Dutch Crocus (Flowers Can Be Fatal) Page 4

  “Did it work?”

  “Almost.”

  “Hmm.” Sam sighed as he pulled up her sleeve. “If your blood pressure is still up—”

  “I am not going into hospital,” she said firmly.

  “And when did you get your degree in medicine?”

  She shifted on the sofa. “I’m fine, really. It’s just a headache probably caused by Adam stressing about me being alone. Which I’m not, because Aunt Lydia is moving in. And I promise that while she’s out at the homeless shelter, I’ll sit here and admire the tree lights.” She watched Jackson’s face as he took her blood pressure. “Well?”

  “It’s up a little, but not as much as it has been. Lie down for me.”

  Sam obediently lay down and pulled up her T-shirt. “Yes, they are still moving. No, I’m not still being sick…well not as much. I’m guessing I’m the unfortunate one-in-however-many that’s sick the whole nine months.”

  “I’m changing your appointments to weekly,” he told her, his cold hands making her wince and shy away from his touch.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s twins. From the last month you’d go weekly anyway. Twins have a tendency to arrive early. When are you due again?”

  “Eighteenth of February.” She looked at her aunt. “There’s no need to worry Adam about this, because I’m fine. And he needs to be at this conference.”

  Aunt Lydia and Jackson exchanged a long look.

  “Don’t do that she-isn’t-in-the-room thing. I’ll be fine, and I promise I’ll follow your instructions to the letter.”

  “OK,” Aunt Lydia said. “But if you fall again or the doctor is at all worried, then I’m calling him.”

  December

  Monday 14th

  Sam pulled herself from the bathroom back to the bedroom. She wasn’t sure what she’d eaten the previous day, but something hadn’t agreed with her.

  Aunt Lydia sat on the bed waiting for her. “I’m calling Adam.”

  Sam shook her head. “No, he’s home tomorrow anyway, and there’s no point in worrying him over nothing.” She scrunched up her face, holding her stomach. “And now I’ve got a stitch.” She curled up on the bed, whimpering as the pain didn’t ease.

  “I’m calling the doctor,” Aunt Lydia said. “And don’t argue.”

  Sam nodded, in too much pain to argue. Finally, it eased. She sat up slowly. Too early for Braxton Hicks contractions and therefore just part of whatever stomach bug she’d picked up. But the cramps were getting worse, so maybe seeing Jackson wouldn’t be a bad idea.

  And Adam was probably right about not fighting people on every little thing. He’d told her as much on the phone the previous evening.

  Half an hour, or three stomach cramps that lasted an eternity later, Jackson came into the bedroom. “Hey, Sam. Your aunt says you’re not doing so good today.”

  “Where do you want me to start?” she asked. “Headache, backache, cramps, throwing up again…And before you say rest, I am. Think I ate something that disagreed with me.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.” He grabbed her wrist. “Hmmm, you don’t feel particularly hot, but we’ll take your temperature anyway.”

  “I don’t—” Sam broke off in a scream of agony, doubling over as much as possible.

  “Sam?” Jackson laid a hand on her stomach. “Deep breaths. Concentrate on my voice for a moment. In and out…in and out…”

  Sam didn’t want to breathe, but for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she did what Jackson asked of her, following his voice. Finally the pain eased.

  “OK, I’m admitting you,” he said firmly. “But first I want to check you over properly.”

  Sam shook her head. “It’ll pass. They always do, been having them on and off the past couple of days, but—”

  “How long between each one?” He pulled on a pair of gloves. “Lie back for me.”

  Sam rolled her eyes but complied. “Five, ten minutes maybe.”

  “That was a contraction,” he told her. “And not a little one either.” His face contorted into a frown. “I need to examine you.”

  A few moments later, Jackson glanced at her with an ever-deepening frown. “You’ve been cramping for two days and didn’t say anything? You are five centimeters dilated. These babies are coming today.” He pulled out his phone. “This is Dr. Jackson Parker. I’m bringing in one of my patients. Thirty-five-year-old, thirty weeks pregnant with twins, five centimeters, with contractions every five minutes. Her consultant is Steve Sloan, can you bleep him and have him waiting, please. I’ll have her there in about ten minutes.”

  “I’ll pack her a bag and follow you in the car,” Aunt Lydia said.

  “I’m not having these babies,” Sam whispered. “Too soon and Adam isn’t here.”

  Jackson gave her the look he’d perfected over the past few months. “Those babies want out, sweetheart. You don’t have a choice.”

  “Not without Adam. He’s in London.”

  “I’ll call him. Now put your coat and shoes on.”

  “Have you any idea how hard it is to put shoes on when you can’t see your feet?” she grumbled. She sat up and shifted her legs around so she perched on the edge of the bed.

  Jackson grinned as he dialed. “Adam, its Jackson. I need you to get back here as soon as possible. Sam’s in labor…I know it’s too soon, but your babies have other ideas…”

  “Ohhhh.” Sam closed her eyes as another contraction hit. With this one, her water broke.

  Jackson scooped her up in his arms. “We need to get you into the car before the next one hits. Adam is going to meet us at the hospital. I need you to breathe through each contraction and don’t push, no matter how much you want to.”

  ~*~

  Adam swerved into the one remaining parking space. His heart pounded and his stomach churned. He’d been unsettled all day and wanted to ring Sam several times, only the meeting dragged on and on. He’d prayed constantly since he’d left the hotel, grateful the room had been paid for in advance so all he had to do was pack and hand in the key.

  He locked the car and ran to maternity. “Adam West,” he panted at the desk. “My wife is here.”

  “Name,” the receptionist intoned.

  “Samantha West.”

  “Delivery suite, third floor.”

  Adam punched the lift button and waited for ten seconds before heading to the stairwell and running up the stairs. He rang the bell on the door. “Adam West for Samantha West,” he said as soon as the buzzer was answered.

  Jackson stood in scrubs by the nurses’ desk. “Adam, thank the Lord you’re here. Gown up and get in there fast. She’s in room four.”

  “Why? What’s happening?” The panic within him upped a notch.

  “She’s refusing to push until you get here. The babies are getting distressed, and her consultant wants to do a section.”

  Adam tugged on the gown, his fingers refusing to do it up. “Can you do me up?”

  “Sure, once we’re in there.” Jackson ran down the hallway.

  Adam followed. Screams floated over his head. The familiar voice pitted his stomach and twisted his heart into a massive knot. Sam…oh, Lord, please help her.

  Jackson pushed open the door.

  Sam leaned over the bed, pushing the midwife away. “I told you, nooooo….” Her voice tailed off into a scream of agony.

  The consultant looked at him. “Mr. West, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Adam nodded. “Jackson filled me in. How’s she doing?”

  “Fully dilated, but I’m not happy with the deceleration of the twin’s heartbeats.”

  “Sam, you need to work with us,” the midwife said. “You have to push because the baby is coming whether you want it or not.”

  “No!”

  Adam shook his head and crossed over to her. “Sam, that’s enough!” He raised his voice enough to speak over her.

  Sam quieted. “Adam?”

  He gripped her face in his hands, forcing
her to look at him. “Yes, honey, I’m here.”

  “It’s too soon…oh, not again….”

  “Breathe, honey.”

  “I am breathing! You should be doing this, not me…”

  He took the gas and air from the nurse and shoved the mouthpiece between her lips. “In and out, remember from last time.” Sam nodded, and he kept coaching her through the pain, her hand gripping his tightly. “Good girl, there we go.”

  “OK, Sam,” Mr. Sloan said. “I need to examine you.”

  Adam helped Sam back onto the bed and took her hand. “I’m going nowhere, honey. Few more minutes and those babies are going to be here.”

  “I don’t want a section,” she whispered. Sweat bathed her face, making her hair stick to her head. “Immy was a section, and she died.”

  Mr. Sloan shook his head as he straightened and looked at the trace. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll lose the babies without a section. The heart rates aren’t recovering.”

  “No,” Sam moaned.

  “Honey, we have no choice. We have to do what’s best for the twins.”

  “Come with—”

  “No time.” Mr. Sloan began pushing the bed. “Tell theatre we’re on the way.”

  Jackson looked at him. “Stay here and pray. I’ll go with her. I promise I won’t leave her side.”

  Adam found himself in an empty room with as Sam’s bed was wheeled out amidst a team of medics working on her. Everything suddenly seemed flat and hollow and silent after the panic of the previous few minutes. He looked at Aunt Lydia, shell-shocked. The one thought resonating through his mind. I’ve lost her. I should never have gone away.

  He glanced at the clock, wondering what time his world had ended.

  December 14th

  “Mr. West?”

  Adam looked up from where he sat with Aunt Lydia. The two of them had prayed constantly. “Yes?” he asked, getting to his feet as Mr. Sloan crossed over to them.

  Jackson stood behind the consultant, his face impassive, giving nothing away.

  Mr. Sloan indicated the chair. “Please, sit.”

  Adam shook his head, scared to hear the news either way. “Just tell me.”

  “Sam’s OK. She’s in recovery. It was touch and go for a while, and we had to do a hysterectomy…”

  Adam went cold and numb and his legs gave way. He gripped the chair as he sat.

  Mr. Sloan sat beside him. “I repeat she’s OK. She’ll need a transfusion to replace the blood she lost, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

  “Can I see her?” he managed past the lump in his throat.

  “Give us twenty minutes to get her settled and yes you can. She’ll be on Wren. But if you want to pop up to SCBU, you can go and see the babies.”

  Adam looked at him, the words taking a while to sink in. “Babies?”

  Mr. Sloan smiled. “One of each. Good weights, both over two pounds.”

  Adam leaned back in the seat, his eyes burning. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. See you later.”

  Adam buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

  Jackson dropped a hand onto his shoulder. “Congratulations.”

  Adam looked up. “Is Sam really all right?”

  Jackson nodded. “That stubborn streak of hers turned out to be a good thing. I’ll pop in tomorrow and see how she’s doing. Go see those gorgeous children of yours.”

  “Thank you.” Adam took a minute then looked at Aunt Lydia. “Coming to SCBU?” he asked.

  She nodded. “We can take pictures to show Sam.”

  “I didn’t think…her father—”

  “I rang him earlier. Told him not to come until we knew what was happening. Once we’ve seen her I’ll give him another call. Get them to come tomorrow.”

  ~*~

  9 PM

  Adam peeped around the curtain. Sam lay on the bed, her eyes closed. He crossed the small space and sat next to the bed. He took his wife’s hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb.

  Her eyes opened. “Hi.”

  He smiled. “Hi, honey.” He kissed her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore. I’m sorry I was so horrid to you.”

  He hugged her gently. “It’s fine, honey.”

  The midwife came over to the bed. “Compared to some of the women, you were an angel. Would you like some pain relief before we put you in the wheelchair?”

  “Where am I going?”

  Adam grinned. “To see the babies. The twins told me you had to name them. Something about them not liking little peoples anymore.” He held out his phone. “This is twin one, the boy, two pounds six. And this is twin two, his sister, two pounds one.”

  “They look like you,” she whispered.

  Adam grinned. “They are gorgeous. Let’s get you up to see them and then get you back to bed.”

  He transferred her to the chair and began to push.

  She reached a hand back to him. “Did they tell you about the hysterectomy?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. But the important thing is you’re OK and the babies are OK.” He pushed her across the hallway and into SCBU. The twins’ incubators were side by side. “Here we go,” he said parking her chair between them. “Baby boy West and baby girl West. Little peoples, this is Mummy.”

  Tears ran down Sam’s face. “Look at them…”

  He hunkered down beside her. “I was thinking we name her Mary, after your mum.”

  Sam nodded. “Mary Elizabeth, after them both.”

  “In that case how about Vincent Philip after both dads?”

  Sam nodded. She kissed Adam and then rested a hand on each incubator. “We don’t have anything for them.”

  “Midwife says they’ll need to stay in here for at least two weeks, maybe until their due date, so we’ve got plenty of time to do that.” He paused. “David said he’d buy us another monitor like the one Jared leant us.”

  “That’s kind.”

  He nodded. “Oh, and guess who’s pregnant?”

  Sam tore her gaze from the twins long enough to look at him. “Eden?”

  Adam nodded.

  “They haven’t been married long.”

  He grinned. “I guess honeymoon’s have a lot to answer for.”

  “Someone better warn Grace and Faith,” Sam said. She returned her gaze to the incubators, sliding a hand into each one. “Hi babies. You came before the flowers did. Dutch crocus, twin flowers for twin babies.”

  “Just like their mum,” Adam grinned. “They didn’t want to miss Christmas either.”

  February 18th

  Sam looked at Adam through the patio door. “Are you ready?” she asked for the tenth time. “Only I can’t have them outside for long. It’s too chilly.”

  Adam glanced up from where he’d arranged a blanket in front of the vast array of Dutch Crocuses and daffodils which had sprung to life in the past week. “One more minute.”

  Sam looked at the twins in her arms. They’d been home less than a week, but she’d already perfected holding them both at the same time. “Your daddy is a perfectionist,” she told them. “Nothing less will do.”

  Grace giggled from the other side of the room. “Think that goes for all men,” she said. “I know El’s the same, as is Joel.”

  Sam turned and grinned. She and Adam were surrounded by all their friends today. A welcome home party for the twins. “How’s Hope finding the florist?”

  “I’m hopeless with flowers,” Hope said from the other side of the room. “Nick says otherwise, and even Grace is polite about it, but she makes amazing bouquets and I make a disaster. But Nick says the contracts have been exchanged on the pub now and they want a social worker there, so I’m kind of hoping they’ll interview me for the position.”

  Eden smiled from where she sat on the arm of the couch. “You’ll be brilliant at it.”

  Jackson frowned. “Shouldn’t you be sitting somewhere more comfortable?”

  She sighed. “I’m pregnant.
Not an invalid. Just wait until Amber’s expecting.”

  Amber snorted. “He’s already forbidden it. He’s warned me about the plethora of honeymoon babies. There’s you and Sam for a start. He says we can’t get married for at least another year.” She put a hand over her mouth and muttered in a stage whisper. “He’s got another think coming. I happen to know the church and Pastor Carson are free on April tenth.”

  Sam laughed. “That’ll be you expecting around Christmas, then.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” someone called. “It’s probably Milly. She was hoping they’d do the drive down from Scotland in record time.”

  Sam turned back to the patio door. “Are you ready yet?” Adam nodded and she headed outside with the twins. She handed Mary over to her husband and gently laid Vincent on the blanket. He gurgled, smiling up at her.

  Adam put Mary next to her brother and chuckled as the twins immediately reached for each other’s hands. “Jackson says they did that as soon as they were born.” He took several photos.

  David came up behind them. “You two get down there as well, and I’ll take one of all of you.”

  Sam sat on the edge of the blanket, Adam the other side, the twins between them. She smiled up, seeing all her friends gathered around them. She’d started last year alone. This one began with friends, family and a knowledge that no matter what, she’d always be surrounded with love, sweet peas, and now crocuses.

  Enjoy this Sample from the first book in the Flowers can be Fatal series,

  Carnations in January

  1

  But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash. ~ Matthew 7:26-27

  It was raining. Grace Chadwick sighed. It had seemed to do nothing else since the phone call came. Even the weather was in mourning.

  The constant rain, which had lasted the entire funeral, had at least eased to a drizzle as she left the church hall. There was nothing sadder than a funeral in the rain. Especially at the graveside burial, where water thudded against black umbrellas, almost drowning out the pastor’s words.