Baby's First Christmas. Cathy Thacker Gillen

gripped it until her knuckles turned white. “It would certainly appear so, yes.” Kate pushed the words through a row of even white teeth. Delicate beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip.

      She seemed awfully uncomfortable for a very first contraction, Michael thought. Unless… Oh, no. “Was this your first contraction?” he asked.

      “I—” Kate gasped between panting breaths that told him another contraction was starting, just seconds after the conclusion of the first. “Suppose.” No sooner had she spoken than she let out a sharp little cry.

      “What do you mean you suppose?” Michael demanded. Figuring the rest of the delivery baskets could wait, he turned the van in the direction of Chapel Hill.

      “I’ve felt a little funny all day,” Kate confessed as she grabbed a tissue from her purse and pressed it to the dampness at the back of her neck.

      “Funny how?”

      “I’ve had this pressure—this sort of aching—in my thighs, like I overdid it exercising or something.”

      “But no actual contractions until just now.”

      “Right.”

      “And you’re sure what you felt just now was an actual contraction?” Michael persisted.

      “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”

      The important thing here was to stay calm. “When did the funny feeling—the pressure—start in your legs?”

      “This morning, when I got up.”

      Which meant, Michael thought, she’d likely been in the very early stages of labor all day. “I noticed you rubbing your back in the shop. Was your back aching all day?”

      “Yes, but that’s been the case off and on for several weeks now, so I didn’t think anything of it. But—” Kate caught her breath as the cramping in her lower abdomen intensified. “It’s never been this bad,” she said with tears in her eyes.

      Michael reached over and squeezed her hand. “Hang in there,” he said.

      “I’m trying.” Kate waited until the worst of it had passed, then, still panting, reached behind her and grabbed the duffel bag she took to her Lamaze class. Inside were clean workout clothes, a blanket to stretch out on, a pillow, an unopened bottle of mineral water and a stopwatch.

      “Try breathing in through your nose and slowly breathing out through your mouth,” he said as the next contraction gripped her without warning. “That’s it,” he said, as Kate gasped again and hit the start button on her stopwatch. “Take deep, slow breaths, just the way they taught you in Lamaze class. That’s it, Kate. Again. And yet again—”

      At long last, the pain subsided. As it did, Kate released a long, ragged breath. And suddenly became aware—as did Michael—that she was drenched with sweat. From the looks of it, Michael thought, as she turned the temperature control knob to cool, this was going to be one hard and fast—maybe too fast—labor.

      “How long was the contraction?” Michael asked as Kate’s color slowly returned to normal and he continued to drive in the direction of the hospital at a safe, steady pace.

      Kate glanced at her stopwatch. “Three minutes and fourteen seconds.” She seemed surprised as she contemplated that, murmuring, “No wonder it felt like an eternity!”

      “Okay, let’s time between contractions now,” Michael said. “Then we’ll call your doctor.”

      Kate reset the stopwatch and absently rubbed her tummy. Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen, Michael noted with relief. All blissfully free of pain. Beginning to relax, she lay against the seat. Without warning, Kate’s teeth began to chatter. A shiver spiraled through her slender shoulders. Kate gasped as another contraction gripped her. She turned alternately red then white. “Do you know your OB’s number?” he asked calmly.

      Still fighting the contraction gripping her, Kate pulled the cell phone out of her purse. “Dr. Amanda Gantor. Just punch one,” she panted.

      Michael did as directed and was patched through. He explained what the situation was, then listened as he received instructions. “Right. Yes. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up as Kate’s contraction finally came to a halt.

      “Let me guess,” she drawled, still panting from the strength of her last contraction. “Dr. Gantor wants me to go straight to the hospital.”

      “Right. She’ll alert labor and delivery and the emergency room and meet you at the hospital.”

      Kate nodded, letting him know she’d heard. “Good thing you’re driving.” She gasped, leaned forward and clasped her tummy as yet another contraction gripped her. She whimpered. “I don’t think I could drive and endure this kind of pain, too.”

      “Do you have a labor coach?”

      “My baby sister, Lindy. She’s a teaching assistant at UNC. She’s teaching a class right now.” Kate shifted in an effort to get more comfortable and found, as Michael had figured would be the case, that it was hopeless. “You met her at the shop.”

      “Ah, yes, the one who said I was cu-u-u-te.”

      “You heard that?” She slanted him an inquiring glance as she continued to shift restlessly.

      Michael zoomed past a trailer park, a deserted country church and a farm. “I think she may have meant me to,” he confided, in an attempt to divert Kate’s attention from the pain. He smiled at her. “I had the feeling she would have liked nothing better than to set the two of us up.”

      Kate nodded, humorously conceding this was so. “And that was before she knew who you were or what your connection to me was—is,” Kate groaned.

      “You think this will up the stakes?” Michael paused at a four-way intersection, then seeing it was safe, continued on.

      “As far as Lindy is concerned, heck, yes. She’s an incurable romantic.” Kate picked up her bottle of water, ripped off the plastic seal and cap and took a tiny drink.

      Michael slanted her another glance. “But not you.”

      “Nope. Not anymore.” Kate handed him the bottled water. “I am a very practical woman.”

      Michael also took a small swig. “Good for you.”

      Kate capped the water, grimaced and began to pant as she was hit with yet another labor pain. “I guess it’s lucky you’re a doctor so you know about Lamaze.” Kate stuffed her belongings into her Lamaze bag. “You can coach me through it until we get to the hospital and Lindy and a nurse take over.” Thirty seconds. Forty-five. Sixty. Seventy-five.

      “No problem,” Michael retorted as they passed a road sign that said, Chapel Hill, twenty-four miles. “I could coach you through the Bradley and Gamper methods, too. But my real talent—” noting her contraction was continuing some two and half minutes after it began, he reached over to give her hand a comforting squeeze “—is in catching babies.”

      Kate forced a weak smile and let herself take comfort from his touch, even as the pain increased. “With or without a mitt?” she asked, panting.

      “Without.” He winked at her playfully. “Though I imagine it could be done either way.”

      “That’s it,” Kate gasped, looking as if it was taking everything she had to resist the urge to scream with the pain. “Keep the banter coming,” she advised.

      Michael nodded at her bright red cheeks. “You hurting a lot?”

      Kate concentrated on her breathing. “Oh, let’s just say it feels like an eighteen-wheeler truck is inside me roaring to get out.”

      “Hang on. We’re less than twenty minutes from the medical center.”

      “Oh, no.” Kate raised her hips off the captain’s seat.

      “What?”