When the Bough Breaks (Rose Gardner Investigations #6) - Denise Grover Swank
Chapter 1
“False alarm,” the nurse said with a disapproving look. “Again.”
I cringed with embarrassment. This was the second time in a week that I’d come to the hospital in false labor.
The first time I’d called Joe at two in the morning, dragging him out of a deep sleep, and he’d rushed out to the farm and brought me to Fenton County Hospital. The nurses had admitted me, hooked me up to a monitor, and checked to see if my cervix was dilated.
“Nope,” the friendly labor and delivery nurse had said. “You’re locked up tighter than a drum down there.” Then she shot an ornery grin at Joe, who was standing close to my head. “You know, they say sex can get things going.”
My face flushed beet red, but Joe took it in stride, grinning as he winked and said, “We’ll keep that in mind.”
It was easier to let it go rather than to tell her that while we were together, we weren’t together. Not that it was anyone’s business.
My contractions faded to nothing mere minutes after she told me to get dressed, and I apologized profusely to Joe. He’d just pulled me into a hug and told me it was okay, his manner as reassuring as always.
By mutual agreement, Joe had moved into Neely Kate’s old room after that, which had been our plan for after the baby was born. Although he’d lived in the farmhouse last fall, he’d moved out months ago, after my first meetings with the criminals in the county. I’d become their mediator, for lack of a better word, and Jed had quite rightly said it would be safer for Joe to (temporarily) move out given his role as chief deputy sheriff. But the meetings had stopped months ago, and the matter was mostly moot. The fact was, I needed Joe. And I wanted him around too.
This morning, four days after the first false alarm, the contractions had started again while I was getting ready for work. Joe, of course, had already left. These contractions were irregular, but stronger than the Braxton Hicks contractions I’d been having for the last month. I’d tried to ignore them at first, not wanting to make a fool of myself again, but part of me had wondered if this was the real thing. I was still two weeks from my due date of May 3, but at my last visit, Dr. Newton had said, “The baby’s headfirst but not dropped yet. Nevertheless, I hope you have your bag packed, because you could deliver at any time now.”
My bag was packed, perpetually in the car, and I’d arranged for Maeve to dog-sit Muffy while I was in the hospital. So I’d brought her to work with me this morning, just in case.
The contractions had continued all morning, sporadic at first but then ten minutes apart. They’d stopped briefly at lunchtime, making me glad I’d held off telling anyone, but they were back an hour later, this time only five minutes apart. So I’d taken a walk around the block to see if they’d stop. They hadn’t, so an hour later I’d called Joe and pulled him out of an important meeting, only to end up hearing those fateful words.
False alarm.
I cried as soon as the not-so-nice nurse walked out of the room, and Joe sat down next to me on the bed.
“I’m so sorry, Joe,” I said through my tears. “They were coming all day and then they changed to five minutes apart.” I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” he said with a warm smile, his eyes shining with what looked like happiness. “You’ve never been in labor before. How are you supposed to know what it feels like?”
“But you were meetin’ with the sheriff and someone from the state police.”
His smile stretched wider. “And that meetin’ was borin’ as shit. You did me a favor.”
I knew his statement was a partial lie. While I’d accept that it might have been boring, I knew it was important. He’d told me so the night before, but he’d insisted that I call him anyway if I went into labor.
“How can you look so happy?” I asked through my tears. I’d been extra weepy lately—which was saying something. “I’m a mess.”
“Rose, you’re havin’ a baby. Our baby. How can I not be excited?”
“But I’m not havin’ it now. I’m just a fat whale, waddling around like a penguin.”
He laughed. “You’re not a fat whale. You’re pregnant. You were a beautiful woman before, but now