"What's the single worst thing that could happen to you, Chase? The worst possible thing?"
The following silence was broken by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Chase, grateful for the interruption, snatched up the receiver and growled a hello.
"Chase, is Lucky there?"
Lucky saw the expression on his brother's face change as he passed him the telephone receiver. "It's Devon. It sounds urgent."
Lucky grabbed the phone. "Devon? Is this—"
"Yes. My water just broke. I called the doctor.
He said to come to the hospital right away. The pains are coming hard."
"Christ." He pulled his hand down his face.
He was a good five miles from home. "Okay, okay. Everything's fine. I'll meet you at the hospital. Hurry.
But tell Mother to drive carefully.
It's raining and the roads—"
"She's not here."
What?"
"She went out."
"Out? Out where? When?"
"A while ago. I think she was taking some food to a sick friend. Anyway she left with a jar of homemade soup and a pecan pie. Or maybe it was an apple pie."
"Devon, who gives a damn about a pie!" he roared. "Sit down. No, lie down. Yeah, lie down. Stay calm. I'll be right there."
"I am calm. And I'm perfectly capable of driving myself to the hospital."
Every blood vessel in Lucky's head seemed to explode. "Don't pull that feminist crap on me now, Devon!"
"Stop yelling at me! As soon as I shave my legs I'll drive myself."
"Shave your legs? If you even attempt to drive, I'll murder you. I mean it, Devon. I'm on my way. Five minutes. Lie down, for crissake!"
He hung up before she had time to respond and raced for the door. Chase followed closely on his brother's heels. He had a fair grasp of the situation even hearing but one side of the conversation.
"We can call an ambulance to go get her." he suggested.
"I'll beat their time."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Chase jumped into the passenger seat of the
Mustang because Lucky took the wheel. They sped off into the rain.
"Lighten up, Pat, or I'm liable to think you're arresting me."
Sheriff Pat Bush, his hand wrapped firmly around Laurie
Tyler's elbow, was almost dragging her down the sidewalk toward his squad car parked at the curb. The twirling emergency lights were painting an electric rainbow across the gloomy dusk.
"Maybe I should."
His mouth was grimly clamped around a matchstick. He pulled open the passenger door of the squad car and practically stuffed her
inside, then jogged around the hood and slid behind the steering wheel. He engaged the gears and peeled away from the curb with a screech of tires.
"I don't know why you're so angry with me, Pat. I'm not clairvoyant," she said in her own defense. "How could I know Devon would go into labor today? She's four weeks early."
"Nobody knew where you were. Somebody should always know how to contact you, Laurie, for your own safety. If some pervert had snatched you, we wouldn't know where to start looking. As it is, I've been running all over town trying to find you."
Pat had been in his office when Chase called him from the ranch house. "Lucky's carrying Devon to the car now," he had told him. "We're on our way to the hospital, but we don't know where Mother is."
"I'll find her."
"Thanks, Pat, I was hoping you'd say that.
I'd look for her myself except Lucky is demented.
We barely made it from the office to here in one piece. I can't let him drive."
"I guess an ambulance is out of the question."
"Totally."
"Okay." Pat sighed. "Soon as I locate Laurie,
I'll bring her to the hospital."
For the better part of an hour Pat had been driving the streets of town in search of Laurie's car—on the grocery store parking lot, at the dry cleaners, anyplace he could think of that she patronized routinely. In the meantime he'd kept his mobile telephone busy
trying to track her through friends. The fourth call he made proved productive.
"I think she was planning to take some supper over to a sick friend," he was told by one of Laurie's bridge club friends. "When I
spoke with her this morning about next week's meeting, she was baking a pie."
"A sick friend? Do you know who?"
"That man she's been seeing. Mr. Sawyer, I
believe his name is."
Now Pat took the splintered matchstick out of his mouth and dropped it on the wet floorboard of his car. "How's Mr. Sawyer feeling?"
"Much better," Laurie said stiffly.
"I'll bet."
"I'll tell him you inquired."
"Don't bother."
"Poor man."
"What's the matter with him?"
"He's got a cold."
"Humph."
She turned her head, one brow eloquently arched. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"What?"
"That sound."
"It doesn't mean anything."
"Well, I didn't like it. It sounded derisive."
"The guy's a wimp," Pat declared crossly.
"Why would you want to play nursemaid to a puny, skinny little wimp like that?"
"I brought you soup when you had the flu last year. Does that make you a wimp, too?"
Pat hunched over the steering wheel, gripping it tighter. "That was different."
"How so?"
"For one thing Sage was with you when you came to my place." Angrily he addressed her across the interior of the squad car. "For godsake, Laurie, have you stopped to consider what people will think about you going to Sawyer's place alone? In the middle of the afternoon? While he's in bed? Jeez!
Heaven only knows what people will think was going on in there between you two."
"What do you think was going on?" She tilted her head to one side and fixed a quelling stare on him through slitted eyes.
Matching her stare, he said, "Frankly, I don't know what to think. He's a Milquetoast, but obviously you're smitten. Though why in hell,
I can't imagine."
" 'Smitten' is such an antiquated word."
Pat was too caught up in his own argument to notice her gibe. "He's a regular at Sunday dinner now.
One night last week I drove out to see you. You were with him at a party at his lodge. The weekend before that, you spent all day Saturday in Canton together at the flea market. Tuesday night it was the spaghetti supper at church."
"I invited you to go to the spaghetti supper."
"I was working!"
"That's not my fault. Nor Jess's."
Pat brought the squad car to a halt at the hospital's emergency room entrance, got out, and came around to assist her out. Taking her arm, he hustled her through the rain toward the door that was reserved for official personnel.
"I'm only thinking of your reputation, Laurie.
I don't want your name dragged through the muck, that's all."
"I doubt Jess and I are a hot item."
"Oh, yeah? Everybody already knows you're seeing him."
"What's wrong with that?"
"What's wrong with that?" Pat repeated, coming to a sudden halt in the deserted hospital hallway. He turned her to face him.
"What's wrong with that? Okay, I'll tell you what's wrong with that." He raised his index finger and pointed it toward her face. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Laurie gazed at him inquisitively. "Well?
I'm waiting."
He drew her face beneath the dripping brim of his hat and kissed her.
When he finally lifted his lips off hers, she wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered,
"Took you long enough, Pat."
With a low, hungry groan he kissed her again.
Chase came barreling through a swinging door at the end of the hallway but pulled up abruptly. Pat jumped as if he'd been shot and instantly released Laurie, who was looking blushingly young and more beautiful than he'd ever seen her, and that was covering four decades.
Chase looked as if he'd just walked into an invisible glass wall and hadn't yet recovered from the shock.
"Uh, somebody, uh, noticed
the squad car pulling in and said you'd be coming in through this entrance."
Pat could only stand there embarrassed and tongue-tied. Laurie handled the awkward situation with grace. "How's Devon?"
"Doing fine. But you'd better rush upstairs if you don't want to miss the main event."
"It's a girl!" Lucky, grinning from ear to ear, emerged from the delivery room. Draped in a surgical gown, with a green cap on his head, he looked sappy and jubilant. "Hey, Mother, you made it in time after all."
"Thanks to Pat." Chase sidled a glance at them and smiled devilishly.
"God, she's gorgeous! Gorgeous!" Lucky shouted, smacking his fist into his opposite palm.
"How's Devon?" Laurie asked anxiously.
"Came through like a pro. I suggested we start making another one right away. She socked me in the nose."
"How much did the baby weigh?"
"They're doing all that now. She's exactly two and a half minutes old. The doctor let me cut the cord.
Then he handed her to me.
Squishy, squalling, little red-faced thing. And
I handed her to Devon. Made a fool of myself.
Started crying. Jeez, it was great!"