New Year's Baby (Harlequin Heartwarming)

by Jodi O'Donnell

  Nope, it wasn’t just him, Cade thought. This was definitely the strangest situation he’d ever been in, bar none. “Well, if you don’t mind my askin’, who sent you?”

  “The note didn’t say.”

  He had to ask. “Y’think it could’ve been your husband?”

  At the question, they both glanced at her left hand. She wore no ring, and Cade didn’t like the ensuing relief he felt. Didn’t like that he was being drawn yet further into a situation that had all the earmarks of trouble.

  In fact, her next words only notched up his suspicions.

  “Cade, please, I know it’s difficult to understand,” she said rather urgently, taking a step toward him. “I certainly don’t. But all the way here I thought, if I could just make it to you, everything would make sense. I thought you might be...oh, I don’t know—that you might be my husband, or at least someone who knew me. Cared for me...”

  Her shoulders slumped in discouragement. “But you don’t. You don’t know me at all.”

  Her voice cracked, and she half turned from him, one palm still pressed to her belly, the other over her mouth, as if she sought to hold back her tears along with the birth of her child.

  She was apparently successful, for she went on fiercely, her fingers closed in a fist, “I have to believe I had the right instinct in coming here.”

  “The right instinct,” Cade doggedly pointed out, “would have been to stop fifteen miles back in Sagebrush where there’s a doctor with some skill at handling these sorts of situations.”

  She pivoted back toward him. “I know for sure I didn’t pass through any place named Sagebrush,” she contradicted. “Besides, you’re a cattle rancher, right?”

  “What does my being a cattleman have to do with your giving birth?”

  “You’ve probably delivered hundreds of calves, that’s what,” she said, her voice rising with panic. “You know how labor progresses and how—”

  “They’re calves!” Cade broke in, his own voice sounding close to panicked, even to his own ears. “Deliverin’ a baby would be completely different!”

  The room echoed with his doomsday words.

  “In any case, no matter how I got here or why I was sent to you,” Sara said with just the whisper of a quaver in her voice that sent self-disgust slicing through him like a knife, “you’re all I’ve got right now, Cade.”

  Abruptly, her face contorted with pain, and she sagged forward, hands spread on her stomach. Cade was by her side in a single stride, supporting her under her elbow as the contraction intensified, her fingers gripping his forearm, before it finally ebbed.

  “How far apart are they?” he asked, still steadying her while she caught her breath.

  She rubbed her forehead distractedly, as if that caused her pain, too. Had she hit her head and that was the reason for her memory loss? Cade wondered. Or had someone hit her?

  The thought roused a fury of protectiveness in him.

  “Maybe ten minutes or so,” she answered. “I haven’t been keeping track.”

  “Well, let’s make sure we do that next time.” Her face sheened with perspiration. “Should you be up walking right now?”

  “I don’t know! I’ve never had a baby before...at least I d-don’t think I have,” she said, that quaver creeping back into her voice, making him even more ashamed.

  She was right, of course. The doctor had been extremely clear about a lot of things, but mainly that if Cade was this woman’s only source of support to get through this, then it was up to him to convey to her complete reassurance and trust in him. “The more fearful she is,” Doc had said, “the more she’ll like to have trouble. You know that, Cade. One of your mama cows goes into labor, ’specially for the first time, it’s a loving hand and calming voice that’s going to see her safely through.”

  But this is no cow! Cade had thought, as just now he’d said.

  Which he shouldn’t have. He hadn’t mentioned the amnesia to Doc, his own instinct deeming such information best kept to himself for now. Who knew the trouble this Sara might be in, or who in actuality had “sent” her here.

  He decided he’d also keep the observation to himself that whoever or whatever force had sent her was about as reliable as the Texas weather outside, and she’d be wise to hitch her hopes to a different star from now on. Because while he’d delivered hundreds of calves, it wasn’t a process that came to him instinctively. That had always been Loren’s particular gift.

  Whatever the case, as she’d said, he was all she had to depend on right now, as much as Cade might wish differently.

  He noticed her watching him, as if actually looking for that sign, just as she had when she’d gazed at him from his bed.

  Cade realized he still held her arm, and he released it.

  “All right, let’s forget the third degree for now about why you’re here,” he said, pushing the hair off his forehead and back across his scalp. “The next contraction that comes, let’s keep tabs on how long it goes on and how long till the next one. Do you feel more comfortable walking around?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “Do y’know if you had a suitcase or some clothes other than what you’ve got on?”

  “Th-there was nothing in the car. Not even a purse.”

  The question seemed to upset her again, so he moved on. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I seem to remember stopping for...something on the way here,” she said with that certain vagueness he’d seen in her before. He chose to ignore it, since it tended to make him second-guess anything she told him.

  “So that was some time ago. Doc said we need to keep your energy up but didn’t think you’d be wantin’ anything solid.”

  She confirmed that assumption with a nod.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of broth or the like. I think there’s some orange juice, though. Would you like some of that?” he asked gruffly.

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a grateful smile, the first he’d seen from her. And it took him by surprise, stealing his breath away.

  It was just a shade crooked, with one corner denting in, creating a dimple, while the other side of her mouth curved up. Combined with those blue eyes, it was about as fascinating as finding the first wildflower in spring.

  Which made it doubly hard to do what he needed to next. He may as well get it over with.

  “I...uh, I also need to get an idea of how the baby’s going to be presenting, so I can tell Doc.” Cade extended one hand, indicating her bulging waistline, and asked, “Do you mind?”

  She shook her head.

  Acutely uncomfortable, he hovered tentatively over that roundness before he gritted his teeth and touched her. Even through the corduroy of her jumper, he could feel how taut and smooth her skin was. He moved his hand downward, feeling for the baby’s backbone, hoping—there was that word again—to detect it pressing up against the wall of her womb. If the baby wasn’t in the normal position and they’d be dealing with a complicated birth, Cade didn’t know what he’d do.

  “You’re right, I’ve done this hundreds of times with a pregnant heifer,” he murmured, more for himself than for her. But never a woman.

  His touch, he was glad to note, seemed to calm her, for she put her hand over his and moved it over a spot on her belly. “Is that a foot there?”

  He didn’t answer her right away. Every bit of her was baby, and despite the fear she’d expressed that she wasn’t ready to go into labor, he didn’t see how she couldn’t be. She was so fine-boned and slim, he wondered how she had been able to carry such weight. Wondered how she would look without it.

  Who was she and why couldn’t she remember that? He’d have to find that note of hers and take a good look at it, see if he could tell who’d sent her into the great wide lonesome of West Texas to fi
nd a perfect stranger.

  And where was the man who’d given her this child? If it’d been him, Cade knew nothing could have made him leave her side.

  He lifted his eyes to find Sara’s upon him, questioning—but hardly indignant at his familiarity. And oh, so very blue. She may doubt it, but some real instinct of his own told him: Sara was her name.

  And he would have to get a handle on himself if he was going to make it through this.

  Cade stepped away. “Far as I can tell, the baby is presenting properly. I’ll call the doctor back and get instructions on what to do next if you’ll time any contractions while I’m gone.”

  He grabbed up his watch from the nightstand and handed it to her without even asking if she had one. But he needed to get out of there, away from her, just for a while, like a man needing to fill his lungs before diving back into the deep blue sea.

  * * *

  CADE GATHERED AN armful of clean blankets and sheets from the linen closet and swung by the downstairs bathroom for a box of sterile gauze, a bottle of antibacterial soap and some rubbing alcohol before heading upstairs to his bedroom again. Doc Barclay had given him a bunch of instructions and told him to round up the supplies he’d need, most of which he didn’t have on hand and would have to improvise. He was going to have to use a couple of large plastic trash bags in lieu of a plastic sheet to protect the mattress. Luckily, he’d found a new pair of shoestrings in a drawer. Doc said that would be best for tying off the umbilical cord. The kitchen shears would have to do for cutting the cord after the baby was born. As for a syringe to suction the baby’s nose and mouth, all he had was an eyedropper. That’d do the trick.

  At least he assumed it would. He and Doc had been cut off in midconversation when the phone went dead. Obviously, the storm was doing its share of damage. Cade took a measure of comfort in knowing that the generator would keep the furnace running, even if the electricity went out.

  He’d hate, though, to deliver a baby by the meager glow of a flashlight. He was already enough in the dark as it was.

  At the thought, his hands shook so hard he dropped the rubbing alcohol. The bottle bounced off the step and all the way down to the foot of the stairs, from where he retrieved it.

  He had to get a grip on himself. Maybe he’d do better to separate himself a little from the situation, as he did when delivering calves. He’d have liked a tad more experience with women in general, however. But since Marlene, he hadn’t done much associating with the fairer sex.

  With a start, he remembered the letter, still unread, on his bed stand. He’d forgotten it in all the commotion. Well, he’d no time to read it now. Yet he knew that particular moment of reckoning would have to come sooner or later.

  Entering the room and setting the supplies on the dresser, Cade turned to Sara. “Doc said as long as you felt up to walking you should do it. It increases the effectiveness of the contractions,” he rattled off, avoiding her eyes. He refrained from calling her Sara outright. It kept the distance between them. “What are we talkin’ about so far as those?”

  “The last one was about forty-five seconds long, seven minutes ago.”

  “Do they feel like they’re getting stronger and closer together than they were before?”

  She cradled her belly. “Y-yes,” she said softly.

  “Then it looks like we should get prepared to deliver a baby,” he said, matter-of-fact. He brushed past her, going to the bed and stripping it. He wadded the used bedclothes in a ball and tossed them toward the doorway to remind him to put them in a load of wash. He didn’t have that many changes of sheets, and they were going to need at least two or three.

  With silent efficiency, he made up the bed again, making sure he padded the middle with several layers of towels and arranging the pillows in a stack so when the time came for her to give birth, her back would be supported and she’d have leverage to push through the contractions.

  Cade paused, not facing her. “I don’t really have anything like a nightgown for you to change into, but maybe that clean shirt of Virgil’s on the dresser will at least cover the vital areas. There’s some antibacterial soap there, and washcloths in the bathroom down the hall. You’ll want to wash up best you can. I’ll—I’ll give you a chance to change while I check on the water I’ve got boiling on the stove.”

  He plain couldn’t look at her as he left the room again. She would know as well as he did that modesty would soon take a back seat to urgency.

  Talk about really being exposed—and vulnerable.

  Downstairs, Cade stalled for ten minutes, busying himself with sundry tasks, before venturing into the bedroom again to be greeted by the sight of Sara in his ranch hand’s chambray shirt.

  She swam in it, the tails hanging to her knees and the sleeves engulfing her hands as she clutched the neckline. The color of the shirt brought out the blue in her eyes, making them shimmer as she looked askance at him.

  She seemed so much an innocent girl in her daddy’s nightshirt and not a mother about to give birth that he had to remark, “Virgil’s shirt fits you to a tee.”

  Her frown was just as engaging as her smile had been.

  Cade noticed that the toes of one bare foot curled over the other. “Here, let me get you some socks to keep your feet warm.”

  He fetched a pair of his own from a drawer, and it seemed the considerate thing for him to put them on her himself, rather than make her struggle with bending over.

  Going down on one knee, he patted his thigh for her to put her foot up, which she did while clinging to the bedpost for balance.

  He held her slender ankle, sliding one of his rough woolen stockings over her soft foot and tugging it over her delicate heel.

  “Oh!” she cried, and a gush of fluid poured down her legs and pooled on the floor in front of him.

  In one motion, Cade came to his feet and grasped her upper arms in support as the contraction rocked through her. Eyes squeezed shut, she clutched her belly, gasping. “Oh...”

  “Deep breaths now,” he counseled, even as he tried to count the seconds in his head. Where was his watch? “Exhale. Get that air out for me. Now a deep breath in. That’s it.”

  Sara was flushed and perspiring and shaking on her feet by the time the contraction passed. He eased her down on the bed then sidestepped to the dresser, grabbed a couple of towels, and dropped one to the floor to mop up the puddle. The other she used to dry herself. When she’d done with that, he got her a fresh one to hold between her legs in case of another onslaught.

  Glancing up at him in apprehension, she asked, “H-how long was the contraction? I couldn’t tell.”

  “So far as I could make it, it lasted about a minute.” He spied his watch lying on the sheet next to her and noted the time. “Looks like we’re moving right along,” he said as confidently as possible. He was doing a little sweating himself.

  She nodded, obviously trying to take her cue from him. He could see she was scared, though. “I—I think I’d like to lie down now.”

  He didn’t question her, had been told by Doc Barclay to let her decide how much activity and what position felt best for her. Cade helped her up onto the bed, where she curled onto her left side, one of his pillows between her knees. He pulled the worn coverlet up over her shoulders, as he’d done a thousand times over his own.

  It struck him then, fully, that this woman was having a baby here, in his own bedroom. In his own bed.

  And it was just the two of them. Alone.

  “Sorry about the mess on your nice wood floor,” she said, her voice tight with embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He sat on the edge of the mattress, keeping a close eye on both her and the watch. Thankfully, she seemed more comfortable in this position. She would need her strength for later on, he knew.

  And that time seemed to be fast
approaching.

  With the only illumination coming from the bedside lamp behind her, her face was cast in shadow. Cade wondered if he should turn on the overhead light, but it seemed too glaring for this setting.

  “So what would you like me to call you?” he asked abruptly.

  She opened her eyes. “Call me?”

  “I mean, if we’re goin’ through this together, I’m gonna need to call you something. Like, y’know—Sara.”

  “If that’s my name.” She didn’t quite seem to have bought in to it yet, as he had. “What do you say when you’re helping a cow to birth her baby?” she asked.

  Cade shrugged. “Well, I’ll say ‘C’mon, girl.’ Or else ‘You’re almost there, darlin’.’”

  “You call your cows darling?”

  He felt his jaw jut mulishly. His gaze stayed glued to the hands of his watch. “If that’s what seems to help her, then yes.”

  She said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she spoke up, “Well. I guess, then, that you—” A gasp broke off her next words. Her hand shot out to clasp his.

  He held on to it as tightly as the contraction ran its course. “Breathe as slow as you can,” Cade coached her.

  He noticed her biting down on her lip hindered her respiration.

  “If you wanna holler, holler,” he said, exaggerating his twang. “Just yell as the urge takes you, too. There’s no one to hear but me, and nothin’s going to shock this old cowboy, believe me.”

  Her brow furrowed with effort, and putting about as much wind behind it as she would to blow soap bubbles, she gave a soft shout, making Cade laugh out loud.

  It seemed to ease the tension in them both. After what seemed an eternity, she gave one final, cleansing exhalation, her face now gone pale and wan.

  “You made it through that one just fine,” he said quietly, now finding it hard not to call her Sara. He smoothed a washcloth across her forehead, brushing curling wisps of hair away from her face. Her time was definitely drawing near. He was loath to leave her again but he needed to prepare for the birth. He’d see her through the next one, then go get things in order.