92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [103]
Oh, yes, it was a good thing they were married.
Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold of her bedroom, old-fashioned to the last.
Chapter Thirty
The phone woke Christie out of a deep sleep. Only after several rings did she realize the irritating sound wasn’t part of some dream. Blindly, she fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello,” she said groggily.
“It’s time.” She didn’t recognize the voice.
Christie sat up and shook the hair out of her face. “Time? Time for what? Who is this?”
“Bobby.”
Instantly Christie was wide awake, her heart clamoring. “Are you telling me Teri’s in labor?”
“Yes.” Her brother-in-law sounded odd, nothing like his normal self.
“Where are you?” Christie asked.
“At the birthing center in Silverdale.” His answer was clipped and, most alarming of all, fearful.
“It’s early, isn’t it?” Teri hadn’t quite reached thirty-four weeks; thirty-six would have been more favorable. A couple of days before, Christie had been to visit her. Teri had, in her own words, looked as big as a house and felt about as uncomfortable as a migraine. Her ankles had swollen and she complained bitterly about the no-salt diet her obstetrician had put her on. Despite her discomfort, it’d been a good visit. The subject of James hadn’t come up even once. That helped.
“Yes, too early…Teri’s afraid,” Bobby continued. “She’s afraid she’s going to lose the babies.”
“I’m on my way.” Christie wasn’t sure what she could do; all she knew was that she had to be with Teri and Bobby. Her sister needed her and Bobby did, too.
“Thank you.” The relief in his voice was palpable.
Christie nearly leaped out of bed and threw on yesterday’s clothes. She didn’t bother with makeup and took only long enough to run a brush through her hair.
Teri was having the babies.
A surge of emotion blasted through her, and she felt like a rocket launched into space. A few minutes earlier she’d been dead to the world. Now she flew around the room, getting ready and, strangest of all, fighting back tears.
Christie wasn’t a weeper. Oh, she lowered her guard on occasion, but it wasn’t something she made a habit of doing. If she was going to let herself cry every time she experienced emotional distress, she should buy stock in a tissue company.
Ten minutes after Bobby’s phone call, Christie slammed out the door. She suspected the only reason she didn’t get a speeding ticket on the thirty-five-minute drive to Silverdale was the time—2:15 a.m. She took up two parking spaces when she screeched into the lot, then jumped out of the car as if it’d burst into flames.
When she exploded into the foyer at the birthing center she found James Wilbur pacing the area, waiting for her.
Christie stopped cold. In her rush to get to Teri, she’d forgotten about James. Of course he’d be at the hospital. He would’ve driven Teri and Bobby there.
“I have your badge information filled out for you,” he said. “They’ll need to check your identification.”
“A badge?” Her mouth felt dry as she struggled to hide her reaction to seeing him again. It’d been weeks since they’d last spoken. She’d only recently begun to win the battle of keeping thoughts of him at bay.
“Before you’re allowed in the birthing area,” he said in dispassionate tones, “you have to be cleared. As soon as you show your identification, you can have the badge. Without it you won’t be admitted.”
“Oh.” She reached for her purse, took out her driver’s license and was issued the badge.
Once it was in her hand, James said, “I’ll take you.”
“Thank you.” All of a sudden she sounded the way Bobby had on the phone—anxious, uncertain, afraid.
James nodded toward the receptionist, who buzzed them through the double doors. He led Christie down the hallway to a waiting area outside the labor rooms.
“Where’s Bobby?”
“He’s with Teri.”
“Oh.” Of course. So apparently she’d been delegated to sit and wait for news with James. That wouldn’t be so bad, except it meant she’d have to be in the same small space with him.
He stared at her for a moment, then broke