Bev gripped her distended belly and nodded.
“How long have you being having contractio
ns?”
“A couple...of...hours.”
Kerry eyed the puddle on the floor. “Okay, that’s fine. Now, when did your water break?”
The woman panted. “About...ten minutes...ago.” She let out a low moan. Sweat beaded the woman’s forehead as she wiped the moisture from her upper lip.
Kerry rubbed the woman’s belly. “Okay, try to relax. We’ll get through this together. Is this your first baby?”
Bev shook her head, and held up three fingers.
“Your third?”
She nodded and moaned again. The mother’s breathing turned into a soft pant as she worked her way through a contraction. Kerry laid her hand on the swollen belly, and the tightening then relaxing of her abdomen signaled her contraction had lessened. If this was her third birth, there probably wasn’t time to get her to the hospital.
“All right, Bev. Are you breathing okay? Remember to pant.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
“How far apart are the contractions?”
Bev held up four fingers.
“Listen to me, hon. I’m going to have Damian carry you inside, will you be all right for a few minutes?”
The woman shook her head furiously and grabbed Kerry’s hand. “No. Don’t bring me back inside. It’s too embarrassing to be dragged through the bar with all those people. Just leave me here.”
Kerry turned to Damian. “We can’t do that, I need more room.” She shifted her eyes back and forth in thought. “Can you carry her to your truck? Put her in the back seat?”
“Sure.”
Apparently relieved to have someone else in charge, Damian reached in and eased his arms around Bev’s shoulders, and under her knees.
“Hang on now, darlin’, I’m gonna give you a ride.”
Bev grunted her response, and Kerry quickly returned to the bar. Once more, she fought her way to the counter where a man stood behind it, wiping glasses. Gray hair and a handlebar mustache gave him a look of a character right out of an Old West photograph. His leathered skin spoke of years in the Texas sun.
“What can I get ya, little lady?”
“Nothing to drink.” She raised her voice to be heard over the crowd. “Your waitress is in the parking lot about to give birth. There are a couple of things I need for you to do.”
“Bev?” The old guy’s tanned face blanched. “She’s in labor?”
“Yes. Can I ask you to call 911?”
He nodded. “We’ve been through this before. A couple of months ago Marshall’s gal gave birth right here.” Mumbling to himself, he reached behind him to the phone on the back wall.
“Tell the operator that Bev might be too close to giving birth to be moved, but we need someone here to transport mother and baby.”
If possible, the bartender paled further, and his fingers shook as he punched in the numbers. “I’m getting’ too old for this here stuff.”
Kerry tapped her foot as the man talked briefly with someone on the other end.
“Miss, the 911 operator said it will be a while because the medics are out at a crash on Route 40.” Gus still had a slight pallor.