But Linny had made a decision. If anything went wrong after all the years her sister and Jerry had hungered for a baby, Linny just couldn't bear the guilt. “I'm calling Dr. Grace anyway,” she announced.
Kate gave a reluctant nod. Examining her phone, she read off the obstetrician's number and Linny entered it into her phone. Hustling out onto the deck, she leaned out over the water, held herself in the Gumby pose required, and made the call.
A harried-sounding woman answered. “Dr. Grace Stein's office. May I place you on hold?”
“No, please don't,” Linny said fiercely, then, trying to sound calm, explained, “My sister, Kathryn Andrews, is having pains in her chest or belly. She's seven and a half months pregnant and is Dr. Grace's patient.”
The woman asked crisply, “To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Linny Taylor, her sister.”
“May I speak with your sister directly, or has your sister given written consent that we can discuss her care with you?” the woman asked.
“No, probably not,” Linny said, feeling blood pound in her ears. “But we're on a houseboat in the middle of nowhere and my sister would have to hang over a deck . . .” she started to explain.
The nurse cut in, sounding kinder now. “If you can manage to get your sister on the line in a few minutes, I'll ask Dr. Grace to call this number back as soon as she's done with her appointment.” She added, “But if you have any concerns, you'd best bring your sister into Raleigh Memorial to get examined.”
“Thank you,” Linny murmured, glad to have a plan. Ending the call, she whirled back inside to round up Kate. “Let's go. Dr. Grace will call you back in a few minutes. We'll be on the main road by then and the calls should come in crystal clear.”
“Rats. I'm feeling better, too.” Kate sighed as she slipped into the coat Linny held open for her. She held up a finger. “Let me pee one more time.” Her sister scurried off down the hall.
Linny paced. Jack. She just needed to hear his voice, needed his reassurance. She needed him to tell her she was doing the right thing and that everything would be all right. Linny hurried out to the deck. Craning herself out over the railing, Linny's heart fell when his phone went to voice mail. “Jack . . . I've missed you so,” she said, her voice cracking with love and longing and nerves. “I'm with Kate, and we're in trouble. We're at Diamond's daddy's houseboat and . . .” The call died. Brushing back tears, Linny stood up straighter as she heard Kate calling for her. Her sister didn't need to know how terrified she was. She headed back inside. Time to get moving. “You all set?” she said to Kate.
“I am.” Kate buttoned her coat and spun slowly around the room and called, “Bye, lovely little houseboat.” She trudged toward the door, grousing over her shoulder to Linny, “We're probably making a big deal about nothing.”
“Maybe,” Linny said in a noncommittal tone. She made Kate sit on a plastic chair on the dock while she double-stepped to haul the bags to the car. After wedging the last bag in the trunk, Linny felt a wave of relief. They were almost on their way. She hurried back to get Kate. “All ashore,” she called but froze. Kate's eyes were closed and her face was contorted with pain.
C
HAPTER
17
Spinning Wheels
J
ogging over to the dock, Linny knelt beside her. Her voice came out ragged as she asked, “What's going on, Kate?”
Kate clutched her stomach with both hands, her face blanched. “Just another sharp pain in my abdomen, but it was more like a spasm.”
Good lord. Contractions. Linny rubbed her forehead. “I'm calling nine-one-one.”
“No. Don't.” Kate shook her head vehemently. “They'd just take me to a Podunk hospital that doesn't know anything about older mothers.” Her voice rose and had taken on a pleading note. “Let's just head to Raleigh Memorial and wait to hear from Dr. Grace. She'll probably tell me it's indigestion.”
How fast could she get to the hospital? “Okay,” Linny said brusquely. “Once we get on the main road and get decent cell service, you can call Jerry to let him know what's up.”
Kate nodded mutely.
Her arm around Kate's shoulder, Linny bundled her off the houseboat.
After settling her sister in the forward tilting car, Linny levered herself into the driver's seat. She eyed the incline they were perched on and shuddered. If she tried to back the car up that muddy hill, they'd never make it.
She turned the key and let go the emergency brake. She'd nose the car forward, try to find enough space on the tiny lot to turn around, and hit that hill with the front tires. She needed momentum. Putting the car in low gear, she edged it forward, craning her neck to make sure she wasn't running out of firm ground and dipping toward the lake.
Kate pulled the seat belt over her shoulder and rested her hands on her baby bump.
This had to be a ten point turn. Linny exhaled noisily and edged the car forward and back yet again. Opening the door to check her progress, she gasped. They were so close to the edge. She jerked her head back in and slammed the door. Gripping the wheel with slippery hands, she made two more back and forth positioning turns. Finally, she'd squared up the front of the Volvo with the incline. “Hold on,” she muttered to Kate. “Here goes nothing.” She sent up a quick prayer and hit the gas.
The sturdy car shot forward and the wheels spun before catching hard dirt. Slowly, the Volvo chugged up the hill. Linny felt relief swell in her chest. She glanced quickly over at Kate, but her sister had her eyes squeezed closed. Seconds later the wheels skidded and the front of the car slid sideways. Linny gasped. They were going to drop into the frigid lake. She hit the gas. She spun the wheel. The car kept slowly sliding.
Kate covered her face with her hands and gave a shriek.
Suddenly, the car came to a stop. Switching off the engine, Linny peered over the hood of the car, which was now almost parallel to the lake. The right side wheels had to be inches from going over the bank. She drew in a deep breath, trying to remember how to steer out of a skid.
“Wait here,” she said to Kate. The front wheels looked closer to going over than the rear. She clambered to the backseat, praying her weight shifting wouldn't tip the car over the edge. Holding her breath, she cautiously opened the door and peered down at the ground. She breathed out. The front tire was right on the edge of the frozen lake bank, but the back tire was on eight or so inches of solid ground. They could climb out and get safe footing. “Can you crawl back here to get out?”
“Aren't you going to try again to get up the hill?” Kate asked, oblivious to their precarious position.
“We'd be safer if we stay put back in the houseboat. I'll call nine-one-one and a wrecker and we'll wait for the call from Dr. Grace,” Linny said firmly. “You need to come out the back door.”
Kate nodded and awkwardly snaked one leg over the back of the console and edged her bottom into the back passenger area. “That spasm passed,” she called over her shoulder.
“Good.” Holding on to the side of the car, Linny reached her hands in to help her sister out and onto the small ledge. Once they were a few steps from the tilting car, Linny looked at her sister, wide-eyed. “Close call,” she said, shaking her head. “How about you go back to the boat and relax?”
“Okay,” Kate said but grimaced. “I need to pee. I tried to go before, but I was too rushed. Now I really need to go.” Her sister minced down the path and hotfooted it toward the houseboat.
Linny loped ahead of her to unlock the door and let Kate in. Rummaging in her coat pocket, she found her phone and walked outside. Trotting over to the magic spot on the deck, she reached her arm over the side of the boat and almost whooped when she saw the bars. They were in business. Just as Linny pushed in the last one on 911, the door of houseboat flew open and smacked her in the back. Gasping, she watched, horrified, as the phone floated through the air and landed with a splash in Lake Constance.
“Oh, no,” Kate wailed from the open door.
Linny's knees weakened with a rush of pure panic.
“I'm so sorry,” Kate said, shaking her head helplessly. “I came out because something weird is happening.” She took Linny's hand and placed it on her belly.
Shocked by what she felt, Linny tried to keep a poker face. “It's hard as stone.”
“And it's changing shape, contorting somehow,” Kate said, wide-eyed.
“Okay,” Linny said. She knew nothing about shape-changing babies and mystery spasms.
Kate leaned against the door, her face white. “Maybe it's false labor, or maybe the baby's coming early.”
Or maybe her sister was miscarrying. She wouldn't let herself think that. Taking Kate's hand, she eased her into a chair on the deck. “Are the contractions still bad?”
“They've eased up a little,” Kate said.
“Okay.” Linny slumped against the side of the houseboat, rubbing her eyes with her fingers and trying to think. “Should I hike out to the main road and try to get help or find phone coverage? What about the neighbor we saw chopping wood?”
“The neighbor was five or six miles back,” Kate said, frowning. “And it'll be dark soon. We don't have a flashlight and the app on the phone won't last.”
“And I can't leave you here alone.” Linny put her hands over her face. She was the one who was supposed to take care of them, and look what a mess she'd gotten them into. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Kate slumped, watching her and looking miserable. After a moment she straightened. “Now let's stay calm,” she said unconvincingly.
Linny nodded as she racked her brain to think of what to do. She desperately wanted to talk to Jack: capable, calm Jack who'd know exactly what to do. He'd make planks with boards or do something clever to get them out of this awful mess. She stared at the car and pinched her lip. Could she try again? Cat litter could help get cars unstuck in snow. Could she sprinkle rocks or brush or grass under the tires to help her get more traction? She glanced back at the dark water and shivered, picturing Kate flailing as the freezing water filled the submerging car. No. No more tries up that hill.
“I'm feeling better,” Kate called, trying to sound perky.
“Good. Let's get you back inside and get your feet up,” Linny said briskly and, grasping her arm, led Kate inside. The pink was back in her sister's cheeks. Thank goodness. The spasms or contractions, thoughâvery scary.
After getting Kate settled back in the recliner and wrapped up in a blanket, Linny gave her a glass of water and switched on lamps to brighten the room against the dusk. With her thin shoulders and slight build, Kate looked fragile. Linny felt a rush of fierce protectiveness and leaned over to hug her. “I'm going to try to think of some other way out of here, but if we're stuck here for the night, I'll go for help at dawn. If anything . . . medical . . . comes up, I'll do the very best I can.” She gave Kate a nervous smile. “I watched a lot of
ER.
”
Kate's eyes radiated trust. “Good.”
“You need to stay calm and be positive. Can you do your meditation thing? Think about your healthy, happy baby, your good husband, ice cream?”
“I'll do that,” Kate said, nodding. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes.
Thank God Kate was a good meditator. Linny rubbed her hands up and down her arms. It was getting chilly. If they were stuck for the night, they'd need their warm clothes and food. Traipsing back to the car, Linny eyed the lake bank as she carefully unloaded the cooler and their bags and hauled them back to the houseboat.
Inside, she was bumping up the heat when she heard the roar of an engine coming from the water. Quickly, she slipped out the door, ran to the upper deck, and scanned the lake. Her heart hammered. In the distance, a bass boat sped down the lake. Linny jumped up and down, wildly waving both arms. “Hey! Hey! Help!” she yelled. The driver spotted her, gave her a big wave, and raced on. She shook her head, disgusted. Did he think she was just being friendly?
Back inside, Linny glanced at Kate. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell gently. Good. Hands on her hips, Linny peered around the houseboat at all the cabinets and cubbyholes. Could she find a radio or some other way to get help? Linny gazed out the window and tried to think.
Feeling a surge of determination, Linny prowled around, trying to be quiet as she opened cabinet doors, searched through drawers, and hauled a kitchen chair around to check the higher shelves. She rooted around a promising-looking drawer in the kitchen but only found batteries, a deck of cards, and keys attached to a squishy key tag in the shape of a flirty-looking mermaid. Darn. Linny shut the drawer and leaned against it, arms crossed as she examined the rest of the boat.
She strode over to the small alcove behind the kitchen table and took in the steering wheel, the dashboard full of gauges, and the high cushioned chair. A captain's chair. She didn't know why it hadn't occurred to her before, but the boat had an engine. It didn't just sit at the dock like Tom Hanks's boat did in Seattle.
Linny peered in the cabinets and cubbies around the steering area and, deep in the back of one, spied a flash of color. She reached in, felt metal, and gingerly extracted what looked like an orange pistol. A flare gun. Her hands shaking with excitement, Linny reached back in and pulled out what looked like two fat orange shotgun shells. Flares. She felt like cheering. Examining the gun more closely, she figured out how to open it and load the flares.
Hiking herself up onto the captain's chair, Linny felt a jab of the houseboat keys she'd slipped into the pocket of her jeans. She pulled out the keys. There were just two. Hurrying back over to the junk drawer, she found the flirty mermaid. She had six keys chained to her webbed tail. Was one of them the key that started the boat engine? She felt a flutter of excitement.
From a cabinet as thin as a cookie sheet, she pulled a big blue paperback book and flipped it open. A map of the lake. Holy cow. Holding it up to the waning light, she saw the outline of Lake Constance and a spot marked in bold letters that read
Burke's Marina
. They'd passed Burke's on the way in, and the parking lot was full of trucks and boat trailers. Could she drive the houseboat to the marina to get help? She glanced out the window. They had a half hour or so before it would be fully dark. Her thoughts raced. How would she start the engine? Would she be able to pilot the houseboat without sinking them? Would it be more dangerous to try to make it to the marina than it would be to stay and wait until morning?
Linny closed her eyes and concentrated, weighing each option. She made a decision. As soon as it got dark, she'd shoot off the flares and pray a neighbor would see them and come to help. Trying to drive the houseboat to the marina was Plan B and so risky she'd only try it if Kate took a turn for the worse. She'd never driven a boat, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Neither plan would work unless the stars aligned perfectly and she was the luckiest woman in North Carolina. But Linny still felt a flood of relief. At least she had a plan.
* * *
Under the weak light of a half-moon, Linny stood on the deck and looked out over the water.
Kateâwho said she was feeling somewhat betterâhad insisted on coming up on the deck to watch. “Be careful, Lin,” she called.
Linny nodded and, taking a deep breath, braced her arms like she'd seen Angelina Jolie do in a movie, raised the gun to the sky away from the boat, and fired. The blaze of molten red burst from the barrel and shot high into the dark sky. Awed, Linny watched the flare's arcing ascent and slow, graceful fall into the lake.
“Beautiful,” Kate breathed. “Just like a fiery meteor.”
“It was,” she said, marveling at how it shot toward the heavens and fell softly back into the water. She fervently hoped her neighbors had seen the light show. She put the gun on the table. “I'll wait fifteen minutes and if no one responds, I'll fire the second flare,” she said, but she froze and stared into the darkness behind the houseboat. She turned to Kate and pointed toward the woods. “I thought I saw a flash of light,” she said quietly.
Both sisters hurried to the railing and peered into the murky darkness.
Linny held her breath, almost afraid to believe help might be on the way. “Headlights.”
“Thank goodness,” Kate said and circled her arm around Linny's shoulders. “Maybe it was the wood-chopping neighbor.”
Linny gazed at her sister wonderingly. “But I only shot the flare a minute ago. . . .”
She peered out. A car wound down the last curve of the driveway. No. A truck. Linny's breath caught. Her knees liquefied. Jack's big red truck rumbled into view and idled in the clearing at the top of the hill. In the watery moonlight, she saw Neal leaning halfway out the window of the passenger seat, waving his arms wildly and grinning from ear to ear. Jack swung down from the driver's seat and stared out at the houseboat, his face etched with worry. Linny cried out, scrambled off the boat, and ran to them.