Chapter Seven
I DROP MY FORK AND place both hands flat on the table, staring deeply into Andie’s eyes. “Do not panic.”
“I’m not panicked.” She gives me a worried smile.
This is no time for joking, so I don’t smile back. “I’m serious. If your uterus falls out, I don’t know if I’m prepared to deal with that. I’ve never Googled that before.”
She shakes her head. “My uterus isn’t going anywhere. But I do need you to go get the truck.”
I look over at Hannah and lift my arm, snapping my fingers rapidly. “Yo, Hannah!” I look under the table to see what we’re dealing with. There’s a very small puddle of what looks like pee there. “Bring a mop over, would ya?”
Hannah looks at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted two heads, so I go back to ignoring her in favor of Andie. “Can you get up?”
“I don’t know. I think so. But I’ll need your help.”
Getting out of the booth, I try to remember what that guy in the gun store said about the water-proofing on my new boots. When they say ‘water-proof’ do they mean uterus water too? Guess I’m about to find out.
I lean down so Andie can use my shoulder to stand. She pulls a bunch of my hair out by accident.
“Holy mother of all … watch the hair, Tubby!”
“Don’t call me that!” she says, half out of breath. Finally standing, she moans and holds the bottom of her stomach.
I look down just in time to see more water pouring down her leg. “Oh … my god … that’s nasty.”
“Candice, shut up. Just get the truck.”
“Okay, I will. Come on. You walk over to the door and I’ll run across the street.”
“What’s going on over here?” Hannah says, sounding annoyed.
“Baby coming,” I say, waving her out of the way. “Clean up on aisle three.”
She looks at the floor and than at Andie. “Oh my god, that’s … should I call an ambulance?”
I consider it, but then shake my head. “Nope. I’ll get her there faster. It’s not far.”
“How do you know?” Andie grunts out, shuffling as she holds her belly.
“I Google-mapped it,” I say, almost to the door. It’s then that I realize I don’t have the key to the truck. I turn around and hold out my hands, ready to catch. “Throw me the car key.”
Andie fishes around in her bag and tosses me a hunk of metal so big it bruises my hand when I grab it.
“What the hell?” I look at no less than twenty keys dangling from a conglomeration of four keychains.
“It’s the blue one,” she says, annoyed for some reason. “The blue one!”
“Okay, already, lighten up.” I’m saying that to both of us. I’m about to blow a gasket over this whole situation. Why’d she have to go into labor before I finished my waffle? As I throw the door open, I yell, “Call your husband! Tell him to meet us there!”
I run like the wind to the truck. The ice only kicks my butt twice, but I jump up and keep on going like nothing happened because I’m tough like that when in a crisis. I slide to a stop two blocks down from the diner at the tailgate of the truck, out of breath.
Dammit! This cannot be happening! The mighty metal beast is jammed between two other vehicles, both of them so beat up they look like they’ve been used in derbies. It’s so cramped in there, I can’t get any of the damn doors open enough to get inside.
No one’s standing around to move their stupid cars, so I do the only thing left to me. I climb up into the bed of the truck and push on the sliding glass window that’s behind the back seat. Thank goodness it’s not locked.
I’m glad I stopped eating bread two weeks before I came to Baker City. Otherwise, I never would have fit through that tiny hole. I’m halfway in when I realize that my super-cute cowgirl belt buckle is hung up on the frame of the car. I kick my legs and grab the front seat to pull myself in, straining with everything I have. It’s possible I look like I’m trying to swim through the truck.
“What in the sam hill are you doing now?” says a voice from somewhere outside.
I look up and see Ian staring at me through the front windshield. He’s standing on the sidewalk in front of a store that sells everything for ninety-nine cents.
“Shut up and help me!” My voice comes out sounding a little unbalanced. I feel a lot unbalanced right now, so I guess that’s appropriate.
“How about a please?” he says, smirking.
“How about your sister-in-law is in labor and her uterus is about to fall out? How about that?!”
His face goes blank. “You serious?”
“Get me in this damn truck, you dumbass! I need to get her to the hospital!”
He disappears for a couple seconds, and then I feel his arms on my waist. Instead of pushing me in, though, he’s pulling on me. I kick like mad to get him off me. If I could slap him, I would, but my arms are inside the cab. “Get off, you idiot! I need to get in, not out!”
“Fine!” he yells, jamming his hands into my butt and pushing with all his might.
My buckle snaps and my pelvis and upper thighs scrape hard against the window frame, but at least I’m inside. I fold in half so the rest of me can get in, ending up on the floor of the tiny back seat. My back cracks in protest. I am going to be so sore tomorrow. He’s going to pay for that.
Ian’s head is sticking in through the window and he’s looking down at me. “You know they have these things called doors on trucks. Way easier to use than the windows.”
I scramble over the back seat and take the driver’s spot. The keys fall to the floor as Ian chuckles at his own joke, the big dummy. I don’t bother answering, my brain focused on only one thing: get Andie to the hospital.
The engine turns over with a roar and I throw the truck into reverse. The gas pedal is much more powerful than I was expecting. One push and I’m halfway out of the space.
I hear a big boom and a yell. Ian’s legs fly up into view in the mirror.
“Hey! What the hell!” He shouts. A second later, his head is barely visible in the rearview mirror as he sits up from his fall.
Ignoring his issues, I reverse the rest of the way out and then slam that puppy into drive.
Bet you didn’t know a giant truck can peel out; I know I didn’t. But this one sure does. Must be those studded tires it has or something. One second I’m diagonal in front of a strip mall and the next I’m zooming down the street, headed away from the diner. Shit.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Ian yells. Glancing up in the mirror, I realize he’s still in the bed of the truck. He’s holding onto something above the cab and standing spread-legged like he’s surfing or something. Oh well, not my problem.
I wait for the traffic to clear and flip a big old U-ey right in the middle of the road. The back tires slide, but we end up in perfect position to pull up outside the diner. I see faces lined up at the glass as I slide to a stop.
“All aboard!” I yell, lowering the window on the passenger side.
Ian jumps to the ground and puts his face in the open window. “Are you completely insane?! You almost killed me … again!”
I wave him off, focused on the front door of the diner. “Quit crying and get Andie. I don’t have time for your damage right now.”
The door opens and the bells on the handle jangle, catching Ian’s attention. He turns around and freezes.
“Andie? You okay?” he asks.
“I need to get to the hospital.” An older man is holding her by the elbow, walking her out carefully. “Hannah called Mack for me. He’s going to get there as soon as he can. But I need to go now. I can’t wait.”
I cringe as more liquid runs down her leg. Her boots have got to be half-full of that stuff by now. Talk about squishy.
Ian jumps into action. “Easy, easy … easy now.” He practically carries her to the car and then picks her up.
“No! Wait! I don’t want to stain the seat!” she cries.
“Oh, for crying out loud …” Ian puts her down and we all look at each other.
“Fine.” I whip off my leather jacket and lay it on the seat. “You owe me a jacket.” I stare out the front window trying to get my heart rate under a thousand beats per minute. This is nuts. I just sacrificed my five hundred dollar leather bomber and my best friend is about to drop a baby on the floorboards. I’m pretty sure I didn’t sign up for this. Or maybe I did, but I didn’t mean to.
“Thanks,” she says, kind of breathlessly.
Ian picks her up and places her gently on the seat as I glance over at them again.
“Meet you there?” he says.
Andie nods.
As soon as her door shuts, I take off.
“Where are you going?!” I hear someone yelling.
Stupid Ian. He’s standing out in the middle of the road waving his arms behind us. I can see him in the rearview mirror acting like a fool.
“Do you know the right way?” Andie asks. She’s leaning her elbow heavily on the armrest, trying to get comfortable. I don’t think it’s working.
“Of course I know the right way. Map’s up here,” I say, tapping my temple.