Page 13 of Ink

“The hard part is almost done,” the woman assured. “You can do this.”

“Oh, God, I’m having another contraction,” Charlie shouted.

“Push,” he shouted as loudly as he could. The operator was doing the same and within seconds, he was catching the baby as Charlie pushed her out. The baby started crying and Charlie reached for her.

“I’ve got her,” Ink yelled at the phone that he had dropped onto the bed. “Now what?”

“Now, you need to get a clean blanket or towel and wipe the baby down. Is it a boy or a girl?” the operator asked.

“It’s a girl.” He was wiping Bethany down when he heard sirens outside of his house. “The ambulance is here,” Ink said.

“Good, wrap the baby in the towel and give her to Charlie. Then, go answer the door so that they won’t have to break it down.”

“Right,” he said. He handed the crying baby to Charlie, and she immediately stopped fussing. He walked downstairs and quickly unlocked and opened the front door.

“Where’s the mother?” a woman EMT asked.

“She’s upstairs, first door on the left,” he said. “The baby is here, and I delivered her.”

“Is she breathing?” the other male EMT asked.

“Yes, she’s crying, and I’ve wiped her down, just like the 911 operator told me to.” He led the EMTs up to his bedroom and they immediately got to work on Charlie and the baby, while he stood in the corner anxiously watching.

“Are they going to be okay?” he asked.

“They will be fine,” the woman EMT assured. “We’re going to take them into the hospital and the doctors there will check them out and probably want to keep them both overnight.”

“I don’t want to be apart from my baby,” Charlie insisted.

“You won’t have to be,” Ink promised. “When you can’t be with her, I’ll be there for her. She won’t leave our sight; I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered. The EMTs loaded Charlie onto the gurney and let her hold the baby.

“We’ll get you there in no time,” the man promised.

“I’ll be right behind you, honey,” Ink assured.

“You promise?” she asked, trying to look back at him.

“Cross my heart,” he said. “I’m going to grab my car keys and wallet, and I’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital.”

“I’ll see you there,” Charlie called back as they took her down the stairs. Ink could hear Bethany crying again, and for some crazy reason, all he could do was smile.

Charlotte

Charlie woke up when she heard someone coming into her room. She sat up some and smiled over at the door, thinking that she’d find Ink walking in. He had gone back home to pack some things for her and Bethany, and he promised he wouldn’t be long. Instead, Zeb stood in the doorway with a bouquet of flowers and a giant teddy bear.

“Hey,” he said, as though nothing bad had happened between them. He smiled at Bethany and Charlie felt sick to her stomach.

“Get out,” she ordered. She shouted so loudly that the baby stirred and cried out a little bit, but settled back to sleep.

“Now, is that any way to talk to the father of your baby?” he asked.

“You are not her father, and you can’t be here. I have a restraining order against you,” Charlie insisted. “How did you find us anyway?” she asked. She felt around for the nurse’s call button. Ink had taken her phone when he left to run home to pack a bag for her and Bethany. He knew her well enough to know that if she had her phone, she’d be texting everyone she knew about the baby. Sure, it was a short list, but he wantedher to get some rest, and he was right—she was exhausted. But seeing her ex standing over her daughter’s bassinet filled her with enough rage to take on the whole world, if necessary.

“I found where you’ve been hiding. I saw you in that biker’s truck, driving out of town, and I realized that he was the guy at the tattoo shop that I talked to the day you ran from me. You were crafty, I’ll give you that. You hid your pregnancy and if I hadn’t followed the two of you back to his house, I would have never known about my daughter. Were you ever planning on telling me, Charlie?” Zeb asked.

“No, not ever,” she admitted. “Because you will never be her father,” she spat.

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