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I pulled up to #20 Kensey Lane and rolled my window down, reading the small sign affixed to the thick brick post that held an intercom speaker and a keypad. Following the directions on the sign, I pressed the green button, and said, “Um…hi, this is Renee Mattison, one of the midwives from Genesis Birthing Center. I’m here to assist Melyssa Higgs.”
As I was waiting for a reply, the iron gate groaned and began to slowly open. “Okay…” I muttered, as I rolled my window up and pulled through the gate onto the winding driveway, finally parking in front of the three-car garage. I was at the massive door with my rolling case next to me, hand raised to knock when it opened to reveal a huge man, and when I say huge, I mean enormous—tall, wide, and downright ominous looking. He didn’t speak, just moved to the side so I could enter the house, but I wasn’t altogether sure I wanted to enter it.
“Uh,” I said, still standing outside. “Um, is this the Higgs residence?”
He nodded, stepped back a little further.
“Uh…”
“Who’s that, Rell?” a voice coming from somewhere beyond the door yelled.
The big man, presumably Rell, turned and looked at whoever it was wherever they were and opened the door wider, but still didn’t utter a word.
A second or two later, another man approached the door, the kind of man who makes your breath hitch and your heart race. Tall, probably about six-five to my five-seven, and big, but smaller than Rell. Wide shoulders and extremely handsome with smooth, semisweet chocolate skin, a neat mustache and goatee, thick eyebrows and lips, and dark, deep-set eyes. He wore sweat pants and a black t-shirt. The energy in the air shifted, became almost electrified, and I was suddenly aware of an intoxicating scent infiltrating my senses—his cologne.
“You from Genesis?” he asked, a look of concern etched into his face.
I nodded, composed myself, and said, “Yes.”
“Good! She’s saying she feels like pushing, but it’s too soon, right?”
“Where is she?” I asked, now fully recovered from the introduction of his comeliness and ready to handle the task at hand.
“Up here. In the tub.” He started toward the stairs, and I took the cue, following him as Rell closed the front door. “I’m Lorenzo Higgs, by the way,” he said.
“I’m Renee Mattison.” I would be so glad when my divorce was final and I could be a Strickland again.
I made myself not look at the back of his body, and instead, concentrated on the stairs and my own feet. “How long has she been having contractions?”
“Ah, she started hurting yesterday afternoon, said she had pains off and on all day and into the night, but they didn’t get bad until early this morning. It got to the point that she was screaming and shi—um, and stuff like an hour ago, so I called you guys.”
“Bless her heart, she’s been laboring for a long time.”
We were on the second floor, and he was leading me down a carpeted hallway that smelled of fresh linen. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ve hated seeing her hurt like this. I’ll just be glad when this is all over.”
I smiled. So many husbands were this way, worried, anxious. It was endearing, really, and while it warmed my heart, it also made it ache just a little bit more. I couldn’t recall the last time my estranged husband had ever seemed concerned about me.
I followed him into an enormous room, past a gorgeous four-poster bed and into a bathroom that was larger than my bedroom in the home I’d shared with my husband, Robert. And sitting in a huge alcove tub set under a window was the patient. Just as I was thinking the tub had probably been built to accommodate Mr. Higgs, I fully took in the scene before me. The woman in the tub breathing through a contraction wasn’t a woman at all, but a girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen. She wore a black sports bra, and I was sure she had nothing on beneath the water. An older woman was sitting in a chair beside the tub rubbing her back. My admiration of this man’s concern flew out the window. He was older than her, much closer to my age than hers. She had no business here with him, but I suppose the huge mansion I was in had something to do with their union. But then again, the man was handsome with chiseled features.
I need to mind my own business.
“Melyssa?” I said, in a calm voice.
When I entered the bathroom, her eyes were closed and the older woman was encouraging her to breathe. After I said her name, she opened her eyes and fixed them on me.
“Is it okay if I check you out? See how far you’ve dilated? I know you feel the need to push, right?”
She simply nodded, and I dug into the front pocket of my cart and grabbed a pair of gloves. “Is latex okay?” I questioned.
She nodded again.
I pulled on the pink gloves and kneeled beside the tub. As I checked her, I asked, “Has being in the water helped with the pain?”
“Yes,” she said softly, as she reached up and grasped the older woman’s hand.
“Good.”
