Cooked Goose

tripping over his own feet. “I called them. They said they’d be here lickety split.”
    Yeah, right, Savannah thought. She knew all too well how “lickety split” the emergency services were in this town.
    “Go wake up Margie,” she said. “We need as many hands as we can get. The baby’s almost here.”
    “What?”
    “Go!”
    By the time he returned with a sleepy-eyed Margie, Savannah had her hands full with a frantic, squalling Vidalia. “I can’t stand this!” she was screaming. “It’s never coming.”
    “It’s coming,” Savannah said, the evidence all too clear. “Believe me, it’s coming.” She turned to Butch. “Run down to the kitchen and get a turkey baster, a pair of scissors, and that ball of string from Jack’s kite.”
    Butch nodded. “Baster, scissors, kite.”
    “No! The string from the kite. And Margie, grab an armful of clean towels from the bathroom closet. Throw about half of them into the dryer and turn it on. Then bring the rest back here.”
    “Got it.”
    “And you, Vi, I think we can deliver the baby’s head with the next contraction or two. Are you ready?”
    “N-n-n-o-o.”
    “Me either, but let’s do it anyway.”
    Butch and Margie arrived at the same time, arms laden with the requested supplies. The ball of string was still attached to the kite, and Jack was at his father’s heels, squalling something about his daddy breaking it. His sister wasn’t far behind.
    “Oh, great,” Savannah mumbled when she saw her niece and nephew. “That’s all we need now.”
    “I’ll take care of them,” Margie said grabbing each one by the hand. “How would you guys like to have ice cream for breakfast?”
    “We can’t have breakfast yet!” Jillian said, starting to cry, “It’s still dark out.”
    “That’s when you’re supposed to eat ice cream for breakfast.” She pulled them out the door and said over her shoulder, “I’ll get them settled, then I’ll come right back.”
    Savannah nodded, without looking up. “When you do, bring me those warm towels from the dryer. Pile them in the wicker laundry basket.”
    “What are the towels for?” Butch asked, looking like he was about to start crying himself.
    “For the baby,” Savannah said. “If it is coming early, it’ll need to be kept nice and warm.”
    “Early, you mean premature, like the twins were?” Savannah recalled how touch-and-go it had been with the twins those first few weeks. They had nearly lost little Jillian.
    Her stress level went through the roof as she felt the baby’s head pushing against the palm of her hand.
    “It’ll be okay, Butch,” she said. “Just get up there by your wife’s head and try to comfort her.”
    Butch moved into position and began stroking Vidalia’s hair. “Don’t worry, baby,” he told her as she panted, sweated and strained. “Don’t worry about it being premature and all that. It probably won’t be near as bad as it was with the twins.”
    Vidalia’s eyes widened, and she began to cry even louder. “Thanks, Butch,” Savanna murmured, listening for the blessed sound of the sirens above her sister’s wails... and hearing nothing. “Thanks a lot.”
    Halfway up the staircase, laundry basket and warm towels in hand, Margie heard something that sounded like a puppy’s yelp or kitten’s mew. Could it be?
    Yes?
    She ran into the bedroom just in time to see Savannah gently suctioning a tiny baby’s mouth and nose with the turkey baster.
    “Wow! It’s here already!” she said, hurrying to the bed.
    “And you’re just in time with those towels,” Savannah said. “How hot are they?”
    “Just nice and warm.”
    Savannah checked with her hand before grabbing one and winding it snugly around the wriggling infant. Vidalia was still huffing; Butch looked ecstatic.
    “It’s okay,” he said proudly. “It’s another boy, and he’s little, but he’s breathing okay.”
    “You did it,” Margie told Savannah proudly.
    She wondered why Savannah didn’t look so relieved.
    Margie moved closer to the bed. “What’s the matter?”
    “Nothing. The baby’s fine,” Savannah said. “It’s just that... I think maybe...”
    Vidalia bore down again, her face purple, pushing, straining.
    “Yep, that’s what I thought,” Savannah said. “We did it... but now we get to do it all over again.”

    * * *

    7:12 A.M.

    Unable to sleep, Dirk had driven to the hospital at dawn to check on Bloss’s condition.
    Weak. Stable. Still