He hadn’t meant to get in her way. The way he saw it, his job was just to be there for her even when she didn’t know he was, to lead and guide her like a blind person through a swamp, to keep her safe from harm, to keep her from feeling lost or scared. Thinking about the responsibility of it all made him feel awed and humble. He just hoped he was up to it.
“You got a name picked out for your baby?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She turned like a sleepwalker, frowning. Already it was becoming harder to distract her. “Oh-yeah.” A smile flickered across her face, sure and confident, for an instant a touch of the old Mirabella. “Eric. His name is Eric. It means, ‘all-powerful.’”
He nodded. “Nice. How ’bout if it’s a girl?”
She shook her head emphatically. “It won’t be. It’s a boy.”
It had been so long since he’d seen that little lift of her chin, he couldn’t help but smile. “You know that for a fact? I mean, did they do the tests and all?”
“I’ve seen the ultrasound. The doctor says he’s sure it’s a boy. Anyway, I hope…it is.” She hiccuped, and distress flitted briefly across her face.
Automatically, he reached behind him, found one of the cans of soda he’d brought back from the vending machines and popped it open. “Why’s that?” he asked as he handed it to her.
“Why do I want a boy?” She lashed him with a dark and furious look, snatched the soda from him and gulped heedlessly. “How can you even ask?” She waved the can like someone who’s maybe getting tipsy. “Because it’s still a man’s world, dammit. And I don’t want my child…to have to
He rescued the soda can and found a safe place for it on the floor in front of the driver’s seat, then turned his attention back to Mirabella. But when he reached for her, she squirmed away from him with a furiously hissed, “Don’t touch me!”
And then, before he could even decide whether it was okay to ignore that or not, she cut loose with a belly- deep wail, a growl, almost, that seemed to come from the depths of her soul.
Somehow he got his arms around her. Somehow he managed to still her thrashing and get her leaning against him, get her to breathe with him, slow and steady, the way she was supposed to. And all the time he was crooning to her, telling her yes, she could do it. Telling her how strong and brave and beautiful she was. Meaning every word.
By the time it was done she was sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, and he was stroking her temple with his chin and growling, “It’s okay, it’s okay… Nothing to be sorry about…”
He felt lost… helpless.
He wanted to tell her it was happening too fast for him, too. That he wasn’t ready, either. He wanted to tell her he wished he’d had more time with her, time to get to know her better. A lifetime of time. Time to get to know her ways, her body’s tender secrets-where she hurt and how she liked to be touched, and the mysterious feminine noises she uttered when she made love. There was so much about her he wanted to know. So many things he wished he’d asked her when he’d had the chance.
Mostly, he wanted to know why. Why, on Christmas Eve, was she here with him, a stranger, having her precious baby in a snowbound truck when she should have been in a warm, comfortable place with people to take care of her, and a husband to hold her and stroke her and tell her how much he loved her-the baby’s father, sharing it all, the whole wonderful miracle of it, with her?
But she’d moved beyond him now. She was out of his reach, and he thought it was too late to ask her.
She’d pulled herself together and moved back a little, lifting her eyes to his, eyes that were filled with questions of their own. “Jimmy Joe?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he murmured, pretending he knew the answers.
She drew a bright and hopeful breath. “I really do need to go to the bathroom. I know I’d feel better if I could just-”
But he stopped her there, firmly shaking his head, wishing he didn’t have to see the entreaty in her face. “I can’t let you go out,” he said as gently as he could. “It’s not just cold, it’s icy and dangerous. What if you hurt yourself-or your baby?”
He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, wiping away a tear she probably didn’t even know about. “Tell you what, though. I’m gonna find you something, so you can go…” Now she was shaking her head-wildly, frantically. He saw the fear in her eyes and somehow knew that what she was most in dread of at that moment was the thought of losing her privacy-her dignity.
Mindful of that, he caught her chin and held it still, and leaning close, whispered his instructions in her ear as if they were in a room full of strangers and it was the most intimate of confidences he was sharing with her. So softly she had to catch her breath, still her breathing in order to hear him. When he was finished, she shivered like a child with a secret and whispered an airless and mollified, “Okay.”
He guided her into the sleeper compartment with a deferential touch, as if he were escorting a duchess to the dinner table, reached up to take down the pile of towels from the shelf above the bed and presented them to her without a word.
From another compartment he took out a plastic trash bag with a drawstring top and his first-aid kit. He left the bag on the bed, tucked the first-aid kit under his arm and backed out of the sleeper, pulling the curtain closed as he went. Then he slid into the driver’s seat, dialed in channel 19 on his CB radio and turned the volume up loud. Static and chatter filled the cab, drowning out all other sound, even the sigh of his own exhalation and the drumming of his rapidly beating heart.
For a while he just sat and listened to it. He felt curiously drained, felt a need to rest and rebuild his store of energy, not so much from what he’d already been through, but for what was still to come. Because this was only the beginning. He knew that, just as he knew she was going to need everything he had to give her.
The radio blared suddenly with a crackly, tinny rendition of Tennessee Ernie Ford bawling, “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” somebody evidently trying to share his own particular brand of Christmas cheer through his open mike. Takes all kinds, Jimmy Joe thought as he picked up his own mike and thumbed it on, grinning. Even among truckers.
“This is the Big Blue Starr-Hey, shut that thing off, will ya? I got a lady havin’ a baby over here. Need to talk to somebody… Come on.”
“Hey, Big Blue!” The voice was nearby, loud and excited. “‘Bout time you put your ears back on. Good to hear from you, buddy. How you doin’ over there?”
Jimmy Joe chuckled. Already the sound of other drivers’ voices had lifted his spirits, made him feel hopeful, not quite so alone. “Doin’ okay, so far. Could use a little help, though. Anybody seen any smokies lately?”
“Hell, no-‘Twas the night before Christmas and not a bear stirrin’-”
“Hey, Big Blue, they’re talkin’ ’bout you all way back to New Mexico. How’s the little lady doin’?”
“Hangin’ in there,” said Jimmy Joe. “Listen, we’d sure ’preciate it if you’d pass the word along to Amarillo. Tell ’em we need some help out here.”
“Already been done, Big Blue.”
And from farther away: “Uh…that’s affirmative. Word got there-oh. been a while ago. Word now is, they’re, uh, tryin’ to set somethin’ up, tryin’ to patch through a relay, or somethin’. Got a buncha phone lines down, so it’s takin’ awhile, but they’re workin’ on it. You’d best go on over there to channel 9 and wait for ’em…”
“Thank ya kindly, ’preciate it,” said Jimmy Joe. He was about to turn the dial when a woman’s voice broke in.
“You tell the lady we’re all prayin’ for her.”
And from all up and down the line the voices of lonely, snowbound drivers chimed in.
“Yeah, you hang in there, now.”
“We’re pullin’ for ya…”
“Y’all have a Merry Christmas!”
“Take care…”
“We’re with you, Big Blue!”
