Montana Dreaming: Their Unexpected Family / Cabin Fever / Million-Dollar Makeover

“Oh, good,” Juliet said. “I was hoping Dr. Hart would be working.”

As long as she was comfortable with the resident, Mark supposed it was okay. But he’d have felt better with the head obstetrician.

Before long, a heavyset man dressed in hospital greens stepped behind Juliet’s wheelchair to take her to the elevator and up to the second floor.

She glanced at Mark. “Are you going with us?”

It was just a question, he told himself. Not a request. He could tell her he’d take a rain check this time around. Besides, it was a perfect time to cut whatever flimsy connection they’d built over the past few days, a perfect chance to escape before she expected something from him. Something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—provide.

But what if she wasn’t out of the woods yet? What if she needed him—or rather someone—to be with her for a little while?

“Yeah,” he told her. “I’ll stay for a bit.”

She nodded, as the orderly pushed her down the hall, and Mark fell into step behind them.

When they reached the heavy double doors that required someone to buzz them in, the orderly pulled the wheelchair to a stop.

“What’s the deal with the password and the locked door?” Mark asked.

“A year or so ago, a woman tried to kidnap one of the newborns. She didn’t get away with it, but we tightened our security, hoping to prevent something like that from ever happening again.” The orderly punched in a code, and the doors swung open.

Mark glanced at Juliet and saw the wide-eyed expression. Was she concerned that someone might try to take her little one?

“You and the baby will be just fine,” Mark told her.

Then he forced a smile, hoping to high heaven that what he’d told her was true.

When Dr. Hart donned a pair of gloves, Mark slipped out of the birthing room. Juliet wondered whether he’d say goodbye before leaving. There wasn’t any reason for him to stay, she supposed.

She held her breath, waiting as Dr. Hart examined her.

“You’re about two to three centimeters dilated already,” the doctor said. “And the head has dropped down nicely.”

“But it’s too soon for me to deliver.” Nervous fear shot through her. “Is the baby going to be all right?”

“I think everything is going to be fine, even though it’s more than four weeks early. When you were here last Sunday, we gave you medication to help the lungs develop. And we’ve managed to keep the baby in the womb for nearly a week. At this stage, every day helps.” The doctor placed a hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll do our best to get that baby delivered safely and in your arms.”

Juliet wasn’t sure if Mark had already left the hospital or if he was waiting outside the room until after she’d been examined. Of course, she couldn’t blame him for leaving—if he had. And it was okay. She’d never planned on having a birth coach or anyone to support her during labor.

But when Dr. Hart stepped out of the room and Mark popped his head inside the door, she felt a rush of relief.

He made his way to her bedside. “How’s it going?”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “And scared.”

“Are you hurting?”

“It’s tolerable.”

He took the seat beside the bed. When the back of his chair swayed in movement, a little-boy smile lit his face. “Hey, it rocks.”

Before she could respond, Beth Ann, the dark-haired nurse she’d had last time, entered the room. She greeted them, then started an IV and hooked up a monitor to Juliet’s tummy.

Mark looked a bit sheepish at first, but before long he was asking questions about the screen that graphed the baby’s heart rate and another squiggly line that reflected the length and duration of the contractions.

“What’s normal for the baby’s heart rate?” he asked Beth Ann.

“She’s sleeping, so one-twenty seems to be normal for her. But when she wakes up, that will increase to one-forty or so. And you’ll see some little black lines along this area that will indicate her movements.” The nurse handed Juliet a remote call button. “I’ll leave you two alone for a while. And I’ll come back and check on you in about two hours.”

“You’re leaving for two hours?” Mark stood and raked a hand through his hair. “What if something goes wrong?”

Beth Ann smiled. “We’re constantly monitoring her from the nurse’s station. We can see this screen in there. And if anything changes, I’ll be right in.”

Mark shoved his hands in his pockets. A grimace indicated he wasn’t pleased that the nurse was leaving. He slid a look at the monitor.

“Hey, wait,” he called to Beth Ann. “There was a little green light that looked like a bell. And now it’s yellow. What does that mean?”

“It means that something is happening in one of the other birthing rooms.”

“Is someone in trouble now?” he asked.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean trouble. It means that something is happening. In this case, the woman in birthing room three is being prepped for delivery.”

“Oh.” His words indicated understanding, but his expression was clearly one of concern, worry. He glanced at Juliet, a fish-out-of-water expression in his eyes.

She would have loved to have taken a picture of him at that moment, something to keep forever. But another dull pain began in her back, then spread to her stomach, as the womb that had once sheltered her baby began to force the child out into the world.

Juliet closed her eyes, breathing with the contraction like she’d learned from the birthing video she’d checked out of the library. She wasn’t sure whether the Lamaze techniques worked or not, but it did keep her mind focused on something other than the pain.

“It’s winding down,” Mark said, coaching her to hang on, to stay on top.

He’d said he would stay for “a bit,” and she appreciated whatever time he shared with her.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss him when he decided to leave.

Thirty minutes later, Mark had gotten into the swing of the labor routine. He kept track of the contractions, telling Juliet when to expect another, when a pain was peaking and when it was starting to ease. He even found himself breathing with her, which was probably goofy. But what the heck?

More than once, he thought of his sister, Kelly. Thought of her going through this by herself. Alone. Frightened. In pain. Bleeding.

But if he focused on that, if he allowed the guilt to slip back in, he’d drive himself crazy. So he forced the image from his mind, zeroing in on the petite woman who held his hand and the child who was struggling to be born.

Time was measured by the minute lines on the monitor, as Juliet’s contractions came quicker and lasted longer. Still, he repeatedly looked at the clock, hoping the two hours would be up and the nurse would return. Juliet was really hurting, and he hoped they would give her something to ease her pain.

As the door creaked open, Beth Ann entered the room. “I think I’d better check you. Your contractions are getting closer and appear to be quite strong.”

“I hope I’m four centimeters,” Juliet said. “Dr. Hart said she’d order an epidural then.”

Mark stood, but instead of leaving, he pulled the curtain, giving Juliet privacy. Surprisingly, he was feeling more comfortable about being in the room. And she seemed to be glad he was there and had thanked him more than once.