She could taste her own panic as she felt the liquid stream down her thighs. Terrified, she looked down, but it was clear. Not blood. Clear.
But she wasn't even at thirty-seven weeks yet, and her doctor wanted her to go to term. "Jenna!"
"My water broke." Her voice was so soft. How could he hear if her voice was so soft? "It's way too early, Reece, but I think my water broke."
"Get in the car. Right now." He was already bustling her in as he talked, his natural need and ability to take care of people and things going in full force.
She settled in, then hugged herself, trying to keep terror from creeping in. Lots of women delivered a few weeks early. Surely it would all be okay.
"It will," he said, obviously reading her mind. "The baby's going to be just fine."
She nodded, and then everything turned to a blur as she concentrated only on hanging on as he whipped the very zippy Volvo in and out of traffic that was, thankfully, light on this early Saturday afternoon.
"It will be okay," he said again, the repetition making her realize that he was nervous, too. "It will. The baby's cooked long enough."
Cooked.
"That's it," she said, taking a deep breath as a contraction wracked her body. "That's perfect."
He tapped his hand impatiently on the steering wheel as they stopped at a light. "What are you talking about?"
"For The Fix. We can do cooking contests. Or people can submit their recipes and Tyree and Elena can make them, and if customers like them, they go on the menu. Or--" She was thinking as she was talking, her spinning thoughts distracting her from her fear. "Or maybe we can talk to the network about doing another show. Like one of those cooking shows and combine that with a taste-off. Tyree puts his recipes up against the competition."
The light changed, and Reece zipped back into traffic. "This is what you're thinking of now?"
She grimaced, her body clenching as another contraction rocked through her, but she nodded, too. "Yes, don't you get it?" The contraction passed and she smiled up at him. "I don't know the details yet, but I've got the idea. I've caught it, and I won't let go."
Her smile widened, and she felt positively radiant. Both hands rested on her belly, all her fear fading away. "It's all good now. Everything's going to be just fine."
Reece's heart flipped over in his chest as the nurse handed him the small bundle and he looked down into the face of his perfect little daughter.
He'd been terrified when Jenna's water had broken early, but as soon as she'd made her pronouncement in the car--everything's going to be just fine--a weight had lifted from him.
She'd known.
Call it woman's intuition, a bit of mommy wisdom, or just a lucky guess, but she'd known. And thank God for that.
Reece just wished he'd realized it sooner. He'd been frantic pulling into the hospital, then kicked himself when he realized he should have called the doctor from the car. But Jenna had been calm, telling him it was all good, and they'd meet their baby soon.
Soon, of course, was a relative term. They'd entered the hospital at almost three on Saturday. It was now just past nine in the morning on Sunday.
All through the day and night, he'd held Jenna's hand, telling her silly stories, encouraging her to breathe, assuring her that he was right there. And all the while making silent bargains with the universe that it really would be okay.
When Dr. Blake showed up and added his thumbs-up to Jenna's assessment, Reece had relaxed a little--then tensed up all over again when he saw the intensity of Jenna actually giving birth. The nurse had told him it was relatively easy compared to some mothers' labors, but Reece hadn't truly felt calm until he'd held his daughter in his arms.
"She's beautiful," he said now to Jenna. "Just as gorgeous as her mother."
"Flatterer." Her smile was wide, but tired. Her long red hair hung in limp strands around her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and shadowed with dark circles. None of that registered, though. As far as Reece was concerned, she glowed.
Reluctantly, he passed the swaddled little girl to Jenna, then sat on the edge of the bed so that he could slide an arm around his wife as they both gazed adoringly at their newborn. "We never picked out a name."
"What do you think of Ami? You know, like Amy's Ice Cream, only spelled with an I."
"Isn't that the French word for friend?"
"Yup," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder and twisting a bit to look at him. "All things considered, I thought it was appropriate."
"Yes," he said, looking at the woman who was his best friend, his lover, his wife. And now the mother of his child. "I love you," he said, because he just couldn't hold the words in any longer. "And I think that Ami is the perfect name for our girl."