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“I read about that possibility,” Becky mutters, petting my hand then waving under herself, at the pillows between us. She grimaces as she does so, and I’m reminded that now they’re wet pillows.
“You don’t need to move off of me,” I tell her. “If I’m more comfortable for you than the seat, then stay where you are. I’m not afraid of a little water.”
“If you’re sure…” Becky murmurs.
My arms come around her more firmly, but just as carefully. “I am. We need to turn around,” I announce to the others, taking a tighter grip on the reins, ready to guide Joel’s horse back to town. “I need to take Becky to the hospital.”
“Wait!” Stella calls. “Come to our house! We have two labor chairs! C’vest wasn’t sure which one I’d like better, so he bought me both.”
“She told me they are both equally good and that I did well,” C’vest informs us.
Sparing a glance over at their wagon, I watch Stella pat C’vest proudly. “You did perfect. And you buying two will work out pretty miraculously if Becky wants to share a birthing room and a midwife.” She sends a pleading look at Becky. “Do you want to?”
Becky swallows. Both her hands are clutching her stomach. But she raises one hand and clamps it over my arm, as if for strength, or maybe comfort. “I would like that. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 16
I’m sure C’vest and Stella’s ranch is nice, but I hardly glance at the exterior, so focused am I on Becky’s brain as I help her into the house after her dangerous influence of a friend.
“Being near your wife induced mine,” I accuse C’vest as we come alongside one another in his home’s entryway.
Becky huffs an incredulous laugh. Stella does too. But C’vest nods, accepting this logic. It isn’t a far-fetched notion. It’s a phenomenon attributed to some sea creatures.
C’vest, holding his wife’s elbow, guides Stella—and thereby us too as we follow beside them—to their birthing room.
Just inside the threshold, I stop dead and stare.
Outside, Paco makes a loud “HAWWWWWWW!” noise that shakes the windows. He isn’t calling us; he’s calling the mares that C’vest and Stella own. The mares were at the fenceline that runs alongside their ranch’s long drive, and Paco was thrilled to make their acquaintance.
It was clear to us onlookers that the bemused mares could not say the same.
(Underwhelmed. That was their reaction, in a word.)
“Wow,” Becky breathes. “Your wall murals are… incredible.”
Mutely, I jerk my chin down in agreement. In Stella and C’vest’s birthing room, someone has painted a representation of the pelagic realm. A myriad of underwater creatures found in the Sunlight Zone to the Abyss are frolicking in a sea of bright, nearly electric colors.
Vibrant corals and anemones and seafloor fishes decorate the lower portions of two walls, representing the benthic realm very nicely.
The other two walls are quite the contrast, with Western scenes. Bovines native to this planet, called Nfurian, dot the hills on one wall. The other wall depicts a horse, a very shiny horse, painted to look like the one that pulled C’vest’s and Stella’s wagon if I’m not mistaken.
A crib sits in front of this wall. Over the crib is a hoop, and dangling from the hoop is a deliberate blend of sea creatures and Western animals. In the corner of the room is a wooden cow affixed to a pair of curved wooden pieces.
“What is that?” I ask.
“A rocker,” Stella answers, rubbing her back as her husband hauls furniture around, moving things to make the space even more appropriate for birthing. Masculine nesting behavior. “Traditionally, you give children a rocking horse. But we raise cattle here and C’vest saw this bull rocker and liked it. We decided to buy it for our baby instead of a horse.” She catches her mate by the hand and pets his arm, stilling him.
His face appears stoic—but his brain gives away that he’s anxious.
Understandably.
He tips his head to the center of the room where one chair, what must be a labor chair, sits prominently.
Tucked in the corner opposite the bull rocker is another chair, just as fine looking, just as Stella described.
I guide Becky to the tucked-away chair, which is against an ocean mural wall on its left and a Western mural on its right.
“Pull that over here, next to me,” Stella instructs. Then she blinks, her hands beginning to worry her husband’s arm. “Unless you want to be over there. It's okay if you want some privacy. We can also put you in the guest room, if you’d prefer.”
