Until Autumn

The woman’s elbow slams back into the guy’s ribs, cutting him off. “Leave her alone,” she says through a contraction. “Can’t you see that she only just walked through the door? Her shift probably hasn’t even started yet. Look, she’s soaking wet and still has her handbag on. Give the girl a break. It’s not her fault that it’s busy in here.”

The guy looks over me with a curious stare as though he hadn’t noticed any of the things his wife just pointed out. I’m not fazed though, there are far more important things to worry about right now. His mouth drops as though he’s about to start apologizing, but I shrug it off and turn back to his wife. “How far apart are your contractions?”

“I don’t know,” she says through a clenched jaw, grabbing onto her husband tighter and leaning against him, doing everything she can to try and relieve the pain. “Maybe every two or three minutes. I haven’t exactly been counting.”

My eyes widen, but I try to keep my cool. This is a little more serious than I thought. “Okay,” I say, placing my hand on her lower back and turning her toward the elevator. “Let’s get you up to the maternity ward. We need to get you checked out ASAP.”

She nervously glances back to the reception desk as her husband seems to sigh in relief. “Don’t I need to sign in or something like that?”

I shake my head as she allows me to start leading her to the elevator. “Don’t worry about it. We can get all of that handled for you upstairs,” I tell her, hoping I’m right, but it sure beats her having to give birth in the middle of the busy ER with people all around, watching like hawks.

“Is this your first?” I ask as we reach the elevator, her husband reaching out and pressing the call button before standing back and slowly rubbing his wife’s lower back, the same way he would have been shown during prenatal classes.

“Fourth,” she grumbles, latching onto his hand and squeezing tight. “I have three little girls already and about to add a fourth.”

My eyes bug out of my head. “Four little girls? Wow,” I say as a beaming smile tears across my face. “So, you must be a pro by now.”

The man scoffs, very clearly amused, while his wife rolls her eyes. “I’d hardly call it being a pro. The first one was a trainwreck, the second was less than glamorous, and the third … we don’t talk about the third. Let’s just hope this one goes a little smoother.”

“I’m sure it will,” I tell her as the elevator arrives. Asher places his hand on the side, keeping the door open as we walk through, and as we all make it safely into the elevator, I look at the vast array of buttons and gape.

Which level is the maternity ward? I quickly scan through my options, trying my hardest not to look like an incompetent dickwad in front of these people. Luckily, Asher slams his hand down over the button for level four in his rush to get his wife to her doctor.

She begins taking slow, deep breaths, and I glance over at her, studying the way she stands with her legs open, back crouched, and concentration etched over her pretty face. “How are you doing?” I ask, trying to keep her calm as the elevator starts moving.

Her breathing becomes labored as beads of sweat begin appearing on her forehead. “Not good,” she says honestly, looking as though she’s ready to start panicking “I feel like I need to push.”

Oh, crap.

“You’re going to be alright,” her husband says, soothing, his gaze nervously flicking to mine. “Just hold on a few more minutes, and we’ll get you in a bed where you can push and scream to your heart’s content.”

She shoots a wicked glare at her husband, and as he catches her eye, a massive smirk cuts across his handsome face. “Just you wait, Asher Mayson. The second we get into that birthing suite; you’re going to wish that you had kept your running commentary to yourself today.”

I smother a laugh, trying to keep professional, but they’re the kind of couple that you can’t help but enjoy being around. Tears of pain spring to her eyes as another contraction tears through her. Asher leans into his wife and presses a kiss to her forehead, giving her all the comfort in the world. “Whatcha going to do about it?” he teases, his lips pulling into a grin against her clammy skin.

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell July that you’ve been mean to her momma and all kinds of hell will rain down over you.”

Asher’s eyes bug out of his head. “You wouldn’t,” he gasps just as the elevator comes to a jolting stop, sending the small confined space into darkness and making me throw out my arms to catch myself before I slam into the walls and make an Autumn shaped imprint.