A/N - Well, this part came a little more easily than I anticipated...I am really undecided about the outcome. I can't decide if I like it or not. At any rate, it's done! The section...and the story. I'll be posting the ending soon, although I want to keep you all in suspense. Maybe if you bug me and butter me up enough, I'll post it sooner. Ah, bribery...LOL. Just a warning - this chapter is fluffy, predictable, and illogically fast-paced. Don't say I didn't warn you. =) BTW, thanks to those of you who are still reading and reviewing! I appreciate it so much.
"Would you guys just go already?!" Luke moaned, herding his parents out the door.
"I still don't like this!" Helen said, trying to keep herself from skidding out the door.
"Mom, please, we're all adults. Besides, it's not like Joan could get into anymore trouble!" Kevin encouraged.
"Mrs. Girardi, I'll keep an eye on all these kids," Rebecca assured Helen, coming to the doorway.
"I'm just worried about Joan-" Will said, bracing himself against the doorframe.
"Unchallenged, Mr. G. Jane's not due for three more weeks. Besides, we've got an army of people here to drive her to the hospital if anything were to happen. Which it won't," Adam offered.
"But there's supposed to be some big snowstorm later-" Helen said from the sidewalk.
"I can shovel, Mrs. Girardi! Don't you worry! You two just enjoy your Valentine's Day, and we'll do the same. Watching Sweet November and A Walk To Remember," Grace said, rolling her eyes.
"All right," Will obliged, getting into the car. "We'll have the cell, and we're only two hours away. Behave!"
"Right, Daddy! Bye!" Kevin called, slamming the door.
"Jeez, I thought they'd never go!" Luke sighed, loafing into the living room with a massive vat of popcorn.
"Since when do we even celebrate Valentine's Day?" Joan wondered aloud, smoothing her tee shirt over her basketball-round belly.
"Since we all have significant others," Luke said proudly, plopping onto the couch next to Grace and planting a kiss on her cheek. She grabbed the popcorn out of his hands and stuffed some in her mouth.
"Can we just get this over with?" she huffed. "I'm not anymore thrilled about watching sniveling chick flicks than...well, Kevin."
Adam and Luke exchanged indifferent glances.
"Hey, I've no qualms," Kevin argued. "Charlize Theron and Mandy Moore are hot!"
Rebecca batted him playfully, seating herself on his lap. Joan and Adam curled up on the floor, their baby resting between them.
"Every time he drops his watch into the sink, I just lose it!" Joan blubbered, trying to explain herself. Rebecca was sniffling every now and again, and Luke's eyes were glistening, though he adamantly insisted it was a glare off his glasses, but Joan was absolutely in hysterics.
"Um, Joan, you 'lost it' just after the opening credits," Grace pointed out.
Joan scowled, and got up to retrieve a box of Kleenex from the kitchen.
"I'm sorry if I'm a little emotional right now!" she called in her defense.
"Yeah, well, pretty soon you won't be able to use that excuse anymore!" Adam replied.
Suddenly, they heard Joan scream. All five heads immediately jerked in the direction of the kitchen. Joan stood with a box of Kleenex in her hands, and a terrified look on her face. Her jeans were soaked, and water dripped down onto the tile.
"I guess a little sooner than we thought," Grace said, staring stupefied at Joan.
"Adam?" Joan asked, sounding girlish and panicked.
But Adam had already leapt over the sofa and was at her side. He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other on her belly, his expression trying feebly to look brave.
"Don't freak out," Rebecca said, getting up and trying to take control. She went over to Joan, just as she doubled over in pain, crushing the cardboard box in her hand.
"What do we do?" Grace asked.
"Take her to the hospital," Kevin said.
"Or not..." Luke said, peering out the curtains. They'd lost track of time, and in the hour and a half that had past, snow had buried the Girardi house.
"Oh shit..." Adam breathed.
"Do not panic," Rebecca continued, smoothing Joan's hair back from her face.
"I'll call 911," Kevin said, his voice straining.
"I'll get towels," Luke said. "We'll need them, I'm sure of it. They always do."
He darted up the stairs.
"Joan, hon, you'd better lie down," Rebecca said, as if she were speaking to a first grader.
"Why?" Joan asked, her eyes wide, just as first-graderish.
"The baby's coming, Joan, it's okay," Adam said. He took the mutilated Kleenex box out of her wrenched hand, and replaced it with his own hand. He brought her trembling fingers to his lips and kissed them, and Joan realized that his hands were shaking too.
"No," Joan said, nearly pouting. "No, Adam, it's not time yet! I'm not due until March! I can't have a baby in my house!"
Tears starting rolling down Joan's cheeks.
"Here," Grace said, propping a pillow under Joan's head as Rebecca coaxed her to the tile floor. Suddenly, Joan's face paled and she winced in pain, biting her lip to contain a scream.
"Ohhh, that's a contraction," Rebecca said, offering Joan her hand to squeeze. Joan took it, and squeezed Adam's hand just as hard.
"Ow," Adam said, taking his hand away and shaking it.
Joan glared at him evilly, and he hastily gave her back his hand.
"Hey, yeah, my sister, she's gone into labor in our house and we can't get out because of the snow," Kevin said into the receiver. "Um, she's almost nine months along. Due in three weeks. Yeah. Um, yeah, it did, all over the floor. She is right now, I think. Okay...um, hold on, wait..."
Kevin held the phone out, an awkward look on his face.
"Aw, man, Adam, they're talking about her cervix...I think you'd better do this!"
Adam gingerly stood, not wanting to walk even a few steps away from Joan. He took the phone, and intently listened as the voice on the other end instructed him on how to position Joan on the floor. Joan's contractions became more and more intense, and Rebecca soothingly coached her, not allowing her to look at what was taking place below her waist. Luke, Grace, and Kevin watched, ready to help if called to do so.
"Oh my God, it's just like Rescue 911...there's it's head," Adam said. By this time, Joan had begun full-fledged crying. Adam's revelation did little to calm her.
Adam skillfully, without reservation, tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and reached out to deliver his baby. It happened a lot more quickly than any of them thought it would...after the head crowned, the rest of the baby just sort of slipped out. Joan was more than happy to push. Everyone in the house sat, awed, as Adam held the birth-slicked baby in his arms, staring at it in disbelief. Joan whimpered in Rebecca's arms, in pain and afraid.
The dispatcher promised that an ambulance would arrive as soon as possible to take Joan and the baby to the hospital.
"Oh, we better call Mom and Dad!" Luke cried, it suddenly dawning on him that they'd neglected to do so.
"Grandma and Grandpa," Grace corrected.
They all gradually gathered around Joan and Adam, admiring the baby. Joan held the baby in her arms, staring at her child in awe. It was real. She wasn't pregnant anymore. It had gone so fast...it had seemed so impossible. And yet, here she was, covered in blood and afterbirth, cradling she and Adam's child, and all she could think was that this was the best consequence she'd ever endured.
"Thought of a name yet?" Helen asked, stroking the baby's cue-ball bald head. Grace, Adam, Kevin, Rebecca, Will, and Helen were all crowded in Joan's hospital room. Luke had run to the cafe for coffee. Joan sat upright in a comfy white bed, cradling the tiny, six pound infant in her arms, looking radiant. Adam's finger was clutched tightly in the baby's fist, and he couldn't take his eyes off the tiny face that poked out of the soft blanket.
"Yeah," Adam replied. "Ian. Ian Laramie Girardi Rove."
"That's a mouthful," Will said, smiling exuberantly at his grandson.
"Why Ian Laramie?" Kevin asked.
"Ian means 'God is gracious'," Joan said. "And Laramie means 'tears of love'."
"I think it's perfect," Helen said, grinning at her daughter.
"So is he," Joan said, kissing her son's teensy nose.
Just then, the door opened, and Luke came in, looking solemn and sober. He had no coffee.
"Luke?" Grace asked, confused. Joan looked up from her baby, and her thousand-watt smile faded when she saw Luke looking at her.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Joan," Luke began, sounding apologetic.
"What is it?" she repeated indignantly, jiggling Ian in her arm.
"Avery...she had her baby, too," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"That's great!" Joan said. The rest of the room was quiet, watching Luke, knowing somehow, that it wasn't.
"Would you guys just go already?!" Luke moaned, herding his parents out the door.
"I still don't like this!" Helen said, trying to keep herself from skidding out the door.
"Mom, please, we're all adults. Besides, it's not like Joan could get into anymore trouble!" Kevin encouraged.
"Mrs. Girardi, I'll keep an eye on all these kids," Rebecca assured Helen, coming to the doorway.
"I'm just worried about Joan-" Will said, bracing himself against the doorframe.
"Unchallenged, Mr. G. Jane's not due for three more weeks. Besides, we've got an army of people here to drive her to the hospital if anything were to happen. Which it won't," Adam offered.
"But there's supposed to be some big snowstorm later-" Helen said from the sidewalk.
"I can shovel, Mrs. Girardi! Don't you worry! You two just enjoy your Valentine's Day, and we'll do the same. Watching Sweet November and A Walk To Remember," Grace said, rolling her eyes.
"All right," Will obliged, getting into the car. "We'll have the cell, and we're only two hours away. Behave!"
"Right, Daddy! Bye!" Kevin called, slamming the door.
"Jeez, I thought they'd never go!" Luke sighed, loafing into the living room with a massive vat of popcorn.
"Since when do we even celebrate Valentine's Day?" Joan wondered aloud, smoothing her tee shirt over her basketball-round belly.
"Since we all have significant others," Luke said proudly, plopping onto the couch next to Grace and planting a kiss on her cheek. She grabbed the popcorn out of his hands and stuffed some in her mouth.
"Can we just get this over with?" she huffed. "I'm not anymore thrilled about watching sniveling chick flicks than...well, Kevin."
Adam and Luke exchanged indifferent glances.
"Hey, I've no qualms," Kevin argued. "Charlize Theron and Mandy Moore are hot!"
Rebecca batted him playfully, seating herself on his lap. Joan and Adam curled up on the floor, their baby resting between them.
"Every time he drops his watch into the sink, I just lose it!" Joan blubbered, trying to explain herself. Rebecca was sniffling every now and again, and Luke's eyes were glistening, though he adamantly insisted it was a glare off his glasses, but Joan was absolutely in hysterics.
"Um, Joan, you 'lost it' just after the opening credits," Grace pointed out.
Joan scowled, and got up to retrieve a box of Kleenex from the kitchen.
"I'm sorry if I'm a little emotional right now!" she called in her defense.
"Yeah, well, pretty soon you won't be able to use that excuse anymore!" Adam replied.
Suddenly, they heard Joan scream. All five heads immediately jerked in the direction of the kitchen. Joan stood with a box of Kleenex in her hands, and a terrified look on her face. Her jeans were soaked, and water dripped down onto the tile.
"I guess a little sooner than we thought," Grace said, staring stupefied at Joan.
"Adam?" Joan asked, sounding girlish and panicked.
But Adam had already leapt over the sofa and was at her side. He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other on her belly, his expression trying feebly to look brave.
"Don't freak out," Rebecca said, getting up and trying to take control. She went over to Joan, just as she doubled over in pain, crushing the cardboard box in her hand.
"What do we do?" Grace asked.
"Take her to the hospital," Kevin said.
"Or not..." Luke said, peering out the curtains. They'd lost track of time, and in the hour and a half that had past, snow had buried the Girardi house.
"Oh shit..." Adam breathed.
"Do not panic," Rebecca continued, smoothing Joan's hair back from her face.
"I'll call 911," Kevin said, his voice straining.
"I'll get towels," Luke said. "We'll need them, I'm sure of it. They always do."
He darted up the stairs.
"Joan, hon, you'd better lie down," Rebecca said, as if she were speaking to a first grader.
"Why?" Joan asked, her eyes wide, just as first-graderish.
"The baby's coming, Joan, it's okay," Adam said. He took the mutilated Kleenex box out of her wrenched hand, and replaced it with his own hand. He brought her trembling fingers to his lips and kissed them, and Joan realized that his hands were shaking too.
"No," Joan said, nearly pouting. "No, Adam, it's not time yet! I'm not due until March! I can't have a baby in my house!"
Tears starting rolling down Joan's cheeks.
"Here," Grace said, propping a pillow under Joan's head as Rebecca coaxed her to the tile floor. Suddenly, Joan's face paled and she winced in pain, biting her lip to contain a scream.
"Ohhh, that's a contraction," Rebecca said, offering Joan her hand to squeeze. Joan took it, and squeezed Adam's hand just as hard.
"Ow," Adam said, taking his hand away and shaking it.
Joan glared at him evilly, and he hastily gave her back his hand.
"Hey, yeah, my sister, she's gone into labor in our house and we can't get out because of the snow," Kevin said into the receiver. "Um, she's almost nine months along. Due in three weeks. Yeah. Um, yeah, it did, all over the floor. She is right now, I think. Okay...um, hold on, wait..."
Kevin held the phone out, an awkward look on his face.
"Aw, man, Adam, they're talking about her cervix...I think you'd better do this!"
Adam gingerly stood, not wanting to walk even a few steps away from Joan. He took the phone, and intently listened as the voice on the other end instructed him on how to position Joan on the floor. Joan's contractions became more and more intense, and Rebecca soothingly coached her, not allowing her to look at what was taking place below her waist. Luke, Grace, and Kevin watched, ready to help if called to do so.
"Oh my God, it's just like Rescue 911...there's it's head," Adam said. By this time, Joan had begun full-fledged crying. Adam's revelation did little to calm her.
Adam skillfully, without reservation, tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear, and reached out to deliver his baby. It happened a lot more quickly than any of them thought it would...after the head crowned, the rest of the baby just sort of slipped out. Joan was more than happy to push. Everyone in the house sat, awed, as Adam held the birth-slicked baby in his arms, staring at it in disbelief. Joan whimpered in Rebecca's arms, in pain and afraid.
The dispatcher promised that an ambulance would arrive as soon as possible to take Joan and the baby to the hospital.
"Oh, we better call Mom and Dad!" Luke cried, it suddenly dawning on him that they'd neglected to do so.
"Grandma and Grandpa," Grace corrected.
They all gradually gathered around Joan and Adam, admiring the baby. Joan held the baby in her arms, staring at her child in awe. It was real. She wasn't pregnant anymore. It had gone so fast...it had seemed so impossible. And yet, here she was, covered in blood and afterbirth, cradling she and Adam's child, and all she could think was that this was the best consequence she'd ever endured.
"Thought of a name yet?" Helen asked, stroking the baby's cue-ball bald head. Grace, Adam, Kevin, Rebecca, Will, and Helen were all crowded in Joan's hospital room. Luke had run to the cafe for coffee. Joan sat upright in a comfy white bed, cradling the tiny, six pound infant in her arms, looking radiant. Adam's finger was clutched tightly in the baby's fist, and he couldn't take his eyes off the tiny face that poked out of the soft blanket.
"Yeah," Adam replied. "Ian. Ian Laramie Girardi Rove."
"That's a mouthful," Will said, smiling exuberantly at his grandson.
"Why Ian Laramie?" Kevin asked.
"Ian means 'God is gracious'," Joan said. "And Laramie means 'tears of love'."
"I think it's perfect," Helen said, grinning at her daughter.
"So is he," Joan said, kissing her son's teensy nose.
Just then, the door opened, and Luke came in, looking solemn and sober. He had no coffee.
"Luke?" Grace asked, confused. Joan looked up from her baby, and her thousand-watt smile faded when she saw Luke looking at her.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Joan," Luke began, sounding apologetic.
"What is it?" she repeated indignantly, jiggling Ian in her arm.
"Avery...she had her baby, too," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat.
"That's great!" Joan said. The rest of the room was quiet, watching Luke, knowing somehow, that it wasn't.