The lights flickered twice then went out. The elevator lurched to a stop and immediately a yellow glow lit the cubicle as the emergency battery-powered lights came on.
“What happened?” Tess demanded.
“Power failure.” Grey depressed the emergency button twice, then turned just as Tess started sinking toward the floor.
“I can’t hold it.” She grimaced, then screamed. “Oh, God!”
Grey whipped off his coat and dropped down beside her, grasping her hand. A strong contraction shook her, causing her to raise up.
“Squeeze my arm,” he encouraged. “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
Her nails dug into him as a second contraction gripped her. “Too late. It’s coming. Now,” she panted.
“Now?”
Disbelieving, Grey peeked under her frothy wedding dress surprised to find the baby’s head cresting.
Just like in the video he’d watched a thousand times
.
He’d never felt so inadequate in his entire life.
Shoving her gown out of the way, he yanked off her shoes and quickly peeled off her nylons. Not a moment too soon.
“Push,” he ordered.
Tess screamed, bearing down.
“Again,” he said.
Tess screamed once more, straining.
“Good girl. Once more.”
Tess fell back, sobbing. “I can’t
.
”
Another contraction overtook her. Grey moved behind her, holding her, urging her. “We’ll do it together. Push!”
Buoyed by her husband’s strength, Tess pushed. And panted. And pushed yet again.
Ten minutes later, Chelsea Marsh Thomas drew her first breath, in her father’s hands, and began crying right along with both of her parents.