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Jeff nodded, trying not to get misty.
“I mean, what Rafe and I have—Mama and Daddy never had that. And I think that’s really sad. They deserved it, and Daddy will never have it now.”
Jeff nodded again. “I know. I’m sorry about that.”
Angie sniffed. “But Mama can, Jeff. You and Mama can.”
Could they? Jeff wasn’t sure. He was no longer a whole man. “I’m not the man I was thirty-some-odd years ago, Angie. I’m not the man your mother fell in love with.”
“But you’re still Jeff Bay. She fell in love with Jeff Bay. Oh!” She clutched at her belly.
Jeff reached for her. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“It’s…oh, it can’t be. A contraction? I’m not due for three weeks. Although I was early myself—” She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t, after all. That’s the story Mama always told to cover up my paternity. I was actually a few days late— Oh!”
“Angie?”
“Oh, God. I think my water just broke. My belly’s been giving me fits for the last several hours. It felt like indigestion, but—oh my God—this isn’t indigestion.”
Jeff looked at Angie’s midsection. Sure enough, her shorts were drenched, and clear fluid trickled down her legs. Jeff didn’t know much about births, but he did know that once the water broke, the baby was coming.
“Oh, Jesus, okay.” He looked around. “Let’s get you into the spare bedroom. You can lie down and I’ll call the doctor.”
“I want Rafe.”
“Of course. I’ll call him.”
“But he’s in Grand Junction, meeting with the foreman at Bay Crossing. He… He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave me. I insisted, said I was fine. Oh my God, what was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you were fine, and you are.”
“He can’t miss the birth of our first child.”
“He may not. Labor can go on for a while, can’t it? He’s only a few hours away.”
That seemed to calm her down. “Yes, yes. He’ll get here.”
“Of course he will.” Jeff
wished he were as sure as his voice sounded. He helped Angie to the spare bedroom. He quickly spread a clean cotton sheet over the bed—just in case—and gently laid her down.
“Call Rafe, please?”
“Of course, but I need to call the doctor first.”
“Oh!” She clutched her belly. “God, another one already?”
Crap. Jeff looked at his watch. It had been what—two minutes since the last one? That couldn’t be good. Weren’t they supposed to start at ten minutes apart?
“Call Rafe,” she said again.
“The doctor, Angie. Where’s your phone?”
“In my purse, in the living room.”
Jeff ran to the living room and retrieved the purse. He fished for her cell phone, and when he found it, browsed through the contacts list. There, Dr. Feinstein. He placed the call.
“Dr. Feinstein’s answering service.”
