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Nora suddenly bent forward.
The breath left her in a sharp gasp.
Ryan caught her shoulders.
"Nora?"
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"Wait."
"What is it?"
"Just wait."
Her fingers pressed beneath her stomach.
Ryan had seen Braxton Hicks contractions before.
Nora usually complained, breathed through them, then made a joke about their son practicing demolition.
This was different.
Her face tightened until even her lips lost color.
Ryan looked at the clock on the microwave.
"How long?"
She did not answer.
"Nora, how long has this been happening?"
"Since this afternoon."
His stomach dropped.
"How often?"
"I don't know."
Marla made an impatient noise.
"She's been doing this all day."
Ryan slowly turned his head.
"You knew?"
"Ryan, pregnant women get pains."
"And you had her washing dishes?"
"Nobody had her doing anything."
Paige laughed once.
It was a nervous, ugly sound.
"She was already making a whole production out of it."
Ryan pulled out his phone.
Marla stepped closer.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling an ambulance."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous."
Nora whispered his name.
He looked at her.
Another contraction seemed to seize her before she could finish speaking.
Her knees buckled.
Ryan lowered her carefully to the kitchen floor and called emergency services.
Behind him, voices erupted.
Tessa said ambulances cost thousands.
Brooke asked whether somebody could drive Nora instead.
Marla kept insisting that everyone needed to calm down.
Ryan gave the dispatcher his address.
Nora lay against his chest, breathing too quickly.
"Slow down," he whispered.
She shook her head.
"I can't."
"Okay."
He had no idea whether it was okay.
His own hands were shaking.
He tucked one beneath her head anyway.
"You don't have to do anything except stay with me."
Nora's eyes opened.
"I'm sorry."
The words hit him harder than panic would have.
"For what?"
"The apartment."
Ryan looked around at the pizza boxes, cups, laundry, dirty plates, and four healthy adults standing among the wreckage.
"Don't."
"I couldn't keep up."
"Don't you apologize."
Marla spoke from behind him.
"Nobody asked her to be a martyr."
Ryan closed his eyes.
For years he had translated his mother's cruelty into softer languages.
Stress.
Pride.
A difficult life.
Bad timing.
He had translated until there was almost nothing left of what she actually said.
The sirens arrived before he found another excuse for her.
Two paramedics entered with equipment, and the apartment abruptly became too small.
Questions came quickly.
How many weeks?
Thirty-four.
Any bleeding?
No.
How long had the contractions been occurring?
Nora hesitated.
Ryan watched the paramedic notice.
"Ma'am?"
"Maybe five hours."
Ryan stared at her.
The paramedic continued without reacting.
"Fluids today?"
Nora glanced away.
"Some."
"How much is some?"
"A bottle of water."
Ryan felt sick.
The second paramedic checked her pulse and blood pressure while the first asked about dizziness, food, medications, and prenatal complications.
Nora answered quietly.
Ryan answered when she could not.
His family retreated into the living room.
For once, nobody had anything useful to say.
When the paramedics helped Nora onto the stretcher, she reached for Ryan.
He took her hand.
"I'm coming."
"Your boots," she whispered.
He looked down.
He was still wearing steel-toed warehouse boots dusted with gray concrete powder.
It was such an ordinary Nora thing to notice that he almost broke.
She gave the faintest nod.
The paramedics wheeled her toward the door.
Ryan grabbed his wallet and keys.
Marla caught his sleeve.
He turned.
She lowered her voice, apparently embarrassed to discuss money in front of strangers.
"Before you go, can you leave some cash?"
Ryan stared at her.
"For what?"
"Groceries."
For several seconds he honestly could not understand the word.
Marla gestured toward his sisters.
"They were planning to stay through Sunday."
Behind her, Brooke was already picking toppings from a piece of cold pizza.
Something in Ryan became very still.
"No."
Marla frowned.
"What?"
"No money."
"Ryan, this isn't the time."
"No, it isn't."
He pulled his sleeve from her fingers.
"You all need to leave."
Paige stepped forward.
"Seriously?"
"Tonight."
Marla's face hardened.
"Your wife has got you worked up."
"My wife is being taken to a hospital because she hasn't eaten and barely drank anything all day."
"That is not our fault."
"Then leaving shouldn't be a problem."
Tessa stood.
"Where are we supposed to go?"
Ryan looked at her.
A week ago, that question would have trapped him.
He would have started calculating motel rates, checking his bank balance, wondering who could sleep where.
Now Nora was disappearing down the hallway on a stretcher.
"I don't know."
Marla stared at him as if he had slapped her.
"We are your family."
Ryan looked toward the open apartment door.
"So is she."
He followed the paramedics out.
At the hospital, time became plastic chairs, fluorescent corridors, consent forms, and numbers Ryan could not make himself understand.
A nurse gave Nora fluids while monitors tracked the baby's heartbeat and the contractions that had brought them there.
The obstetrician explained that dehydration, inadequate nutrition, physical exhaustion, and stress could all worsen uterine irritability and early contractions.
For the moment, the baby looked reassuringly stable.
They needed to stop the contractions and watch Nora closely.
Ryan sat beside the bed with his elbows on his knees.
Nora slept for forty minutes.
He watched the fluid drip through the IV line and tried not to count all the ways he had failed to notice.
His phone vibrated seventeen times.
He turned it facedown.
When Nora woke, the first thing she asked was whether he had eaten.
Ryan laughed once.
It came out wrong.
"You're asking me that?"
"You worked all day."
"Nora."
She looked at the blanket.
Ryan took her hand carefully.
"Tell me what happened."
Her thumb moved over his knuckle.
"Your mom needed somewhere to stay."
"For four days?"
"She said Paige was having trouble and Tessa couldn't go back to Derek's place."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried Tuesday."
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Ryan remembered the call.
He had been loading an emergency shipment and had answered with machinery screaming behind him.
