Donna piped up, “She’s got it, Turner, leave the poor girl be.” She leaned in and hugged me. It was the kindest gesture I’d been given in a long time and a lump formed in my throat. “It was so wonderful meeting you. Please, don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime. Oh, and congratulations on graduating.” Her smile was so sincere and comforting. I wanted to pull her back into a tight embrace just to feel that motherly warmth, and then run back into my cocoon of silence. Instead, I reciprocated her smile and thanked her for her hospitality.
Scooting off the counter, I saw out of the corner of my eye Turner’s hands twitch to assist me. He probably would have had his mom not been there to slap him away if he tried. I grabbed my purse that I set on the counter opposite me, and started to hobble my way to the door. A slow burn started up my leg, but I refused to ask for help. I looked over my shoulder and plastered on a polite smile. “It was very nice meeting you all. Thank you again for having me. I’m sorry I was such a bother here at the end.”
Just as I reached for the knob, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Seriously, Annabelle, I can drive you home. I don’t mind.”
I flipped around to face him. “Truly, I appreciate it, but I’d rather drive myself.”
“Okay, this is going to seem like it’s coming from left field, but I have to ask.” He seemed to steel himself for whatever the question would be. He took a deep breath, then spoke, “Can I take you out sometime?”
I jerked my head back. Left field was right. How had he gone from being a bossy, dominant male to softening his tone and asking me on a date? I shook my head and met his bright blue eyes that appeared confident and hopeful. “Thank you, but I don’t date.”
His certainty faltered and his brows came together. “What do you mean you don’t date?”
I sighed. How do I explain this? “I just don’t date. It doesn’t interest me.” And it really doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely attracted to Turner Brooks, but I see him as risk. In my head, it all played out. I would go out on a date with him. One date would turn into two, two would turn into four and next thing you know there’d be feelings. Once there’s feelings, there’s no turning away from them. Then commitments would happen, and what if something happened? What if he left me because he no longer cared about me, but I was still very much in love with him? What if I got a phone call or knock on the door with news that something terrible had happened to him. I’d never survive it. So I stopped it before it started.
Turner’s eyebrows drew together even deeper as if he was trying to solve some mysterious puzzle that didn’t make sense to him. There was nothing to solve. I readied myself for the onslaught of questions, to which I had an answer for all of them. I thought he would do what all of the men that got brave enough to ask me out would do.
Beg.
Instead, he simply nodded, smoothed his perfect features, and opened the door for me. “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital. Good luck on the job search.”
What? No, “Do you even like guys? If you would just give me a chance. Are you a prude? Are you saving yourself for marriage?” Nothing. He asked me none of the questions I’d anticipated being fired in my direction. Instead, it was me that stumbled. Well, this was a first. I guess Turner Brooks asks once and that’s the only chance you got. I couldn’t tell if it was a nice feeling or a bad one that he brushed off my refusal so easily, but, regardless, I plucked a smile on my face and nodded at him. Straightening my shoulders, I moved past him and made my way to my car. I felt his eyes on me the whole way. When I climbed inside, I turned to look back at the house. The front door was closed and he was nowhere in sight. How odd. I could have sworn he would still be standing there. Shaking off my odd day, I headed home, wanting nothing more than to elevate my ankle while I soaked in a hot bubble bath and relaxed. I was ready for today to be over.
7 months later . . .
“PUSH, CECILE.” I coached my patient.
Grunt
“ . . . three, four, five, six . . . ”
Grunt
The mother in labor was panting hard as she tilted forward grasping herself behind her knees.
“Eight, nine, ten. Good job, you can relax and wait for the next contraction,” I said as I brushed back the hair that was sticking to her damp forehead.
“I can’t do this,” Cecile pleaded to her husband, who had a very apologetic look on his face. I’m sure it was hard for him to see his wife in so much pain, as it was for every husband that came in and out of my delivery rooms.
“Yes, you can, sweetie. You’re doing so well,” he cooed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No, I can’t. I’m so tired, and it hurts so bad. Please, no more. Just get him out.”
My patient had been in labor for over twenty-four hours. The doctors hadn’t been sure if she was going to dilate to the full ten centimeters she needed to in order to have a vaginal birth. The obstetrician hadn’t decided whether he was going to let her progress the way that she had been, or if we were going to wheel her in to the operating room. Fortunately for Cecile, she dilated the last three centimeters in a short period of time. She had been pushing for an hour and I could see the exhaustion written all over her face. There were some moms that came in here and could continue to push for two, even three hours. Then there were others, like Cecile, where every ounce of energy was depleted and she literally had nothing left to give.
“Alright, Cecile, the next contraction is coming and the baby is right here,” Doctor Linds said. “If you give me one more big push, this will all be over. Come on, give me all you’ve got.”
She curled up into a C-position and I held onto one of her legs, while her husband held her other. She bore down and pushed until she was red in the face. I started my counting just like I did with every contraction. More sweat beaded on her forehead and I could tell she was determined to make this her last push. I looked down and saw the crown of the baby’s head making its entrance.
“There you go, Cecile, the baby is coming out, keep going. Push hard!” I said excitedly.