iGo Into Labor

Sam Puckett had just settled in for her usual early shift in the kitchen at Il Terrazzo Carmine when her cell phone began to vibrate. This made her exceptionally nervous. Carls wasn't due yet, and the only reason she could think of for someone to text her at work at this hour of the morning was if something was wrong with her tiny little Cupcakes.

Frantically, she checked her cell phone, catching a look from a new member of the kitchen staff. She knew that Uncle Carmine must have brought him over from the old country, as he barked at her in Italian to keep her private life out of the kitchen and get to work.

"Tenere la vostra lingua, vecchio! Non è disprezzo la casa di Carmine?"

The old cook turned ashen. He had heard Carmine speak of his nieces as though they were his own children, sent from Heaven. In his eyes, neither of Pam's precious twins could do wrong. He had only been told that the blonde's name was Samantha and that she was to be given a wide berth in the kitchen, at Carmine's explicit direction. She wasn't classically trained, but she was to be deferred to as though she were a master chef. The Boss had ordered it, and it would be so. His word was law. He now realized that this young woman had to be Carmine's youngest niece. He had royally stepped in it. He would be on a plane tonight, bound for Rome – if he was lucky.

Sam finally had time to glance at her phone. The panicky bile that had been rising in her throat subsided. The message had originated from a number other than Carly's cell.

NEW MESSAGE

FROM: Marx

Sent: 9:12 AM, PST

Sam:

Baby time. En route to SUMC. – SJM

Her hands still shaking, a second, brand new text message popped onto Sam's phone. She was sick to her stomach. She felt as though she'd just ridden a roller coaster backwards.

NEW MESSAGE

FROM: Mel

Sent: 9:13 AM, PST

Sam:

Carly with me and Freddie. See you soon. – Mel

Sam yanked her apron off with shaky fingers, letting it fall onto the stainless steel countertop with barely a sound. She shouted across the kitchen, knowing her uncle would hear.

"Lo zio Carmine, Io sto andando in ospedale. Mi sarà di nuovo il più presto possibile!"

SOMETIME LATER, IN CROSSTOWN TRAFFIC…

Sam sped, cursing at inconsiderate Seattleites in English and Italian. She was so whipped up, either language could come out of her mouth. It was a craps-shoot.

She saw the exit she needed and took it. She'd covered the distance between the restaurant and the hospital in near-record time, even contending with semis and speeding yuppies. She made a mental note to take time later to be proud of herself. She navigated the maze that was the hospital parking garage and parked haphazardly in the nearest parking space that she could find. She grabbed her bag from behind the driver's seat and made her way for the door.

INSIDE…

Freddie paced the floor as Melanie held Carly's hand. The mythical musician cradled Carly to her, reassuring her. Without Sam, Carly couldn't do hospitals.

"She's coming, Carly… I promise you she is…"

Carly Puckett was hyperventilating, her mouth buried against her sister-in-law's shoulder. She wasn't speaking as much as making unintelligible noises. Melanie knew the story. She certainly could understand. Melanie stroked Carly's hair gently as Sam came barreling through the double doors, a woman on a mission.

"Carls?"

The brunette lifted her head from Melanie's shoulder.

"Sammie?"

Carly sounded like a little girl.

Sam ran to her partner's side, sitting on the floor at her feet. The moment Sam took Carly's hand, she could feel the knot of internalized stress leave her Cupcake's body, releasing her locked-up shoulders. It wasn't until that very moment that the light went on inside Sam Puckett's head. She had, until now, been operating on sheer force of will – unadulterated animal instinct. She looked between her partner and her twin, thoroughly confused.

"Cupcake?... Wait… Princess?... Hang on…"

Melanie Benson jumped in, offering up the truth, before her sister gave herself a migraine.

Mythical Melanie chuckled.

"Wait… you thought… No, Samantha… Carly's just fine, Honey… Wendy's in labor… Did you not read your text messages?"

Sam held Carly so tightly that Melanie saw the Cupcake turn fuschia.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… Careful there, Killer… She is carrying twins, remember…"

Carly didn't care. She knew how much Sam loved her. Sam loved her so much that her brain had completely checked out on her this morning. When Carly thought about it, she realized that it was sort of cute, in a very Sam sort of way. Carly simply let herself be held – sandwiched between the last generation of Puckett twins. It felt so incredibly good to be loved.

THREE AND A HALF HOURS LATER…

It was closing in on the early afternoon. Melanie had sent Freddie out to the Groovy Smoothie with a wad of cash and the explicit instructions to come back with as much food as he could carry. Freddie had laughed at his wife's request, knowing fully well that T-Bo would hook him up. T-Bo was quite a lot of things, but Freddie, Sam, and Carly all knew that he was loyal to his friends. They would eat well today – whatever Freddie ordered plus whatever food T-Bo could think of to impale, for easy carrying back to the hospital.

Freddie had just wandered back in through the large double doors, arms laden with Groovy Smoothie bags, when Shelby Marx made her first appearance in several hours.

The two-time women's heavyweight mixed martial arts champion emerged from a door down the hall looking as though she'd just gone the distance with her most worthy adversary to date. She was wearing blue hospital scrubs over her street clothes. She broke into a gentle sprint down the corridor to meet her friends. Sam had the distinct impression that Marx had been huffing the Wacky Gas. She was much more loose, relaxed, and upbeat than Sam had ever remembered her being. She greeted everyone informally, as though she was so high that she'd forgotten their given names and could only manage nicknames, nodding to each of them in turn.

"Shay… Puckett… Puckett Two-Point-Oh… Raisin Toast…"

Sam told her friend off.

"You're so damn stupid… How's Wendy?"

The fog finally lifted from Shelby's brain. It felt as though her corner had just hit her with smelling salts.

"Oh, yeah… Right… The family's fine… Six pounds, twelve ounces, twenty two inches long, ten fingers, ten toes… Life is good…"

Freddie Benson, seemingly the only male for a thousand miles, broke the ice, simply to be acknowledged. It seemed as though whenever Shelby Marx was present, Mister Melanie went more than a little stupid. He thrust the Groovy Smoothie bag in her field of vision.

"Cheeseburger?

Melanie slapped him upside the head. Freddie's brain rebooted and he was himself again.

"Uh… Sorry… When can we go and see them?"

Shelby smiled. Sam's sister was a lucky woman indeed. Had she been in the market for a man, Freddie Benson would have been at the top of her list. He was every bit as sweet as Wendy had always said.

"They're sleeping now, but the doc says to give them maybe an hour or so.

Sam Puckett looked to her friend – the toughest broad in Seattle beside herself – and smiled. Nothing needed to be said. Shelby instinctively threw Sam into a tight embrace. They knew what each other was thinking. Both women knew that they and they alone held the answers to the questions the other was dying to ask. That would all come in time. Now, it was time for food, friends, and maybe – just maybe – a little R and R.