Although Rosemary did not have a pocket watch, she supposed a good ten minutes or so must have passed since the criminals' departure. Ten very long moments filled with drastic, painful ripples down her abdomen and lower back. If she could just get to her knees, open the closet door, and stumble into the freedom of the parlor— careful of any remains of glass or destruction— then she could get to the telephone and put in a call. A call for help. But would anyone come? Would Sarah, the operator, even answer or had she too left to attend Elizabeth's bridal shower as well?
She cradled her hard, tense belly. How was she even to budge from this closet floor in her own strength? And even if she could muster up a tiny amount of strength to do so, would it even yield the results she so desperately needed or would she once again be left alone at a time of desperation? Right now, every ounce of energy was focused on the wild urge to push, to relieve her womb of its inhabitants.
She groaned and pinched shut her eyes while bearing down, Lee's tartan plaid jacket sleeve still between her teeth as she pulled on it in desperation of pain relief. It seemed the pain was reaching its highest crescendo, but how much more of this could she take? If only something would take her far, far away. Did Doc Carson usually administer herbs to help with the pain? If so, why didn't he give her some to have on hand? She would strangle the man next change she got! Yet, even if he had given her herbs just in case, they most definitely would not be in this closet with her and would not help her during this time of need. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. She couldn't do this alone… she couldn't do this.
The soft tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed in a resigned manner. Could she just let the pain take her away? It seemed her only answer. Surrender settled on her and she sat there with it for several moments, her breaths growing still.
"Rosemary?" A voice, faint and far away called to her, drawing her out of a white, fuzzy, pain-free place.
She moaned, hands on her belly as the pain returned. The voice. Was it real or had she imagined it?
She cracked her eyelid open a slit.
Drat, she was still here in the dark closet. Alone.
She must be getting delirious with pain to imagine a voice. Or did that sort of thing happen right before someone was called into the great hereafter?
Her heart beat anxiously. She couldn't leave now. No, the babies, they needed her. They needed the life only she could give. Yet, even her strength had deserted her.
She strained her ear to the parlor, hopeful for a noise, a shuffle, anything.
Nothing. It was completely silent.
She sunk back into the wall of the closet. She was destined to be alone. She'd just have to accept that. Just as a cold, lonely tear trailed down her cheek, she felt a puff of fresh air to flood in under the closet door as a result of movement in the parlor. Wait— someone was here. Someone was here! Would they find her? Help her in her greatest time of need?
"I'm here—" she called out, but it came out more as a stifled croak. She licked her dry lips and tried again. "Over here—" again, her voice was stifled by the stale air of the closet. Please, please still be there…
Several footsteps sounded into the parlor.
"What happened here—" a voice of surprise, sounding much like Molly's, remarked. She must have entered and seen the mess the thieves had left in the parlor.
"It's no never mind. We need to find her fast." That was definitely Florence's voice.
"Where could she be?" Dottie's voice held panic.
"Rosemary!" Came the original call again, this time, identifiable as her mother's voice.
Her friends, they were here. They had come for her. Silent tears gathered in her eyes and fell from her eyes in rapid succession. With all the power she had left, she kicked the door once, twice and called out in a whisper, "In here."
Footsteps approached rapidly, and the door fluttered open— and air, delicious air and sunlight poured in.
The ladies, their eyes as round as saucers, all started talking at once. She would have smiled at them, how grateful she was for their appearance, but instead, she moaned loud and low as the pressure weighed heavily in her lower abdomen, begging for release.
"Goodness gracious!" Dottie was the first to comment.
"She's in labor!" Harriet called out.
"Get her to the settee." Florence called.
"Are you daft? The settee is slashed to smithereens," Dottie's voice of reason said.
"Just take her to the rug," Molly suggested.
"But there is glass everywhere," Florence observed.
"We are running out of options. By the look of her, these babies will be here momentarily. We've got to move her, pronto." Again, Dottie's voice of reason.
"The settee seems clean, just slashed. I will put a sheet over it," Harriet was already in motion.
"But—" Florence objected.
"It's fine! Come now." She felt Dottie's hands on her right arm, someone gripped her left arm, and the other two ladies moved her legs. It was not one whit comfortable, but she would endure anything to get out of that cramped, dark closet.
As they laid her down on the settee, she felt the solid, cool sheet against her back. She had to keep breathing through the pain. She released a large puff of air, then sucked in again, moaning. She heard a drastic rip and felt her skirt being cast aside.
"I'll boil some water," Florence said matter of factly and scurried off towards the kitchen.
"Get a pot would you Molly? And rags lots of rags." Dottie's voice again commandeered over the situation as she settled in at the foot of settee and began to poke and prod Rosemary's lower region.
In a normal situation, Rosemary would be mortified… but here and now with her friends, the dearest of friends, she felt complete and utter support. Like, perhaps she could make it through this. Thankfully, each of them had birthed a baby before. Yes, she was in good company.
"It looks like the first baby is in the birth canal and crowning," Dottie announced but the words were unusual, foreign to Rosemary's ears.
"What… does… that… mean?" She panted through the pain.
"I can see the head. The hair. It's light brown." Dottie shot her a smile. "You just have another push or two before your first baby is here!"
She squeezed her eyes shut, Dottie's words giving her wind in her sails. Their first baby was almost here. Light brown hair, Dottie had said. Was it a girl? A boy? What would Lee-
She sucked a deep breath. She couldn't have these babies without her dear Lee. She was tempted to cross her legs in attempt to delay the delivery, yet it hurt too bad. This first baby was ready to come. Tension built in her pelvis, threatening to break her in two. The moans that had been escaping her lips grew to a full fledged groan, low and from the core.
Harriet scurried to her side. "I don't know how to help, but honey, I am here." She placed her cool hand on Rosemary's back.
She felt her back arch with the largest strain of pain yet and she groaned as she gritted her teeth.
"I… I got to push. Now." Rosemary called out, reaching to grip Harriet's hand with all her strength, but instead, a large masculine hand brushed up against hers. She clung to it, the familiar lines, scent, and feel. It almost felt like- could it be?
She felt his solid strength and supporting presence next to her and tears instantly rushed to her eyes.
"Lee?" She looked up and his comforting sapphire eyes met hers. "Oh, Lee! I wanted you to be here… needed you to be here—"
"Sshhh…. I am here, Rosie darling. Now, let's get these babies into the world." He smiled, causing that dimple in his cheek to flare in its familiar way.
Oh she could just kiss him! Her Lee was here.
Intense pressure heated her pelvis, interrupting her thoughts. Lee was right. It was time for these babies to enter into the world. She could now surrender to the pain and know that not only were God's strong, infallible hands here to hold her, but now she could lean into the arms of her husband, her safe place, her strength. Their babies were coming!