Chapter 14
Beth was dreaming about the orchard, about walking through rows of apple trees heavy with fruit, when a band of pressure tightened around her middle and pulled her from sleep. She lay still for a moment, breathing through it, waiting for the sensation to pass.
It passed. She relaxed.
Braxton Hicks, she told herself. She had been having them for weeks, the practice contractions that her body used to prepare for the real thing. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to wake Gabriel over.
She shifted onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position, and closed her eyes.
The second contraction came thirteen minutes later.
This one was stronger, a deep ache that radiated from her back around to her belly. Beth pressed her hand against the tight drum of her abdomen and felt the babies moving beneath her palm, restless and unsettled.
“Okay,” she whispered to them. “Okay. I hear you.”
She lay in the dark, counting the minutes, tracking the pattern. Thirteen minutes. Then eleven. Then nine. The contractions were irregular but unmistakable, each one a little stronger than the last, each one announcing that something had shifted, that the waiting was almost over.
At 4:05, she reached over and touched Gabriel's shoulder.
He woke instantly, the way he always did, his body conditioned by months of sleeping with one ear open, waiting for this moment.
“Beth? What is it?”
“I think it's time.”
He was out of bed before she finished the sentence, stumbling in the dark, knocking something off the nightstand. She heard him curse softly, then the lamp clicked on, flooding the room with light.
“How far apart?” he asked, already reaching for his phone.
“Nine minutes. Maybe eight. They're getting closer.”
“Okay. Okay.” He was pulling on clothes, his movements jerky with adrenaline. “I'll wake your mother. And Chelsea. Should I wake Emily?”
“Let her sleep. There's nothing she can do right now.” Beth pushed herself up to sitting, a process that felt like trying to move a mountain. “Help me up. I need to use the bathroom.”
Gabriel was at her side immediately, his hands under her arms, lifting her to her feet with a gentleness that belied his obvious panic. She waddled to the bathroom, one hand on the wall, and closed the door behind her.
In the mirror, her face looked pale and strange. Her hair was tangled from sleep, her eyes wide with something that might have been fear or excitement or both. She pressed her palms against the cool edge of the sink and breathed.
This was happening. After nine months of waiting, of growing, of wondering what kind of mother she would be, this was actually happening.
Another contraction gripped her, and she bent forward, breathing through it the way she had learned in the birthing class she and Gabriel had taken last month. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Ride the wave. Let the body do its work.
The contraction peaked and ebbed, leaving her shaky but okay. She used the bathroom, washed her hands, and opened the door to find Gabriel hovering in the hallway, fully dressed, her hospital bag already slung over his shoulder.
“Your mom's awake,” he said. “She's getting dressed. Chelsea's making coffee.”
“Coffee? At four in the morning?”
“She said she needs caffeine for moral support.” Gabriel took her arm and guided her toward the stairs. “Can you walk? Should I carry you?”
“I can walk. I'm pregnant, not incapacitated.”
“You're in labor.”
“I'm aware.”
They made their way down the stairs slowly, pausing twice when contractions hit. Maggie met them at the bottom, already dressed in jeans and a sweater, her face calm and focused.
“How are you feeling?” she asked Beth.
“Like I'm about to push two watermelons out of my body.”
“That's about right.” Maggie smiled and took her daughter's hand. “You're going to be fine. Better than fine. You're going to be amazing.”
“I don't feel amazing. I feel terrified.”
“That's normal too.”
Emily came out of her bedroom and rubbed her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Beth’s in labor. We’ve got to get her to the hospital,” Maggie answered.
“Should I come too?”
Gabriel shook his head. “You should go back to bed. Paolo and Thomas will be here so you won’t be alone.”
“Is it okay if Charlie stays on the bed with me? He’s keeping me warm.”
“Of course. I’ll text Paolo when we have an update,” Maggie added.
The kitchen was bright with light, Chelsea at the counter pouring coffee into travel mugs. She looked up when they entered, her expression a mixture of excitement and concern.
“How did you know where to find those mugs?” Beth asked.
Maggie laughed. “Are you kidding? Chelsea could find anything to do with coffee if she was on her death bed.”
Chelsea shrugged and ignored the comment that in the moment seemed like an insult.
“The chariot awaits,” she announced. “Gabriel pulled the car around.”
Chelsea pressed a mug into Maggie's hands. “Drink this. It's going to be a long night.”
“It's already morning.”
“Semantics.”
They moved toward the front door, a small procession of anxious people focused on the woman at its center. Beth paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and looked back at Emily.
“The babies are going to be born today,” she said, “Today they're going to be here.”
Emily smiled and waved. “I can’t wait.”
Gabriel appeared at her elbow. “We need to go, Beth.”
“I know. I just wanted to remember this moment,” she said as she looked at the farmhouse. “The last moment before everything changes.”
Maggie touched her shoulder. “Everything has already changed, sweetheart. This is just the next part of the story.”
Beth nodded and let Gabriel guide her out the door.
The drive to the hospital took twenty-three minutes.
Beth knew this because she tracked the time between contractions, which had dropped to six minutes and then five.
Gabriel drove too fast and then too slow, alternating between racing through yellow lights and creeping along at a pace that made Beth want to scream.
“You're doing fine,” Maggie said from the back seat, where she sat with her hand on Beth's shoulder. “Just keep breathing.”
“I am breathing. I've been breathing my whole life. I'm very good at it.”
“That's the spirit,” Chelsea responded.
The hospital loomed out of the darkness, its windows glowing with that particular institutional light that never seemed warm or welcoming. Gabriel pulled up to the emergency entrance and jumped out almost before the car had stopped.
“I'll get a wheelchair,” he announced, disappearing through the automatic doors.
Beth sat in the car, breathing through another contraction, watching the entrance.
A nurse emerged with a wheelchair, Gabriel jogging alongside her, and suddenly there were hands helping Beth out of the car, lowering her into the chair, wheeling her through doors that opened automatically as she approached.
Beth looked at her mother and smiled. “I love you, Mom,” she said, doing her best to hold back her tears.
The next hour was a blur of forms and questions and medical professionals. They took her blood pressure, checked her dilation, hooked her up to monitors that tracked the babies' heartbeats. Two heartbeats, strong and steady, filling the room with their rapid rhythm.
“You're at four centimeters,” the nurse announced. “Good progress. The babies are both doing well.”
“When will they be born?”
“Hard to say. Could be a few hours, could be longer. First-time mothers often take a while.” The nurse smiled kindly. “Try to rest between contractions. You're going to need your energy.”
Rest. Beth almost laughed. How was she supposed to rest when her body was being turned inside out, when every few minutes a wave of pain crashed over her, when two human beings were preparing to exit through a space that seemed impossibly small?
But she tried. She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes and let the beeping of the monitors lull her into something like calm.
Gabriel sat beside her bed, holding her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on her palm.
“Your mom is making calls,” Gabriel said quietly. “She's updating everyone.”
“Michael?”
“He and Brea are on their way. They should be here within the hour.” Gabriel paused. “Christopher and Becca are still in Florida, but they're flying back tomorrow. They didn't want to miss meeting the babies.”
“They've been down there so long. House hunting.”
“Your mom said they found something. A fixer-upper on Captiva. They made an offer.”
Beth smiled despite her exhaustion. “That's wonderful. Chris has been wanting to get Summit Compass established in Florida for ages.”
“They'll tell you all about it when they get here.” Gabriel squeezed her hand. “For now, just focus on you. On the babies. Everything else can wait.”
Beth looked at Gabriel. His face was pale, his jaw tight, but his eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart ache.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Me? I'm not the one having twins.”
“But you look scared.”
“Terrified,” he admitted. “Absolutely terrified. But also...” He paused, searching for the word. “Grateful. That I get to be here for this. That you chose me.”
Another contraction hit, and Beth gripped his hand hard enough to leave marks. She breathed through it, riding the wave, feeling the pressure build and crest and finally recede. When it was over, she was sweating, her hair plastered to her forehead.
“How long has it been?” she asked.
“Two hours since we got here. You're doing great.”
“I don't feel great. I feel like I'm being crushed from the inside.”
Maggie came into the room and stood beside the bed. She picked up a damp cloth from the bedside table and pressed it to Beth's forehead, the cool touch instantly soothing.
“I’m glad they let you be with us. They must have heard me cry out for my mommy. Is that pathetic?”