Dedicated to xoSushixo for the lovely comment on the previous chapter.

Oh, and by the way, I do not know the first thing about childbirth. That'll probably be clear once you read this chapter, but hey. I hope it's at least slightly believable.

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              It was sometime past midnight, about fifteen minutes after I’d drifted off to sleep, when Gram’s landline trilled into life, echoing through the quiet cottage.

            I woke to the sound of an opening door from somewhere across the landing; this was shortly followed by slipper-clad footsteps padding down the stairs. Seconds later, the phone stopped.

            My room was too distant from the hallway to hear much more than Gram’s muffled speech, but the way she was struggling to limit the volume of her voice confirmed whatever news she was receiving was exciting. It continued for several minutes before I decided I’d had enough of straining to make out muted words, threw the duvet back and padded downstairs after her.

            The further I ventured downstairs, the clearer the one-sided conversation became. My feet landed on the last step just as I heard Gram say, “But how long? How long do you think it’ll be?”

            “Gram?” I whispered, tentatively stepping towards her. The phone was pressed tightly to her ear, brows furrowed in a concentrated frown as she listened intently to person on the other line. “Is everything okay?”

            She looked up at the sound of my voice, noticing only for the first time that I stood there. “Flo,” she said, louder now. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

            “What’s going on?”

            “Nora.” The mention of her name had my heart leaping. “She’s gone into labour.”

            “Wait – now?” I did the mental calculation, but it worked out. A few days early, maybe, but essentially right. I’d been in Walden over three weeks; when I’d left Nora, she’d just passed the eight month milestone. Had time really passed that quickly? She’d looked ready to pop for a while, but I figured the last few weeks of her pregnancy would drag.

            “Yeah. She’s in the hospital.”

            I froze. My head was instantly laden with snapshot-like images of Nora lying in a hospital bed, crippled by agony, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lenny would be there, of course, but aside from him and a couple of doctors, she’d be alone. How could I be here, one hundred and fifty miles away and so blissfully unaware, when somewhere in London my sister was about to go through the scariest and most painful experience of her life?

            “I’m going.” The decision was easy; there was no other answer. “I have to be with her.”

            “Flo…” Gram protested. In the dim light of the hallway, standing there in her faded dressing gown and pillow-flattened curls, she looked so startlingly different. By day, she was eccentric and unpredictable: Flo and Nora’s crazy grandmother. Now, she looked more normal than I’d ever known. Like a regular grandma, who knitted jumpers and played bingo and carried a never-ending supply of toffees in her handbag. Not the one who’d paint random murals on any free walls she could find in the house. “It’s late. You can’t go now.”

            “I have to.”

            “It’ll take you two hours to get up there, and it’s the middle of the night. It’s dangerous to be out in London at that time.”

            Of course, I knew that better than anyone; I’d lived there all my life. It was more than dodgy to be wandering the streets at two a.m., but what choice did I have? I couldn’t just go back to bed and leave Nora on her own. She might’ve had Lenny, but I was willing to bet he didn’t know the first thing about childbirth. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he thought the baby was going to come out of Nora’s bellybutton.

            “Why don’t you go back to sleep? You can get up early and catch the train out then. That way you can still go see her.”

            “The baby might’ve been born by then,” I said. “Gram, I can’t just leave her on her own. I have to go.”

            “It’s not safe.”

            “I don’t care.”

            “Well, I do!” Gram’s voice suddenly escalated several notches in volume, a fiery glare igniting behind her eyes. “I’m responsible for you, Flo, and I’m not letting you go marching off to London alone at this time of night. Nora’s an adult, and she’s got Lenny with her. She can cope.”

            “But what if she can’t?” I was verging on desperation now. “What if she can’t, Gram? What if she needs me, and I’m not there?”

            “She’s two hours away, she’ll understand if—”

            “You don’t understand!” I cried. I wanted to take Gram by the shoulders and shake her, make her see somehow how desperately I needed do this. “We promised each other we’d never leave. She kept her side of the deal. She’s always been there when I needed her. What kind of sister would I be if I just left her now? Please, Gram. I have to go.”

            We lapsed into silence; the only sound left in the hallway was that of our steady breathing alternating with each other. I stared pleadingly back at her through a glaze of potential tears. Didn’t she know what it had been like for us? Didn’t she realise that Nora had been the only thing there when my world had fallen apart at the seams? I knew tonight wouldn’t make up for it completely; I’d always remain indebted to her. But being there, even if I was just another hand to hold, couldn’t have been more important.

            Gram was staring back at me, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. I couldn’t read the expression written all over her face. She’d turned into one of her own abstract works of art, the true meaning concealed from any onlooker. In her hand, the receiver was dangling by its cord, and I briefly wondered whether Lenny was still on the other line. I only hoped he was too busy comforting Nora to play witness to the first argument I’d ever had with Gram.

            When she finally spoke, it was only one word. “Okay.”

            I blinked. “Okay?”

            “I understand. You can go, but not on your own. I’m coming with you.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes,” she said quietly. “I can see how important this is to you. If you want to go see Nora, then so be it. We can take the car instead.”

            It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, but when they did, I could think of nothing else to do but rush forward and throw my arms around Gram. There was a slight delay in her response, but a few seconds later I felt her arms enclose me, squeezing me tighter. “Thank you,” I breathed, my voice muffled by the fabric of her dressing gown.

            “You’re welcome, Flo,” she answered. Then, I felt her grip loosen. “Now come on. Grab anything you need as quickly as you can. We need to make a move and hope Nora’s little one’s not too eager to get out.”

***

            It took two hours to reach the hospital Nora had been admitted to, even with Gram pushing the speed limit most of the way there. The time on my mobile read quarter past two as we tore across the scarcely lit car park and arrived, breathless and sweaty, at reception.

            The receptionist stationed at the front desk looked startled, to say the least, by our arrival. I suppose she had a right to be, really; seeing a seventeen-year-old and a pensioner, both in pyjamas and slippers, burst through the revolving doors into an otherwise empty room wasn’t exactly the most normal of occurrences. But, to be honest, she should’ve abandoned all normal expectations the moment Nora was admitted to the maternity ward.

            “We’re here… to see… Nora… Kennedy,” I stammered breathlessly, steadying myself on the front desk.

            The woman, who seemed yet to recover from her initial shock, paused. Her pristine appearance – tightly pressed uniform, fluffy blond hair, pearly lipstick – indicated she was neither used to nor fond of surprises, and Gram and I appeared to be the biggest shock she’d had all shift. Regaining her composure, she began tapping away at the computer, squared nails hitting the keyboard with perfect rhythm.

            “Ah, yes,” she said. “She’s upstairs in maternity. Are you immediate family?”

            “Yes,” I told her. The most immediate she has left, I added mentally. “I’m her sister.”

            I could’ve sworn I saw the receptionist purse her lips. “Very well,” she said slowly. “You can head on up, I suppose.”

            That was enough of a cue. I wasted no time in dashing past the front desk, heading in the direction of a sign that read stairs. The sterile stench of the hospital was already threatening to trigger a wave of terrible memories, memories that originated three years previously, but I forced them away. Right now, I had to focus on one thing, and one thing only: finding Nora.

            The maternity ward was on the third floor. Being much too agitated to wait for the lift, my legs were aching severely in protest by the time I’d dashed up the last flight of stairs. But I was too close to stop now. I pushed through the doors to be faced with a bustling ward, where countless monitors beeped in synchronization, nurses hurried to and from every corner of the room, and babies screamed somewhere off the corridor.

            It seemed bizarre that this was the place where new life began; it just seemed too normal and too busy for that.

            “I’m here to see Nora,” I panted for a second time, to one of the midwives absently sorting through a hefty stack of paperwork.

            “Ooh, are you her sister?” she asked, her face brightening. I could tell immediately she was a hundred times friendlier than her downstairs counterpart; for starters, her smile didn’t look like it was causing severe muscle strain. “She’s been asking about you for hours now. We’ve been telling her you live a way away, so it’s not like you can just pop down the road to visit. But you’re here now! One sec, I’ll take you through.”

            She slid the pile of paper into a plastic folder, tossing it aside. Then she rose from her seat, beckoning for Gram and I to follow.

            “How is she?” I asked. My shoes squeaked on the burnished floor while the midwife, whose nametag read Sally, strode ahead with great purpose.

            “Oh, she’s absolutely fine,” she assured me. “Everything’s running smoothly so far. She’s doing brilliantly. I’d say we can expect the baby in the next couple of hours. Maybe even sooner.”

            We rounded the corner, coming to a stop in front of the first door on the left. Sally knocked loudly, not even bothering to wait for an answer. Opening the door right up, she stepped straight inside and motioned for us to do the same.

            I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it was far from the sight that stood before me. My previous experience of childbirth was limited to years-old tales of how Nora was the biggest newborn the nurses had ever seen, and how she’d put our mum through so much pain she almost didn’t have a second. I had visions of her lying on blood-soaked sheets, screaming fit to burst as nurses flitted around, trying to calm her down.

            Thankfully, the reality was much less horrifying.

            Nora was propped up by pillows on a bed in the centre of the room. Swathed in a baggy hospital gown, she was lying with her knees apart and a blanket draped over her lower half. Her blond hair was pulled into a straggly ponytail, her skin pastier than usual, the painful twist of concentration across her face sent a jolt of alarm through me. However, once Sally stepped aside to reveal Gram and I in the doorway, her features relaxed and a smile full of relief appeared over her frown.

            “Flo!”

            “Nora!”

            I made a beeline for her immediately; arms wrapped around me the moment I got close enough. We were soon enclosed in each other’s grip, my nose buried in her shoulder, breathing in the floral scent that remained noticeable over the sterility of her gown. We’d only been apart for a few weeks, but suddenly it felt so much longer – and as if we’d been separated by several thousand miles, instead of a two hour train journey.

            “You’re here,” I heard her say. “And Gram too.”

            “Of course,” I mumbled, willing away the tears of relief pricking at my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

            “And I wasn’t going to let her come alone,” Gram chipped in. “She insisted she had to see you.”

            I could’ve sworn I felt her smile into my hair. “Thank you,” she breathed. “It means so much that you’re here.”

            When her grip loosened, I moved backward, taking a second look at her small form. Though her stomach was anything but, and my five foot eight only topped her by an inch or so, she seemed so tiny beneath her gown. Maybe it was the lack of make-up, or the absence of hair framing her face, that made her look younger, but I was sure anybody who didn’t know us could’ve easily mistaken me for the older sibling.

            I noticed a chair propped up against the wall, which I dragged forward and positioned right by Nora’s side. It was so close my knees were pressing into the bed frame, but the thought of putting any more distance than necessary between us now felt utterly unbearable.

            Only then, glancing round the room, did something occur to me. “Hey, where’s Lenny?”

            “I think he went to get a drink or something,” she said, screwing up her face as she rubbed her stomach. “He got a bit squeamish, anyway. He’s been looking pale for the last couple of hours. Bless him.”

            “Oh. Right.” I hadn’t expected it; I’d always assumed Lenny would delve right into the experience of childbirth. It seemed suitably hippie to go wild on the whole miracle of life thing, but apparently he was full of surprises. “Are you okay, though? Is it really that bad?”

            “Yes. It’s the worst bloody pain I’ve ever felt in my life,” she groaned, throwing her head back against the pillow. “The midwife keeps insisting everything’s going brilliantly, but it doesn’t feel like it.”

            “It’s childbirth, love,” Sally interjected from across the room. “Trust me, having the baby is not going to be as much fun as making it.”

            My head whipped around so quickly I got a crick in my neck; I couldn’t help but stare open-mouthed at the midwife, who was busying herself inspecting the clipboard at the end of Nora’s bed. When she caught sight of me gawking, she grinned. “What? I’m just telling it like it is.”

            Whatever response I might’ve come out with died in my throat when a load groan erupted behind me. Nora was clutching the sides of the bed, gripping the sheets so hard they wrinkled beneath her fingers, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Panic coursed through me like a shot; I looked from her to Sally, to Gram, and back to Nora again in despair.

            “Another contraction?” Sally inquired.

            My sister nodded slowly, the entire movement seeming to require extortionate effort. The pain then intensified; in the space of a second, her hand had left the mattress and found mine instead. She was squeezing it so hard I was sure the bones were being pulverised, but the sensation barely registered. I remained focused solely on Nora, my eyes never leaving her, letting my hand get crushed as we waited for the worst to pass.

            When her eyes finally fluttered open, she was panting, and beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. “I. Want. To. Push,” she forced out.

            “You can’t yet, honey,” Sally said, her tone too cheery for the situation. “It’s not quite time.”

            I felt the front of my top being gripped; Nora had hold of it in her fist, dragging me closer to her. “Flo,” she said through gritted teeth, “tell her. I want to push. Now.”

            “I, uh…” I looked between them.

            Nora screamed, her fingers curling, causing her nails to dig deep into my palm. “She wants to push,” I told Sally, in a voice that sounded surprisingly unlike my own, “and I don’t think she’s going to take no for an answer.”

            The midwife rushed forward at that point, yanking back the blanket that was covering Nora’s legs. “You feel like you want to?”

            “Just a bit,” Nora shot back, sarcastic as ever.

            “Well, if you’re ready to. Just a heads up: this bit’s going to hurt.”

            She groaned again, pressing down harder on my palm. As I winced, the door swung open. It quickly revealed an eye-wateringly colourful T-shirt, worn by its owner as much as his wary expression. In fact, Lenny looked as if he happened to be venturing into a sleeping lion’s den, where one wrong foot could have disastrous consequences.

            “Everything okay?” he asked gingerly.

            “Lenny!” Nora yelled. “Get over here right now.”

            Evidently too scared to disobey his girlfriend, he stumbled forward, almost tripping over his feet in his hasty effort to reach Nora. Her fingers immediately enclosed his palm, pressing hard, and I knew at once from his wincing expression that his hand was suffering the same treatment as mine. But it wasn’t like we were in a place to complain. Nora was the one about to push a baby out of her, after all.

            “You ready?” Sally asked, from her position at the foot of the bed. Somewhere amongst the commotion she’d donned a pair of gloves, and was now forcing Nora’s knees apart. “You’re ten centimetres dilated, so we should be good to go.”

            All she got in response was an ear-splitting scream.

            The next hour was, to put it simply, a complete blur. It passed in a hazy mess of blood, wailing and the pulverizing of the bones in my hand, and was punctuated by Sally’s breezy updates from the other end. Time whizzed past in an agonizing rush: a chaotic hubbub full of yelling, deep breathing – from everyone involved – and huge gulps of gas and air. It was difficult enough to watch; I could only imagine what it was like for my sister, who already had hours of agony under her belt.

            Lenny, for one, seemed to be growing progressively paler with each second. At one point, I was convinced he’d be making a dash to the adjoining bathroom any second, because the slight greenish tinge his face had taken on was nothing if not ominous. But he stuck it out, keeping the nausea at bay, and doing so paid off.

            Because  at forty minutes past three, he and Nora officially became the proud parents of their first daughter.

            Sometime later, Nora and the baby had been cleaned up, and with the umbilical cord cut – courtesy of Lenny, who really did look about to puke after that – I found myself back in the seat beside the bed. The newborn had been swaddled in a pink blanket, pale face peeking out from the fabric, held tightly against my sister’s chest. Needless to say, they both looked considerably more peaceful than they had done an hour beforehand.

            “So,” I said softly, daring to break the comfortable silence that had fallen across the room. It had become almost like a blanket: one as warm as that tucked around the tiny baby. I almost didn’t want to shift it, to disturb the frozen snapshot we found ourselves trapped in, but there was an important question on my tongue. “Have you come up with any names yet?”

            Nora looked down at the bundle in her arms; it already had tufts of dark fuzzy hair, a button nose that was squished slightly against her mother’s skin. Glancing up to lock eyes with Lenny, she shifted slightly in the bed. “We were thinking of Summer,” she whispered, “but we weren’t sure.”

            “Summer,” I repeated slowly.

            Gazing down at the baby – my niece – in her arms, an unfamiliar sensation washed over me. It was heavy, dense, though its weight on my shoulders felt comforting rather than restricting. I thought back to the past few weeks, how everything had changed beyond recognition in such a short space of time. I backtracked to the nerves I’d had about moving to Walden, the people I’d met, the crazy happenings that had become part of daily life.

            And Daniel.

            “Summer,” I said again. “It’s perfect.”

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There you go. Hope you liked it! I swear my author's notes are becoming shorter and shorter because I don't know what to say anymore D: And I can't even shamelessly self promote for the Watty Awards because that's over now. So yeah. The usual. Drop me a comment, especially if you've got any suggestions on how I could improve. Love you all <3