Fated to My Mate's Uncle novel · Chapter 29 of 32

Chapter 29: Snow

Fraser had his boots on before I'd finished saying his name.

"Sit. Don't move. I'm getting Patsy."

"I'm fine. It's just water."

The first real pain hit me then, low and wide.

I sat down on the bed hard.

"Okay," I said, when I could. "Get Patsy."

He went out the door into the white without a coat.

I heard him shouting in the snow.

Then I heard the camp wake up.

Doors banging. Boots. Somebody falling down the cook shack steps and cursing.

The boy's door opened a crack.

He stood there in his pajamas and the three-hole hat, blinking.

"Is it the baby?"

"It's the baby."

"It's not supposed to be yet."

"She didn't ask."

He thought about that.

Then he went and got me a glass of water and stood beside the bed holding it until I took it.

Patsy came through the door, with a laundry basket full of towels and her reading glasses already on.

The medic was right behind her, in his fishing vest, carrying his big orange bag and a paperback with a cracked spine.

"What's the book?" I said.

"Don't worry about the book."

"Is it a book about babies?"

"It's a very good book about babies."

"I've delivered calves, pups, and one ranger's wife in the back of a pickup at a gas station," Patsy said, and pushed up her sleeves. "Nobody needs the book. Fraser, get behind her. Boy, you're on hot water. Go tell the crew we need every pot in the cook shack full and on the stove."

The boy ran out into the snow.

"Is that safe?" I said.

"The kid's out there. The kid'll carry him."

The road was shut. The bridge was shut.

There was no doctor and no hospital and no way to either one.

There was Patsy, and the medic.

There was Fraser, sitting behind me on the iron bed with his legs on either side of mine and his arms around me.

That was all.

It was enough.

The pains came every few minutes, then closer.

Each one was bigger than the last.

I'd thought I knew what my body could do.

I hadn't known anything.

Fraser held on.

He talked low in my ear between them, the way he had the night Gregor called the mark.

Stupid fires. The cow. The crewman who set his own boots alight.

"That one's not even true," I said, through my teeth.

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