Page 128 of Airborne

Chad switched on the engine and adjusted the heat. Although the pregnancy left her hot most of the time, the steady rains of Houston in January chilled them to the bone. “Great service,” he said. “I keep learning more about God and realizing how far I have yet to go.”

She reached across the seat and wrapped her hand around his. Warm wetness soaked her and the seat. “Hey, honey.”

He flashed his blue eyes at her. “Yes.”

“Is my overnight bag in the trunk?”

“Yes.” He blinked. “He’s coming?”

“Are you ready?”

“No. I mean yes. Are you all right?” He placed the car in reverse and backed out.

“I’m good. Excited. No rush. You can relax and drive.”

“As in practice my breathing?” He pulled in behind a line of cars exiting the parking lot.

“From the look on your face, I’ll take any kind of breathing.”

He gripped her hand. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yes, Chad.” She released his hand and steadied herself for the second contraction, ten minutes apart. “We have plenty of time.”

He stopped for a red light and picked up his phone. “I’m calling your parents.... This is Chad. I’m taking Heather to the hospital. Ah, that’s the one. See you soon. Thanks. I will.” The light changed, and he placed his phone between them.

“They’ll meet us there. They’re praying, and they love you.”

She closed the heat vent.

“Hold on when the pain comes. You’re not doing this alone.”

She whispered thanks. Sweet man. They’d come a long way in the past five months. He’d withdrawn his application from the CDC and reopened his lab with the stipulation of an eight-hour workday, five days a week. The time spent together was better than in the early years of their marriage. The rough spots were talked through, and they learned healthy arguing methods from the counselor. She no longer retreated to their bedroom in tears, and he no longer left the condo in a rage.

The contraction squeezed harder, then slowly let up.

The tragedy that had threatened their lives had drawn them together. Love was more important than prestige, power, and position. Chad called those the three p’s destined to destroy a man—or a woman. Laughter, long walks, deep discussions, and prayer time were priorities. He studied the concept of merging faith and science and found the two connected—the more he dug, the deeper his faith grew.

The aftermath of the case was like seeing how a puzzle fittogether. Decker Anslow and Braden Taversty had planned an attack on the US by helping to smuggle in weapons to cell groups. Parker Karey was exonerated of federal charges, and she dropped hers. Thomas Powell remained in a secure hospital, and Jackson visited him regularly. The twin had accepted a position with the Houston Symphony, much to their father’s anger. He disowned Jackson, too.

Thomas as Shield destroyed all of Trey’s notes. Chad had told her a deadly pathogen had means of resurfacing. If a cure existed before, another researcher would find the antiviral.

Chad sped through a yellow light.

“Honey, an accident or a speeding ticket will slow us down.”

He let off the gas. “Sorry.”

“You are a doctor.”

“I was thinking the same thing. I prefer a hospital setting and watching your doctor deliver Levi instead of me.”

Heather touched her stomach and squeezed Chad’s hand. They’d prayed daily for little Levi—to embrace life, love, and one day reach up to an amazing relationship with God. The beginnings of a third contraction hinted Levi wasn’t wasting time. She held her breath and calculated ten more minutes to the hospital.

This wouldn’t be the first time a Lawrence had their own timetable.