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“Dad, the nurse we saw yesterday predicted she’d give birth within forty-eight hours. Anything could be happening out there.”
“Come on, Caleb, what makes you think—”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just…I feel it in my gut. I have to get out there.” He paused, searching his father’s face. “What if it was my mother out there? What would you do, Dad?”
Thinning his lips, the old man nodded. “All right.” Then he turned. “Caleb’s going to need flashlights, with good batteries, and some damn warm clothes.”
“Flashlight, hell,” Ol’ Hank grumbled. “What the boy needs is one o’ them there snow machines. You know, like Joe Petrolla’s got.”
Caleb blinked and turned slowly to Hank. “A snowmobile?” It couldn’t be. Who would have a snowmobile in Oklahoma?
“Yep, that’s what I mean. A sno-MO-bile.”
“Hank, does this Joe…fellow live near here?”
“Lives a half mile south. Turn right at the light, if you can find the light—it’s the only light in town, you know. Turn right onto Oak Street. It’s the first house on the left.”
“I know where that is,” Caleb said, remembering every trip through this town. Picturing the street in his mind, hoping to hell he could find it in the pitch dark, in a blizzard.
“Caleb, there are guardrails along the edge of the road between here and there,” Ida-May said. “Only on the left hand side, though, cause that’s where the steeper drop is. You go out, and you find those guardrails. Let ‘em guide you so you don’t get off track. Hold right on to ‘em, till you get to the traffic light. You hear?”
He nodded. “That’s good advice, Ida-May, thank you.”
She nodded, picking up a lamp. “Now you come on upstairs with me. My late husband’s clothes are still packed in the closet. We’ll get you bundled up proper.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The sounds of thundering feet in the upstairs hallway of the Brand farmhouse, immediately following Maya’s shout, were loud enough to drown out the noise of the storm outside. In between the pounding feet, there were bangs and bumps and crashes, and voices asking what was wrong with the lights, and more rattling and clanking, and more footfalls. It only went on for a matter of perhaps two minutes, but Maya felt as if it was taking her family hours to complete the simple task of getting from their rooms to hers.
But then they were all stumbling through the bedroom door. Selene in her floor-length black silk nightgown looked even more like a Gothic heroine due to the black wrought iron candelabra she carried, with its spiderweb design. Her silvery hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked so damn slender Maya suddenly wanted to growl at her. Right behind her came Mel, with a baseball bat in one hand and a flashlight in the other. She wore flannel pajamas, and her short dark hair stuck up in several directions. A fighting mad hen with wet feathers. She made Maya want to laugh. Behind her, Vidalia burst in, wearing her red satin bathrobe with the black lace collar and cuffs. She carried an old tin and glass hurricane lamp, its globe in need of cleaning, but it gave off some light all the same. Her masses of raven curls were bound in one long braid that twisted down her back. The fourth one in was Kara. She had no light and came bursting into the room so fast she ran into Vidalia, who bumped into Mel, who shouldered Selene, who fell onto the bed and managed not to set the blankets on fire with the candles.
There were several “oomphs” and “ughs,” and then Kara said, “Sorry. What’s going on?”
“Power’s out.”
“Big snowstorm.”
“Maya yelled.”
Three voices gave three answers. Then Maya gave the fourth. “I’m in labor.”
There was one brief moment of stunned silence, and then everyone started bustling at once. Kara muttered something about boiling water, and Mel said something about dialing 911, and Selene said, “I think I have a spell for this somewhere!”
Then Vidalia shouted, just once. “Stop!”
And everyone went still and silent “That’s better. Now calm down, all of you. Mel, take this lantern, bundle yourself thoroughly, go on out to the barn and get the generator fired up.” She handed the hurricane lamp to Mel. “Dress warm, now; There’s no big hurry. First babies take their time. Kara, you go on downstairs and call Caleb over at Ida-May’s. Tell him it’s time. And, Selene, you go on out with Mel and start up the van. Pull it right up to the door here. We’ll let it get nice and warm.” She smiled and took Selene’s candles, setting them on the bedside stand. “You’ll find some more lamps and candles in the kitchen closet, third shelf. Matches with them, as always. Go on now. I’ll stay here and mind your sister.”
Nodding, they shuffled out, Mel’s flashlight guiding the way.
Maya tried to slow her breathing, tried to be calm. It wasn’t easy. She was actually trembling. Drawing a breath, she sat up and flung back the covers. “I’m soaking wet,” she said. “I think my water broke.”
“Not to worry, hon. I’ll just get you some clean, dry things.” Vidalia went to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer, and hauling out an oversized flannel nightgown with pink flowers all over it.
“That thing’s big enough to shelter the homeless,” Maya moaned.
“And just think, this will be the last night you’ll need to wear it. Come on, now, up on the edge of the bed.”
Maya moved with no small effort, and her mother helped her peel off her wet nightgown. She brought a washcloth and towels for Maya to wash herself up, and helped her into the clean, warm nightie. Then she wrapped her in the extra blanket and set her in a chair beside the bed.
