Chapter 95
NINETY-FIVE
Sanctuary House
Clara and Hazel had lined three flashlights on the kitchen counter and Clara was lighting candles in the living room and bathroom to wait out the storm. The power had been out for half an hour now with no idea how long it would take to be restored.
The wind screamed outside like a rabid coyote and tree branches banged against the window. Clara glanced outside with a shiver, the beauty of the white haze fading as she realized they were trapped inside the house while a monster was on the loose, preying on teenage girls and their children.
Claustrophobia had set in, and a cloud of fear enveloped her as she felt her baby kick. She gently rubbed her belly. She couldn’t wait to meet her little girl.
But she didn’t want to deliver her tonight here in the house with Hazel and no doctors around.
Not that she didn’t trust Hazel. She was a midwife and had delivered countless newborns, including precious little Iris.
But a killer might be out there, Iris was missing and Clara was scared out of her mind.
Darkness filled the room as the candle flickered off. Panic seized her and she quickly fumbled with the lighter and relit it.
“This storm’s a bad one,” Hazel muttered, her voice nervous as she meandered into the living room with two hot ham and cheese sandwiches. “Let’s have a snack. It’ll help pass the time.”
Clara glanced at the sandwich, but her stomach cramped slightly. “Thanks, Ms. Hazel, but I don’t think I can eat anything.”
“Are you feeling okay?” Hazel said softly.
How did Hazel always sense when things were off with her? “Just nervous,” Clara said.
Suddenly a loud knock sounded at the door. Both Clara and Hazel jumped.
“Who’s that?” Clara asked.
A puzzled look crossed Hazel’s face. “I don’t know, but I’ll go see. Maybe a neighbor checking on us.”
Clara nodded and twisted her hands together, tapping her foot as Hazel lumbered to the kitchen door. Her breathing grew choppy, and she tried to calm herself with a deep breath as a spasm clenched her belly.
God, please, don’t let this be labor.
Clara heard voices in the kitchen then Hazel walked in with her counselor Ms. Putnam. Clara’s pulse jumped in surprise. “Ms. Putnam, what are you doing here?”
“Mabel stopped by to check on you,” Hazel said with a shrug. “Isn’t that nice?” Hazel patted Mabel’s shoulder. “Although that was dangerous for you to be out in this weather, Mabel.”
“I’m fine,” Mabel said as she walked toward Clara.
Nervous energy seemed to radiate from her as she sank onto the sofa beside Clara. “With you this close to delivery and this storm and power outage, I was worried about you,” Ms. Putnam said.
Clara released a shaky breath and shifted on the couch to ease her aching back. It had been throbbing since the night before. She massaged it with one hand, wincing as a tightness gripped her abdomen.
“Are you okay?” Ms. Putnam asked. “You look uncomfortable, sweetie.”
Hazel gave Clara a concerned look. “Yes, honey, are you all right?”
Clara’s breath caught as the pain in her back intensified. “I’ve had a backache all night and today, and my stomach feels tight.”
“How often are the pains?” Hazel asked.
“I don’t know.” Clara gripped the arm of the sofa as another cramp clenched her stomach. “Tell me they’re those fake ones,” Clara said, panicked.
“Braxton Hicks,” Hazel said. “It’s possible. But we’ll start timing them.”
Ms. Putnam squeezed Clara’s hand. “Let me drive you to the hospital. Better to be safe than sorry.”
Hazel shook her head. “Mabel, she’s not getting in the car with this crazy storm.”
“We’ll be fine,” Ms. Putnam assured them. “She needs to see a doctor.”
“No,” Hazel said. “She needs to stay inside where it’s at least warm and safe. The roads have to be treacherous out there and power lines may be down.”
Ms. Putnam lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, Hazel. I’ll take care of her,” the therapist said.
Clara doubled over. “Oh, my God, it hurts.”
“That was only two minutes apart,” Hazel said. “Typically, first time labors go slowly. How long did you say your back has been hurting?”
Clara choked back a cry. “Since last night,” she admitted.
“What does that mean?” Ms. Putnam asked.
Hazel gave Clara a comforting look. “Clara, honey, you may be experiencing back labor. It’s not uncommon.” She took Clara’s hand. “When the contraction starts, just breathe in and out like we practiced.”
Clara still saw a note of worry in Ms. Hazel’s eyes.
“Then we need to go to the hospital.” Ms. Putnam reached for Clara, but Hazel stood and folded her arms beneath her ample bosoms. “She’s not going anywhere, Mabel.
I’m a midwife and unless this storm lets up, we’re delivering this baby right here.
” She pointed to the therapist’s purse. “Call the medics and they can come to us.”
Clara let out a wail as another pain tore through her. “But I wanted to deliver at the hospital,” she cried.
“Then that’s where we’re going,” the therapist said bluntly.
Outside, a siren wailed through the wind and suddenly Ms. Putnam jumped up and looked through the window. Her chest fell with her erratic breathing as she turned back to Clara.
“Maybe Hazel is right. But call me, and I’ll be back after the baby gets here, then we’ll talk.”
Without another word, the woman turned and rushed back to the kitchen. Clara heard the door slam, then an engine fire up, and realized the therapist was leaving.
Clara gripped her stomach as another pain seized her. If Ms. Putnam wanted to help her, why was she rushing off?