sensual movement he didn’t fail to notice even though they were in full-on crisis mode.
“I’ve been known to drive such distances before.” He smiled at Nellie, trying to do his best to reassure his longtime friend. Mild terror had taken its place upon her face.
“What about Bubba? Maybe he can take us,” Nellie said, crossing her feet ladylike as she perched on the edge of the couch. “I mean, I hate to put you out, Tyson. You came for a meeting not a…birth.”
“Are you kidding?” Dawn said, her brown sandals clacking on the floor as she approached her sister-in-law. She pushed Nellie’s hair off her forehead and patted her shoulder. “Mr. Hart doesn’t care about the meeting right now. We’ve got a baby on the way, and even if the first one usually takes a while, we need to get you to the hospital now. So, on your feet. We’re taking Mr. Hart up on his offer.”
“Tyson,” he said.
Her gaze found his. “What?”
“Call me Tyson,” he said, taking Nellie’s elbow and helping her toward the entrance. The bevel-paned door was still ajar from Hunter Todd’s hasty departure. As they passed it, Nellie grabbed it, bent over and groaned.
Tyson mouthed one word at Dawn. “Hurry.”
TYSON TRIED TO FOCUS on Highway 80, but it was hard to do with Dawn’s light floral scent filling his nose and her nicely rounded butt sliding against his thigh. Which should not have mattered since Nellie was in full-blown labor. But he couldn’t help noticing. After all, he was a man.
He also couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the clock on the console. Nellie’s contractions were coming too fast to still be ten miles from the hospital.
Every few seconds or so, Dawn’s chocolaty brown eyes would meet his and a clear message was sent. Something was wrong. Tyson felt it in his gut as certain as Sunday. He was afraid he’d have to pull the ten-year-old pickup truck to the side of the highway so Dawn could catch her new nephew as he made his debut into the world.
And that would suck.
Not just for obvious reasons, but because they hadn’t been able to get in touch with Nellie’s husband. Tyson believed every man deserved to witness the miracle of his child being born. It had been the best memory of his life—one of those moments that could not be recreated in any way. So precious was the first breath his daughter took. So treasured the initial high-pitched cry. And Tyson wasn’t the sentimental type of guy. Okay, he was. His hands were calloused, his shoulders broad enough for burdens, but his heart was s’more-worthy. As in a big ol’ marshmallow.
He wanted Jack to be there to see his son seize life—not the glorified handyman.
“It’s okay, Nellie. Don’t push. Whatever you do, don’t push,” Dawn said squeezing her sister-in-law’s hand while shoving several tendrils of hair out of her own eyes. Tyson noticed her hair seemed to get in the way a lot. He wished he had a rubber band. At least he would be doing something helpful, something more than keeping the truck between the mustard and the mayonnaise.
“I…can’t…help…it,” Nellie panted, “I want to get it out of me.”
Tyson risked a glance at the two women. Dawn had Nellie’s chin in her hand, trying to direct Nellie’s eyes to hers. “Look at me. Don’t push. Deep breaths only. Focus.”
He directed his attention to the patched highway as Nellie panted like a wounded animal. About fifty yards ahead was a green sign listing mileage. Longview was only five miles away. He knew firsthand the hospital was in the middle of town. He’d been stitched up there several times during his dirt-bike-racing days as a teen. He’d have to navigate late-afternoon traffic.
“Oh, God, something’s wrong, Dawn. Something’s wrong,” Nellie moaned. Her arms locked against the dash of his truck and her frantic breaths sounded louder than any he’d ever heard. It scared him shitless, but he didn’t want her to know.
“Just a few more miles, Nellie,” he said, angling the air-conditioner vent toward her. Sweat streamed down her face.
Dawn cajoled, murmuring encouraging words as she wiped Nellie’s brow with some napkins from McDonald’s she’d found in his glove box.
After minutes of passing hilly Texas countryside, Tyson saw the first smattering of Longview businesses—a gas station, a place with shiny tractors out front and a fast-food restaurant. Reaching the edge of town didn’t help his anxiety level because as they passed the city-limit sign, his passenger screamed, “Oh, my God! It’s ripping me apart.”
Tyson pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard when he saw Nellie’s knees spring into the air. The old truck leaped forward as the cell phone sitting on the dashboard rang.
Dawn looked busy. He didn’t really want to know what she was doing, since all he could see was Nellie’s white thigh. He heard Dawn chant “Oh, shit…oh, shit…oh, shit,” so he grabbed the phone and flipped it open.
“Hey, sis, what’s going on? You sounded weird.”
“Uh, Jack, this is—”
“Who’s this?” the voice erupted from the phone.
“Listen. This is Tyson Hart—”
“Who? Where’s my sister?”
“Shut up,” Tyson growled into the phone, as Nellie let out another screech. “I’m driving your wife to the hospital. Get in your vehicle and get your ass to Longview. Now.”
Tyson clicked the phone shut because a red light was about fifty yards in front of him. The truck swerved over the center lane as Dawn’s round butt connected with his arm, and he threw the phone onto the dashboard then applied the brakes.
“Almost there. Jack’s on his way.”
“Hear that, Nellie?” Dawn’s voice sounded soothing, “Jack is on his way and we’re here. You’re doing great, honey. Just hold on a little longer.”
The litany of her voice calmed him. And he felt as twitchy as a man who’d been in lockdown for a month. He searched for a hospital sign, but all he saw were blinking signs advertising pawnshops and Laundromats. Finally he found the blue H symbol and followed the arrow toward 259 North.
More panting, more cursing and more sweating ensued before the three-story white rectangle emerged on the horizon like the Holy Grail of hospitals. Tyson hit the emergency-room drive like a race car driver hit the pit. He likely left two long tire marks when he skidded to a halt.
“Go get somebody,” Dawn said, sliding herself nearly across his lap as she turned around in the seat toward Nellie. She didn’t have to tell him twice. Nellie’s knees were bent and her skirt hiked high.
A woman in scrubs met him at the swooshing doors. Her face held a mixture of annoyance and concern. She held an unsmoked cigarette in her hand.
“I need a stretcher or wheelchair,” he said, looking over her head at the open entrance. “If you don’t hurry, she’s going to have that baby in my pickup.”
The woman sprang into action, first pocketing her cigarette, next calling into the doorway, “Cheryl!”
For
