Finding Fire by Terry Odell

with
two bright yellow bath towels a moment later. He slid one under
Sarah's bottom. "All right, we're going to the hospital. Now."
    "Take it easy. First you call the doctor.
Then you get my suitcase. And the bag of Lamaze things." A
contraction made her gasp for breath. She remembered to do the
breathing she'd learned, but had sudden doubts that it would
work.
    "Right," Randy said. He walked out of the
room, and came back in less than a minute, a glazed expression on
his face. He looked three shades paler than he had before.
    "Doctor. Suitcase. Lamaze," Sarah repeated.
"The list is on the fridge."
    "List. Fridge. Right. Thanks."
    She smiled and tried to rise from the chair.
Moving caused another contraction, a bit stronger than the first,
and she sank down. "Randy! Bring me that long brown dress, and some
dry undies. I'm soaked." Her hand moved absently around her belly
and she spoke to their unborn child. "Are you sure you want out
now? No tricks? I don't think your daddy can do this twice."
    "Okay," Randy panted. "Everything's in the
truck. Doctor Zellner will meet us at the hospital."
    "My clothes?"
    "Clothes. Right. You'd want them now, I
guess."
    Her chuckle brought on another contraction.
"Don't make me laugh! But yes, that was the idea."
    "Clothes. Truck. On it." He turned to
go.
    "Wait. One more thing."
    "What? What did I forget?"
    "Nothing. But we still haven't agreed on a
boy's name, and I'm not leaving here until we do. We had a deal. No
peeking at the ultrasounds, and I'd pick a girl's name, and you'd
come up with one for a boy. Well, I did my part, and you approved
Emily, after your grandmother. Now it's your turn."
    "Sarah, you're kidding. You're in labor! Now
is not the time."
    "Now is the perfect time. You've avoided the
topic for the last seven and a half months." She folded her arms
across her chest and gave Randy the best "Don't mess with me" look
she could manage, but when a contraction hit, her grimace ruined
the effect. Or not, because all of a sudden Randy grew calm. He
knelt to her level, a gentle hand on her belly.
    "I've had a name picked out for months," he
murmured.
    "So why didn't you say something?"
    "I wasn't sure how you would react. I was
afraid it would … would be hard for you. Especially now."
    Sarah kept her breathing shallow, ignoring
the tightening of her womb. "David? You want to call him David? Oh,
Randy, I don't know …"
    "No, not David. But I know you wanted
something of him to live on, and I know you don't use his name
anymore, because of the initials. Sarah Tucker Detweiler—STD—just
doesn't cut it. But, would it be all right with you if we called
him Tucker?"
    Her heart swelled, and any lingering doubts
that Randy regretted not being her first love vanished. "Tucker
Detweiler. Quite a handle for a little one." She smiled. "But if
he's anything like his dad, he'll grow into it." She leaned over
and kissed him. "Have I told you how much I love you?"
    "Tell me later. Right now we need to get you
to the hospital."
     
    *****
     
    "I hate you, Randy Detweiler." Sarah gasped.
"I hate you. And if you ever come near me again, I'll …kill … oh,
God, here we go again."
    "Atta girl, Sarah," Dr. Zellner said. "One
more push. Lend a hand, Dad, she won't really kill you. This is it.
Good girl."
    The seemingly endless contraction passed.
Seconds later, a newborn's cry filled the room. With Randy behind
her, lifting her shoulders, Sarah strained to look. "Is everything
all right?"
    "Perfect," Dr. Zellner said. "You've got a
boy. A nice, healthy baby boy."
    Sarah lay back in euphoric exhaustion and
beamed at Randy, who wiped his eyes.
    The nurse laid the squawking bundle on her
belly. "Here. He's perfect, but I'm sure you'll want to count
fingers and toes while the doctor finishes down there."
    Sarah marveled at the tiny piece of
perfection in her arms. She drew Randy's huge hand down to the
infant's tiny one. "Good morning, Tuck. Say hi to your daddy."
     

    * * * * *

    And, just for fun,