Elusive Echoes (4 page)

Then her face twisted again and she moaned,
long and low. Spurred into action, he went to the storeroom and
snagged a debridement kit. Then he stepped into the laundry room
and grabbed some clean towels and a couple of blankets.

When he returned to the kitchen, he
hesitated. "Don't you want to be in a bed or something?"

She shook her head. Sweat beaded on her
forehead and streamed in little rivulets down her temples. Her dark
hair was plastered to her head. "No time." She panted. "I don't
think I can walk anyway."

He set the medical kit and towels on the
kitchen table. "Sandy, I don't know what to do."

Except panic. He appeared to be pretty good
at panicking.

Sandy fisted a hand in his shirt. "Pretend
I'm a dang cow. You've delivered baby cows, haven't you?"

Actually, he had pulled his
share of calves when the mothers couldn't get the job done. But he
wasn't certain now would be the time to tell her what
that
entailed. Or that
sometimes the outcome for the mother cows wasn't all that
great.

"I don't—think I can do—Sandy, you're my
sister." He could feel the heat of embarrassment in his face and
wished he could be a little more worldly about the whole thing. But
she was his brother's wife! There were all kinds of lines here he
wasn't interested in crossing.

She moaned again and her face became ashen.
"Oh, for crying out loud, I'm asking you to help me deliver my
baby, not have sex with me." With a grunt, she squeezed her eyes
shut and breathed through the contraction. "If you'd have sex with
Melanie, you'd know the difference by now."

Sean's choked response echoed back at him
from across the room. His head snapped up.

Mel stood just inside the kitchen, her eyes
wide, twin patches of fire staining her cheeks. "I brought the
final partnership papers. The door was open," she said weakly.
"What's going on?"

Sandy panted through another
contraction.

Another knot twisted in Sean's gut. "She's
having the baby. We're waiting for the ambulance."

"Oh, no, we're not." Sandy
rubbed her belly and blew out a long, slow breath. "Can
you
help me,
Mel?"

Mel dropped her purse on the floor, crossed
the distance to the kitchen sink, and began washing her hands.

"Go get me an old shirt," she said. When
Sean stared at her in confusion, she snapped. "Go!"

Up in his bedroom, Sean
grabbed the first shirt he came across in his closet. It wasn't old
but he didn't care. She could tear it into strips and make bandages
out of it if she wanted. All he cared about was
not
delivering this baby. He took the
stairs two at a time and bounded toward the kitchen. He stopped
short in the arched doorway.

Sandy was finishing with yet another
contraction. "Really, really wanting to push here."

Mel laid the blankets on top
of the table. She'd taken off her pink sweater and stood in just
her jeans and a skimpy bra with a brightly colored pattern of . . .
Sean squinted . . .
rainbow-colored frogs
and pink hearts?
Curves mounded over the
edge of the satin fabric like luscious muffin tops. Sean knew he
was staring but couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't think he'd
ever be able to look at another frog anywhere without thinking of
Melanie Mitchell's underwear.

His steps slowed as he entered the kitchen.
Erotic visuals tumbled inside his head, screwing up his thought
processes. He knew he should say something but muddled as his brain
was, the only thing he could think to say was, "Here's a shirt." He
shook his head. Yeah, that was a profound statement.

Melanie slid her gaze in his direction and
smiled, which had the effect of further screwing with the
libidinous part of his brain.

"Good. Thanks." She took the shirt and
slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"Oh, no!" Sandy's hands
clenched into fists. "This baby's coming
now
."

"Sean, help me get her on the table. It'll
be easier to help her deliver that way."

"So . . . how . . . do you know what to do?"
he asked.

Mel's eyes were wide. She fussed with the
edge of a blanket, looking uncomfortable. "I really don't. I'm kind
of winging it from old TV shows."

Sean stared at Mel. Her cheeks were flushed,
her pale blue eyes glittered like sapphires. And she'd just
admitted she had no idea what she was doing. They were so screwed.
Ry would do him some serious bodily harm when he got home if
anything happened to Sandy or the baby.

"I can—I can talk you through it," Sandy
said between panting breaths. As Sean easily lifted his
sister-in-law onto the table, she moaned and clutched his arm,
digging her nails into his flesh. "There are a couple of pillows in
the laundry room. I need them."

As soon as she released his now bloody arm,
Sean escaped to the laundry room. He spotted the pillows right away
and would have happily lingered in front of the dryer there, but
Sandy's moan pulled him back.

"Stand up here next to me, Sean. I need you
to support my back when I push. Mel, have a towel ready. They're
slippery suckers when they first come out."

For all his discomfort, Sean marveled at
Sandy's ability to remain in control.

"This is it." With a grunt, Sandy leaned
forward. Sean braced her with his arms around her shoulders. He
tried not to look at her abdomen but it was heaving in mesmerizing
waves as she pushed her baby out into the world.

She stopped pushing and leaned back against
the pillows, sucking in huge gasps of air. Sean let the blood drain
back into his fingers. The break wasn't nearly long enough. Sandy
let out a shrill scream then renewed her effort to push the baby
out.

"Sean." Mel's voice was low and intense.

In mid-push, Sandy didn't hear, but from her
voice, Sean knew instantly something was wrong. He raised an
eyebrow at Mel. She shook her head.

"Hold up a second, Sandy. I just need Sean
to help me with something here." Mel motioned to him.

Moving in beside Mel, Sean took a deep
breath, and then took a look. He saw the prolapsed umbilical cord
immediately and his blood chilled. "Sandy, don't push on the next
contraction."

Amazed at how calm he suddenly felt, Sean
assessed the situation. The cord was bulging out in front of the
baby's head. With every contraction, it would be squeezed, cutting
off the blood supply, and thus the baby's oxygen.

"Tell me what's wrong," demanded Sandy. "I'm
not going to freak."

Mel moved up to take Sean's place at Sandy's
shoulder.

Sean pulled on a pair of gloves from the
debridement kit. "The cord's prolapsing just a bit."

Sandy hissed a breath through her teeth.
"Okay, I lied. I want to freak out."

"It's going to be okay." Speaking in a calm
and gentle voice, Mel rubbed Sandy's shoulders. "Sean knows exactly
what to do."

Who the heck was Mel talking about? He had
no business being here, doing this.

Sandy began panting. "You have to—you have
to get the cord back behind the—the baby."

"I know, sweetie," he murmured, trying to
show confidence he didn't yet feel.

She'd told him to pretend she was a cow.
She'd probably had no idea how close to that scenario they were
going to come.

"I have to push again," said Sandy, her face
red with the effort to remain still.

"Don't push. Breathe through it." Sean
barely recognized that self-assured voice coming from his
mouth.

"Look at me." Mel leaned over and held
Sandy's eyes. "Just pant and don't think about anything else."

"I need to elevate her hips." Sean pointed
at the pillows. "Put those under her as soon as this contraction
ends."

He went through the steps in his head.
Elevate. Gentle pressure on the head to push it back inside a
little, and then ease the cord inside. At least that's how they did
it with livestock.

Where the devil was the ambulance with the
dang medical personnel who wouldn't screw things up?

Mel helped Sandy get her hips on the
pillows. Gently, Sean applied pressure on the baby's head, pushing
it back and easing the pressure on the cord.

A long, low moan escaped through Sandy's
gritted teeth.

"Easy honey, just a little more," whispered
Mel.

Sean glanced at Mel. The flush of excitement
had been replaced by a frightening pallor. "Take a breath, Mel. I
need you here. You can't pass out on us."

Obediently, she gulped in air, and a bit of
color returned.

Sean pushed a little more and the cord
disappeared inside. With a grimace, he followed the path of the
cord with his fingers, pushing it to the side. He kept his hand in
place.

"Sandy, I'm guessing it's going to hurt like
fire, but on your next contraction I need you to push with all
you've got."

She nodded. In the final stages of labor,
her legs were quaking madly.

Sean saw her belly ripple again, knew it was
coming. Even braced, he wasn't quite ready for the agony of having
his fingers squeezed against his sister-in-law's pelvic bones. But
he kept them in place, holding the cord away so the baby's head
could progress, because if he didn't, the baby was going to
die.

"Keep pushing, Sandy, don't stop. We're
almost there." Tears filled his eyes. His hand developed a
pins-and-needles sensation.

Then the baby's head was in his hand and,
thank God, no cord was wrapped around the neck. But the infant
looked a little blue.

"Push again, Sandy. Hard."

"No contraction," she said between
panting.

"Do it anyway. Push! Let's get this baby
out." His own stomach hurt and he realized he was tensing up
himself every time she pushed.

Sandy gave another mighty heave and Sean
found himself with a baby in his hands. His breath caught at the
sight of her limp body.

"It's a girl," he whispered, willing the
baby to take a breath. "You have a daughter, Sandy."

"Why isn't she crying?" she asked between
gasps.

Sean rubbed the baby gently to stimulate
her. He checked her mouth. "Come on, baby girl," he murmured.

Mel joined him, worry clouding her eyes.
Sean wrapped the baby in a towel and began to rub her briskly.
Gently, he opened her mouth and swept his finger over her tongue to
clear any mucus plugs. This was about as far from a foal or a calf
as it could be, and he hoped he was doing it right. With a cough
and a gurgle, the baby opened her mouth and pulled in a huge
breath. Then she screamed. Sean relaxed and began breathing
again.

At the sound of a helicopter landing in the
yard, Mel rushed across the room, getting to the door just as it
burst open to admit Ryan.

"Sandy!" Ryan rushed toward the table.

"You need to tie off the cord so you can cut
it," Sandy said to Sean. "Use the shoelaces. Tie it in two places
and cut in the middle."

Sean looked up at Ryan's pale face. His
brother, the big former firefighter, was frozen halfway between the
door and the kitchen table. He was strangely silent, but watching
everything that was happening. Using the scissors from the
debridement kit, Sean cut the umbilical cord between the shoelaces.
He wrapped the baby in a clean towel and turned to his brother,
holding out the noisy bundle.

"You have a daughter, Ryan."

Tears filled Ryan's eyes as he took the baby
and moved to Sandy's side. Sean turned away, certain he'd be
crying, too, in a minute. He flexed his fingers, which seemed to be
recovering the blood flow.

The back door opened and Justin entered a
couple steps ahead of a lean man with sandy brown hair. Sandy
glanced over at the door.

"Oh, hi, Joe. Now everyone's here and my
day's absolutely complete. This isn't how I planned to deliver this
baby. Just so you know I'm not taking a Life Flight to the
hospital. We're all done here."

"Life Flight's grounded for fog in Jackson."
Helicopter pilot Joe Griffin grinned, but he dashed a hand across
his eyes before he glued them on the young couple with the new
baby. "I brought up the Cross MC bird in case you needed emergency
transport."

Sandy's face softened. "Thank you. But I
think we're good."

Sean discreetly covered his sister-in-law
with a spare blanket. Then he went to the kitchen cabinet to grab a
shot. When he opened the cupboard door, he blinked at the stack of
plates.

"Where's the Jack?"

"We have a little problem here." Ryan bent
to kiss Sandy's forehead. "You would only consider one name, and I
don't think our girl here is going to be too interested in being
called Justin."

"Maybe Justine?" Mel's voice was soft. She
hovered away from the crowd, near the dining room doorway, looking
like she wanted to bolt as badly as Sean did. Oh man, she looked
really pale and she was shaking. She could probably use a drink
herself, except he knew she'd refuse.

On his way out of the pantry, Sean's father
snorted. "Don't even think about it. She's too pretty for that." He
held the bottle of whiskey. "Looking for this, son?"

Sean accepted the bottle then opened another
cupboard. "Where the heck are the glasses?"

Justin pointed one cabinet over.

Cripes. Suddenly it was a production just to
get one little shot. He poured, then put the bottle back in the
cabinet. Where it belonged.

"Actually, I have the perfect name," Sandy
said. She looked first at Justin then up at Ryan. "I'd like to call
her Bethany."

Emotions produced a lump in Sean's throat in
mid-swallow. He finished downing the shot with difficulty and
carefully set the glass on the kitchen counter. "After Mom."