Chapter 3: Not Today

October 31, 1987 – 40 weeks, 6 days

Remington's eyes shifted to his watch, noting time and keeping close watch on the second's hand as it ticked time off. They'd already made the trip to Cedars-Sinai once this week and had felt quite the fools when they'd been shipped back off home with a declaration of 'Braxton Hicks,' and he didn't want to find them in the same spot again.

Nor did he wish to find himself on the wrong side of Laura's temper, for the umpteenth time these last two weeks, as she'd finally had enough of peeing every ten minutes, her back and shoulders aching, swollen ankles, and all the extra weight she was carrying, making her weary. To boot, she was beyond irritable that her due date had come and gone, only lengthening, in turn, how long it would be before she could partner with him again and return to hands-on training, rather being 'chained to a desk', as she'd recently likened her time at the office. If nothing else had revealed her darkened disposition, then the way she'd readily accepted the doctor's decree that she should cease going into the office until after the babe's arrival said it all.

Eleven minutes apart, ten seconds in duration, he mentally noted, before wrapping an arm securely around her again whilst keeping his hand on her stomach to await the next. They'd been enjoying a lazy Sunday morning, dozing the last hour in the hammock on the terrace and she'd slept soundly through each of the contractions so far, calming his nerves enough that he dozed between each, trusting his sensitive fingers to notify him when the next arrived.

Fingers that bloody well betrayed him, he cursed when next he woke, finding Laura quite awake, lying on her back, concentrating her gaze on the ceiling beams above. His hand quickly slid to the center of her rounded tummy, finding it much more firm than during the last contraction he'd monitored. He waited until her stomach softened again before speaking.

"How far apart?" he asked, carefully pressing up on an elbow to look down at her.

"Between eight and ten minutes. They're not very consistent." His eyes scanned her face, looking for any signs of pain. With a smile, she reached up and palmed his cheek.

"They're not bad. Uncomfortable, at worse. It reminds me of how my muscles feel after I've gone for a run for the first time in months," she assured him.

"Perhaps I should ring up the doctor anyway, hmmm?" he suggested. "Last I timed, they were at eleven minutes, so certainly they're closer together."

"Can you help me out?" she requested, having given up her determination not to ask for assistance two weeks back. "I need to use the restroom."

"Of course," he agreed, carefully easing himself out of the hammock before taking her hands and helping her to her feet. "About the doctor…"

"Don't bother," she advised, as she made her way towards the French doors. "The only way I'll be having this baby today is over my dead body," she quipped.

The comment meant to be flippant, at most, left Remington's heart dropping to his toes as the fears he'd been trying to quash came roaring to life. With a rub at his face, he checked his watch. It was near on one o'clock and she and the babe would be looking for lunch soon. Back out on the terrace he turned on the grill to warm, then retired to the kitchen to prepare the Spanish rice and Caesar salad which would accompany the salmon steaks he'd set to marinate that morning. He resolved he'd have no choice but to watch over his stubborn wife, for she'd plant her feet until she was bloody well ready to go.

Remington kept a steady eye on Laura throughout their meal, glancing at his watch when her face blanked, cup or fork stilled. On several occasions, she caught him at it, thinning her lips and lifting her eyes to the heavens, to which she received a pair of narrowed eyes upon her which clearly said I'm allowing you to do this your way… for now. You'll allow me at least this much. With a puff of breath, she acknowledged, stalemate. Thus, she ignored the glances at his watch as they washed and dried dishes. But when he suggested they watch a movie together once clean-up was done, she'd had far more than enough of his hovering and let it be known.

"Oh, for God's sake," she bit out, tipping her chin back, and plunking her hands on her hips, "I already told you there is no way and hell I'm going to have this baby today! So back off!" His own temper flashed.

"May I point out that only yesterday you'd have given up all you have… myself included… to have this baby arrive," he argued, voice rising. "What in the bloody hell has gotten into you?" She averted her face and tipped her chin up even further, refusing to answer. "Lau-ra," he drawled her name out in warning. Time ticked past as she stubbornly retained her silence. With a flick of a hand in her direction, he waved her off. "Bugger your temper, I'm going to ring up the doctor as—"

"It's Halloween," she interrupted quietly, reluctantly, her shoulders drooping as she spoke. "I'm not having our child on Halloween, Remington," she continued, gaining more bravado as she spoke. "Every birthday will not be Baby Steele's special day but 'It's Halloween… oh, yeah, and his or her birthday.' They won't take cupcakes to school on their birthday, because it will be the day all the kids dress up in costumes and candy is passed out. A birthday party will never be held on the day of their birth because it's Halloween." She crossed her arms in front of her, tipping back her chin again. "I'm not having this baby today, that's all there is too it." As quick as his temper had come on, it disappeared, replaced with amusement. Stepping to her, he gathered her in his arms and bussed the top of her head.

"As stubborn as you may be, love, even you can't control Mother Nature," he reminded her. "If the babe wishes to come today, come, indeed, he or she will."

"There were those who told me I'd never be able to get you to trod the straight and narrow," she rejoined, looking up at him with a bit of sass, "And look at you now. Don't count me out, Mr. Steele."

"Never," he agreed, pursing his lips. "You're holding steady at eight minutes apart. Let's watch a movie, see how things progress. But fair warning, Mrs. Steele: if you drop to six minutes and stay there steadily, I will be ringing up your doctor's office." Dropping her forehead to his chest, she nodded reluctantly.

"Then I get to watch Atomic Man." It was the nearest he'd ever witnessed Laura Holt Steele having a full-on pout, making him chuckle warmly.

"I suppose, if you agree to lie with me, I'll manage to withstand it," he readily agreed.

"And you have to at least pretend to enjoy it," she pressed.

"Oh," he drew out the word, then laughed, "I won't be promising that, love, but I will try to keep my criticisms to the bare minimum, at least."

Four hours later, he'd kept his word and was about to act on another vow as well. An hour ago, consciously or not, Laura had begun to cling to his hand, gripping it tightly as each contraction arrived. Thirty minutes prior, she'd taken to holding her breath, as beads of sweat dotted her forehead. The pains had been arriving steadily at six minutes and were lasting a full half minute. Just as he was about to pull rank, be damned the consequences, she graciously conceded.

"Can you help me up?" she panted after another contraction had ended. "I want to take a shower before we leave." He eased out from behind her and took to his feet, before grasping both her hands and pulling her up.

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, visions of her being taken to her knees by one of the pains racing through his vivid imagination.

"Wise or not, since I don't know when I'll have the chance again, I'm taking a shower," she answered. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, then conceded with a shake of his head.

"At least let me assist you upstairs," he bartered. That she didn't argue bespoke of the toll the laboring had already taken on her. He tried not to become alarmed when she wordlessly allowed him to help her disrobe and hand her into the shower.

"Call Fred," she managed to remind him, then added, "And Mildred. She'll know who to call."

Remington had to disconnect and redial the doctor's office three times, as his shaking hand caused him to press the wrong buttons. When the call finally connected, after a series of waits while the answering service connected his call, he filled Dr. Miller in on where they stood. As they'd suspected, he was directed to deliver Laura to labor and delivery at once. He didn't even bother to attempt to disguise his nerves during his next two calls.

"Fred, Steele here. Mrs. Steele's in labor. Get here as quickly as possible, mate, and don't bother slowing at the lights," he directed their chauffer.

With Mildred, the conversation was even more brief.

"Mildred, it's me. It's time," he told his surrogate mother.

"I'm on it, Chief. Take care of Mrs. Steele, don't worry about the rest. I've got it."

"Thank you, Mildred. I don't know what we'd do without you."

In the shower, Laura leaned her forehead against the wall, and bit down on her lip so hard she nearly drew blood when another contraction gripped her. In spite of herself, a moan slipped past her lips. She'd given up trying to convince even herself that she wasn't in labor. These pains in no way resembled the minor discomfort that had sent her to the hospital three nights before. Her hands fisted at her sides, knuckles whitening, holding her breath as she tried to remember anything they'd learned from the few Lamaze classes they'd attended. All she could recall was the necessity to breathe through the pains, but she simply couldn't manage to do it. It required every ounce of the stubborn determination for which she was known, to complete her shower, French braid back her hair and pull on a dress. When she came out of the closet, she found Remington standing there waiting, her hospital bag already slung over a shoulder. He stepped forward and embraced her.

"Are you ready, love?" She let out a long, slow sigh and nodded her head against his chest, before tipping it back to look at him.

"As I'll ever be, I guess," she managed a smile. He cupped her cheek and stroked it with a thumb.

"Laura—" he stumbled over the words he wanted to say. She took in the strain around his eyes and caressed his chest with her hand.

"I'll be alright. We'll be alright," she assured. It was all he needed to hear, and nodding, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. She raised her brows at him, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood. "Unless you plan on delivering this baby here at home, maybe we should be on our way?"

Well, that possibility put Remington into motion. After brushing his lips against hers, he led her from the room with a hand on the small of her back.

Deliver the baby at home, indeed.

(TBC)