34. Miles
34
MILES
“ W hy were you out there working, anyway? Shouldn’t you be resting?” My voice was tight in my throat. Seeing Lydia doubled over in pain caused me pain. What I thought was a weakness of emotion was really a deep concern and caring. I had never cared for another person the way I cared for her and the baby.
“The doctor said I was fine and that I could do manual work within reason.”
“Tearing down decorations in a snowstorm is within reason?”
“It’s what was necessary,” she said.
“Couldn’t someone else have done it?” I asked. I should have come here earlier. I could have helped.
“There was no one else to do it. It was just Evie and me as it was our project. Everyone else had gone home as soon as the festival was canceled.”
“Couldn’t it have waited until after the storm?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but at that point, it would have been globs of wet paper. At least this way, there was something to grab onto without it dissolving under our fingertips. That would have been a real mess. Did you pack a bag this time? How long do you think you’re staying?”
I shrugged. “Well, with the storm, I’m staying as long as you’ll let me.”
She wasn’t yelling at me. She seemed too tired to even care. I didn’t know if I could handle the thought of her giving up on us.
“You might as well go out and get your things.”
I didn’t want to leave her side. What if she had another one of those pains while I was gone?
“I’m not going to lock you out. Go get your things,” she said.
I ran out to my car to grab my bag. I swear the temperature was even colder than it had been five minutes earlier. I stomped the snow off my boots as I made my way across the porch, and before I stepped back inside, Lydia started yelling.
I dropped my things and ran inside.
She was bent double, holding on to the back of the couch, panting as if she were in a great deal of pain.
“I don’t think,” she managed to say between pants, “that these are false labor pains.”
Her eyes met mine, and they were full of panic. I brushed the hair out of her face.
“You’re going to be fine. You’ve got this.”
“I kind of don’t want this right now,” she said before she grimaced and shut her eyes again. Okay.
“Aren’t you supposed to breathe through the pain? That’s what they do in the movies, right?” I asked.
She pursed her lips and began huffing.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she cried.
“You’re fine, you’ve got this.”
“I’m not fine! Stop saying that,” she groaned loudly.
“What do I need to do?” Her pain had become my panic. I was a smart man, and I didn’t know what I was doing, and I was very well aware that movies were not adequate medical training. Half the time, they weren’t even accurately portraying childbirth.
“I should call your doctor,” I said. “Where’s their phone number?”
She pointed toward the inn’s front desk. “Birthing center in Ines, number is on a sticky note.” She sounded completely out of breath before she grimaced again.
“Birthing Center in Ines,” I repeated several times as I looked around the various notes on the front desk. “Got it!” I said, as I found a sticky note stuck to the computer monitor.
I picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. The phone just rang.
“Nobody’s answering,” I complained.
“They probably all went home because of the storm,” Lydia said.
“That’s stupid. This is New York. We have snowstorms all the time.”
“Maybe they’re closed because it’s Christmas Eve,” she said.
I hung up the phone and then tried calling them again.
“Answer the phone,” I pleaded.
This time there, was a click and a voice at the other end of the line.
“Medical Center. How can I help you?”
“Lydia is in labor. What am I supposed to do?”
“Can I get your name?”
“Miles Carlisle,” I said.
“And your location?”
The lady’s voice on the other end of the line was entirely too calm. Did she not understand that we had a situation going on here? Lydia was in pain, and the baby was coming.
“Brookdale,” I replied.
“They’re part of my birth and delivery plan,” Lydia called out.
“She said you are part of her birth and delivery plan,” I repeated.
“Who is her physician?”
I was getting fed up with the twenty questions. I needed some advice.
“Who’s your doctor?” I asked as I conveyed the information back and forth.
“Dr. Rose.”
I repeated the name for the lady.
“Dr. Rose is located in Brookdale, not at the medical center,” she said as if I were stupid.
“Dr. Rose is located in Brookdale, and you’re the Birthing Center in Ines, and her labor and delivery plan is to have the baby there. Look, ma’am,” I said, trying to calm my own voice. “Dr. Rose and his patient?—”
“Her patient,” Lydia corrected me in the background.
“Her patient live in Brookdale. The labor and delivery plan is to go to Ines to deliver the baby at your medical center.” Maybe if I repeated myself she would understand the enormity of the situation.
“Well, that’s not a very good idea right now, not with the storm. We really don’t want people driving unless it’s an absolute emergency.”
“She’s having a baby!” I shouted.
“People have home births all the time. Did she not plan for this contingency?”
I didn’t bother to ask Lydia. She was too busy screaming her way through another contraction.
“Look, lady, is there anyone at the birthing center or not?”
“I assume not. I’m just an answering service, and their phones got forwarded to me because of the holidays.”
“This isn’t helpful,” I said and I hung up on her. “What’s Dr. Rose’s phone number?”
“You’ll have to look it up. I don’t have it memorized,” Lydia said. “Hurry, I don’t want to have the baby on the side of the road halfway between here and Ines.”
“You’re not going to have the baby halfway between here and the birthing center,” I promised.
I had that SUV. I’d be able to drive through the snow without any problems. I looked out the window. Then again, maybe not. The snow looked like nothing but a solid sheet of white.
Lydia didn’t seem to be in pain at the moment, but she was braced for it and panting hard. She had one knee on the seat of the couch, and her hands were gripping the back.
“Do you want to sit down? Get more comfortable? I asked.
“No. This position is actually the most comfortable right now. I didn’t think my back would hurt so much.”
I crossed the lobby to her and placed my hand against her lower back. She arched into my touch.
“That feels so good. Your hand feels so nice and warm.”
I began rubbing my hand back and forth across her lower back, anything to ease her pain.
After a few minutes, her grip seemed to ease on the couch, and she lifted her head.
“I think I can sit down now.”
I helped her stand on both feet until she could turn and lower back to the couch.
“Do you want your legs up?” I asked.
“That might be good,” she said.
I got her settled and as comfortable as she could be before I returned to the front desk and began my search for her doctor’s phone number. There were so many sticky notes scattered around.
“Why isn’t everything written on the same note?” I asked.
“That would require organization that I seem to be lacking at the moment,” Lydia said. “Look at the giant desk calendar. I may have written in Dr. Rose’s phone number there.”
I scanned the dates of the calendar to see if she had noted any appointments. I saw Dr Rose’s name written in, but no phone number. I noticed some scratch marks along the edge. It looked like a phone number. I called out the numbers to Lydia.
“Does that sound like Dr. Rose’s number?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s it.”
I immediately dialed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as the call went to voicemail.
I left a message and the inn’s callback number. Not satisfied, I immediately dialed the number again.
This time, it was answered.
“This is Dr. Rose. Can I help you?”
“I have Lydia Walsh here. She is in labor,” I said.
“Are you certain?” The doctor seemed very calm. “Is she having contractions?”
“She’s definitely having contractions, and she seems to be in a lot of pain.”
“How far apart are the contractions? Have you timed them?” she asked.
“They seem constant.” I put my hand over the mouthpiece. “Lydia, she wants to know how far apart your contractions are.”
“They seem to be coming in clusters,” Lydia said. “One on top of the other, and then I get a break for maybe ten or fifteen minutes before they’re doing it again.”
I repeated the information to the doctor.
“Have you contacted the birthing center?” was her next question.
“I have. They said that nobody is there because of the storm and Christmas,” I grumbled.
“Oh, you’re having a storm?” Dr. Rose asked.
“Aren’t you in town?”
“No, I’m out of town. The on-call doctor at the birthing center will be handling Lydia’s delivery if she is in labor. I suggest you give them a call back. The birthing center will follow up with my office, so Lydia will be in good hands with them. You have a good Christmas.” And then she hung up on me.
I hated to say it, but I was pretty certain we were going to be on our own. And I was not impressed with her doctor.
“What did she say?” Lydia asked.
“Your doctor is out of town,” I told her.
“What are we supposed to do?” I could hear the panic rising in her voice.