Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,70

the chair and gingerly raised the blanket. “Sorry, Nan, but I have to…uh…”

“Like I give a flying fig.” Nan was grunting now, straining to push. “Just get this kid out of me.”

More queasy than he cared to admit, Con did what had to be done. Hoo boy. If he passed out, the team would never let him live it down. “Doc, we definitely have a head in sight.”

Bailey set a stack of clean towels on the chair next to him. “I put the scissors on to boil. Anything else?”

Con consulted Grady. “Medic says to find something to tie the cord with.”

Bailey found some hair ribbons in a drawer. She handed them to Con as she moved beside Nan and took her hand. “Breathe, Nan. Remember the pattern.”

“My son, wearing hair ribbons.” Nan panted in rhythm.

“He won’t mind.” Con patted Nan’s foot. “Doing good.”

“You man!” Nan hollered in a guttural tone, kicking out at him. “What would you know about it? This is all your fault!”

“Whoa!” He dodged just in time. “Uh, Doc? Is her head gonna spin all the way around and spew pea soup?”

Grady chuckled. “Even I heard that. She’s getting close.”

Nan yelped, and Con winced. “How can I ease her suffering?”

“Afraid you can’t. Childbirth isn’t for sissies, bro. That’s why women get the privilege. Encourage her. Tell her to relax and do her birth exercises.”

Con’s throat was so constricted he could barely swallow. Relax. Sure. And panting in rhythm while squeezing something the approximate size of a Thanksgiving turkey out a keyhole. Definitely helpful pain relief. Not. If it were him…he shuddered…not enough drugs in the freaking universe.

Nan screamed, a high, inhuman keen, and the head emerged. Holy Mary, mother of God. And some men thought women were the weaker sex?

Kneeling at the foot of the chair, Con supported the baby’s head. “Good job, Nan.” As Grady coached him, Con concentrated on easing out the tiny shoulders.

Finally, the baby slid into Con’s hands. He carefully cleaned the infant’s nose and mouth with a dry towel. The baby was supposed to start breathing now. “Doc.” He turned his face aside and spoke quietly, so as not to alarm Nan. “It’s blue. Not breathing.”

“They’re all slightly blue when they’re first born. Support its body with your hands. Turn it facedown, with the head angled slightly downward and slap the soles of the feet to make it cry.”

“He’s out. Why isn’t he crying?” Nan asked, her voice quivering. “Con?”

“Just a sec, Nan.” Con followed Grady’s instructions. Whispered desperately into his mic. “Still not breathing.”

Nan tried to sit up. “Why isn’t my baby crying?”

Bailey shot a horrified glance at him and then moved between them, blocking Nan’s view.

Thank heaven for his smart, quick-thinking helpmate. He would never have survived this night without her. Without her, he wouldn’t have a reason to.

Grady’s calm tone urged Con, “Try rubbing its back. Slap the feet again.”

He did. No response from the tiny human. His pulse thundered in his veins. Sweat trickled down his back. “Nothing. Dammit, Doc, help me!”

“Okay, stay calm, bro. You can do this. You’re going to have to give it a couple breaths. Two quick, tiny puffs. Be careful.”

“My baby’s not breathing,” Nan sobbed. “Is he…”

Bailey held her friend and crooned in a soothing voice. Her scared blue eyes begged Con to succeed.

He wanted to—more than he wanted his heart to continue beating. More careful than he’d ever been in his life, he gave the unresponsive infant two small breaths. Please, God, if you’re listening…

The baby sputtered, coughed, and then began to cry lustily.

“Yee-haw!” Grady shouted over the headset. “Yeah, that’s the bomb! You did it, bro!”

Everybody was crying. Nan. Bailey. The baby. Tears of gratitude streamed down Con’s cheeks. Thank the Lord, the baby was wailing!

“Can I hold him now?” Nan begged.

“I need to tie and cut the cord first.” He propped the pink, wriggling infant gingerly on a clean towel. The simple but terrifying procedure was rendered much more difficult by the fact that his hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Nan sniffled. “You saved my baby’s life. I’m sure Brad will agree he should be named after you.” She wiped her eyes. “You and Bailey. Well, Bailey’s dad.” She stretched out her arms. “Hand over Conall David Thompson.”

Bailey smiled at Con through her tears, and his heart turned over. She nodded at Nan. “Has a lovely ring to it.”

“That’s quite an honor.” Con swaddled the infant in towels and placed the tiny, wiggly bundle into Nan’s waiting arms. “I’m afraid she’s gonna