He helped her inside and then raced around the back of the van to get into the driver’s seat. “Keep those words in mind when you start to push.” He grinned. “Just think, we get to meet our son in a few hours.”

“Let’s get me to the hospital and settled in before you call the rest of the family, okay?” she asked as a contraction took her breath.

“Anything you want, darlin’,” he said. “But we’ll have to let them know soon. If we don’t show up at the shop for ice cream, they will panic.”

“And there’s another pain. That’s only two minutes from the last one.”

“We might get this baby before midnight yet.” Graham put the van in reverse and pointed it toward Greenville. Fifteen minutes and seven contractions later, he parked near the emergency room and rushed around the vehicle to help Mitzi get out. A nurse hurried out with a wheelchair and took her away with Graham following right behind them.

Mitzi had been to the Lamaze classes, so she was as prepared as any expecting mother with a first child could be. And she hadn’t worried about Graham because he’d been through all this before when the twins were born. Yet two hours into the labor, when they said it was time to push, she realized she should have been more concerned about Graham. He kept mopping sweat from her forehead with a cool rag and telling her how much he loved her. But not doing much else.

“I’m so sorry you’re in this much pain,” he said.

“You’ve been in the labor room before . . .” she panted like a puppy. “Oh, sweet Lord, I’ll be glad to get this baby boy out into the world.”

“Darlin’, the twins were born by C-section. I wasn’t in the room,” he said.

“You could have told me that before,” she moaned.

“It never came up.”

The nurse came in and checked her. “Okay, you’re at a ten and it’s time to push.”

“I’m ready.” Mitzi remembered that Paula had to push for thirty minutes. She looked at the clock. If the baby could get there before midnight, he’d be born on the Fourth of July like she’d always wanted. She had twenty-eight minutes. She grabbed the bed rails and gave it all she had on the next contraction.

The doctor came into the room, guided Mitzi’s legs into the stirrups, and pulled over a stool to sit on. “That’s the way to get things done. Give me several more like that, and we’ll get this job done in a hurry.”

At two minutes until midnight, Graham cut his son’s umbilical cord and put the screaming red-haired boy into Mitzi’s arms. “He’s beautiful.”

“He’s got my hair.” Mitzi kissed the baby on the forehead. “But he’s the image of you.”