A Family of Her Own (Dundee, Idaho #3)(50)
Author: Brenda Novak

God, what now?

“Push,” he said because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Okay.” She nodded. He could tell she didn’t have any strength left, but she gritted her teeth and bore down until the veins stood out in her neck, and he’d never been so proud of anyone in his life.

“That’s it, honey. There you go,” he said and, miraculously, the newborn slipped out, right into Booker’s hands.

It was a boy, he realized vaguely. A very tiny, bluish boy.

Bluish…Was he alive? Booker pulled the baby to his chest, holding him like a football and drying him off with the bottom of the blanket. After their mad dash toward Boise, and all the pain and the panic, it didn’t seem possible that the baby could be here, in his arms.

It also didn’t seem possible that anything so tiny could live. Katie’s son couldn’t weigh more than a few pounds. And he still wasn’t moving….

“Booker?” Katie tried to rise up on her elbows, but she was wedged between the steering wheel and the seat, and let herself fall back almost immediately, panting with exhaustion. “Is my baby…okay?”

“It’s a boy.” He didn’t know what else to tell her. He had no idea if things were going to get better or worse from this point forward. But he was betting on worse. A lot worse.

“Why isn’t he crying?” she asked. “Can he…gasp… can he breathe?”

Booker passed one finger through the baby’s mouth to check his air passage for mucous or a blockage of some sort, found it clear, then gently turned the slippery infant upside down and spanked its tiny bottom. Whether that was the correct thing to do or some old wives’ tale, he had no idea. But he had to try something.

The baby just hung there, limp and unresponsive.

“Booker?” Alarm rang through Katie’s voice when she saw what he was doing.

Sweating from the stress and the heat in the truck, he spanked the baby’s butt a little harder, just enough to get a response—he hoped—then held his breath and prayed. He hadn’t appealed to God since he was a young boy. It’d been that long since he’d felt particularly deserving of divine intervention. But he pleaded with Him now. Let this baby live, God. Please. Not for me. For Katie.

A split second later, the baby let out an angry squall.

BOOKER USED A calling card to phone home, then leaned against the wall, still wearing his bloodstained T-shirt and jeans, because he had nothing to change into. He’d spent the past hour staring blankly at a television screen in the hospital waiting room, trying to calm down. But he could barely stand. He’d never experienced such a rush of adrenaline in his life—and he’d taken more than his share of risks, including the dare that had landed him in prison.

On the other hand, he’d also never experienced such incredible relief as when he’d pulled up to the Emergency entrance at Saint Alphonsus Regional Medical Center in Boise, and watched Katie and the baby being whisked away to receive medical care. The doctors had assured Booker he’d done the right thing in drying off the baby and keeping him warm—they’d driven the last forty-eight minutes with the infant tucked against Katie’s br**sts, skin to skin, and covered with Booker’s leather jacket. Fortunately, the baby’s lungs were well enough developed for him to breathe properly, or so the doctors said. And although Katie was bleeding a lot, the doctors didn’t seem to think it was excessive.

Delbert finally answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Delbert.”

“Who is it?” he said, sounding a bit apprehensive.

“It’s me—Booker.” Remembering the strange phone call he’d received earlier, he added, “Why? Has someone else bothered you since I left?”

“Bothered me? No. But…why aren’t you in your room?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“What hospital?”

“Saint Alphonsus in Boise,” Booker said, even though he knew Delbert wouldn’t recognize the name. Delbert had only been to Boise once. After his father died, Booker had taken him to have a look at the special home where he could have lived. They’d both decided it wasn’t the right place for him, and that was settled.

“What are you doing at the hospital, Booker? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Katie had her baby last night.” Booker had washed his hands and face in the restroom shortly after they arrived at the hospital, but there wasn’t anything he could do about the blood smeared on his T-shirt. He gazed down at it now, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s a boy,” he told Delbert.

“A boy?” he shouted excitedly.

Booker winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Yes. A very tiny one.”

“What’s his name? Pete? Or Henry? Or Chase, like Chase at work? Huh, Booker? Or—”

Booker broke in, knowing Delbert could go on all day. “I don’t know yet.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Can I talk to Katie?”

“Not right now. The doctors are checking her. I just wanted to let you know where I am. I won’t be back in time to open the shop today, so I’ll call Chase and have him do it. You just stay put until I get back.”

“Stay put? Does that mean I can’t go to work?”

“I won’t be there to give you a ride.”

“I can hitchhike. I always hitchhike. Don’t I, Booker? Don’t I always hitchhike?”

Booker considered the raspy voice of his mystery caller: You might not want to let your little retard ramble around on his own anymore, Booker. Poor thing might get hurt again. “You normally do,” he said, “but I don’t want you hitchhiking for a while, okay, buddy? You can get rides from me or Chase or someone else you know well, like Rebecca or Delaney. But don’t walk alone.”

Delbert paused for a long moment, and Booker imagined a confused expression on his face. “Why?” he said at last.

“Because I think Jon Small might be holding a grudge.”

“Oh.”

Booker started to end the call, but Delbert interrupted.

“What’s a grudge, Booker?”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” he said with a chuckle. “Just do as I say for a while, and everything will be fine.”

“Okay.”

When Booker hung up, he called Jon Small. This time Jon’s daughter answered.

“Is your daddy there?”