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Chapter 171

“What? Are you serious??” Nick exclaimed.

Claire bit down on her bottom lip. “Um, yeah… I’m serious. You need to take me to the hospital…”

“Shit… shit, shit,” Nick cursed, feeling a rush of panic. He patted his pocket frantically, searching for his keys, when a hand clamped down on his. Looking up, he found his eyes locked with Claire’s.

“Please don’t panic,” she said, her voice amazingly steady. “You panic, and I’m gonna panic. Don’t panic. We don’t have to rush, but I do need to get there. In one piece. Okay?”

“Okay,” Nick nodded quickly. “Okay.” He found his keys and sat down on the bed long enough to put his shoes on. Claire just crammed her feet into a pair of slippers and grabbed her purse.

“I don’t know what else to bring,” she said, looking around the room. “I don’t have a bag packed yet. You’re supposed to have a bag ready before you go into labor, but it’s so soon… I’m not due for another two months… oh god, Nick, it’s too early for this to be happening…”

A minute ago, she had been calm, but he could see her starting to crumble before his eyes, as the reality of the situation set in. He knew it was his turn to be the calm one, the voice of reason. Quickly, he grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Hey, listen… this happened before, and they stopped it, right? So let’s just get you to the hospital, and they’ll stop it again. It’ll be okay. And don’t worry about a bag; I can get you anything you need while you’re there.”

Claire nodded. “Okay… thanks, Nick.”

“Come on, let’s go. Can you walk down to my car.”

“Can you carry my fat ass down to your car? I don’t think so,” Claire said with a shrill laugh. “Yes, I can walk.”

They left her condo, locking the door on their way out, and took the elevator down to the ground floor. Nick kept an arm around Claire as he walked her out to his car, but she didn’t need the extra support until a few feet from the car, when she suddenly doubled over, expelling a soft cry of pain. Nick tightened his hold on her just as her knees buckled and she nearly collapsed against him.

“Claire?” he asked worriedly, struggling to hold her up. “What is it?”

“Contraction,” she choked out through gritted teeth, and he could hear the pain in her voice, if it wasn’t obvious from the way she was curled over.

Not knowing what else to do, Nick just stood there with her, holding onto her with one hand and rubbing her shoulder with the other, praying it would end soon so that she could move again.

Finally, after close to a minute, Claire let out a long sigh, releasing the tension in her body, and straightened slowly. “Oh that was not fun,” she said miserably, breathing rapidly. “Come on, let’s get to the car before another one hits.”

Nick unlocked his car with his keyless entry remote and walked her around to the passenger side. He helped her in, closing the door carefully once she was sitting inside, and hurried around to the driver’s seat. Jamming his key into the ignition, he gave it a turn and the engine sprung to life.

Claire buckled her seatbelt, but kept it loose, holding it away from her swollen stomach. “Don’t crash, okay?” she warned Nick, giving the loose belt a shake.

He laughed nervously. “I won’t.” He fought between driving carefully and driving fast the whole way to the hospital, knowing that, one on hand, he had precious cargo on board, but on the other, he needed to get her there as soon as possible.

She had another contraction on the way, and though his first instinct was to pull over and try to comfort her, Nick kept driving with one hand on the wheel and offered her his other. She gripped it tightly, bearing down as she fought through the pain.

It was over by the time he pulled into the emergency entrance of Tampa General. Throwing his car into park right in front of the entrance, he switched on his hazard lights and jumped out, hurrying around to help Claire out.

Someone from the hospital came running out immediately and said, “Sir, you can’t leave your car there; you need to find a parking space in the lot.”

“I know,” said Nick, “but she’s in labor.”

Right away, a nurse appeared with a wheelchair for Claire, and as she helped Claire into it, she told Nick, “I’ll take your wife inside and start the admit papers. Go park your car, and you can meet us inside in a few minutes.”

Both picking up on the word ‘wife,’ Nick and Claire met each other’s eyes. She offered him a tiny smile, and his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he wished she was. But it didn’t matter. Wife or not, here she was, in labor, and here was he, the only one around to be with her, and somehow, even though it was all wrong, it felt oddly right.

Acting on impulse, Nick bent and planted a kiss on her cheek, murmuring in her ear, “I’ll be right back.” Then he jumped back into the car and hurried to park it.

***

8:00 p.m.

When they wheeled her into the emergency room, Claire found the whole experience surreal. Was it really possible that she had gone into labor two months early, on the one night when the only one around to take her to the hospital was Nick?

But when the nurse whisked her straight back to one of the exam rooms, helped her onto the gurney, and handed her a hospital gown to change into, Claire realized it was all really happening. It terrified her, but then Nick turned up, keys in one hand, clipboard of paperwork in the other, looking flushed and disheveled and altogether endearing, and she instantly felt a little better, knowing that he was here for her. At least she wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

She fed him answers for the forms he had been given to fill out while the nurse got her hooked up to the monitors that would measure the babies’ and her vital signs. “I hear two strong heartbeats,” smiled the nurse, whose name was Gozde, once she’d strapped on the fetal monitor.

“That’s good,” murmured Claire, but she didn’t feel much relief. The babies were okay now… but what if they had to be delivered too early? Were they ready to be born yet? Would their lungs be developed enough? She felt a tremor of fear rumble through her. “Am I definitely in labor?” she asked hopefully, wishing the nurse would tell her it was just a false alarm.

“Based on your symptoms and history, it’s likely, but I can’t say for sure,” Gozde told her apologetically. “Dr. Anchor, one of our residents, will be in to examine you soon, and she’ll be able to tell you more. In the meantime, I’ll contact your OB. What did you say her last name was?”

“Valerio,” said Claire. “Dr. Valerio.”

The nurse smiled and nodded. “I’ll have Dr. Valerio paged, and I’m sure she’ll be on her way as soon as she can get here. Try to relax, and someone will be in to check on you soon.”

They always said that, but it was damn near impossible to relax in a situation like this. Claire sighed and looked up at Nick, who had been standing back, fiddling with his clipboard and pen.

“Here, I can look at those now,” she offered, holding out her hand for the clipboard.

Nick came over, but set the clipboard down on the bed and put his hand in hers instead. “Don’t worry about it. I got the important stuff down.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I know this wasn’t in the bargain. I’m gonna owe you big time.”

She would have expected Nick to crack a joke in response, but he didn’t. He just offered a tiny smile and replied, “No problem.”

He was so good to her and so patient, letting her squeeze the life out of his hand as another contraction hit minutes later. She thought she’d experienced pain before, but the labor pains hurt worse than she’d expected, and she couldn’t wait till someone came and offered her some drugs to ease them.

When the ER resident, Dr. Anchor, arrived, Nick stayed up by the head of the bed and held Claire’s hand while the doctor stayed at the foot, pushing up Claire’s gown and spreading her legs for a pelvic exam. Claire chewed her bottom lip while the doctor poked and prodded, waiting for the verdict.

When Dr. Anchor’s head reappeared above the tops of her knees, her expression was serious. “I’m afraid you’re definitely in early preterm labor,” she said. “You’re four centimeters dilated. How far apart did you say your contractions were?”

“About ten, fifteen minutes,” replied Claire.

Dr. Anchor nodded. “If you were further along, I’d tell you to go back home at this point. But since you’re not quite thirty-two weeks, I’m going to have you moved up to the obstetrics floor. They’ll monitor you up there and decide where to go from here.”

“Okay,” Claire agreed, but it worried her that this doctor wasn’t immediately jumping for the drugs that would stop her labor, the way Dr. Valerio had the last time. She hoped her OB would be waiting for her when she got upstairs; she would know what to do.

“Do you want me to call your parents, Claire?” asked Nick, as the nurse Gozde returned to prepare her for the move.

Her parents… why had she insisted they go to Sarasota tonight?? They were going to be so upset when they found out what was going on. Claire sighed just thinking about it. “Yeah, call them,” she told Nick. “You can use my phone; my dad’s cell is number five on speed dial.”

Nick got her phone out of her purse and left the room to make the call. When she was pushed into the hall a minute later, he was there waiting for her, his expression grim. “No answer,” he said apologetically. “I tried your mom’s cell too.”

“Aw, crap… they probably have them turned off for whatever they’re seeing,” she sighed. “Oh well. They’ll call back. Thanks for trying.”

“Sure,” replied Nick, taking her hand through the rails on the gurney. He held it all the way up the maternity floor.

“Good luck, Mrs. Turner,” Gozde said as she turned Claire over to the OB nurses, giving them a brief version of her medical history.

One of the nurses came up to the gurney and gave Claire’s hand a reassuring pat. “Hi, Mrs. Turner; my name is Aidyn. I’m going to get you settled in a room, and then I’ll let Dr. Valerio know you’re here. She actually just finished delivering a healthy little boy.”

Claire smiled. The nurses on this floor were always so nice and patient and understanding; they had a way of making her feel better. “Call me Claire, please,” she said to Aidyn as the nurse wheeled her to her new room. She didn’t feel like being “Mrs. Turner” tonight, not when her Mr. Turner was so far away.

“Sure, Claire! I love that name, Claire. It’s very classic,” smiled Aidyn as she parked Claire’s gurney next to the hospital bed in the new room, which was private and spacious and decorated in muted, soothing colors.

“Thanks. I love your name, too; it’s pretty,” Claire replied, studying the nurse’s name tag. It looked like ‘Aiden,’ but she had pronounced it “Eye-deen.” “Is it Irish or-?”

“Spanish, actually. It’s the backwards spelling of my mother’s name, which is Nydia. She’s from Puerto Rico; I was born there,” explained Aidyn. Looking at Nick, she added, “You must have some Irish heritage though, with a name like Turner.”

Nick’s face reddened, and Claire smiled tightly. “This is my friend Nick, but yes, my husband does,” she replied without skipping a beat. “We both do, actually; my maiden name is Ryan.”

“Ah… I’m sorry; I just assumed. I should know by now never to do that,” said Aidyn with an apologetic smile. “Nice to meet you, Nick.” She shook his hand and added, “It’s awesome to see friends serving as labor coaches.” At that, Nick’s head spun quickly to Claire, his eyes slightly bugged, but Aidyn didn’t notice. Smiling at Claire, she commented, “We better scrounge up some ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish’ onesies for your twins then, huh?”

Claire forced herself to laugh. The small talk was helping her keep her nerves under control, but she couldn’t entirely relax. Neither could Nick, she figured, now that the nurse had labeled him as her “labor coach,” a position he had certainly never signed up for.

As Aidyn helped her slide off of the gurney and into bed, she looked up at him and said, “I should call Jamie. He needs to know what’s going on.” He should be here, she thought to herself. He’s supposed to be my labor coach; he’s my husband. But she had pushed him away, sent him back to Iowa, and if she did have to deliver these babies tonight, who knew if there would be enough time for him to get here.

The thought left her sick to her stomach.

“You can use the room phone,” Aidyn jumped in, handing her a big cordless phone. “Let me just get your monitors adjusted here, and then I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Do you want me to leave too?” asked Nick, once Aidyn had finished and left the room.

Claire shook her head. “Nah, it’s okay; you can stay. If you want to, I mean. You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Nick replied and sank down into a chair a few feet away.

As it was going on nine p.m., Claire dialed their home phone first, thinking Jamie would surely be there. She was surprised when the phone only rang and rang, finally cuing the answering machine to come on. She wasn’t sure why, but she let the full message play, taking in the sound of Jamie’s voice. It sounded flat and emotionless… “Hi, you’ve reached the Turners. Leave a message, and we’ll call you back…,” and she realized it had been recorded amid all the drama that had taken place right after she and Jamie had moved in. Her hospitalization… the agonizing decision over whether or not to reduce her pregnancy to twins… the loss of the third triplet…

A lump rose in her throat, and she quickly hung up before the machine beeped, afraid she would make a noise and have her cry recorded on the tape for him to hear.

“Not home?” asked Nick, looking at her with a puzzled expression.

“No.” And suddenly she remembered. “Crap… I think he’s in Denver.”

“What’s he doing in Denver??”

“Business trip.” Claire sighed. “I’ll try his cell.”

She picked up the phone again and, this time, dialed the cell phone number she knew by heart. The phone rang, once, twice…

A pause. Then… “Hello?”

There was confusion in his voice.

Claire took a deep breath. “Jamie, it’s me.”

Another pause. More confusion, as he asked, “Clairie??”

“Yeah…”

“You okay?” Confusion was now replaced with concern. No beating around the bush; he knew she was not calling from home.

“Uh… not really. I’m in labor.”

“What?!” Now outright alarm, as the exclamation rang into her ear. “Are you serious? It’s too early! Are you at the hospital?”

“Yes; I know; and yes, I’m at the hospital. I just got into a room. I don’t know anything yet, other than I’m definitely in labor. I… I don’t know if they can stop it again…” She was trying to keep her voice calm, for his sake, knowing that he would be panicking in Denver, but it faltered at the end, and she was sure that he would pick up on her fear.

“Oh god… oh my god… this can’t be happening right now…”

Claire closed her eyes, picturing Jamie on the other end of the line. He was probably pacing his hotel room now, anxiously tugging on his dark curls. The thought made her stomach wrench; she wished she could reach out to him, take his hand, and reassure him that it would be okay. Much the same way that she wished someone could do that for her.

And then she opened her eyes and saw Nick, still sitting at her bedside, silent, but watching her closely. Even though she knew he loathed Jamie, his expression was sympathetic, and she offered him a tiny smile, grateful for his presence. Without saying anything, even in his sometimes awkward and clumsy way, Nick had a way of making her feel better. He always had.

And though she wished that Jamie, who was still freaking out over the phone, wasn’t so far away, and that her parents would call back soon, and that her family could be here with her, Claire found it ironically appropriate that, somehow, it was Nick who had wound up here with her instead.


Your arms are my castle
Your heart is my sky
They wipe away tears that I cry
Oh, the good and the bad times
We’ve been through them all
You make me rise when I fall

- “Every Time We Touch” by Cascada


***