“Oh…” she whispered, and a moment later she wasn’t even astonished to hear herself doing something she’d vowed she would never, ever do. But she was. She-intelligent, sensible, no-nonsense Mirabella-was talking baby talk. Cooing like a besotted dove. “Hi, there… How’s my widdle girl? How’s my sweetie-little-lov’ums, huh?”
Oh, it was awful. It was glorious. It was… Amy. Her baby. Her miracle.
The nurse hovered, ready to help with the breast-feeding, until she saw that Mirabella didn’t seem to need any help. She laughed and said, “Well, I see somebody’s taught you right. I’ll just leave you to it, then. Y’all just give me a buzz, now, if you need anything.” She parked the bassinet beside the bed and went away.
“Who was it?” Ginger asked softly. “Jimmy Joe?”
Mirabella nodded, her head bowed as she gazed intently at her hungrily nursing daughter. She rocked herself slowly back and forth, awash in prickles and weighed down by an ache deep. deep inside her.
“Oh, look-Bella, look! She has red hair!” her mother cried, just as a tear rolled off the end of Mirabella’s nose and dropped onto the baby’s downy head.
It took Jimmy Joe another four hours just to get out of Texas, and he was never so glad to see anything in his life as he was that Welcome to Oklahoma sign, or the smooth, dry blacktop beyond it. Something in him sure did want to put the old hammer down and not ease up until he hit Little Rock, but he knew that was just plain stupid, considering he hadn’t had much sleep in more than two days and was already running on raw nerves. So the first Motel 6 sign he saw, he pulled off. His sleeper was going to need some clean bedding before he would be able to use it again, but it was a hot shower he wanted more than anything. He didn’t stop to eat-he’d filled his belly before he’d left Amarillo, anyway-just got his rig buttoned down and himself checked in, then headed for his room, and a shower so long and hot it made his pulse pound. He didn’t even remember falling into bed.
He woke up to early-morning light pouring in through the window he’d forgotten to draw the curtain across twelve hours before. He showered again, and shaved this time, then dropped off his key and hit the road. First truck stop he came to he pulled off again, this time to fill up the Kenworth’s fuel tanks, and his own, too, while he was at it.
He thought about calling J.J. again, but decided there wasn’t much point in it, since he’d already told everybody at home he was on his way. He’d made the call from the hospital, right after he’d left Mirabella and said his goodbye to Amy Jo. The pink-pinafore lady had been real nice about letting him use a phone in one of the administrative offices, out of sight of the pack of newshounds out in the front lobby.
He remembered how he’d worried about it, thinking it was worse than getting a tooth pulled, having to explain to an eight-year-old boy why he’d broken his promise to him. He remembered the way his stomach had tied itself in knots as he’d stood there with the receiver mashed up against his ear, listening to the rings.
It was picked up on the fifth ring, and he’d had to shout to be heard over the racket in the background. And a moment later he’d heard his son’s excited voice yelling, “Dad! Hey, guess what, I saw you on TV!”
“Naw,” said Jimmy Joe. “No kiddin’?”
“No kiddin’, Dad. It’s on CNN-we all saw you. Is it true? Did you really deliver that lady’s baby? Just like on Emergency 911?”
“Well, yeah…sorta. Hey, listen, how’re you all doin’? What’s all that racket I hear? Everybody havin’ a good time?”
Before J.J. could answer, there was a click and his mother’s voice said, “Hello, son. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mama. What’s everybody doin’? Sounds like you got a houseful, as usual.”
“Oh, yes, everybody was here for dinner. Al and Tracy left a little while ago-they had to get back, Al’s on duty tonight. Pretty much everybody else is here, though, just relaxing-you know how it is. They’ve got the football game on now, I think. The girls are still cleaning up in the kitchen…”
“Hey, Dad,” J.J. interrupted. “You know that new computer game you got me? It is so cool. Oh, yeah-and I like the remote-control truck, too, only I haven’t had a chance to play with it yet, hardly. Uncle Roy’s been playin’ with it all day, and he won’t give it back.”
Jimmy Joe was laughing when his mama said quietly, “Well, son, I guess you’ve had quite a time of it this Christmas.”
His laughter turned soft, and he took a breath and said, “Yeah, Mama, I sure have.”
“Well, you can tell us all about it when you get here. Where are you now? You headin’ home?”
“I’m ‘bout to. I got this load to drop off in Little Rock tomorrow, so it’s gonna be late-sometime the next mornin’, probably-before I get there. Don’t you wait up, now, y’hear? You can save me some of that turkey and sweet-potato pie, though.”
JJ. yelled, “We will, Dad!” while his mama was laughing in a way that told him she was probably wiping away some tears, too. Then she called out, “Hey, it’s your brother-come and wish him Merry Christmas!” And then there was so much yelling and hootin’ and hollerin’ Jimmy Joe could hardly hear himself think, so he wished everybody a Merry Christmas and said his goodbyes laughing.
When he was hanging up the phone, he found that there was a lump in his throat, and a few tears in his eyes, too. And since there wasn’t anyone around to see them, he figured this was one of those times he didn’t mind letting them fall.
After that, he hadn’t been able to think about very much except how badly he wanted to be home with his family, which made it easier than he’d thought it was going to be to leave Texas and everything that had happened there behind him. What with Christmas homesickness and road conditions that required all his skill and concentration just to keep his rig on the road, he thought he managed pretty well to keep his mind from dwelling on Mirabella and her baby. But that was yesterday.
This was another day, and after a good night’s rest, it seemed like his mind just wanted to gnaw on the situation like a dog on a fresh bone. He went over everything that had happened-every minute, every word, from the first moment he’d set eyes on the lady in the silver Lexus, way back there in that New Mexico truck stop. And the conclusion he came to was that he was making way too much out of the whole thing.
It was something his son had said to him, about it being like the TV show Emergency 911, that had really pulled him up short. Shoot, it happened all the time-peopte delivering babies in taxicabs and snowstorms, saving people’s lives and all that stuff-cops, firemen, EMTs, and sometimes even plain old ordinary guys like him. It stood to reason a man might feel some sort of bond between himself and a woman whose baby he’d helped deliver, or somebody whose life he’d saved, and that she might feel grateful and tender toward him, too. Sure, that would just be natural. But did these people go around falling in love with the ones they’d helped, or getting all involved in their lives? Uh-uh. That just didn’t happen, except maybe for remembering birthdays, cards at Christmas, things like that. Mostly, though, their worlds were separate, and once all the excitement died down, everybody went back to their own world and got on with their lives. That was the way it was supposed to be.
And all for the best, too. At least that was what he told himself over and over again on that long drive home. He told himself he had J.J. to think of, a family that loved him and a trucking company to build, and that ought to be enough to keep him happy and occupied. He told himself just about the last thing he needed in his life was a headstrong and independent career woman from L.A. who hated country music and thought it was perfectly reasonable to go and have a baby without even knowing what it was like to make love with a man. It took him close to a thousand miles, but by the time he got home, he almost believed it.