"What's going on? Is she all right? The baby?"
"Everything's all right as far as we know." Laura led her toward the waiting area and struggled to maintain the pretense of calm. "Apparently she went into premature labor, and she was hemorrhaging."
"Oh, my God."
"They've stopped the bleeding. They've stopped it." Laura took a slow breath to steady herself, but her eyes mirrored her inner fears. "Annie was just in to see her. She says Margo's holding her own. They're trying to stabilize her, stop the labor."
"It's too early, isn't it? She's only in her seventh month." Kate stepped into the waiting area, saw worried faces, and ruthlessly smothered her own fears. "Annie." Kate caught both the woman's hands in hers. "She'll be all right. You know how strong and stubborn she is."
"She looked so small in the bed in there." Ann's voice broke. "Like a little girl. She's too pale. They should do something for her. She's too pale."
"Annie, we need coffee." Susan slid an arm around her shoulders. "Why don't you help me get some?" After stroking a hand down Kate's arm, she led Annie away.
"Susie will take care of her," Thomas murmured. He often thought there was too little for a man to do at such a time, and too much for him to imagine. "Now sit down, Katie girl. You're too pale yourself."
"I want to see her." The walls were closing in already, thick with the scent of fear that meant hospital to her. "Uncle Tommy, you'll make them let me see her."
"Of course I will." He kissed her cheek, then shook his head at his daughter. "No, you stay here. I'll check on the girls while I'm at it. Though you should know they'll be fine down in day care."
"They're worried. Ali especially. She adores Margo."
"I'll tend to them. I'm leaving all my women in your hands, Byron."
"I'll take care of them. Sit down," he murmured and nudged both of them to a couch. "I'll help your mother and
Ann with the coffee." He saw their hands link before he turned away.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Kate asked.
"Josh called from his car phone. He didn't want to take time to call an ambulance. He was trying to sound calm, but I could tell he was panicked. He said she'd been feeling tired and a little achy after last night. When they got up this morning, she wasn't feeling well, complained of back pain."
"She's been working too hard. All that prep for the auction. We should have postponed it this year." I should
have pulled more weight, Kate thought.
"Everything was fine at her last checkup," Laura put in, rubbing her brow. "But you may be right. She said she was going to take a shower, then she started shouting for him. She was bleeding and having contractions. By the time we got here, they'd admitted her. I haven't seen her yet."
"They'll let us see her."
"Damn right they will." Laura took the coffee Byron offered, remembering to thank him.
"The waiting's hell." He sat beside Kate. "It always is. My sister Meg had a bad time with her first. Thirty-hour labor, which translates to the rest of your life when you're pacing."
Just talk, he ordered himself. Just talk and give them something else to focus on. "Abigail was a hefty nine pounds, and Meg swore she'd never have another. Went on to have two more."
"It was so easy for me," Laura murmured. "Nine hours for Ali, only five for Kayla. They just sort of slid out."
"Selective memory," Kate corrected. "I distinctly remember you breaking all the bones in my hand while we were in the birthing room. That was Ali. And with Kayla, you—"
She sprang to her feet when a nurse stopped in the doorway. She stepped over the coffee table, prepped for battle. "We want to see Margo Templeton. Now."
"So I've been informed," the nurse said dryly. "Mrs. Templeton would like to see you. You'll have to keep it short. This way, please."
She led the way down a wide corridor. Kate blocked out the hospital sound of crepe-soled shoes slapping on linoleum. There were so many doors, she thought, White doors, all closed. So many people inside them. Beds with curtains around them. Machines beeped and hissed inside. Tubes and needles. Doctors with sad, tired eyes who came to tell you your parents had died, gone away. Left you alone.
"Kate." Laura soothed the hand that gripped hers.
"I'm okay." She ordered herself to stay in the now and relaxed her grip. "Don't worry."