The baby wasn’t ready yet.

As Marie climbed back into the SUV, her huge belly feeling heavier than when she had gone into the hospital, the tears of frustration and fatigue she had been holding back began to steadily leak down her cheeks. Her husband, Ned, took the driver’s seat without the usual pep in his step. He had tossed the duffle into the back seat before getting behind the wheel. It would probably stay there until they came back here. Tomorrow? The day after? Marie was too tired to think about how many more days she would have to wait.

“I just…thought she was coming!” Marie said. The words burst from her the same way popcorn explodes with a bang. She wiped her face dry and sighed heavily.

“Hey,” Ned said, reaching for her hand after closing the door of the truck. “She’ll come, baby. You don’t have much longer to wait.”

“I feel stupid,” she said. “I could have just drank more water today, and then we wouldn’t have had to make a trip.”

She wasn’t in labor. She was dehydrated. It caused those pesky Braxton-Hicks contractions. They hurt, but they weren’t the real thing. It was like her body was practicing, the midwife said. It hadn’t felt like practice a few hours earlier. But after a hour of monitoring, a urine sample, and some juice, she wasn’t feeling anything except round. They sent her home. It wasn’t time.

“Don’t feel stupid,” Ned said as he turned over the engine. The truck roared to life just as rain started to pelt the windshield. It was a hard, sudden rain. The fat drops were loud on the roof of the truck. “How about I get you a treat on the way home?”

Krispy Kreme was always open. “Maybe the hot light will be on,” she said with a slight smile.

They puttered along the streets, the rain now falling in sheets so thick it was difficult to drive. Even with the wipers on high, Marie could barely see through the water that ran down the glass. Ned kept the window rolled up in the drive-thru until it was his turn to order. He was soaked after just 30 seconds of talking to the kid on the other end of the mic. He rolled up the window. “This rain is wild!” he said, wiping down the door of the car with a cloth he kept tucked into the compartment between the two captain chairs.

Marie stared out the window. They baby was moving inside her again, and she needed to pee. She wondered where the rain had come from so suddenly. She had looked at the forecast earlier in the day, but it hadn’t mentioned any precipitation. “Just another joke being played on us, I guess.”

“What joke?” Ned asked. He was smiling at her even though she wasn’t smiling at him.

She wasn’t mad at Ned, but she couldn’t shake her foul mood. “I wish we could have stayed at the hospital. I wish we could just go back there right now and get it over with.”

She said it angrily, and the words felt wrong in her mouth. Her stomach lurched towards her feet. She wanted to take it back immediately, to snatch it back from being said. She put her hands to her stomach protectively, as if her words would somehow harm the baby if she didn’t. Her lip quivered as dread rolled through her belly. She had the thought that it was a terrible thing to wish for, but she didn’t understand why.

“Marie,” Ned said gently. He inched the truck forward, glancing at her as he did. He put his hand on her thigh. “Let’s just get you that donut, and then you can go to bed. Okay, babe?” He squeezed her.

She nodded, but the dread was still spreading through her. She covered his hand with hers.

At the window, a teenager who looked too young to be working popped a bubble in his chewing gum and said, “$4.24.” Ned fished his wallet from his pocket, handed the kid his card, and then waited for him to swipe and hand it back. The rain was still coming down hard and fast. The kid at the window handed him a bag with Marie’s two chocolate-iced glazed donuts in it. Ned didn’t like sweets, so he never ordered anything when they came through. “Have a good night,” the teenager said, shutting the window before Ned could reply.

“That should hit the spot, don’t you think?” Ned said, handing her the bag. The awning hadn’t done much to keep the rain off the bag.

Marie made a pleased sound in her throat as she took the bag from him, and pulled one of the donuts out. She bit into it, continued to make that low, soft moan of delight. “Yeah, I do think you’re right,” she said as she chewed.

She finished off the first donut before Ned pulled out of the parking lot. The main road leading to their neighborhood was either 3 exits up the expressway, or eight minutes of taking low roads that went mostly through neighborhoods. Ned always opted for the highway, even though it felt silly to be on it for such a short distance. She didn’t tell Ned how to drive though. It never went over well. It was the one thing he could get snippy about. She took her first bite of the second donut as he accelerated up the ramp. He turned on the wipers to their fastest setting.

“Jesus, Ned, you can’t even see!” Marie said, stifling the rising panic.

“It’ll be fine,” he said dismissively, though she could tell from his body language that he was likely second guessing his choice. Ahead of them, a long line of red taillights and flashers stretched into the night. She put the donut down and gripped the inside handle of the door for comfort. As Ned merged onto the highway, she audibly let go a nervous breath. “Marie, it’s fine!” Ned said.

“Okay,” she hissed, tightening her grip on the handle.

He drove. He wasn’t fast, but even so, Marie was internally screaming for him to slow down. She could barely see the exit signs as she counted. They passed the first exit, then the second. She started to breath easier. Just another mile or so and then back to low roads. They were almost home. She closed her eyes for just a moment, and her mind snapped back to the moment when she had wished to go back to the hospital. The sinking feeling returned. “Ned…” she began.

She never finished the sentence. The baby kicked her bladder and she gasped. The noise came at the same moment that another driver sped past them, spraying water across the already drenched windshield. Ned cursed, and slowed the car as the excess water ran down before their eyes, the sound of it drowning out everything else in the car. It took forever for the water to stop spraying. Then there were break lights in front of them, too close, and Ned slammed the breaks of the car. Marie screamed as Ned began to hydroplane. He jerked the wheel, veered the car off onto the shoulder. Or so she thought. She couldn’t see anything. She heard the crunch of metal though, just before she screamed again. She squeezed her eyes shut, dropped the rest of the donut, and wrapped her arms around her belly.

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