Owen Louw.
Gabriel’s father.
13
Valentina
Everything happens at once. A painful contraction folds me double. A dull ache drives into my brain until my vision turns blotchy with spots. And my water breaks.
It’s too early.
These are nothing like the Braxton Hicks contractions I got used to. The pain drives me to my knees. Gnashing my teeth together, I wait it out, and when the band of agony lets go, I grab the desk and pull myself up. I use the desk phone to dial the emergency number, inhaling and exhaling while I wait. Just as someone takes the call, the second series of contractions hits.
I clench my teeth and groan.
“Hello?” the operator says. “Can you hear me?”
Please don’t hang up.
Click.
Damn. No! Putting one hand on the furniture, I use the desk, chair, and wall for support to make my way to the lounge. Dizziness slows my progress. My head hurts as much as my abdomen. Just then, Charlie exits the scullery with a basket full of socks.
“Go get Rhett,” I say as calmly as possible, even as every bone in my body is shaking. There’s a good chance I’m going to lose the baby.
Charlie takes one look at me and drops the basket. “Va–Val!”
“It’s okay. Where’s Rhett?” I continue to the kitchen, but another contraction stills me before I can get to my phone that’s lying on the counter.
It hurts like nothing I’ve felt. My head is going to explode. I count through it. One, two, three, four, five. Another few steps. My cry isn’t loud, but it’s a wretched sound. “Rhett?”
He flies from his room, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. “Val, did you call me?” His eyes fall on the wetness on my legs and feet, and then they grow large.
“The baby,” I whisper, tears dripping from my eyes. “Call an ambulance.”
The thought that runs on repeat through my mind shows in the way he shakes his head in silent denial.
Too early.
We don’t stand a chance with a premature home delivery. If I don’t make it to a hospital on time, my baby is dead. I cry harder as Rhett gets our private ambulance service on the line and gives them our address, but the crying only makes the pain in my head worse. All the while he rubs my shoulder. I’m grateful for that point of human contact. I’m scared to go through this alone.
“They’re on their way,” he says in a clipped voice when he hangs up.
“Call Kris. She needs to stay with Charlie.” I grunt as another contraction pulls my abdomen into a sharp point of pain.
Breathe. In, out. In, out.
While Rhett makes the call to Kris, I speak to Charlie. “I’m going to hospital, like we talked about. You’re going to be all right. Kris is coming to see you. Ask her to cook whatever you like. There’s lots of food in the fridge.”
“She’ll be here as soon as she can,” Rhett says on a huff.
“Can you be brave for me?” I ask Charlie.
“Bra–brave.”
“Good. I love you so, so much.” I want to say more, but I can’t speak through the next contraction. I have to lean on Rhett for support. Impatient for it to lift, I blow out a breath and drag in air. I have little time before the next one comes. “You’ve always been a good, big brother to me, Charlie. Never forget how much I love you.”
“God, Val.” Rhett’s voice is choked. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m good.” I give him a reassuring pat on the arm. “I just want him to know.”
“He knows.” Rhett shoots a worried look at Charlie. “How about watching a movie until Kris comes?”
“O–okay.”
As Charlie heads for the cinema room, Rhett carries me to the sofa. He pushes a pillow under my head and strokes my hair. “You’re strong. You’re going to be fine.”
My smile is weak, because my heart is not in it.
Please don’t let my baby die. Please don’t let him pay the price.
Rhett has his phone pressed to his ear when sirens sound in the distance. “Damn you, Gabriel, pick up,” he mutters under his breath.
I don’t know how I feel about Gabriel being here, right now, but this is still his baby, too.
“Quincy?” I offer, grinding my teeth through the pain.
He’s already scrolling through his contact list when the intercom buzzes, but gives up on the call to open the gate from the control panel in the kitchen. Rhett rushes for the door and lets the paramedics in. Despite the fact that he’s still only wearing a towel, he runs next to the stretcher as they wheel me to the ambulance.
He grips my hand. “I’m not leaving your side.”
“No. Stay with Charlie.” He could drown in the pool or explode the gas in the kitchen. There are too many potential accidents waiting to happen in this house. When it looks as if he’s going to argue, I beg. “Please, Rhett.”