"What am I going to tell Jules?"
"First we need to get her somewhere warm," Henry stated. "It's getting cold out here and it won't be long before the cabins get cold without the heat running. The baby's going to need something warmer."
"The main cabin has a fireplace. Can we start a fire and go in there?" Shawn offered, swallowing back his fear and attempting to be practical.
"We'll get it," Gus offered, referring to himself and Carlton.
Shawn took a deep breath and began a deliberate walk to Juliet's cabin. The minute she saw him, she knew he had bad news to deliver. She'd only seen that look on his face twice—the day he proposed and when he was about to tell her he wasn't really psychic.
"No," she whispered.
"Jules . . ." He reached a hand out to her.
She grabbed his forearm and began to squeeze it as a contraction overtook her concentration.
"God, no," she uttered.
He placed his other hand on her waist and began talking with a calmness he didn't feel. "The power's out."
"No."
"A tree knocked out a power line and it's blocking the road."
"No," she repeated despairingly, her hands clinching around the fabric of his sweatshirt.
"We can't get out."
"Shawn," she whimpered, burying her face in his neck.
He circled his arms around her shoulders strongly. "And an ambulance can't get in until the road's clear."
She didn't say anything, but he heard a shuddering sob muffled into his chest. She was starting to shiver as the room's temperature continued to drop.
"The main cabin has a fireplace and Gus and Lassie are getting it ready for us. You should change out of your wet clothes and head over there."
"Shawn, I'm scared," she whispered, her grip on his sweatshirt tightening.
"At least we're surrounded by police men and women, Jules. My dad's here, Lassie's here . . . the chief has done this before. We're in good hands."
"But . . . but . . ."
He set his finger against her lips. "No buts, Jules. We're going to be fine. You and the baby will be fine."
Juliet allowed his words to coax her into detective mode: focused, calm, and determined. "I'll change," she stated, her whole demeanor shifting.
"Good. I'm going outside to make a plan, ok?"
"Ok."
He took a couple deep breaths as soon as he was outside the door before throwing up into a bush out of utter panic. "Ok," he repeated, staggering just a bit as he regained his bearings.
Henry, Buzz, Carlton, Gus, and Chief Vick converged around the cabin, Buzz holding a giant umbrella to shield them all from the rain that was only getting harder. Karen held her police radio and Shawn figured his dad must have alerted the chief to the situation.
"Shawn, there's an ambulance waiting to come as soon as the road is clear. The firemen are going to radio the minute they have clearance. McNab, Mr. Guster, I have a list of things we're going to need." She handed a sheet of paper to Gus. "I need you guys to hike past the obstruction. There's a squad car waiting on the other side to escort you to a Walmart in Lompoc. It'll probably take you around two hours, but do the best you can. Hopefully by the time you get back, you can drive right back up here. Detective Lassiter, find a pair of scissors and sterilize them. Gloves, if you can. And something to clear the baby's airway. Henry, find all the towels and blankets that you can. Shawn . . ." She trailed off as Juliet emerged from the cabin.
"I'm not a sideshow," she stated decidedly as six pairs of eyes turned to her.
Shawn tightened his jaw, squared his shoulders, and took Buzz's umbrella right out of his hand. He strode to her side, accompanying her to the main cabin. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," she spat, grasping loose material in the front of his sweatshirt as she hit a point in a contraction that stopped her in her tracks and forced her to focus on her breathing and bite her sleeve to keep from crying out—something she refused to do in the middle of a clearing with all of her coworkers staring at her.
"That was almost fifty seconds, Jules," Shawn informed as they resumed their trek.
"I know, I know. They're getting stronger and longer and closer together," she snapped. "That's what happens."
He opened the door for her and followed behind, heading toward the fireplace. She found two couches pulled together with several pillows and a large blanket comfortably close to the roaring fire.
"Who did this?" she whispered.
"Gus and Lassie," Shawn stated tentatively, not sure whether or not she was pleased with the arrangement.
Her lip trembled ever so slightly. "For being trapped in a campground in the mountains in the middle of a storm, I don't know if I could ask for a more comfortable laboring room."
...
Juliet fought determinedly. As much as she didn't want to deliver her baby in a cabin in the woods, she was well aware that working against her body to prolong the birth in hopes of rescue would not give her or the baby any better odds. Shawn dedicatedly rubbed her back, cooled her forehead or neck with a cloth, and brought her ice chips. He could feel her resolve fading as the clock ticked, every contraction draining a bit more of her strength.
"How long, Shawn?" she pled, burying her head in his shoulder.
Shawn glanced at his watch and answered, "About forty-five minutes since that first sixty-second one."
"I don't have anyone to tell me how far I am . . . six, eight, ten . . . I have no idea how much longer it's going to be," she whimpered.
"Close your eyes, Jules," he coaxed, speaking for the first time without answering a timing question. "We're in the living room, on the couch. She's got hold of my finger and you're tickling her belly and making faces at her, and that does it. We hear her laugh for the first time. Think of that sound, Jules—the sound of our little girl laughing."
She nodded and continued to breathe, though her grip on his hand tightened significantly. "Shawn, my water just broke," she whispered.
"That's good; it'll go faster now," he stated, reaching across to the stack of towels his dad had placed nearby and soaking up some of the fluid.
With the next contraction, she couldn't stifle a low growl. Twenty minutes later, she turned to Shawn and stated urgently, "Get Chief Vick."
Shawn stood immediately and nearly ran to the door, despite the protests of an ankle that hadn't been run on since his attempted escapes from Prescott. "Chief! Dad! Lassie!" he called, almost before the door was open.
It was like a well-rehearsed dance. Henry grabbed the softest towel he could find while Karen pulled on gloves. Carlton set the remainder of his first aid kit—from which Karen had gotten the gloves—on the coffee table nearby and held the turkey baster he'd obtained to suction the baby's mouth and nose, ready for the moment the baby arrived.
"Whenever you're ready, Detective O'Hara," the chief encouraged, ready and waiting.
"You ready, Jules?" Shawn whispered, squeezing her hand. She nodded and took a deep breath. He felt her body tense. He whispered the count in her ear, encouraging her to continue through ten. She moaned and leaned against him, trying to catch her breath. To Shawn, it seemed like everything moved in slow motion from that moment on. He continued to count mechanically for her and, as though through a fog, he heard his father's voice and that of Chief Vick encouraging her, but all he felt was panic build inside him with every extra minute it took. He fought down the nausea that plagued him again as he tried to focus on meeting the needs of the two women that needed him most.
"Henry, hold the towel under my hands, here. She'll be out in a second."
Shawn swallowed hard. In seconds, he'd be a fa . . . fa . . . he still couldn't even think the word without shaking.
"You can relax now, Juliet; she's here," Karen soothed, allowing the baby to rest in Henry's hand as she deftly tied off and cut the baby's cord.
Henry placed the baby in the living chair at his right and began to rub her down. Totally in police mode, he had yet to emotionally recognize that it was his granddaughter.
"Is she all right?" Juliet inquired, slumping back against Shawn.
"Is she breathing?" he whispered, every muscle tensed to hear the cry that would prove everything in his world was ok.
Carlton knelt next to the chair, his hand gently braced against the baby's back, and worked quickly to clear the tiny airway. She let out a piteous wail that struck Juliet to her core and Shawn closed his eyes and took a deep breath for the first time in hours.
"She is now," Carlton answered, slumping against the hearth behind him.
Henry wrapped her in the softest blanket he'd been able to find and tenderly carried her to an eager Shawn and Juliet. "She's perfect, Kid," he whispered gruffly, lightly hitting the side of Shawn's head with his palm affectionately and following Karen and Lassiter out to give the couple a bit of private time.
Juliet was overwhelmed with emotion. She was smiling, though tears were pouring down her face. Shawn's eyes were locked on the baby, his mouth hanging slightly open.
"Shawn, hold her," Juliet implored, reaching for his hand and pulling his arm into a shape fit to receive their daughter.
He sat, stock still and speechless, for what seemed like days before he said anything. "She's so warm . . . and soft . . . and she smells so good," he breathed.
Juliet rested her hand on his arm and leaned up to kiss him. "We are going to be fine."
Shawn's mind jumped back to a scene that had played what seemed like ages ago now, but had been only four months earlier.
...
Shawn had been in the hospital for two days and was anxiously awaiting his release. Juliet was attempting to pass the time by reading over baby names from an app on his phone, but nothing seemed right to either one of them.
"Look, Jules, this poor kid has an outstanding police detective for a mom and a fake psychic for a dad. She needs more than just a common name."
"Well, we're never going to just come up with a name out of thin air, Shawn," she scolded.
He closed his eyes and placed his fingers against his temples.
"You realize you don't have to fool me anymore, right?"
"Shhh," he commanded, lifting an index finger at her to indicate he wanted silence. Suddenly, his eyes opened. "Hallie."
"Hallie?"
"Hallie."
She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "Where did that come from?"
"Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Of course."
She watched him write for a few seconds before he handed her the pad. His name with the 'ha' circled and hers with the 'lie' circled combined to form Hallie.
"The extra l's just for pronunciation," he informed casually.
"Hallie," she mused, resting her hands on her abdomen. "I like the idea."
"The child of a couple as esoteric as us . . ."
"I think you mean 'eccentric'," she corrected.
"I've heard it both ways."
She shrugged, a subtle smirk on her face. "I guess they both work."
". . . As unique as us," he emphasized, picking up where he left off, "should have a unique name."
"Hallie," she repeated slowly, closing her eyes.
"The perfect mix of our names—like she'll be the perfect mix of us."
"Hallie," Juliet whispered. "Hallie Madeleine."
"Madeleine? Really? You're trying that again?"
"Hallie Madeleine," Juliet repeated, standing and slipping her hand into his. "What do you think?"
"Why my mom?"
"Hallie Madeleine," she whispered, inches away from his face. She kissed him slowly, seductively, before asking, "What do you think?"
"I like that very much," he rasped breathlessly.
...
"Welcome to the unpredictable, undefined disorganization called our 'family', Hallie," he whispered.
"Hi, Hallie," Juliet cooed, fingering the baby's tiny hand. "Are you hungry?" She turned her attention back to Shawn. "I should probably feed her."
Shawn noticeably paled and Juliet smiled compassionately at him.
"You can go outside . . . if you need some air."
He kissed the top of her head and Hallie's forehead gratefully before slipping out the back door of the cabin. He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. The rain—which had decreased to a light drizzle—felt wonderful on his face. After catching his breath, he pulled out his phone. It rang six times before the voicemail message began.
"Hey, Mom. She's here. She was born in the mountains at a retreat. But she's fine . . . she's healthy. She's perfect. I have a kid, Mom. I'm a . . . dad." He paused, allowing the full reality of saying the word to hit him. "Anyway, I love you, Mom. Call when you get a chance." He ended the call and leaned his head back against the wall.
"Shawn?"
He looked up.
"Did you call your mother?"
"Yeah," he responded simply.
"Are you all right?"
Shawn buried his hands in his pockets. "She's mine, Dad. I have this beautiful, perfect little girl—and she's mine."
"Congratulations, Kid." Henry squeezed his son's neck and Shawn allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. "I know exactly how you feel."
...
Gus and McNab arrived and Shawn and Juliet found their peaceful bonding brought to an abrupt end as diapers, clothes, blankets, and hats were placed before them for Juliet's choosing. As Juliet tucked the corner of the blanket around Hallie, the paramedics entered the cabin and Shawn, Juliet, and Hallie were at the hospital in under ten minutes. In the midst of chaos, a nurse arrived with bands to identify Shawn and Juliet as Hallie's parents.
"What should I put on these wristbands?" she asked kindly.
"O'Hara," Shawn answered quickly, as Juliet simultaneously answered, "Spencer."
Shawn turned to meet her eyes.
"Which is it?" the nurse pressed, obviously getting slightly impatient.
"Spencer," Juliet answered determinedly.
"But . . . you said . . ."
"I'm saying otherwise, Shawn. She's ours. Hallie Madeleine Spencer."
"Madeleine?" he whispered, the left corner of his mouth turning up in a grin that made her heart speed up ever so slightly.
"You agreed," she teased.
"I was coerced."
"You have a problem with my methods?" she challenged.
"I may take some more convincing," he declared with a shrug.