This
work of
adult fiction, loosely based on
characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and
experiences;
you have been warned. No
copyright
infringement on the original work is intended. Copyright
Reagan Kavanagh 2007.
REAGAN
It
was early December, and for once the weather forecast of the
preceding five days had been dead-on. At least Dino and Ellie had
beautiful weather for their wedding the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
That night’s weather forecast had ended with warnings of an
Arctic
front headed for North Texas. The weather last week had been
unusually warm – in the low 70s – and as usual, I
was bitching
about the fact that it isn’t supposed to be so warm this late
in
the year; I wanted cold weather. Max had raised an
eyebrow at
me.
“Cara,
need I remind you to use care with your wishes? Often times wishes
are granted in excess of our true desires.”
I
was in the last few weeks of pregnancy, my hormones were all over the
place, and I was always hot.
“I
don’t think it can get cold enough for me to
complain.”
“I
suspect it can.” Mr. Logical has spoken.
By
Monday the forecast had worsened. The front would probably be here
by Wednesday night or early Thursday rather than over the weekend as
first anticipated. I rubbed my hands in glee. Before going to bed
Wednesday night, I opened the windows – only about three
inches –
in our bedroom, the lounge, and the kitchen. If it did get cold
overnight, I wanted to be able to feel it when I
got up in the
morning.
The
alarm went off at its usual time, and I dragged myself from the bed
with Max’s assistance. The room was cooler, but the front
hadn’t
arrived yet, at least not with the anticipated vigour. We made our
way to the kitchen, and I started coffee as he popped bread into the
toaster and went to turn on the TV. The Dallas stations were abuzz
with the imminent arrival of the front. Even Troy Dungan on Channel
Eight was excited, and that man never gets
excited.
“For
those of you in the Metroplex, make sure you have an ice-scraper in
your car when you leave for work today. You’re going to need
it
this evening, unless you park you car in an indoor lot. The outer
band of the Arctic front has reached the northwest area of the
Metroplex, and temperatures in Grapevine have dropped 20 degrees in
the last hour. This storm is moving toward us at 25 miles an hour
and is expected to be as far south as Tyler before ten this morning.
Ladies and Gentlemen, winter has arrived in North Texas!”
Yeah,
yeah. It couldn’t get here fast enough for me, and I said as
much. Max quirked his eyebrow at me again and shook his head as he
headed
for the shower.
*
I
kissed Max good-bye and stood in the door watching as he drove up the
lane. It was cooler – the temperature was
probably in the
mid-50s – and I crossed my fingers that Troy and his
colleagues
were on target. I went back in the house, opened more windows, and
made my way to the bedroom/office to boot my computer.
There
was the usual flurry of e-mails from former students who were taking
my classes from Melody this fall. Many of my undergraduate students
who take my introductory course sign up for subsequent classes with
me, and I suppose I have them spoilt. I truly don’t know why
they
enjoy the drill and grilling I put them through, but they do learn a
lot; their grades are proof of that. I know Melody isn’t as
rigorous an instructor as I, but she’s very good at research
methods, and that’s a critical aspect of any scientific
discipline. I usually received at least one contact from Beverly
Smithson each
week …ah, there it is.
“Sorry
to bother you, Dr. Kavanagh, but I really wish you
were
teaching this term instead of Ms. Williams. She’s good, but
she
isn’t as much fun as you are …and she
doesn’t know shit about
forensics.
“Take
care, and please let your ‘faithful retainers’ know
when the
baby’s born and if it’s a girl or a boy.
“Bev
Smithson.”
I
smiled at her calling me Dr. Kavanagh rather than Espan-Kavanagh
–
old habits die hard – and tapped out a reply to Bev and
promised to
at least let her know when Baby Espan arrived; she
could
spread the word to the rest of ‘the faithful.’
I
ploughed through the various personal e-mails, read the online
editions of the New York Times, Washington
Post, Dallas
Morning News, and was starting on the Sydney
Morning Herald
when I realised my feet were cold. I looked at the computer’s
clock …ten after nine. I stood and stretched and walked to
the
kitchen for more coffee. I started shivering halfway across the
lounge.
The
little farm house faces north, and I’d opened the windows on
all
sides; the wind was literally whistling through it. The only room in
the house that didn’t have an open window was the second
bedroom/office, and it had been painted shut years ago. I’d
never
gotten Max to open it, and I was afraid to try it myself this late in
my pregnancy when I opened the other windows earlier. The strain on
my abdominal muscles would not have been advisable. When I got up
for coffee, the office was chilly but not truly cold. The rest of
the house was a different matter entirely.
I
got my coffee and sat the cup on the counter before – wonder
of
wonders – starting through the house to close windows. The
dogs
were right behind me and sniffing furiously at each window. The wind
was up and judging from the bend of the trees in the front of the
house, I’d bet it was at least 25 to 30 miles an hour. I went
back
to the computer and continued my reading. Half-an-hour later I was
shivering in earnest.
Max
had installed an indoor/outdoor thermometer in one of the kitchen
windows shortly after we moved last summer, and I went to look at it.
Damn! Troy had been right. The outdoor temperature had dropped
from the high 50s when Max and I got up to 33, and as I watched it
dropped another degree. Due to my frenetic opening of all the
windows earlier, the temperature in the house was 38. Not one of my
smarter moves, was it?
I
checked the thermostat in the hallway and it was sitting at 50, which
is as low as it will register. I turned on the heat and set the
temperature at 70. That should have the house nice and toasty in no
time.
MAXIMUS
She
is most fond of cold weather. I tolerate it well enough – my
years
on the Germanian frontier inured me to the cold to a significant
degree – but the wind whipping through the car park on my
arrival
at the office was bitter. The time required for my drive into the
city and the rapid south-easterly movement of the front had taken me
from a mild day in the 50s to a very cold and windy one in downtown
Dallas. I doubted the temperature was above freezing.
On
arrival in the office and speaking to my colleagues, I booted my
computer and immediately pulled up the weather channel. The current
temperature in downtown Dallas was 28 and dropping; the wind chill
factor made it feel as though the temperature had dropped to 13
degrees. I looked out the window and noted it was now sleeting; the
roads would be icy when I made my way home this evening.
Cassandra’s
wish had been granted. I thanked the gods she had no intention of
leaving the house today, as I did not want her exposed to the cold in
her present condition. I sent the usual morning e-mail advising her
I had arrived safely at the office and went about my
morning’s
work. My private telephone line rang just after one in the
afternoon.
“Max,
the thermostat seems to be broken, and I can’t locate a
repair
service in the local phone book. I’ve called as far south as
Waxahachie, west to Midlothian, and they're all busy. There’s
nothing listed east of here. Could you see if there’s an
air-con/heating firm in Dallas that would send someone this far south
on an emergency call? The house is really
cold.”
I
was doing an online search as I spoke.
“What
is the temperature in the house, Cara?”
She hesitated for a
moment.
“Too
cold for my comfort, and that’s pretty cold.” A
non-responsive
remark if ever I heard one.
“Cassandra,
what is the ambient temperature inside the house?”
There
was a significant pause before she answered.
“Twenty-eight
degrees, and it’s still dropping. The wind must be 40 miles
an
hour, and it started sleeting a couple of hours ago.” I was
on my
feet and shutting down my computer as I spoke.
“Stay
as warm as you can until I arrive; pull additional blankets from the
closet and wrap yourself in them. I will bring you back to the city,
and we will spend the night at the loft. I doubt I shall be able to
locate someone to make repairs today. Have the dogs travel gear and
your own bag ready when I arrive. Can you put enough food for a day
or more into a cooler in order that we might bring it with us? I
doubt there is anything at the loft, and take-out seems unlikely if
the weather worsens. Do not worry with clothing for me; I keep extra
clothing at the loft in the event of an emergency. I am on my
way.”
“I’ll
do food and get the pups ready to travel. We’ll be waiting
for
you.” I stopped in Terry’s office as I made my way
out of the
suite.
“Terry,
the thermostat in the farm house is broken …the temperature
is 28
degrees and dropping. I must go and collect Cassandra and bring her
back to the loft; it is not advisable for her to be so cold so close
to her time of confinement.” He was on his feet in an instant.
“Go,
Mate, and be careful. I was checking TXDoT’s site a bit
earlier,
and the roads are already icy.” I nodded.
“I
shall drive carefully. Oh, lest I forget …I have a call
scheduled
at four with Geoffrey Whiting in Sydney. He is not yet in the office
for me to notify him of my departure. Might you take the call? It
is simply to confirm our mutual agreement for continuation of his and
his family’s coverage for the coming year.”
“No
wurries, Max. Go take care of Reags.”
I
advised Sooze of Cassandra’s plight, and she offered to
attempt to
locate a repair service. I was on my way home within 15 minutes of
terminating my conversation with my wife.
*
The
drive south was arduous; the sleet and freezing rain in combination
with the driving winds had turned the roadways into sheets of black
ice. I was unable to travel more than 35 miles-per-hour for fear of
joining the accident victims alongside the road. I fail to
understand why residents of North Texas seem unable to drive safely
on icy roads. We have one or two such days each winter; surely we do
not have so many people incapable of retaining information from one
year to the next.
It
was after three when I arrived home and entered the house. Cassandra
and the dogs met me at the door, the icy blast of the wind following
me into the house. I could see the frosty clouds of her breath when
she spoke.
“I
never thought I’d see it this cold inside
a house.” She
followed me as I walked to check the temperature on the
indoor/outdoor thermometer …27 degrees Fahrenheit.
“Stay
here. I will warm up the Hummer and put the dogs and cooler into the
rear deck before you venture outdoors.” The requested cooler
was
in the kitchen, and I hefted it …it was heavy. She must be
of a
mind to lay in stores for a siege.
“Are
we allowed to take the pups with us to the loft?
Should we
call and see if the vet has room to board them?”
“I
called from the car and spoke with the manager. She has dogs of her
own and said that that so long as ours are well mannered, she will
field any complaints that may arise from their presence in this
instance.” Ten minutes later we were in the Hummer and on our
return trip to Dallas. We were fortunate in that we had no bodies of
water to cross as had been the case with our first home. The roads
were icy in large patches, and the overpasses a complete sheet of
ice. I could see at least half-an-inch of ice already formed on the
guard rails of the interstate; if the weather forecast for the coming
few days was correct, it would deepen considerably.
I
had turned the heat in the Hummer on high before taking Cassandra and
the dogs to the car, yet it was half-an-hour before she ceased her
shivering. Though obviously chilled, the dogs – with their
heavy
undercoats and long hair in addition to their higher body temperature
– appeared to enjoy the adventure. Though we managed to avoid
an
accident, the trip was perilous; it was almost seven and completely
dark but for the swirling sleet when I pulled into the car park at
the loft.
We
herded the dogs into the loft and removed our coats. Cassandra
shivered as the room air touched her skin. I checked the thermostat;
it had been set at 65 degrees, and I increased it to 75 until such
time as the loft warmed. She looked out the windows at the dark
skies and turned to me.
“You
know, I considered taking a hot shower to warm up before you got
home, but the farm house was so cold, I was afraid I’d shiver
myself to death before I got dried off. You’d have found a
very
large popsicle in the bathroom when you arrived.” I shook my
head
at the image of her in such distress, then returned my attention as
she spoke once more. “This is the first real
Blue Norther
I’ve seen in years. I’d forgotten how fast they
move and how
drastically they can drop the temperature.” That was a term I
had
not heard previously.
“What
is a Blue Norther?” She smiled as my arm went round her
shoulders.
“It’s
a cold front common to the plains states and on through the Deep
South. You can actually see them coming during the
daylight
hours, because the northern sky turns a deep blue-grey as the front
approaches. The winds are fierce – driven by an Arctic front
and
often pushed south by the Jet Stream – and the temperature
can drop
as much as 50 degrees in a couple of hours.” I raised my
eyebrow
at what was surely an exaggeration on her part; of course she saw it.
“Ask
Dee if you don’t believe me …better yet, call Mr.
Abbott, from
whom we purchased the farm, and ask him. Coastal
areas
usually only get the cold; up here, we get the freezing rain and
sleet; sometimes it snows, but it’s a bit early in the year
for
snow. What makes Blue Northers dangerous is their fast movement. If
the Jet Stream cooperates in pushing the front south, they can blow
in with winds as high as 60 kilometres an hour. Farmers and ranchers
hate them because they may not have time to get their stock rounded
up. Mature cattle will survive the storm, but younger, weaker ones
–
those born in the fall – may not. It’s pretty
upsetting when a
man goes out to check his stock when the weather warms up a week
later and finds half-a-dozen, two-month-old calves frozen to
death.”
I
could well appreciate that turn of events. Whilst in Germania I had
observed numerous foals and calves – not to mention smaller
livestock such as goats and sheep and various poultry – that
did
not survive their first winter. Losing the calves and smaller stock
meant a necessary tightening of our belts; losing a foal was the loss
of a potential war horse, brood mare, or draught horse. As the years
spent on campaign involved loss of mature animals to death in battle,
foaling, or some illness, loss of a foal was particularly painful as
it diminished our future mobility and transport options.
We
had been in the loft less than half-an-hour when the phone rang. It
was Terry.
“Mate,
I need a favour.”
“Speak
it, and it is done.”
“When
I went down to the car park a few minutes ago, the sleet blowing
through the park had frozen my tyres to the concrete. I’m
stuck
here for the night. Any possibility I could come to the loft and
bunk with you and Reags tonight?”
“Of
course you may do so. Use care in traversing the streets. I should
not enjoy attempting to transport you to hospital for having broken a
leg in a fall.”
“I’ll
be careful, Max. See you shortly.” Terry was fortunate that
the
loft was on the DART line. The Ackard Street Station where he would
board the train was less than two blocks from the office, and once
arriving at Mockingbird Station, he had but to navigate the stairs
from the station up to the outdoor portion of the loft’s car
park. I turned to Cassandra as I replaced the phone on its base.
“We
have an overnight guest.”
REAGAN
The
loft had warmed considerably by the time Terry knocked on the door,
but I’d been so cold all day that I was still
shivering. I
bumped the temperature up to 80, waited for Max to notice it, and
fuss about the energy consumption. There would likely be power
outages all over the Metroplex tonight and tomorrow; the weight of
the ice would bring down tree branches, the branches would fall on to
power lines which would break …you get the general idea. The
increased burden on available power from everyone turning up their
thermostats would also cause problems. Fortunately, the loft was in
a building that maintained emergency generators; unless there was an
internal system failure within the building, we’d have power.
Dee
called shortly after Terry’s arrival; she wanted to be sure
he’d
made it safely here. She ended her call by telling Terry that we
were NOT allowed to ‘have too much fun without me.’
Fat chance
of that. Like our house, the loft faces north, and that wall is
floor-to-ceiling glass. It’s beautiful for the view, but the
loft's temperature was sitting at 70 degrees. It’s hard to
warm up
a place with a glass wall when you’re dealing with
single-pane
windows. Double-paned windows – those with two sheets of
glass and
a half-inch between the panes that’s filled with argon gas
– keep
the house cooler in summer and warmer in winter. You don’t
find
many dwellings with double-paned windows in Texas unless you live in
the Panhandle. Dallas isn’t in the Panhandle.
The
loft has a fireplace with gas logs. When I was still shivering at
nine that night, Max turned it on and pulled a chair in front of it
for me. Normally we wouldn’t even consider such a thing
because of
the potential gas leakage and harm to the baby, but Max and Terry
were worried about me shivering myself into premature labour. Getting
me to hospital tonight – even by calling 911 for an
ambulance – wouldn’t be a good proposition, so we
risked the
potential exposure. As long as we didn’t all start getting
sleepy
at the same time (a sure sign of insufficient oxygen in the room), I
wasn’t too concerned. It’s a good job Dino and
Ellie are still
on their honeymoon …I would not enjoy
the addition of their
mother hen routines tonight.
Max
dug around in the closet upstairs and found the electric blanket
Sooze had bought after he moved out of the loft – she was
sure
there would eventually be someone staying there who couldn’t
get
warm – and put it on the bed. When he came downstairs,
he’d
turned the blanket up to level seven so the bed would be warm when we
went up later. Terry would bunk on the couch in the lounge.
The
cooler we’d brought from home had several bags of home-made
soup in
it, and I’d brought ingredients for corn bread. I
didn’t know
how Terry felt about corn bread, but when I said I’d make it
to
accompany the soup, he lit up like Christmas tree. Dee’s
obviously
expanded his list of food preferences. We had our dinner, watched
the late news, and went to bed.
It
was just after two in the morning when the power went off. Max and I
lay there for a couple of minutes, and the generator finally kicked
in; I heard the heater come on again. I rolled over and went back to
sleep.
I
woke to the smell of coffee perking. Max was up and dressed; I heard
him talking to Terry downstairs. I showered and dressed and made my
way carefully down to the lounge, taking the coffee mug Max held out
to me. Terry turned on the TV, and as I turned toward it, I stopped
as I looked out the windows. There was a three-inch blanket of snow
covering the world outside the loft. The sun was just coming over
the horizon, and everything was bathed in a soft, peachy glow. The
light on the snow made the vista before me appear pristine, as if
there was nothing dirty in the world that could sully the beauty
spread out beneath me.
The
men joined me to look outside. There wasn’t a car in sight,
and
you could see the interstate from our window. There was one train on
the DART tracks beneath us, and people were scurrying on and off as
quickly as possible without risking a fall on the ice patches. DART
does something really nice on the days that we have icy roads here in
the Metroplex. They offer free transport in an effort to keep cars
off the streets and cut down the accident rates. It appeared those
in the Mockingbird Station area were taking the transit authority up
on its largesse this morning. Terry’s voice broke my reverie.
“Too
bad we don’t have a Christmas tree and ornaments in this
place. It’d be fun to put up a tree today, wouldn’t
it?” Terry’s
been in the northern hemisphere more than long enough to have become
accustomed to it being cold at Christmas.
It
would indeed …plenty of hot coffee, good friends, and the
perfect
weather for letting the spirit of the holidays descend on us. We
settled for keeping up with what was happening in the world as
brought to us by radio and TV.
The
temperature was predicted to stay in the low 20s for the next three
days though the wind that pushed the front south had abated. The
freezing rain and sleet had moved well south and east of us, and the
weather north and west of us was dry. At least we wouldn’t
have
any more ice forming, though we’d likely have what was here
lingering for the next couple of days until the temperature rose
above freezing. It was fortunate that it was Friday; most employers
in non-vital industries would shut down for the weekend, and the ice
would likely be gone before rush hour on Monday morning. I turned to
Terry.
“Okay,
Max and I have clothes to get us through the weekend, but
you’re
going to be pretty ripe unless you have more than one change in your
kit. There’s a Laundromat in the basement, and you can
purchase
detergent and fabric softener there. You’re on your own for
when
you wash your knickers, and you can slop around in some of
Max’s
sweat pants until your clothes are dry.” He laughed out loud.
“Are
you trying to tell me I’ve lost that fresh-as-a-daisy air,
and your
mummy-to-be nose is offended?”
“Not
yet, but don’t push your luck!”
*
The
‘mother hen men’ wouldn’t let me make
breakfast, and Terry
steered me to a chair in the lounge; he said I could
‘supervise’
his and Max’s efforts from that location. They
didn’t need my
help, so I claimed the TV remote as my own private possession and
flipped open the on-screen guide to see what was available. Network
was a total bust; the local affiliates had pre-empted regular
programming (such as it is during the day) and were devoting
themselves full-time to covering The Storm of the Century. I had to
laugh at the implied melodrama. Yes, it was a severe storm and
realistically, the worst we’d had in the Dallas area since
the
start of the 21st century. Still, the reporters
were
making it sound as if it was the worst weather in the last hundred
years. Some people will do anything for a sound bite. I shook my
head as I paged through the channels to see what else was available.
I’m
so glad the firm bought the top tier of programming for the loft. Yes,
there’s a great deal of overlap, but at least we had full
access to HBO, Showtime, The Movie Channel, Starz, Encore, all the
ESPN channels, and anything other special programming that offered
movies and sports. I spotted one I’d seen last year and
smiled as
I clicked. Terry turned to look at me as he heard the announcement
of the film that was about to begin.
“The
Polar Express? Isn’t that the animated one with Tom Hanks
playing
half the characters?”
“Yes,
but it’s seasonal. The only other thing starting right now is
“It’s a Wonderful Life,” and I truly hate
that film. I like
Jimmy Stewart, but that film irritates the crap out of me.”
My
loving husband jumped in to forestall any possibility of further
objections.
“Terry,
believe me when I tell you that you do not wish to have my wife
–
my wife who is with child – irritated
with you.” That shut him up, but Terry muttered something
about Crowe not having
done The Da Vinci Code and thinking Hanks was
poorly cast in
the role. Frankly, I agreed with him. I do like Tom Hanks and think
he’s a terrific actor, but he just isn’t what I saw
in my mind’s
eye when I read the book and pictured Robert Langdon. Oh well. One
can’t have everything, can one?
We
had breakfast, following which I had a ‘nap
attack.’ I’ve had
a lot of those lately. I’m going along with my daily routine,
and
suddenly I’m so sleepy that I can’t keep my eyes
open. I
lumbered up the stairs and climbed into bed; I was asleep within five
minutes. When I awoke, I had a feeling of unease and lay there for a
few minutes trying to isolate the sensations …then the pain
hit.
Max
had just come upstairs to wake me and heard me gasp. You know his
reaction …just this side of barely controlled panic.
“Cara!
What is it?” I breathed through the pain before answering him.
“It
was a pain …nothing to worry about …probably
Braxton Hicks.” I
held out my hand, and he helped me from the bed. I waddled off to
the bathroom – I have to pee every five minutes these days
– and
stood looking into the mirror when I was done and had washed my
hands. Nothing remarkable. I pinched up the flesh on the back of
one hand and watched it …it stayed where it was for a second
before
slowly returning to normal. Dehydrated, and I should have known
better.
I’d
been so cold yesterday before we left the house that I’d not
been
drinking. Once we reached the loft, all I drank was coffee and hot
tea. My body needed water. Dehydration and having
to urinate
were two of the conditions necessary for Braxton Hicks contractions
to begin. I opened the door of the bathroom with the intention of
telling Max everything was fine, and the contractions would subside
once I’d had a few glasses of water. Right.
He
was downstairs talking to Terry. They had their coats on, and my own
was in his hand. He looked to see me coming down the stairs and
rushed to meet me. For a man who’s usually so good in
emergencies,
I was beginning to wonder at his loss of calm where my pregnancy was
concerned.
“Come,
Cara, we are taking you to hospital.” I
made it the rest of
the way down the stairs and turned to face them.
“You
two loons aren’t taking me anywhere. I’m having
Braxton Hicks
contractions. That happens when a pregnant woman lets herself get
dehydrated. They’ll pass within a couple of hours.”
Terry shook
his head.
“No
go, Reags. We’re taking you to hospital to be safe. If
there’s
no real problem, we’ll bring you home straightaway, but for
now,
get into your coat.”
I
couldn’t argue with both of them. I sighed and slipped my
arms
into the coat Max was holding for me. Half-an-hour later, I was in a
wheelchair in the trauma centre at Baylor, and the chief OB resident
was wheeling me toward an exam room. Ten minutes later he was
telling my chagrined male entourage that I was experiencing Braxton
Hicks contractions. He was going to do an IV of saline, and they
could take me home within a couple of hours. I managed not to laugh
at his words.
“Mr.
Espan, your wife is fine, nothing to worry about. Braxton Hicks are
quite normal at this stage of pregnancy, and many women have them. Her
cervix is closed, and she’s not going to deliver that baby
any
time within the next 24 hours.” They looked at the resident,
then
at me, and waited. I smiled serenely and did not say
‘I
told you so.’ Thank God Terry hadn’t taken the time
to call Dee
…at least I didn’t think he had. I’d
have strangled him if he
had, and I found out about it.
In
truth, I’d almost have been glad if I’d been in
true labour. Yes, the baby isn’t due for another couple of
weeks, but first
babies often come early and suffer no problems. I’m so tired
of
the backache and feeling like Shamu on steroids. I’ll be so
glad
when this little one puts in his/her appearance. I want so much to
hold my child in my arms and see its father’s proud and happy
smile.
TERRY
I’m
not sure which of us was more relieved when the doctor said Reags
wasn’t having the baby today. I know I was scared pissless
when
Max bolted down the stairs and said, “Cassandra
is having the child.”
It
didn’t matter a jot that Reags said what she was having
weren’t
real contractions. All that truly penetrated my brain was the word
contractions. She called us loons and said she
wasn’t going
anywhere with us, to hospital or otherwise. We almost had to drag
her bodily to the car.
I’d
called Diana once Reags was in with the doctor and told her it was
possible she was going to be an aunt before the night was done. Saying
she was displeased at not being able to meet us at hospital
because of the road conditions was an understatement.
“Terry,
tell her to cross her legs. Find a cork and shove it up her
you-know-what. She can not have this baby until I
get there!” Fortunately I was still on the phone with her
when the doctor came
out to tell Max and me Reags wasn’t in true labour, and that
she
had been entirely correct in her self-diagnosis. I made Diana
promise she’d never tell Reags I’d called.
She’d been laughing
when I cut the connection.
We
got Reags back to the loft and inside without undue difficulty. The
lack of difficulty was likely due to there being so little traffic
because of the storm, and the couple of skids we took didn’t
do
more than give us all a bit of momentary excitement. Once back in
the car park, Max and I each took one of her arms and walked her
carefully over the ice patches to the lift and had her upstairs in no
time. She spent the rest of the day drinking water and pissing every
half hour.
MAXIMUS
I
was vastly relieved to learn Cassandra had been in what is termed
false labour, though I have no comprehension of how the doctors can
determine that which is false from what is true. On commenting as
much, I was treated to a half-hour lecture from my wife on the
differences. I did learn a great deal and, as is not uncommon where
men and the mysteries surrounding childbirth are concerned, more than
I wished to know. Terry sat quietly, nodding on occasion when
Cassandra made a comment on a topic of which he had some awareness.
Diana called and asked if Terry might stay the night again;
she had been monitoring the weather and road conditions and did not
wish him to attempt navigating the High Five. I assured her he was
welcome to remain with us before handing the phone to him. Though it
was not my intention to eavesdrop, in so small an area it was
impossible not to hear at least some of his comments.
“I
was planning on that …yes, I know. She’s fine,
Diana ….
“The
doctor said not within the next 24 hours. Of course, after that,
it’s anyone’s guess.”
I
made sure my wife was occupied with deciding which television program
to watch thus avoiding her hearing Terry’s comment. Cassandra
did
not know that he had called Diana whilst we were at hospital, and we
did not want her to know. She would have considered his having done
so alarmist at best and foolish at worst. He did not deserve to be
on the receiving end of her temper simply for trying to stay in
Diana’s good graces.
“I’ll
take care of it …no wurries. I love you, too.” He
rang off and
turned to us.
“I
have my orders for the evening. Since Diana isn’t here to
cook,
she’s forbidding you to do so, Reags. I’ll pop
downstairs and
get take out from Café Express …Diana says you
love
everything on their menu, and that’s available online for Max
and
me to make a choice. Here you go.”
Terry
had his laptop open and had pulled up the Café Express web
site before Cassandra or I could object.
NOTES
| Blue
Norther |
A
swift-moving cold frontal passage in the southern Great Plains,
marked by a dark, blue-black sky with strong wintry winds from the
northwest or north and temperatures that may drop 20°F to
30°F
in a few minutes (www.weather.com)
. When a Blue Norther is predicted, parents in North Texas may send
their children off to school in temperate-weather clothes in the
morning, but carrying winter coats and gloves …and the
children
will be wearing them before the day is out. I’ve seen A Blue
Norther drop the temperature as much as 50 degrees in two hours; the
accompanying wind and resulting wind chill factor serve to make the
sudden change even more bitter.
|
| TXDoT |
Texas
Department of Transportation – the entity responsible for
monitoring road conditions and safety. TXDoT will close roads deemed
unsafe due to weather (or accident) conditions.
|
| The
Panhandle |
The
northern-most part of Texas is rectangular, somewhat like the handle
of a skillet one uses to cook. Florida also has a panhandle, as does
Idaho.
|
| Braxton
Hicks |
Mild
contractions that can appear at any time after the first trimester of
pregnancy, though they are most common in the third trimester. They
are very common and are actually more uncomfortable than truly
painful.
|
