Chapter Twenty-Six

MY STOMACH SEIZED SO TIGHT. It was like a vise grip of pain. “I can’t take it. Bauer. I want pain medicine. I want an epidural. Ow. Ow.”

“Breathe, breathe, breathe.” His eyes were wide as he massaged my shoulders.

I screamed instead.

Bauer got in front of me and put his hands on my knees. “Do you think it’s too late to get one?”

“My labor is lasting forever. I think we’ll have time. I don’t have to push yet.”

“It’s been about twelve hours,” he said, panting.

“I want one now,” I yelled.

“When this contraction is over, out to the truck.” He pointed to the bedroom door and sprung to his feet.

I nodded and groaned, rocking back and forth. My stomach was so hard, and it was like someone or something was crushing it in their giant hand. As it wound down, I sniveled and watched Bauer darting back and forth. He was grabbing random things and throwing them into a garbage bag.

I gripped the edge of the bed and stood up. He ran over, grabbed my arm, and put a hand on my lower back.

“Careful. Careful.”

I nodded and cupped my stomach in my hands.

“This way.” He guided me out of the room and to the front door. He kept his hand on my back and picked up the bag he had packed from near the door. He threw it over his shoulder and then his mouth dropped open. “One sec. I forgot something.”

I winced as my abdomen began to tighten again. I bent forward, embracing my stomach and gasping, which then turned to screaming. “Hurry the fuck up.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He ran back with an armful of stuff and dropped it into the garbage bag.

We went out to the garage. A tree had gotten blown over and laid atop the SUV. “Oh, no.”

“Okay, we got this.” He held his hands out in front of me. “Stay here. We’ll use the pickup.” He ran over to the garage and grabbed the door, grunting as he struggled to pull it up. He yanked on it a good few times, and it moved a couple inches. Then he went to the left side, put his hands under the edge, and pulled, doing the same on the other side. Slowly it went up. As he worked the door, I began breathing fast as another contraction rolled in.

“Breathe,” I told myself. I blew out one deep breath after another. I exhaled and whimpered as he finally got the door up and backed out in the pickup. By the time he ran over to me, another one hit. I stared at him with wide eyes.

“Max, don’t panic. Breathe. You were doing all right in the house.”

“Hoo-hoo-hoo,” I said as it tapered off. “That’s because they weren’t as bad, you jackass.”

“Oh, sweetie. Let’s get you in the truck. It really hurts, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, and he ran over to the passenger door, opening it. He held my elbow as I climbed in. He hopped in the driver’s side and peeled back down the driveway. Trees and fields flew past us as he raced down the street. Houses here and there. Debris covered the road, branches, a trampoline, leaves, and a part of a fence.

“Okay. Okay. Should we call the hospital?” he asked, glancing over at me with wide eyes.

I had my hand on my stomach, focusing on slow breaths. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s my phone? Where’s my phone?” He let go of the steering wheel and began patting himself.

“Bauer, hands on the wheel. I want to be alive when the baby is born.”

He blew out a breath and grabbed the wheel. “This is like in a movie, and they’re like, ‘It’s happening,’ and a whacky ride to the hospital ensues.”

“Bauer ….” I said through my teeth as my stomach tightened. I threw back my head. “Ah.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll shut up.”

“Hoo-hoo.”

“Oh, crap, another one? Hee-hee-hoo. Breathe, Max.”

“Hoo-hoo-hoo.”

“Are we supposed to say a hee-hee in there? Am I doing it right?”

I shook my head. My contractions were at the just blowing, no panting point. I blew out one long exhale after another.”

“Oh, shit.” Bauer slammed on the brakes, and the truck fishtailed. We both screamed as it went left, then right, and then left, and then screamed as the brakes screeched. We slammed to a stop right before the fallen tree in the road.

“Oh-oh-oh,” I yelled. “Oh-oh-oh.” We almost got in a fricking car crash on the way to the hospital. Unbelievable.

“Holy crap.” Bauer turned off the ignition and looked at me with his eyes bugging out. “Are you okay?”

“Ow. Ow.”

“Oh, shit, hoo. Shit-hoo-shit-hoo. We could’ve died. Breathe. Breathe. You, and well me.”

I clamped my hand on his forearm.

He stared at me—his eyes wild. “Blow out. Blow out.”

“They … won’t … God.” I closed my eyes and blew out a long breath. I wanted to say my contractions wouldn’t stop, but I was interrupted by my hardening stomach and more horrible pain.

“Okay, breathe. Let me check you out.” He patted me down as I labored through the agony. “Oh. Oh. Oh, no.”

I did a long exhale and stared at him, feeling something weird in me.

He pointed to my seat, specifically between my legs. There was a large wet spot.

“Your water broke. Stay calm. We’re going to stay calm. More like I’m going to stay calm.”

I gulped, and so badly wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him to get it together, but another contraction hit me. It was so strong. I grabbed the dashboard, gripping it as tight as I could, and screamed.

“Max. Max. Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Breathe, baby. Breathe.” He blew out long steady breaths.

I followed along. After a few more rounds of breathing, I glanced around. The tree was directly in front of the truck. We really did almost hit it. It blocked the whole rode and was giant. There was no way we could move it, and it was so tall that we’d have to drive all the way off the road and into the field to get around it, but what other option did we have?

My stomach cramped again. “Oh.” I cried and started my breathing.

“Oh, baby. We have to try to go around this. Okay?”

I nodded and blew out a long breath, wincing. It was so bad.

He backed up the truck and turned left off the road. The truck bounced along, going over the shoulder and lumpy earth.

I whimpered because it was making my contraction worse.

“I am so sorry.” The truck bumped and jerked around, going over what was possibly the lumpiest, supposedly flat land ever. We made it to the end of the tree, all its roots ripped up from the ground. They reached menacingly at us as we drove around them. He started driving back to the road, and then we weren’t moving.

I let out a series of quick breaths. The truck wheels spun, but we went nowhere.

“Mother fuckers,” Bauer yelled, pounding the steering wheel with his fist. He hit the gas again, and nothing. He put it in reverse and tried rocking us back and forth, but we were stuck. He sucked on his bottom lip. Blinking his eyes, he looked up at the roof of the truck.

I let out a deep exhale and cradled my stomach in my arms—hot tears rolled down my face.

Bauer undid his seat belt and turned toward me, cupping my face in his palm. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry this is happening. I’m going to call 9-1-1.”

He reached into his one pocket and then the other. “Shitty ass mother fuckers. I really did forget my phone.”

I groaned and leaned my head back onto the headrest, squeezing my eyes shut, wishing away the pain and that we’d be magically transported to the hospital.

He put his hand on my belly. “Max, breathe.”

“Ow. Ow.”

“Breathe, okay, baby? Please? Hoo-hoo.”

I responded with, “Hoo-hoo.”

“You have to keep breathing. Don’t stop. I’m going to see if I can go for help.”

I slapped my hand on his forearm and shook my head.

“I saw a couple of houses a bit back, across the fields. I’m going to see if they can get an ambulance here.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Max, I don’t think anybody is going to be driving this way any time soon.”

The tears started again.

“Let’s get you more comfortable. Maybe we should move you to the bed of the truck to be on the safe side.”

He meant for when I had to give birth, out there in a truck in the middle of a field.