The Runaway Nurse. Dianne Drake

pushing, and we’ll get to that in just a minute. But I’d like to wait as long as we can, since …”

      “No waiting,” Edie gasped, grabbing the edge of the couch so hard her knuckles went white. “I want this baby born. now!”

      “Let me see what I can do.” Summer felt Edie’s abdomen again, while the next contraction hit, trying to discern the baby’s position. “OK, I think your Mary Grace is as impatient as you are, because she’s not waiting.” Although Summer wanted to wait for Rick, for Rafe, for anybody.

      “So give the ladies what they want,” Rick said from the phone, sounding almost breathless.

      He was on his way. Running, she thought. She knew it. More than that, she felt it. Somehow, that made everything feel better, feel right. Rick being on the other end of the phone that was the only reason she was getting through this and appearing reasonably steady. “I think I will. So, let’s get you in a little better position. Try sitting up as much as you can. Then draw your knees up. And … I see her! I see your daughter, Edie. At least the top of her. Which means, on your next contraction, go ahead and push.”

      Edie struggled into place, with Summer’s help. Then, winded, she laid her head back on a cushion and shut her eyes for a moment. “Remind me to renew my gym membership. I didn’t know I was so out of shape.”

      “Neither did I when I went through this,” Summer said, as she placed a few extra pillows behind Edie’s back. “And let me warn you, while it’s a beautiful thing, and I’d do it all over again, several more times actually, afterwards I ached for days in places I didn’t know could ache. But it’s worth it.”

      “Just get her out,” Edie begged. “Just, please, get her out of me!”

      Summer took a quick pulse, wishing she had something to monitor fetal progress. So far, this process had taken mere minutes … minutes that seemed like hours. “Rick, I’m going to attempt to lift the baby’s head. Anything you want to tell me?”

      “Um … good luck?”

      Summer laughed. “And for that you got your medical degree?”

      “Are you two …?” Edie began, then another contraction hit, and this time she pushed hard. The baby progressed, but not all the way, and Edie fell back into the pillows.

      “Next time,” Summer said, taking a second to unclench her clenched muscles. “A couple?” Edie managed. “What?”

      “Are you and Rick together? You seem so in tune … Oh, oh …” Another contraction hit, and at that exact moment the front door finally, literally burst open, Edie screamed the scream of her life, and Mary Grace Corbett made her entry into the world in one grand whoosh.

      “She’s beautiful,” Summer gasped. “Ten fingers, ten toes …” Then she handed Rafe’s daughter over to Rafe, who was standing shoulder to shoulder with Rick, and collapsed on the floor, a bundle of nerves, a flood of happy tears. With some very gentle arms wrapped around her.

      “You did it,” Rick said, holding onto her, rocking her like she was a child to be protected. “Summer, you did it all by yourself!”

      She glanced up at Mary Grace as the next wave of medical workers hurried in to whisk mother and daughter off to the hospital. “I did,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Laying her head against Rick’s chest, glad to be there, glad for the support, she drew in a deep breath. Smiled. This was a nice place to be. All of it. Everything. A very nice place to be.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “SHE’S beautiful,” Summer murmured, looking through the nursery window at Mary Grace, who was swaddled in a pink baby blanket and sleeping peacefully. The nostalgia was overwhelming Summer. She truly had never thought about having another baby, but looking at the one she’d helped into the world was doubling her maternal instincts. Another baby girl, or a boy, for her to hold in her arms would be wonderful. A perfect dream. Maybe someday … If, and only if, her life ever got straightened out.

      “For someone who’s delivered only one baby by herself, you did a good job,” Rick said. “Actually, you did a great job. You’ve got exceptional instincts, picking up on Edie’s labor when Edie didn’t even know she was in labor, let alone how far along into it she was.”

      “Labor is different for everybody. If you’re expecting pain, and you don’t get it, I can see how you wouldn’t recognize what those little twinges were, like Edie was having.”

      “Well, it’s a good thing you were there, and did see the situation for what it was.”

      Summer turned around, with her back to the glass, and leaned. Felt exhausted, which didn’t matter. Looked a mess, which did, because she didn’t want Rick seeing her like this. Sure, they’d logged time together in the stables, grooming horses, cleaning up messes. But that was different. They’d been in it together. He’d looked as bad as she did. Here, though … she really wanted to look better. Probably her new position as Nursing Supervisor in Pediatrics finally making its mark. “You know what? I need to go home, clean up … spend some time with Alyssa. She wants to hear all about the baby, and I promised her we’d make spaghetti for dinner. So I have to run to the grocery store to pick up a few things for the sauce.”

      “Home-made sauce?” Rick asked, his eyes widening. “You can make that? The only sauce we ever get comes from a jar. You know, open it up, heat it in the microwave.”

      Summer laughed. “Well, there’s that. And there’s the real thing. You know, chopped vegetables, cook down the tomatoes, add lots of garlic, mushrooms, peppers … My grandmother was Italian and she would have fainted at the sight of commercially prepared sauce.”

      “I don’t suppose you make your own pasta, do you?”

      She nodded. “It’s easy. Even Alyssa knows how to make pasta.”

      “And now you’re putting me to shame,” Rick confessed, “because I can’t cook if it doesn’t come already prepared, in some sort of package. If it weren’t for Mrs. Jenkins, I don’t think Chris would even know that food can be made from scratch at home. And even then, she’s not a great cook. Sticks to basics, but not a master chef by any means.”

      “Well, I don’t suppose Alyssa even knows you can have spaghetti sauce from a jar, or pasta from a box. But, then, I don’t go out a lot, so that gives me more time to cook. In a way, it keeps me connected to my grandmother.”

      “She’s gone now?”

      Summer nodded. “I’m the only one left, except Alyssa.”

      “No aunts or uncles or cousins?” “Too distant to count. Anyway …” She pushed herself off the glass wall, took one final look at the baby, then headed down the hall. Halfway to the door leading to the main foyer she turned back to Rick. “Bring the wine for us. Nothing fancy. And something without high fructose corn syrup or artificial sweetener for the kids.” “For what?” he asked.

      “For home-made spaghetti and sauce. If you want to come for dinner.”

      OK, so that was probably a huge tactical error, inviting him over for dinner. He was her boss, after all, and fraternizing wasn’t a good idea. But having adult conversation over a meal was something she didn’t get very often. In fact, this would be the first time she’d invited anybody over socially. Of course, if they discussed work, well … that would make it better, or at least seem less personal. She’d drag out her preliminary plans for the day-care center, let the children play together while the adults kicked back, sipped wine and talked about a way to knock out the wall between the storage closet and the waiting area. They’d make it a casual night. Part business, part pleasure.

      Suddenly, Summer was excited about the evening ahead. But she wasn’t sure if it was about the prospect of moving forward with her new job, sitting across the dinner table with an adult, or because that adult was Rick Navarro. Whatever the case, she fairly floated through the grocery store,