Five
Some women dreamed of giving birth in a hospital, husband holding her hand.
Some visualized delivering at home, man of her dreams breathing alongside.
No one fantasized about bringing a new life into the world in an SUV, in a snowstorm, with her ex-fiancé playing “catch the baby.” Or in Naomi Steele’s case, babies. Plural. Two of them. The first of which was due to make an appearance with the next...
“Push! Push, Naomi, push,” Royce Miller’s soft, deep voice radiated confidence in the confines of his Suburban, heater blasting inside, snow pelting the vehicle outside.
“I am pushing, damn it. I’ve been pushing.” Because there wasn’t any need to wait. No help was on the way. Cell phone reception was almost nil on a deserted highway north of Anchorage, Alaska. Sporadic bursts of connectivity offered only minimal reassurance that anyone had heard their pleas for rescue when she’d gone into labor a month early.
Even if help could make it to them through this Alaska blizzard.
The seats of the SUV had been flattened, blankets under her, an emergency kit including first aid spread out beside her. Thank goodness he’d kept his vehicle well stocked in the event of being stranded in a storm. But then of course he had. He was always analytical, organized, the brilliant scientist and professor who planned for any—and every—contingency.
She had her own analytical side as an attorney, but was more known for her flair for the dramatic, which had served her well in the courtroom more than once.
Royce knelt on the floor, his muscular body wedged in, but he still managed to look comfortable. At ease. In control.
Pain ripped through her, her whole body locked in one big muscle spasm beyond anything she’d read about or heard about in child birthing classes. She understood intellectually that a couple of pushes wouldn’t get the job done, especially for a first-time mom, but she was so done. Ready to quit. Close to tears and burning to scream, but she didn’t want to put any additional burden on Royce when he had to be afraid, in spite of his calm demeanor.
Beads of sweat rolled down his face.
And she knew she wasn’t going to get any relief with this contraction. Disappointment stung even as the pain eased. She exhaled and sagged back. Taking the moment to store up every kernel of energy as best she could.
Light from outside grew dimmer with the ending day and thick storm. Their car lights provided minimal illumination. Royce had hung two flashlights with bungie cords. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if this took too long and they ran out of gasoline.
After months on bed rest for her blood pressure, Naomi had been released by the doctor today. Once they’d finished the appointment, all she’d wanted was a simple afternoon drive and to celebrate a less restricted final month of her pregnancy. She was sure about their due date, since hers had been an in vitro fertilization, with a donor sperm. When she’d made the decision, she’d been worried her chance to be a mother was passing her by; that was before she met eccentric research scientist Royce Miller. Their relationship had been doomed from the start. She’d been just over two months pregnant and it had been too easy for him to use her babies as a substitute for his unresolved past.
Royce patted her knee with his broad hand. “Are you warm enough?” The wind howled, nearly drowning out his words. “I’ve got my coat ready for the babies, but I can give you my shirt.”
She knew those beads of sweat on his forehead had nothing to do with the temperature in the vehicle.
“I’m fine, really.” Even if she had been cold—which she wasn’t because currently her body was on fire with pain—she couldn’t take anything more from Royce. He’d given up so much of his life for her, even after they’d ended their engagement. He’d seemed to feel obligated to stay by her side until the babies were born. Every day since the breakup had been bittersweet torture. Being with him filled her with regret, sadness but—ultimately—resolve.
And she’d needed that resolve to stand her ground—she’d made the right decision in ending things—and stand up to this silently stubborn man. He’d steadfastly continued to show up with his own agenda.
Like insisting on driving her to the doctor’s office today even though she had over a dozen family members who would have stepped in to help. After the smooth-as-silk OB visit, Royce hadn’t driven far and the weather report had been clear as a bell. They’d been doing everything right—
Another contraction hit her hard and fast, with minimal buildup to warn her. She held back the urge to shout, and forced even breaths in and out—well, as even as possible. The distant sound of Royce counting to ten grounded her until, finally, the contraction subsided and she could relax again.
He was always so careful and precise. Unlike her reckless self. They’d broken up twice, and the second time had stuck. Well, stuck in that they stopped sleeping together and any mention of the love they’d once shared was off-limits.
And like karma laughing in her face at supposed boundaries, here she was, stuck in a snowstorm with him, just like the day they’d met nearly six months ago. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, with an engagement that had ended nearly as quickly as it had begun.
They were just too different. They wanted different things.
At first, they’d struggled with her need to prove her strength and independence, a by-product of her teenage battle with cancer. His overprotective ways had been stifling. But eventually they’d found a balance in that. Even so, in the end, there’d been another, larger problem lurking, one core to their personalities. Something they couldn’t change.
He
