Chapter 4 - Chaos in the Hallway
The living room dissolved into frantic motion. Andrew dropped to his knees, his hands hovering uselessly near my feet as if he expected to catch the baby right there on the rug.
"Is she early?" Lacey cried, standing up and dropping her pillow. "She's got six weeks left! Is it safe?"
"Don't panic—just get my hospital bag!" I gasped, clutching the wooden mantel as another contraction gripped my lower back, bending me double. The pain was blinding, white-hot and relentless. "It's... it's in the bedroom closet on the top shelf. The red canvas bag!"
Kendall didn't hesitate. Without waiting for her father to move, she sprinted up the stairs two at a time, her footsteps thudding heavily against the ceiling.
Andrew grabbed my arm, trying to steady me as my knees buckled. "Can you walk to the car? Or should I call an ambulance? Mara, talk to me—"
"Car," I managed to squeeze out between breaths. "We don't have time for an ambulance. Just get the keys."
Kendall reappeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, hurling the red canvas bag down into the hallway. It hit the floor with a heavy thud, spilling a pack of nursing pads across the hardwood. She raced back down, her face flushed with adrenaline and fear.
"I got it! Dad, grab her other arm—don't let her fall!"
Together, Andrew and I practically carried me out the front door and down the porch steps. The crisp October morning air hit my skin like ice, but I was burning up from the inside out. Andrew unlocked the SUV, shoving the passenger seat all the way back, and eased me inside. My breathing came in short, ragged gasps as the contractions began to overlap, leaving no space between them.
Lacey climbed into the backseat, her eyes wide with terror, clutching my phone in her hand. "I called Dr. Vance's office! They said they're paging the on-call OB at St. Jude's and letting labor and delivery know we're twenty minutes away!"
"Good girl, Lacey—hold my hand," I said, reaching back blindly. Lacey grabbed my fingers, squeezing them so hard her knuckles turned white.
Andrew slammed his door, threw the SUV into reverse, and shot out of the driveway, gravel spraying against the bushes. He drove like a man possessed, running a yellow light at the corner of Maple Street and honking furiously at a slow-moving delivery truck.
"Andrew, watch the speed—" I groaned, pressing my palms against the dashboard as another wave of pressure crested.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just breathe!" he yelled, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel so tightly they were translucent. He glanced in the rearview mirror, his face a mask of absolute terror. "Kendall, call the hospital back. Tell them we're ten minutes out and she's crowning—she's saying she feels the baby coming!"
"I'm calling, I'm calling!" Kendall shouted back, her fingers fumbling over the screen of her phone.
The drive to St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital usually took twenty-two minutes. Andrew managed it in fourteen, tires squealing as he pulled straight into the ambulance bay outside the emergency entrance. Before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop, he threw the gearshift into park and leaped out, throwing open my door.
"Help! We need a wheelchair! My wife is in active labor!" he screamed toward the automatic glass doors.
Within seconds, two nurses and a resident pushed a rolling gurney through the sliding doors, accompanied by a clattering metal tray of delivery instruments. They transferred me with practiced, hurried efficiency, cutting off my leggings with medical shears as they wheeled me down the brightly lit corridor toward the labor and delivery triage suite.
"Hang in there, Mara, you're doing amazing," Andrew panted, running alongside the gurney, his hand clamped over mine.
"Get... get out of my way," I wheezed, my vision blurring at the edges from the sheer intensity of the transition phase. "This is... all your fault, Andrew!"
He didn't argue. He just nodded frantically, tears welling in his eyes. "I know. I know it is. Just push the baby out, and you can kill me later."
They rushed me into Room 4, transferring me onto a high delivery bed with stirrups. The attending OB-GYN, Dr. Hayes—a calm, silver-haired woman I had seen twice during prenatal checkups—appeared instantly, washing her hands at the sink while her resident checked my dilation.
"Well, Mr. and grayish-white monitors," Dr. Hayes said smoothly, pulling on sterile gloves without missing a beat. "There's no time for an epidural now. Mrs. Ellis is fully dilated and the baby is descending rapidly. Everyone out of the way except... who's staying?"
"I am," Andrew said immediately, stepping forward.
"Me too," Kendall piped up from the doorway, having followed us down the hall with Lacey close behind. "Can we... can we stay?"
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I looked past Dr. Hayes' shoulder and saw Kendall and Lacey standing just inside the doorway, holding hands, their faces pale and anxious. Despite everything—the shredded nursery, the boarding school betrayal, the screaming match in the living room—they were here. They were waiting to see if their new family member was going to make it into the world.
"Let them stay," I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut as another massive contraction hit. "Let... let everyone stay."
