The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

house. He shoved it open, letting in wild wind and wilder rain. Before he could call out, he saw Jude, sitting at the top of the stairs. Her face was sheet white, her hair a tangle, and the nightgown she wore damp with sweat.
    “Thank God. Oh, thank God. I can’t get down.” She let out a little gasp, clutched her belly. “The baby. The baby’s coming.”
    Ruthlessly he shut down panic, though he took the stairs two at a time to reach her, grip her hand. She squeezed it hard enough to grind bone. “Breathe. In and out, come on. Look at me and breathe.”
    “Yes, okay, yes.” Her eyes clung to his, wide, glazed with the pain that ripped through her as the contraction crested. “God, oh, God, it’s huge !”
    “I know. I know, honey. Keep breathing. You’re coming down the other side now.”
    “Yes. It’s passing, but . . . I never expected . . . It’s all so fast.” Even as her breath gushed out in relief from the absence of that wicked pain, she lifted a shaky hand to push at her hair. “I was having tea in bed. I talked to Aidan and told him I was going to bed. And then the power went out and it all started at once.”
    “We’ll get you to the hospital. Everything’s fine.”
    “Trevor, it’s too late. I won’t make it.”
    Panic wanted to flood back, but he dammed it up before it could touch her. “This business usually takes a while. How far apart are the contractions?”
    “I haven’t timed the last few. The phones are out. I couldn’t call the pub or the doctor. I thought if I could get downstairs . . . but I couldn’t. Before, they were close, two minutes, and now they’re coming faster and harder.”
    Jesus. Sweet Jesus Christ. “Did your water break?”
    “Yes. It’s not supposed to happen so fast. All the classes, all the books. It should take hours. Get Aidan. Please, get . . . Oh, oh, God, here it comes!”
    He helped her through it, voice calm and bracing as his mind raced. Much too close, much too hard. He’d seen the process three times and that was enough to know Jude was right. She would never make the hospital.
    “Let’s get you into bed. Put your arms around my neck. That’s the way.”
    “I need Aidan.” She wanted, badly, to weep. Just to scream out with sobs.
    “I know. I’m going to go get him. You stay calm, Jude. You just hold on.” He laid her in bed, glanced around quickly. She’d managed to light several candles. That would have to do. “When the next one comes, breathe through it. I’ll be right back.”
    “I’ll be all right.” She lay her head back where he’d propped pillows. Had to be. Everything in the world depended on it. “Women used to do this all the time without doctors and hospitals.” She did her best to smile. “Only, damn it, none of them were me. Hurry.”
    He didn’t want to think how many contractions she’d go through alone, how frightened she’d looked lying there alone in bed with only candles for light. He didn’t want to think of what could go wrong.
    He sprinted back into the storm. The wind had changed and was at his back, pushing him faster, shoving as if it, too, urged him to hurry. Still, it seemed he’d run miles before his hand closed over the knob of Gallagher’s Pub.
    He burst into the warmth, the music and laughter.
    Darcy spun around, beaming. “Well, now, look what the storm’s blown in.” She got no farther than that before the look in his eye registered. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
    He shook his head, gripped her shoulder while he turned to Aidan. “It’s Jude.”
    “Jude?”
    Trevor had never seen the blood drain as completely, as quickly, from a man’s face before. “What is it?” Even as he asked, Aidan was throwing the pass-through up, bulleting through.
    “The baby’s coming. Now.”
    “Ring the doctor,” Aidan shouted, and was out the door.
    “Now,” Trevor repeated to Darcy. “It’s coming now. There’s no time for the doctor, and the phones are out in any case.”
    “Oh, Mother of God.” Then she bit back the spurt of fear. “Let’s hurry, then. Jack, Jack Brennan—man the bar. Someone tell Shawn and Brenna. Tim Riley, will you go for Mollie O’Toole? She’ll know what to do.”
    Leaving her jacket on the hook in her rush, she scurried out into the rain. “How did you find her?” She was shouting, but her voice was all but swept away by the wind, drowned under the crashing of the waves against the seawall.
    “I was coming down, the house was dark. I thought