by Sara Orwig
Mary Catherine hugged and kissed Vivian, and Vivian’s heart constricted. “You’re a brave little girl,” she said, smoothing Mary Catherine’s brown hair. “I’ll just be down the hall, okay?”
Mary Catherine nodded and settled to look at the television. Vivian headed out of the room, suddenly stopping and clutching the nearest chair as another contraction started.
“Can I help you?” Matt asked.
“I’m all right.”
Matt patted her shoulder, feeling inadequate yet relieved now that he knew Meg was on her way. “One thing—the experts will be here soon. Let’s get you to a bedroom. Doc said to get you ready and Meg Preston, a nurse, is coming to help,” Matt said as he picked up Vivian’s things and they stepped into the hall.
His boot heels scraped against the plank floor. They passed three bedrooms that were never used, and without thinking about it, Matt led her to his bedroom and set her suitcases down inside the door.
Vivian stood in the center of the high-ceilinged room that was all wood and glass. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling; wide louvered shutters stood open at the windows. Glass made up two walls while paneling and shelves were along the other walls. His dark oak four-poster bed was king-size, covered in a deep turquoise comforter. She watched him strip down the bed and rummage in his closet and panic assailed her. She was in a stranger’s house. This cowboy was going to have to deliver her baby. She closed her eyes, fighting fear that swirled around her like dark floodwaters. A contraction commenced and pain pushed aside worry. Gasping, barely aware of him, she watched as he held out a white shirt.
“Maybe this would be more comfortable for you,” he said.
As she accepted the shirt, he motioned toward an open door. “There’s the bathroom. I’ll go down the hall and wash up and I’ll get some towels for the bed.”
Feeling a flush of embarrassment, she shook her head. “This is really embarrassing, and it’s more so since you’re not married.”
“Think about the baby and don’t worry about me,” he said. “Meg will be here in time. I’ll just help you get ready.”
She nodded and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
Matt let out his breath. “Come on, Meg. Hurry it up,” he said under his breath, yanking off his wet shirt and pulling on a dry T-shirt. Picking up clean jeans and socks, he raced down the hall, changed and scrubbed up. When he dried, he pulled out clean towels and sheets and took them back to the bed to spread them. Then he got out one of his seldom-used knives that was razor sharp and took it to the kitchen to sterilize it.
When he returned to the bedroom, Vivian was coming out of the bath. She had washed away the blood from her temple and combed her long brown hair. Over five and a half feet tall, she looked like a fifteen-year-old child in his white shirt that draped over her hands and hung to her knees.
“I feel better now, but the contractions are definitely two minutes apart. And that bed looks good because—” She gasped and grabbed a high-backed rocking chair and a look of shock crossed her face. She yanked a towel off the bed. “My water broke,” she whispered, blushing and scrambling up on the bed. “I’m having a contrac—” She broke off. Matt rushed to spread a sheet over her and help her, propping pillows under her head.
“Oh, my gosh, the baby’s coming!” she gasped.
Chapter 2
Terror seized Matt and he stared at her. He yanked up the phone and called the cellular number Walt Bently had given him.
“Hello” came the familiar voice.
“It’s Matt. Her water broke, and she said the baby is coming.”
“Calm down. How many calves have you delivered?”
“Doc, this isn’t a calf!” he snapped, and heard a slight chuckle. Surprised, he glanced at Vivian and saw the faintest hint of a smile lift one corner of her mouth, and the sight calmed him like a steadying hand. Once again he gazed into her blue eyes and found warmth and trust, and his fears vanished.
“How many calves, Matt?”
“Too many to count.”
“Yep, and I’ll wager plenty of them were more complicated births than this is going to be. Besides, a baby is a little thing. You don’t have all those long legs to fool with.”
“Okay, Walt, you made your point. Now what do I do?”
“Let me talk to the little mother. I’m on my way.”
Matt handed over the phone and waited, hearing her pause and watching her close her eyes and knowing she was having another contraction. He reached out and took her hand, wishing he could do something.
She opened her eyes, talked to the doctor and then handed back the receiver. As she did, she gasped and clenched his hand.
“I better see what’s happening,” he said, moving around the bed. He moved between her legs.
When he shifted the sheet to her knees, Vivian was flooded with embarrassment. They were all but total strangers, yet she was going to have to depend on him and give herself up to him in the most intimate way.
He glanced over her knees as the contraction subsided and his dark gaze met hers. “Good girl,” he said. “You’re doing great.”
“You’re not even married,” she said.
Amusement flickered in his dark eyes. “I do know a little about females and female anatomy,” he said, one comer of his mouth lifting in a crooked grin.
“It’s not quite the same,” she said, and closed her eyes as another contraction gripped her and she pushed with all her strength.
When it passed, he patted her leg. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m going to have a girl.”
“You know that?”
“Yes, I had an ultrasound, and that’s what my doctor in Denver said.” Another contraction began, and she clenched her fists and dug her heels into the bed as she pushed.
Matt hurt for her. Where the hell was Meg? He wondered if she had stalled or been flooded out from reaching his house. He tried to give steady encouragement to Vivian, talking to her between contractions.
Again a contraction gripped her and her hips lifted as she pushed while he called encouragement. Then he saw the baby’s head. Excitement streaked in him, and his last fears vanished.
“That’s it, Vivian! I can see the head! We’re going to have a baby, and it’s turned right,” he said, feeling another surge of exhilaration. “Hang on, push hard! You’re doing great! Keep at it!”
Through a blur of pain Vivian heard his deep voice, calm and steady and supportive, sounding as if he had done this dozens of times before.
Two more big contractions and then he was reaching for the baby.
“That’s it, Vivian! Here’s our baby!” Matt exclaimed exuberantly, suddenly awed and filled with wonder as he grasped the wet baby. He was weak-kneed, overwhelmed by the miracle of birth and this new little person who was so tiny in his hands.
“Vivian, here’s your little girl,” he said in a husky voice, feeling as if he was holding something infinitely fragile and precious and astounded how they had gotten her here with such ease. Reluctant to give her up, he placed her on Vivian’s sheet-draped tummy and put Vivian’s hand on the baby, covering her hand with his. “There she is. Isn’t she a marvel? Look at all her brown hair. I need to cut and tie the cord now.”
Tears stung her eyes, and Matt’s fingers tightened on her hand. “She is a marvel,” Vivian said, touching her baby.
“I almost didn’t make it.”
Matt heard a voice behind him. Meg strode through the door and opened the bag in her hands. She wore a crisp white shirt and jeans and boots and he could not recall being so relieved to see someone before in his life.
“We have our baby,” he said, without realizing what he had told her.
“Well, heavens to Betsy! Good for you! I told Walt Bently you could do this all by yourself.” She put down a box, a brown paper sack and a satchel and disappeared into the bathroom, where he heard the water running. In minutes she reappeared, drying her hands and tossing the towel back into
the bathroom.
“Now you can step aside and I’ll take over here,” Meg said briskly, snapping on surgical gloves and moving to the foot of the bed. Her voice softened, and she patted Vivian’s leg. “How’s Mama?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good. You’re in good hands. And you have a sweet baby girl. Matt is an old hand at delivering foals and calves. I knew he could do this delivery.”
“I’m damned glad you’re here,” Matt said. He moved around to the side of the bed to look at Vivian while Meg went briskly to work, talking softly to the infant.
“How’re you doing?” Matt asked Vivian.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” she said, glancing from the baby to him, her shining blue eyes filled with such joy he was awed. “I’m naming her Julia.” Vivian squeezed his arm.
Her slender fingers slid around his wrist, and he didn’t want her to let go. He knew it was absurd to feel that way, but he was glad they’d had to turn back to his house and he’d been with her. He couldn’t resist, and leaned down to brush a kiss on her cheek, catching the scent of roses and feeling her smooth skin beneath his lips.
“You were great,” he said softly, covering her slender hand with his.
“Now get, Matt,” Meg snapped. “You’ll only be in the way and you’ve done a good job. Go brew me up some iced tea. Get some scales to weigh this little girl and a yardstick so we’ll know how long she is. We want all the statistics. What time was she born?”
“About two minutes before you walked in the door,” Matt said, glancing at his watch. “About three-forty.”
“Very good. Go now.”
“Tell me when to bring Mary Catherine to see the baby. I won’t tell her yet so you can do that,” he said to Vivian.
Reluctantly, he turned and left the room. Now that it was over, his knees shook as much as Vivian’s had. He couldn’t understand the emotions tumbling in him. He had wanted to gather mother and baby in his arms and hold them close. He felt a part of them—something he had never experienced before in his life with anyone.
In a daze he called 911 to make certain the ambulance was canceled. Then he washed up and went to find Mary Catherine.
“How’re you doing?” he asked as he sat near her on a chair. Staring at him with big blue eyes, she still looked alarmed to see him and she didn’t answer. He wondered whether she was always so shy or if it was just because he was a stranger. As he glanced around the room, he realized it had already been changed by Mary Catherine. Her bag lay on the Navajo rug on the floor. Her teddy bear was in his leather recliner with a pink blanket spread over it. An alphabet book lay on his sturdy cherry-wood coffee table.
“Mary Catherine, Nurse Preston is with your mommy right now,” he said, wanting to let Vivian tell Mary Catherine herself about the new little sister. “Are you hungry?”
She looked at him and he could guess the struggle she was having with her shyness versus wanting something to eat.
“Bring your bear and we’ll go into the kitchen and find something you like to eat,” he said, wondering what on earth he would have that a little child would like.
He left the room, glancing back to see whether or not she was coming. She stared at him as she scooted off the couch, picked up her bear and followed him.
He brewed a pitcher of tea for Meg and rummaged in the fridge. “Do you want toast? Grilled cheese sandwich?”
She nodded when he asked about the sandwich. She still seemed uncertain.
“Want to come sit down?” he asked gently, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. She climbed onto it and sat silently watching him as he fixed her a grilled cheese sandwich and poured her a glass of milk.
As he moved around the kitchen, pouring iced tea for Meg, his gaze kept returning to Mary Catherine, eating quietly at his kitchen table, yet watching him with a wary eye. She seemed terrified of him.
He had suffered his own terrors this past hour. The delivery had shaken him to his soul. He had been frightened and then awed, completely stunned by the miracle of birth and the calm, brave manner of Vivian Ashland. The thought of creating another little person, a part of himself, had never entered his mind before and had never been real to him, but suddenly it was the most awesome thing he had ever known. The birth of the baby made him stop and think about the emptiness in his own life.
He remembered when he was a kid, how he used to feel hollow inside when he watched some of his schoolmates with their families. Growing up, the only bright spot in his broken home had been his younger brothers. Now he just thought of himself as the Tin Man who needed a heart.
The brief time Vivian Ashland, her baby and Mary Catherine had been a part of his life had changed him, and he knew he would never, never forget them.
That realization shocked him, too. He shook his head slightly, wondering if he was just caught up in the euphoria of the moment and it would pass and he would forget this day. He didn’t think so. Not for a lifetime. Never could he forget Vivian’s blue eyes so calm and trusting on him, making him feel strong and capable, as if she thought he could do anything that needed to be done.
He heard someone moving through the hall and glanced around to see Meg. She stood with her hands on her hips and her blue eyes scanning the kitchen. All of five feet tall, she had a commanding voice, and he was deeply grateful she had arrived on the scene.
“You must be Mary Catherine?” Meg said, and Mary Catherine nodded.
“Want to go see your mommy now?”
“Yes,” Mary Catherine said promptly. She slid off the chair as Matt handed Meg the scales and the tape measure.
In minutes Meg was back. “Now, where’s that iced tea?” she asked.
“Right here,” Matt said, handing her a glass. “How big is our baby?”
“She is six pounds and eight ounces, not big but just fine, and she is twenty inches long. Long and skinny.”
“She didn’t look long and skinny. She looked perfect.”
Meg chuckled and turned to his refrigerator. “We have a hungry new mama,” Meg said. “I’ll cook something for her,” she said, looking in his fridge as if it were her home instead of his. “Good. You have a lot of milk. Vivian is going to need it.” Meg got out the milk and bread. “Now, where are your pans?”
Matt fixed toast and poured milk while Meg poached an egg.
“Here, take her the milk and toast.” She chuckled. “Took an act of God to break down your male resistance and get a woman in this house.”
“You know Lita cleans for me,” he said, refusing to let Meg ruffle him when she had been an angel to his rescue.
“Ah, that’s different. Lita’s a kid.”
“Not so much a kid. She’s pregnant.”
“Now you’ll know what to do when she has her baby,” Meg said cheerfully.
“The hell I will,” he replied, wondering how everyone in the county managed to know everyone else’s business. The next time he walked into the feed store or Addie’s Grill, he knew they would tease him about delivering a baby.
“We can go sit with Vivian while she eats. I’ll bring the eggs as soon as they’re ready. She’s doing real well, and without drugs she’s as alert as I am.”
“I doubt any of us are as alert as you are,” he remarked, and heard Meg chuckle as he left the kitchen.
As he entered his bedroom, he saw all of them—Vivian propped up in his bed, the sleeping baby. wrapped in a pink blanket, Mary Catherine beside her new sister—but after a swift glance, his attention was riveted on Vivian, tiny little shocks igniting in his system. He dated, but he wasn’t into commitment and he had never taken a woman home to his bed. Vivian in his big four-poster was unique. He was startled and as mesmerized by her as he had been the first moment he looked into her big blue eyes.
She was propped against a mound of pillows in the center of his bed. Her brown hair framed her face, which shone with joy, the pink back in her cheeks. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and the soft white cotton clung to her lush figure. Whe
n her gaze met his, she smiled, her full lips curving and revealing white, even teeth, and he couldn’t get his breath. The woman was beautiful. She was a new mother, and he had just helped deliver her baby, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, thinking she was a dazzling beauty.
“Okay now?” he asked, unable to resist moving close beside. her as he set the glass of milk on a bedside table and handed her the plate with toast.
“We’re fine. We’re interrupting your life, though.”
He shifted his gaze from mother to baby, looking at the tiny infant who seemed such a miracle.
He shook his head. “For a baby, it’s worth interrupting. And with the rain, there’s not a lot I can do,” he said, knowing that wasn’t so. There were half a dozen things he ought to check on, but he had an excellent foreman and he knew farm life would move smoothly without him.
“Here’s more sustenance,” Meg said, entering and carrying a cookie sheet with a plate of poached eggs.
Matt pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed.
As soon as Meg was seated in the rocker, she held up her glass of iced tea. “Here’s to Baby Julia.”
Vivian lifted her glass of milk, her eyes sparkling as she sipped. Milk was on her upper lip and her tongue flicked out slowly, licking it away. Watching the tip of her pink tongue slide over her lip, Matt stared at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to feel her full, soft lips beneath his.
What was wrong with him? Maybe he should have cut loose and partied a little after wheat harvest instead of coming home to go over his finances and repair tools and see about newborn calves.
This woman was merely passing through his life, he reminded himself. He barely knew her—that argument went up in smoke as he remembered the moment she had given birth and he had held her new baby in his hands. It had been an incredible, breathtaking moment in which he felt a spiritual bond with both of them. Yet she would be gone before he really got to know her.