Page 16 of Torn in Half

“Good luck!”

He ran down the hall, through the doors under the L&D sign, and slid to a stop at the reception desk. “My wife, Angelina Sawyer. Labor. What room?”

Before the startled woman could answer him, he heard, “Ian! In here!”

Shelby was waving to him from one of the rooms. She was wearing scrubs and holding another set. “Hurry! She had to start pushing.”

Holy shit!

Rushing into the room, he tried to make sense of the chaos. Angie’s legs were up in stirrups, with a blue sheet covering them. She was screaming, cursing, sweating, and panting all at the same time. Her gaze latched onto his, and he couldn’t miss the relief he saw in her eyes.

Kristen was by her side, holding her hand and counting out loud. “Eight . . . nine . . . ten. There you go, relax.”

“Uuuuugh!” Angie collapsed back on the incline of the bed. Her face was beet red, as she tried to catch her breath. “Ian! You . . . made it!”

Several nurses were going about their duties as Monique pulled a stool over to sit on and got ready to deliver the baby. “Just in time, Ian. Throw those scrubs on over your clothes and wash your hands and arms. We probably only have another few contractions to go, so hurry.”

He must have frozen in place because Shelby grabbed his arm. “Come here—these are your size.” She led him to the sink and turned on the water. In under a minute, he’d soaped up, rinsed off, and managed to get the scrub shirt and pants over his T-shirt and BDUs. Shelby squatted down in front of him with two shoe covers. “Let me put these on over your boots, so you don’t have to scrub again.”

Damn it. He hadn’t even realize he still had his dirty boots on. Thankfully, they were dry, and he hoped Angie and the hospital staff didn’t notice the brownish stains of blood against the worn, black leather.

Once he was set, Kristen stepped away from Angie’s side and let him move in before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll wait outside with everyone else. I’m glad you made it.”

He didn’t have time to thank Kristen or Shelby because Angie grabbed his hand and squeezed like she was trying to crush his metacarpals. She screamed as the contraction took hold.

“Dad, count to ten for her,” one of the nurses prodded.

“Huh?” Oh, right, Lamaze. Counting. Got it. “Um, one, two, three . . .”

Once more, Angie collapsed at number ten. She shook her head on the pillow behind it. “I . . . I can’t do this, Ian! The epidural’s not helping. Please, I can’t!

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then whispered in her ear. “Yes, you can, Angel. Do you know how I know?”

“N-no.”

“Because you, my beautiful wife, are the strongest woman I know, and I know quite a few. You have to be strong to put up with me. Every time life knocked you down, you got up again. You’re going to be the best mother in the world. And because of you, I’m going to try to be the best father I can possibly be. We’ll probably stumble a few times, and we may even fall, but we’ll get up again and make sure Little Bit, and any other children we may have, will be prepared to take the world by storm when it’s their time. So whattaya say? Are you ready to have this baby?”

“Well, when you put it that way . . .”

He brushed her damp hair from her face, which was starting to fill with pain once more. She struggled to sit up. Putting his arm around her back, he helped her as she got ready to push. “I’ve got you, Angel. Let’s do this.”

With her head resting on Chuck’s shoulder, Marie surveyed the maternity ward’s waiting room. It was filled with her sons’ friends, employees, and teammates, as they all awaited Little Bit’s arrival. The operatives had come straight from the airport, while others had already been there. When Kristen had come out not long ago, after passing the coaching torch to Ian, she’d announced it wouldn’t be much longer, and now everyone was even more excited than they’d been.

It didn’t matter what the baby’s gender was, as long as he or she was healthy, but after having four boys herself, Marie was looking forward to spoiling a little girl. God help her, though, when she was old enough to date, because Ian would be cleaning his guns every time a young man picked her up—then again, Ian’s daughter would probably be sitting right next to him, cleaning her own guns.

“Mom?”

She looked up and smiled at Devon and JD. Her grandson was the spitting image of his father at that age, and it brought a rush of memories back to her. When Chuck had taken Ian to meet his baby brother for the first time at the hospital, he’d asked the two-and-a-half-year-old if he knew which one of the newborns in their bassinets on the other side of the window was Devon. Without hesitation, Ian pointed at the correct infant. “Dat’s my baby brudder!” He’d paused and then announced, “I’m gonna be the best big brudder in the whole world, Daddy.”

And he had been and still was. When their time came to depart this life, Chuck and Marie knew their growing family’s new patriarch would take care of them until his own dying day.

“Want to hold him for a bit?” Devon asked.

She held out her hands. “That’s a silly question—of course I do.”

Gently taking her grandson, she cuddled him close as Devon squatted in front of her. Marie stared down at the eyes that matched her own and all her sons’. Unexpected tears rolled down her cheek, and Devon reached up and wiped some away. “Hey, it’s okay, Mom. You’re here, and you will be for a long time.”

If things had turned out differently, her family might have been mourning right now, despite the birth of Little Bit. She thanked God that wasn’t the case. She owed her sons her life, and wasn’t that ironic? They may not be perfect, but then again, who was? However, she would forever be proud of the men they’d become. They were good husbands to their spouses and would be excellent fathers to the children they’d have. After all, they’d had the best role model around in that department.

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