Read Online Midwife Cover - Cassie Miles by Intrigue Romance - Free Book Online
Authors: Intrigue Romance
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“So much trouble.”
As an FBI agent, he wouldn’t be friendly or approachable, but Brady Gilliam was more casual. He patted Margaret’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
Her frightened brown eyes searched his face. “Really?”
“You seem like a real sweet girl who was just helping her pregnant friend. Who could be mad about that?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me,” he urged. “Margaret, you can tell me anything.”
Instead of confiding, she picked up her heels and took off like a jackrabbit, dashing toward the open gate where the truck had turned. He hoped he hadn’t spooked her. The nervous, little housekeeper could be a good source of information about the operation at Lost Lamb.
* * *
P ETRA PARKED THE TRUCK close to the veranda that stretched across the front of the main house. The aerial photos of the Lost Lamb compound had been accurate, showing the two-story, white house with a horse barn to the left and outbuildings at the rear. But the view from above didn’t capture the atmosphere.
This should have been a homey place—a ranch house where the family would gather in rocking chairs and talk about their day. Instead, there was an impersonal, institutional air as though no one lived here long enough to put down roots. A metal sign—Lost Lamb Ranch—hung from the railing on the covered veranda that stretched all the way across the front of the house. Another sign posted by the door advised No Smoking.
The veranda was tidy, recently swept. Three steps led to the door. Beside them was a long, plywood wheelchair ramp. Dim lights shone through the windows on the first floor, but the upstairs was dark and foreboding.
A pregnant woman in jeans and a tight yellow T-shirt rose from a rocking chair and stood at the railing watching. The corners of her mouth pulled down in an exaggerated scowl. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, there.” Petra waved. Then she opened the passenger door for Dee and helped her out of the truck. “I found this lady on the road. Her water broke.”
“About time.” The pregnant woman went to the front door, opened it and yelled. “Miss Francine, it’s Dee. She’s in labor.”
As soon as Dee got out, she flung her arm around Petra’s neck and hung on her like a pregnant sandbag. She gave a loud, exaggerated moan. “I’m in pain. I need drugs.”
Petra was grateful that the women she usually worked with were positive, upbeat and motivated to have natural childbirth. Someone like Dee needed to be handled like a diva with lavish attention and gobs of compliments.
Looking into Dee’s squinty eyes, Petra smiled warmly. “You’re so brave.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yes, you have inner strength. I can see it. You’re glowing with it.”
“I’m glowing?”
“There’s nothing more beautiful in the world than a pregnant woman.”
“Me? Beautiful?”
The front door opened and Francine Kelso appeared. She was a dramatic presence. Her shining, shoulder-length black curls were too perfectly coiffed to be anything but a wig, and her elaborate black eyeliner evoked images of Cleopatra. She wore black leggings and jeweled sandals. Even though she was slim, her cleavage spilled over the bedazzled edge of her low-cut, turquoise top. Her dossier said she was a former hooker/madam. It didn’t take much imagination to see her as a dominatrix.
From the veranda, she glared down at Petra. “Who the hell are you?”
“Patty Gilliam. My husband and I just moved to the area. We almost ran into Dee and Margaret on the road, so we stopped to see if they were all right. It’s lucky we came along. Dee’s water broke.”
“I’m in labor,” Dee wailed. “I need a doctor.”
This was the opening Petra had been hoping for. “I’m not sure if it’s time to call the OB-GYN, but I’d be happy to stay and help out until you decide what to do. I’m a certified nurse-midwife.”
“That’s handy,” Francine said coolly.
Petra
As an FBI agent, he wouldn’t be friendly or approachable, but Brady Gilliam was more casual. He patted Margaret’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
Her frightened brown eyes searched his face. “Really?”
“You seem like a real sweet girl who was just helping her pregnant friend. Who could be mad about that?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You have no idea.”
“Tell me,” he urged. “Margaret, you can tell me anything.”
Instead of confiding, she picked up her heels and took off like a jackrabbit, dashing toward the open gate where the truck had turned. He hoped he hadn’t spooked her. The nervous, little housekeeper could be a good source of information about the operation at Lost Lamb.
* * *
P ETRA PARKED THE TRUCK close to the veranda that stretched across the front of the main house. The aerial photos of the Lost Lamb compound had been accurate, showing the two-story, white house with a horse barn to the left and outbuildings at the rear. But the view from above didn’t capture the atmosphere.
This should have been a homey place—a ranch house where the family would gather in rocking chairs and talk about their day. Instead, there was an impersonal, institutional air as though no one lived here long enough to put down roots. A metal sign—Lost Lamb Ranch—hung from the railing on the covered veranda that stretched all the way across the front of the house. Another sign posted by the door advised No Smoking.
The veranda was tidy, recently swept. Three steps led to the door. Beside them was a long, plywood wheelchair ramp. Dim lights shone through the windows on the first floor, but the upstairs was dark and foreboding.
A pregnant woman in jeans and a tight yellow T-shirt rose from a rocking chair and stood at the railing watching. The corners of her mouth pulled down in an exaggerated scowl. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, there.” Petra waved. Then she opened the passenger door for Dee and helped her out of the truck. “I found this lady on the road. Her water broke.”
“About time.” The pregnant woman went to the front door, opened it and yelled. “Miss Francine, it’s Dee. She’s in labor.”
As soon as Dee got out, she flung her arm around Petra’s neck and hung on her like a pregnant sandbag. She gave a loud, exaggerated moan. “I’m in pain. I need drugs.”
Petra was grateful that the women she usually worked with were positive, upbeat and motivated to have natural childbirth. Someone like Dee needed to be handled like a diva with lavish attention and gobs of compliments.
Looking into Dee’s squinty eyes, Petra smiled warmly. “You’re so brave.”
“I am?”
“Oh, yes, you have inner strength. I can see it. You’re glowing with it.”
“I’m glowing?”
“There’s nothing more beautiful in the world than a pregnant woman.”
“Me? Beautiful?”
The front door opened and Francine Kelso appeared. She was a dramatic presence. Her shining, shoulder-length black curls were too perfectly coiffed to be anything but a wig, and her elaborate black eyeliner evoked images of Cleopatra. She wore black leggings and jeweled sandals. Even though she was slim, her cleavage spilled over the bedazzled edge of her low-cut, turquoise top. Her dossier said she was a former hooker/madam. It didn’t take much imagination to see her as a dominatrix.
From the veranda, she glared down at Petra. “Who the hell are you?”
“Patty Gilliam. My husband and I just moved to the area. We almost ran into Dee and Margaret on the road, so we stopped to see if they were all right. It’s lucky we came along. Dee’s water broke.”
“I’m in labor,” Dee wailed. “I need a doctor.”
This was the opening Petra had been hoping for. “I’m not sure if it’s time to call the OB-GYN, but I’d be happy to stay and help out until you decide what to do. I’m a certified nurse-midwife.”
“That’s handy,” Francine said coolly.
Petra
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