll manage. I’ll call you—”
“What kind of man do you think I am, Sondra? How could I possibly leave you when you need so much help?” He tilted her face up to his. His steady, somber eyes read the emotion on her face and he interpreted it aloud. “You’ve never had anyone to rely on. You’re used to doing things for yourself.”
She nodded.
“Not this time.”
She ought to order him to go home. Deep in her heart, though, she wanted to throw her arms around him and hang on tight. Confusion and pain muddled her thinking.
“Here we go,” he said softly as he slipped one arm around her and grabbed her suitcase with the other. “We’ll make it through together.”
❧
Two hours later she bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut, and gripped his wrist as the next pain hit. When it finally ended, Dylan straightened up.
Sondra grabbed for him. “No! I need
you
!”
Dylan went stock-still and looked down at her. No one had ever needed him. No one. Not once, ever. Oh, they’d needed his time, his knowledge, his strong back, a helping hand. . .but the truth was plain to see. Sondra needed
him
. All at once, something deep inside that had been so impossibly empty suddenly filled to overflowing.
The full truth finally hit him hard. He’d been praying for the right woman—here, now, he knew deep in his soul he’d finally found her. All along, he’d fought the truth, denying she was the one. He’d tried to chalk it up to feeling protective. To doing Miller a favor. Feeling sympathetic. Basic chemical attraction that clouded his thinking. He should have known. He’d been fighting the inevitable, but suddenly the last piece fell into place: She’d let him know the feelings weren’t just one-sided.