18. Lottie

LOTTIE

H ospitals always seem to have a unique smell, something along the lines of antiseptic mixed with catsup, crushed hopes, and with just a hint of yesterday’s cafeteria mystery meat. It’s enough to make anyone want to sprint for the nearest exit, but I’m not sprinting anywhere. I’m stuck in the maternity ward with Sam, who’s convinced herself that she’s about to birth the next breakdancing prodigy.

And if she were truly in labor, she just might. But as it stands, that’s not what the nurse has relayed to us. Well, relayed to me since Sam was howling so loud she couldn’t have heard a jet engine roar through the room.

I watch as Sam paces back and forth, holding her belly like the ticking time bomb it is—albeit a bomb that isn’t going off any time soon. She pauses next to the window, tips her head back, and her entire body proceeds to move in a quirky seizure-like manner that seems incapable of stopping.

“Somebody help,” I shout. “I think she’s malfunctioning!”

“I am not malfunctioning,” Sam riots back. “I’m doing the moves they taught back in my breakdancing class.”

“Well, would you knock it off? You scared me half to death!”

And as much as I’d like to stay and do the electric boogaloo with Sam, I’ve got other things I need to tend to.

“I can’t help it, Lottie. I swear on all that is holy, this is it. My water is going to break any second. I can feel it.” Her voice hikes with her every word. The second she stepped onto the maternity ward she’s been working herself into a tizzy and she hasn’t let up since.

I glance at the monitor she’s hooked up to. The lines are about as flat as my enthusiasm for this little emergency drill.

“Sam—” I’m about to let her in on the fact she’s not in labor. That those are just Braxton Hicks contractions that are making her feel uncomfortable, but then I think better of it. “You’re right. Any minute now, you could be meeting your little one for the very first time.”

She stops mid-pace and gasps. “You’re so right. I need to call Jed again! No, wait. I need to lie down.” She spins in a circle before making her way back to the bed.

That bed looks so inviting, I have half a mind to crawl into it myself.

“I can’t believe this,” she pants. “I’m in real labor!”

It takes everything in me not to say, Sweetie, if you were really in labor, you’d be screaming your head off and cursing your own mother for bringing you into this world .

Trust me, I’ve been through it.

Sam’s about to say something else when another wave of Braxton Hicks contractions hits her, making her wince, and I can see the panic in her eyes.

I’ll admit, it’s a wicked thing I’m about to do, but this could be my only opportunity to get some answers.

I lean in and place my hand over hers. “You know, Sam, this might be your last chance to tell me what’s going on with your mother. You wouldn’t want to head into delivery with dark secrets on your conscience, would you? Especially not any dark secrets that could endanger your mother’s life or yours, or perhaps even that of your unborn child.”

Okay, so that was low even for me. But it’s time to face facts. Suze Fox has endangered all of us with her presence, Lyla Nell and the twins included. Another reason Noah should resort to drastic measures.

“Is waterboarding legal in Vermont?” I mutter, mostly to myself.

She narrows her eyes at me with suspicion. “I don’t want to be waterboarded. I want drugs. Lots of them. I want the good stuff and I want it now,” she yowls in pain as she stretches out that last word.

I put on my best you can trust me face.

“Come on, Sam. I know your mom has been up to something—aside from the dead guy she was gifted for Christmas. You don’t get that kind of a gift unless you’ve earned it. You tell me what it is, and I’ll make all of your drug-induced dreams come true. Epidurals, extra Jell-O—Jell-O shots , the whole nine illegal yards. You’ll be the queen of the maternity ward, or at least the most juiced up to the hilt.”

She hesitates for a moment while biting her lip. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Another faux contraction hits, and she lets out a moan, clutching my hand with a bone-crushing squeeze.

“Okay, okay,” she blurts out in desperation. “I don’t know everything, but my mom’s in some seriously deep doo-doo. She’s been making bank drops for someone. I don’t know who, but it’s bad, Lottie. And it has something to do with Francine.”

“Francine?” My heart skips a beat, but I keep my expression in check. “Are you sure?”

Sam nods, wincing again. “That’s all I know, I swear. Please, Lottie, I don’t want to think about this right now. Just get me something to make this pain stop.”

I squeeze her hand, trying to process what she just told me.

Suze is making bank drops?

And Francine —what on earth does Francine have to do with any of this? I need to figure this out and I need to do it now.

I pat her hand soothingly. “Don’t worry, Sam. We’re going to get you through this. But remember, Braxton Hicks or not, you’re going to be fine.”

Her hands slam to her sides as she sits straight up. “What do you mean, Braxton Hicks?”

The door swings open, and a nurse walks in, her face the picture of calm. “How are we doing in here?”

Before Sam can say a single word, I jump in. “We’re good. We just need a little something to help the new mama relax. Maybe a cold drink or ice chips?”

The nurse offers up a reassuring smile. “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she steps out, Sam yanks me close. “What if this really is it, Lottie? What if I’m not having some fake Braxton Hicks contractions? What if my baby is coming right now?”

“Then I’ll hunt down the best drugs this hospital has to give. Just try to relax and think happy thoughts. Like, maybe how much fun you’ll have when this is all over, and you get to tell the baby about how you breakdanced your way through labor.”

“You really think I’ll be okay?”

I nod, squeezing her hand. And for the first time, I really want to be there for her when the time comes. Nobody should have to go through this alone.

“You’ll be fine, Sam.”

She relaxes a little as she leans against her pillow. “Okay. But if you’re wrong, this baby better come out fast, and it better be doing the moonwalk, too. I paid a lot of money for that class.”

We share a quick laugh, and soon Sam has both a cold drink of water and her discharge papers. I help her get dressed and drive her back to the house she’s rented with Jed, which just so happens to be a spit-and-a-kick down the road from Noah, Everett, and me.

Once I get her settled, I head back to the bakery and ask my mother if she’ll watch Lyla Nell for the rest of the afternoon. It seems I’ve got a few questions for dear old Francine.

It’s time to find out exactly what Noah’s mother has gotten herself into.

And I can’t seem to shake this feeling that both Suze and I are in way over our heads.