Holding the Dream Page 0,105

it this year." I should have pulled more weight, Kate thought.

"Everything was fine at her last checkup," Laura put in, rubbing her brow. "But you may be right. She said she was going to take a shower, then she started shouting for him. She was bleeding and having contractions. By the time we got here, they'd admitted her. I haven't seen her yet."

"They'll let us see her."

"Damn right they will." Laura took the coffee Byron offered, remembering to thank him.

"The waiting's hell." He sat beside Kate. "It always is. My sister Meg had a bad time with her first. Thirty-hour labor, which translates to the rest of your life when you're pacing."

Just talk, he ordered himself. Just talk and give them something else to focus on. "Abigail was a hefty nine pounds, and Meg swore she'd never have another. Went on to have two more."

"It was so easy for me," Laura murmured. "Nine hours for Ali, only five for Kayla. They just sort of slid out."

"Selective memory," Kate corrected. "I distinctly remember you breaking all the bones in my hand while we were in the birthing room. That was Ali. And with Kayla, you - "

She sprang to her feet when a nurse stopped in the doorway. She stepped over the coffee table, prepped for battle. "We want to see Margo Templeton. Now."

"So I've been informed," the nurse said dryly. "Mrs. Templeton would like to see you. You'll have to keep it short. This way, please."

She led the way down a wide corridor. Kate blocked out the hospital sound of crepe-soled shoes slapping on linoleum. There were so many doors, she thought, White doors, all closed. So many people inside them. Beds with curtains around them. Machines beeped and hissed inside. Tubes and needles. Doctors with sad, tired eyes who came to tell you your parents had died, gone away. Left you alone.

"Kate." Laura soothed the hand that gripped hers.

"I'm okay." She ordered herself to stay in the now and relaxed her grip. "Don't worry."

The nurse opened the door, and there was the room. It was designed to be comforting, cheerful. A room to welcome new life. A rocking chair, warm ivory walls with dark trim, thriving plants and the quiet strains of a Chopin sonata were all pieces of the serene whole.

But the machine was there, beeping, and the rolling stool that doctors used, and the bed with its guarded sides and stiff white sheets.

Margo lay in it, glassily pale, her glorious hair pulled back. A few loose tendrils curled damply around her face. The bag hanging from the IV stand beside the bed dripped clear liquid down a tube and into her. She had one hand pressed protectively to her belly, the other in Josh's.

"There you are." Margo's lips curved as she gave her husband's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Take a break, Josh. Go ahead." She rubbed their joined hands over her cheek. "This is girl talk."

He hesitated, obviously torn between doing what she wanted and being more than a step away from her. "I'll be right outside." He lowered his head to kiss her, and his hand brushed over the bulge of her belly. "Don't forget your breathing."

"I've been breathing for years. I've almost got it down pat now. Go on out and pace like an expectant father."

"We'll make her behave," Laura assured him. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

"I'll be right outside," he repeated, and waited until he was in the hall to rub unsteady hands over his face.

"He's scared," Margo murmured. "You hardly ever see Josh scared. But it's going to be all right."

"Of course it is," Laura agreed and glanced at the fetal monitor that beeped away the baby's heartbeats.

"No, I mean it. I'm not messing this up. My timing's off, that's all." She looked at Kate. "I guess this is the first time in my life I've been early for anything."

"Oh, I don't know." Striving for the same light tone, Kate eased down on the side of the bed opposite from Laura. "You developed early."

Margo snorted. "True. Oh, here comes one," she said in a shaky voice and began to breathe slowly through the contraction. Instinctively Kate took her hand and breathed through it with her.

"They're very mild," Margo managed. "There's something in there that's supposed to be slowing them down." She flicked a glance toward the IV. "They'd hoped to stop them altogether, but it looks like the kid wants out. Seven weeks too early. Oh,