Page 1 of A Little Luck
PROLOGUE
PIPER
THAT NIGHT…
“Piper Ann, stay with me!”
Searing pain twists my abdomen, and I’m rethinking Taco Tuesday for dinner.
“It hurts so bad,” I gasp, gripping the dash and holding the base of my stomach as my mother squeals tires, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the glass double doors of the small, community hospital in Ridgeland.
“We made it!” My mother’s eyes are wide as she jams the truck into park.
Slamming the door, she runs around the front, waving her hands and screaming at the two men in scrubs leaning on the counter on the other side of the entrance. “Can we get some help out here? We’ve got a baby on the way!”
I’m too distracted by the cramps snarling my insides to care that my crazy mother looks even crazier right now.
For nine months I’ve been mentally preparing for the chaos of labor, but I didn’t expect to be so out of control—or for my mother, the queen of suspicion and hiding, to have the reins.
I’d been feeling off all day, so after dinner, I decided to take a walk to Mom’s. Our town of Eureka, South Carolina, is small enough that the walk from my ancient house behind the tiny newspaper office where I work to my mom’s even ancient-er house on the street behind the church takes less than ten minutes.
I had just made it to the edge of her driveway when my water broke—and all hell broke loose with it.
Opening the door of the step-side, she reaches for my hand. “Are you able to climb down?”
“I’m afraid he’s going to fall out.” I do my best to deadpan.
A therapist once told me laughter was my trauma response.
“Oh, God!” Mom actually drops to one knee as I climb out of the vehicle.
“I was joking,” I manage through a hiss.
A beefy man appears beside her, reaching for my arms while his friend holds a wheelchair. “Easy there, we’ve got you.”
I’m lowered into a different sitting position as uncomfortable as the first one, and they wheel me to the entrance of the hospital.
The man at my arm motions to a stocky woman sitting behind a desk. “We’ll just get you checked in, and then we can get you to a room.”
“We don’t have time for that!” Mom is in the guy’s face. “This baby has been coming for almost an hour! We drove here from Eureka!”
His dark brow lowers, and he glances at his partner.
The woman at the desk waves us along. “Take her to a room and get her hooked up to the monitors. Ma’am, you’re going to have to move that truck.”
A strong hand grasps my wrist. “I’ll be right back.” My mother’s tone is conspiratorial as she eyes each of the staff members. “Don’t worry—I won’t let either of you out of my sight.”
I’m only worried I’m about to barf refried beans into my lap. This pain is like the worst stomach cramps multiplied by a thousand, and I didn’t take any natural childbirth classes. I’m on my fucking own right now, and I have no idea what to do. I should’ve at least prepared for the chance I might not get pain meds. I’ve heard of it happening.
“What was I thinking?” A sheen of sweat is on my forehead and upper lip, and I’m hurting so bad, I’m trembling.
“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one.” The deadpan voice rivals my own, and I glance up to see a nurse in pink scrubs striding in my direction. “Let me guess, the father’s not in the picture?”
My lips part over gritted teeth, and I shake my head as another contraction hits me hard. “He’s dead.” It comes out as a grunt.
Her demeanor changes at once. “Shit, I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth. I’m always sticking my foot in it.”
Holding up a hand, I shake my head harder as if that’ll help me get through this long, long contraction. Tears flood my eyes as it knots lower in my stomach, and I try to breathe. Even if I didn’t take the classes, I’ve seen enough movies to know they’re always telling women to breathe. It’s harder than it looks.