Baby and The Beast. Laura Wright

And opened doors for me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.” He paused to take another swallow of beer. “That’s why I owe him.”

      She had to ask. “And why do you owe me?”

      “Let’s just say that you were my guardian angel, Bella.”

      Lord, she didn’t want to be his angel. “Look, Michael, you don’t owe either one of us anything. We both did what we did because we cared about you. Not because we were looking for a payoff later on.”

      “Everyone wants a payoff.”

      She shook her head. “You don’t believe that.”

      “Yes, I do.” He opened the fridge and started rifling through it. “Whether the payoff is emotional, physical or monetary, everybody expects one.”

      “Maybe that’s true of some people, but…” Her words trailed off as the dull pain in her back suddenly shot down her hips. She sucked in a breath of air and let it out slowly as the pain eased. What she really needed to do was finish her sandwich and go take that bath.

      “Well, you’ve done enough for me,” she said finally. “And as soon as this storm clears, we’ll call it even, all right?”

      “We’ll see.”

      She rolled her eyes as she scooped up her sandwich. “Michael, I swear if you say that one more time…”

      Something was happening. It wasn’t just eight-month pangs or Braxton Hicks contractions. Firecrackers were erupting in her abdomen, shooting what felt like shards of broken cut glass to every corner of her body. Her sandwich fell to the floor as she leaned over, gripping her belly as another spear of pain drove down her spine, through her hips and circled her belly.

      Michael was at her side in seconds. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

      “I need to go—” She gasped.

      “Where do you need to go? Back to bed?”

      She shook her head. “No. To the hospital. I need to go to the hospital.” She glanced up at him, her breath catching in her throat as she felt the pain rising again like a gigantic wave set to crash. “The baby’s coming.”

      Three

      The steadfast control that Michael prided himself on threatened to snap. Bella’s water had broken and she was in labor. The phone lines had gone down sometime in the afternoon, and his long driveway was knee-deep with snow.

      Everything he normally relied on was of no use to him. No cell-phone service—his satellite hookup was worthless in this type of weather—and as he’d designed his home for hibernation, he had no snow-mobile.

      Which meant there was no way to get her into town.

      What they did have, however, were Bella’s pregnancy book, Michael’s encyclopedias and three backup generators.

      For the first time in a long time, he had to rely on instinct, not technology, and it felt completely foreign. But he’d be damned if he was going to let Bella know that.

      After several long and very tense minutes, he’d gotten her back in bed, lay several clean towels beneath her, then rounded up some cool water, hot water, scissors, string, washcloths, more clean towels and sheets. He read as much as he could between her contractions. And when the pain gripped her, and she cried out, he tried to comfort her. Never letting her know that the sight and sound of her labor shook him to his very core.

      He was lighting a fire when her soft voice broke through his thoughts. “Michael?”

      He crossed to the bed and knelt down beside her.

      “There’s no way to get me to the hospital, right?” she said, her eyes filled with unease.

      “No. I’m sorry.”

      She turned away from him then. Her jaw was set, her eyes glazed as she looked straight ahead, apparently concentrating. On what, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t going to ask any stupid questions.

      “Can I get you anything? Ice chips? Juice?”

      She shook her head. “Don’t go anywhere.”

      “I’m not going anywhere.” Dammit, he had to pull this off, had to keep her safe.

      Her eyes suddenly shut, and her hands fisted the sheet. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she gave a cry of agony that made him want to put his fist through a wall, feel a little of the pain she was feeling.

      But instead, he did the practical thing. He rinsed out a washcloth and wiped her face and neck, whispering words of encouragement, assuring her that everything would be all right.

      Finally she released an enormous breath and her head dropped to one side.

      “How are you feeling?” It was one of those stupid questions he hadn’t wanted to utter, but his worry superseded good sense.

      She turned to look at him, her eyes large and heavy with fatigue. “Like someone’s trying to drive a truck through my abdomen.”

      He smiled at her and she put on a brave smile of her own.

      She was something else.

      Back in the boys’ home, he’d seen many kids get hurt, sometimes staffers too. Hell, the gardener had practically sliced off his finger cleaning the lawn mower. The man had cried for three hours.

      And Bella was actually making jokes, fighting through every bolt of pain with all she had.

      “I have to tell you something.” She reached for his hand, and he grabbed hold.

      “What is it?”

      “I’m really scared, Michael.”

      Without thinking, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it lightly. “I know.”

      “The baby’s a month early.”

      “The baby is going to be perfect.” Never in his life had he felt so humbled—or so helpless. “We’re going to do this together. Okay?”

      “Okay.” Her eyes drifted closed and her breathing slowed. “Distract me. Tell me something.”

      “Anything.”

      “Tell me about that day.”

      “What day, Bella?”

      “When…when you first came to town. When you came to Fielding.” She squeezed his hand. “The day you left that horrible place.”

      Michael hesitated. He’d disclosed the practicalities of his past to Bella and her father, but the details had been off-limits to everyone, including himself. The nightmare of the night he’d run away and the salvation he’d run to was something he’d vowed never to revisit. But right now, for Bella, he knew he’d recall both. He’d do anything to ease her mind and her fears.

      His throat was dry as dust as he spoke. “I left Youngstown School at two o’clock on a Monday morning with fifty cents in my pocket and only the clothes on my back. I walked for about fifteen miles until I was too tired to go on. So I sat on the side of the road with my thumb out and waited.”

      Michael glanced down at her, saw that she was a little more relaxed than she’d been a moment ago and continued. “It was summer and hot—I’d sweated right through my T-shirt. And I remember being surprised that someone had actually stopped to pick me up.”

      Bella smiled and said softly, “With that sweaty T-shirt, I’ll bet it was a girl, right?”

      He chuckled. “It was a woman in her seventies.”

      “Seventy or seven—” her face tightened and she sucked in a breath “—teen?”

      “Don’t talk, Bella,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”

      She whimpered, writhing on the bed, clutching