Nice, honest, loyal and unmarried Ethan would be good for Maggie.
If only she’d have him.
The wind had shifted, so Ethan had to tack. Maggie beat them to the beach by at least five minutes, and they were coming in several yards west of her.
All they could do was watch as she climbed out of the surf, little bits of foam clinging to her bare legs. She shook water from her ears and ran her fingers through her hair to spike it back up where it belonged. Finally, she assumed a pose of exaggerated boredom, as if they were taking forever.
And then, abruptly, she doubled over, gripping her stomach with both hands.
Ethan made a skeptical sound. “Faker,” he said. “I’m not falling for that one.”
Was it just a joke? If so, it wasn’t one bit funny—it was actually damned scary. Would Maggie really be such a jerk? Nora frowned and moved to the other side of the boat, hoping to make out the details of Maggie’s face.
But her chin was tucked down against her breastbone. Her shoulders were hunched, and her hands were still hanging onto her stomach, fingers widespread and curved, like stiff claws.
“No,” Nora said through suddenly cold lips. “No, she’s not faking. You know how she is. She never pretends to be weak. She always pretends to be strong.”
Ethan frowned. They had almost made land. A shrill cry reached them, knifing through the crisp autumn silence. It sounded like a gull, but it was Maggie.
“Oh, my God,” he said. His knuckles were stark white around the tiller.
As they watched, Maggie swayed from side to side, as if she were wrestling with something inside her. And then she sank to her knees in the sand.
The sailboat was only fifteen feet from shore. Without thinking, Nora jumped out and waded through the cold, chest-high water as fast as her trembling legs would take her. Behind her, she heard Ethan jump out, too.
Her feet were clumsy on the grainy sand, but she ran as fast as she could. She reached Maggie just as she toppled over onto her side, her hands still wrapped around her stomach.
“Honey, honey, what’s wrong?” Nora dropped to her knees beside the moaning girl. “Is it the baby? Is the baby coming?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie’s face was coated with sand. Her voice sounded high, half-strangled with either pain or fear. “Maybe, but…but it’s too soon. And it hurts. I think something’s wrong.”
“How exactly does it feel?”
Maggie turned her face toward the sand. “It hurts.”
“Did your water break?” It might be hard to tell, Nora thought, given that Maggie was soaking wet all over.
For the first time, Nora looked down at Maggie’s legs. They were streaming with pale, watery blood.
The comforting words Nora had been about to say died away. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what she’d been told to expect. She’d been to the birthing classes, and it had all sounded so organized. Step one, step two, step three…
No one had said anything about pale, quivering legs laced in blood that grew a brighter red with every passing second.
She didn’t know what to do. But even if she had known, she wouldn’t have been able to do it. She was going to faint.
Why, why had she listened to Maggie? Why had they come out here, to the end of the world, all alone? And before that…why hadn’t she insisted that they go home to Hawthorn Bay and tell Maggie’s parents about the baby? Maggie should have delivered her baby in the little hospital by the bridge, with a dozen brave, experienced adults to see it through.
But Nora had never been able to make Maggie do anything. Maggie was the strong one, the defiant one—she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She didn’t need anyone, she always said. Not even Nora.
And maybe she didn’t. Maybe she would have been just fine alone. But, though Nora was almost painfully homesick to be back in Hawthorn Bay, back in her own little yellow bedroom at Heron Hill, she hadn’t been able to leave Maggie behind.
Under all that defiance, there was something…something tragic and vulnerable about Maggie. Nora had decided to stay with her, at least until the baby was born.
After that they’d decide what to do next.
Ethan was still thigh-deep in the water, trudging toward them, pulling the small sailboat along by a tug line. Intellectually, Nora knew he was right to take the time—they couldn’t afford to let the boat drift away. No one knew where they were. Even Ethan’s father, who was also a doctor, just thought they were having a picnic in the park.
But emotionally she wanted him to just drop the line and race over here. He was one of the brave, experienced adults they needed. She was only a teenager, and she wasn’t ready for this.
Maggie had begun to weep. “It hurts,” she said again, and she reached out for Nora’s hand.
Ethan finally dragged the boat onto the sand. A couple of gulls landed near it, obviously hoping for dinner. Ethan reached into the cockpit and extracted their beach towels and his cell phone.
Oh, God, hurry.
He punched numbers into the phone as he ran toward them. He listened, then clicked off and started over.
It was like watching a mime. Even from this distance, Nora could read the significance of that wordless message. They had no phone signal. They were officially in the middle of nowhere.
And they were officially alone.
When he reached them, Nora focused on his eyes—she knew the truth would be there. She’d known him only a few months, but she had already learned that he was a terrible liar.
For just a second, when he saw the blood, his eyes went black. For that same second, so did Nora’s heart.
She felt an irrational spurt of fury toward him, as if by confirming her fears he had somehow betrayed Maggie. She turned resolutely away from his anguished gaze.
“You’re going to be okay, honey,” she said, but she heard the note of rising panic in her voice and wished she hadn’t spoken.
Maggie stared at her with wild eyes. “There shouldn’t be blood,” she said. “There shouldn’t be blood.”
Ethan touched Maggie’s shoulder gently. “We have to see what’s causing it. And we need to see what’s going on with the baby. I need to know if you’re dilated.”
Maggie moaned in response.
“Nora,” he said without looking at her. “Please get the water bottles out of the cooler.” He held out the phone. “And take this. I don’t think it’s going to work, but keep trying.”
She clutched the phone and started to run, her sodden tennis shoes squishing with every step, making mud of the sand. Though there were no bars on the cell phone’s display, indicating they had no service, her fingers
