Jodi O'Donnell - When Baby Was Born

It was a gift, she realized, this trust in a force—call it heavenly or fateful or whatever—that she somehow had lost faith in, in that slumbering memory of hers.

Tremulously, Sara smiled at the man who had given her such a gift. Cade’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then came around again to hers. What she saw there overwhelmed her anew.

It was that connection, to be sure, but stronger than ever, made so by the naked longing in his eyes. The power of it reached out to her, and she couldn’t help but respond with an answering yearning that rose up from deep inside her, almost from another life, another time completely—

The next contraction hit.

Cade helped her pull herself forward, her shoulders hunched and her chin lowered as she bore down hard, a guttural moan of effort rising from her chest. His fingers laced with hers, and her nails dug into his palm. He didn’t bat an eyelash.

“I can see the head crowning,” he told her, not without some excitement. She slumped back as the contraction subsided. “Next one, give a big ol’ push, and I bet we’ll have him.”

“Really?” she panted, not daring to believe it.

“You bet.” He massaged her calves, seeming to know without a word from her that they were seconds from cramping. “When the baby does start to come out, though, I’m gonna have to concentrate on it, you know. So I won’t be able to hold your hand. You okay with that?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Good. I already told you, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

And he didn’t, even as her agony increased twofold with the next contraction. Yet they were making progress.

“C’mon, darlin’, you’re doin’ great,” Cade urged, both hands now flush up against her intimately, ready and waiting to receive precious cargo. “Big push now. You can do it, darlin’. You can.”

Sara pushed with all her might, putting everything into it, holding back nothing, for now she knew someone would be there to see her through to completion.

“There you go,” Cade exhorted her. “I’ve got his head, just give me the rest of him—”

“Him?” she puffed, straining to see. “Is it a boy?”

“I don’t know yet,” Cade said, full upon his knees by now, every muscle in him seeming to strain with her in empathy. “Just one more push, baby. One more, just for me…”

She couldn’t let him down. Where she found the strength, she didn’t know, but it came to her, and one last time, Sara bore down. The last of her apprehension disappeared as she watched the miracle unfold as he received her child into his large hands.

First off, he checked its parts. “Hoo-haw! It is a boy! You got yourself a son.”

“We do?” she breathed. “Oh, let me see him!”

“In a sec, darlin’.” With barely a pause, he snatched up an eyedropper and suctioned the infant’s mouth and nose.

From her position, the babe looked a good weight, easing some of her apprehension that he was early. But why was he so still?

“Is he…is he all right?” she asked, fear creeping into her voice despite herself. “What did the doctor say to do if the baby’s not responding?”

He didn’t answer. “Cade, what did he say!”

“He didn’t…we didn’t get that far in the conversation,” he said curtly, still suctioning feebly.

“But why…?” Then it dawned on her. “The phone—it did go out, didn’t it?”

Again, Cade refused to answer, his wide shoulders hunched over the tiny form, his face a study in fierce determination. His silence, however, was all the confirmation she needed.

Oh, what kind of woman was she not to protect her child better, to put him at such risk?

It was her worst fear revealed.

“Cade, please, I can’t lose this baby!”

“You won’t. He’s just gettin’ his bearings.”

Frantically, Sara pushed herself upright, trying to see, trying to reach for her baby. “But he’s not moving—”

“He will!” Cade hit her with his bloodshot gaze, and she saw his own fear in it. Yet she saw something else, too, enduring as the day was long. “He’s going to be fine. I promise you.”

Then, as if in answer to that promise, the baby sputtered briefly, filled his lungs and, with a grimace, gave a mighty cry.

Grabbing a towel, he dried the baby off, and Sara could see for herself that the infant was quickly gaining color. His tiny fists waved about as he gave another gloriously vigorous wail.

Cade placed him on her stomach. “There you go, darlin’—a healthy baby boy.”

“Oh, you sweetheart!” She caressed the babe, wet and warm and still connected to her through the umbilical cord. But he was his own person now, even if they would forever be connected.

Hands on his thighs, Cade smiled across the bed at Sara. Even with his dark hair matted with perspiration and his eyes ringed with exhaustion, Sara thought she’d never seen anything so noble and true as this man. She’d hold the image in her heart forever.

Downstairs, a clock chimed, and she could tell he counted the strokes, as she did, twelve in all.

“Happy New Year, darlin’,” he whispered.

She couldn’t not do it. Whoever she was, wherever she’d come from, she had to reach out to him one more time with her gaze—reach out, grab hold, and connect. Because she knew. Knew there had been a moment of grave danger for her child. And Cade McGivern had seen him—seen them both—safely through the storm. She would never, ever forget that.

No, she’d not lose memory of Cade McGivern. Not for anything.

“Yes, it is, Cade,” Sara murmured. “It’s a very happy one—because of you.”

And when she saw the look in those whiskey-brown eyes, it almost made her forget the slender band of gold she wore around her neck.

Almost.

Cade helped Sara to get cleaned up, best she could, changed the padding beneath her and kept the clean towels coming for the bleeding after she’d delivered the afterbirth, anything he could do to make her more comfortable and rest easier until she felt like getting up for a real shower.

He himself did the honors, giving the baby a sponge bath in the bathroom sink, as fascinated as she with the tyke.

What a perfect package he made! Cade couldn’t help thinking as he finished up. Newborn calves were precious in their own way, but gangly. Swaddled in a blanket, this babe fit in his hands like he was made to, dinky butt situated in one palm, tiny head cradling just right in the other. The shock of dark hair that stood up on his head like a bristle brush had been impossible to slick down, and in fact Cade’s efforts to do so had only made matters worse. He hoped Sara wouldn’t mind having a newborn who looked like a startled rooster.

“I don’t have a proper diaper for him,” he said, coming back into the bedroom. “I imagine I can rig him up somethin’ that’ll keep him dry—or actually, keep you dry.”

Sara let go of Virg’s shirt, which she’d been clasping shut at the neckline, as he handed her child back to her. She’d declined a change into another of the hand’s shirts.

“I’m more concerned about him soaking your bed,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I did a load of wash.” Still lacking his own shirt, Cade leaned a shoulder against the bedpost, openly enthralled with the picture the two made. “And soon’s I have a minute to get up to the attic, I’ll bring down the cradle that’s been in my family for years. I should get you somethin’ to eat first, though. You gotta be hungry after all that work you did.”

“You must be exhausted yourself, Cade,” she protested, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“It won’t take me more’n a minute to fix you an egg or somethin’.”

“Th-that sounds wonderful.” Sara ducked her chin, avoiding his eyes. “I want to thank you, Cade, for all the work you’ve done. And for, well, for everything. I’ve completely commandeered your bedroom, and now I’m going to inconvenience you further by your having to wait on me and my baby till I can get up and around.”