new humans came into this world, like it was no big deal—but at the same time it was a Big Freaking Deal for everyone around them.
Which was also true of how people left this world.
Dr. Walsh spent a minute examining the baby using a stethoscope and some tools the EMTs had on hand. “Everything looks good. First Apgar is nine.” She clamped and cut the umbilical cord. “Let’s get them onto the rig before the placenta delivers.” She put the baby on Colleen’s chest and covered them both with a blanket. “Colleen,” she said, her smile lighting up her silvery-blue eyes. “You have a beautiful, healthy little girl. And you did such a great job.”
Soon Colleen and her daughter were on a gurney, and she was tearfully thanking Dr. Walsh as the bystanders, who had returned, broke into cheers and applause.
Sawyer moved in to try to disperse the crowd again. He shot a glance at Jake, but Jake wasn’t having it. This was not the time for that. Sawyer, thankfully, turned to Dr. Walsh. “Sawyer Collins, chief of police. Welcome to Moonflower Bay, Dr. Walsh. I think I speak for everyone when I say how glad we are to have you here.”
Well, hot damn.
That had been far from a genuine emergency. It had been a low-risk, if early, birth. But Nora’s adrenaline had been pumping all the same. Unlike at the hospital, she’d been on her own, with minimal equipment. And they’d been sprawled on the grass, for heaven’s sake.
She waved to Colleen and took a deep breath as the ambulance doors shut. She could feel herself starting to crash. She needed…what? To figure out how to get home, for one thing.
“Hey, Dr. Walsh.” Jake appeared. She was glad to see him. He had a steadying presence. He pointed across the street at a bar called Lawson’s Lager House. “I’m thinking maybe you could use a drink?”
Yes. Great idea. That was exactly what she needed.
But…she was covered in amniotic fluid and blood and vernix. She gestured at herself.
His eyes slid down her body, and one corner of his mouth turned up. “Well, he probably shouldn’t, but Law does let Tigers fans into the bar.”
There was a blob of blood on the s in the Tigers logo on her T-shirt. “Even Tigers fans who are walking biohazards?”
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I’m kind of gross,” she said when he opened the passenger-side door of his truck for her. “I should have asked the paramedics for a clean sheet.”
“It’s okay. This truck is a piece of junk.”
“And here I had this idea,” she said once he’d come around to the driver’s side and gotten in, “that men with trucks were really territorial about them.”
“Nah.”
She glanced around the cab. The upholstery on the seats had holes in a few spots, and there was a lot of crap lying around. Not garbage—tools mostly. But also map books and CDs—he hadn’t been kidding about not being a phone guy. And the outside of the truck had been rusty and dented in a few places. “Not a truck guy, either?” she teased.
“Nope. This is just a means of getting myself and my stuff from point A to point B.”
They lapsed into silence. She tried to think of something to say. Usually sitting in silence with strangers was awkward. Probably because in her boisterous family, someone was always talking. And Rufus. He had always been talking. And the emergency room at St. Mike’s was all about talking—and shouting.
People talking: that was the default soundtrack to her life.
Or it had been. But maybe the Moonflower Bay palate cleanser could come with a new soundtrack—or a lack of one. Because silence, it turned out, was kind of nice. Or at least this silence was. It was companionable. Jake didn’t seem like the type of guy who minded being quiet.
Which, ironically, made her want to know more about him. “So what do you do, Jake Ramsey? What kind of stuff do you haul from point A to point B in this truck?”
“I guess technically I’m a fisherman.”
“Technically?”
“Well, my dad was a fisherman until he retired recently. I went into business with him when I graduated high school. I still have the boat and the license. I just don’t go out that much anymore.”
“Why not?” He darted a glance at her. It wasn’t an annoyed glance but more of a blank look. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“I also co-own a carpentry business with Sawyer Collins, who’s the chief of police—you met