Part 3 (1/2)

Relieved he could finally do something to aid her, Caleb ma.s.saged her muscles, feeling some of the tightness leave her posture. ”Would you like more water?”

”Yes, please.” She rolled onto her back.

Again he helped her drink, then lowered her shoulders.

Maggie closed her eyes and seemed to drop into sleep, only to stir a few minutes later as a contraction barreled over her. She groaned, squeezing his fingers 'til they ached. When the constriction eased, she released him and lay back, her body limp. ”They are coming faster. I don't know if I have the strength to do this, Caleb.”

Once again, he mopped her damp forehead with his handkerchief. ”So must every woman think at some point in her travail. Yet babies are born all the time, despite their mothers' doubts. Besides, I already know what a strong woman you are, Maggie.”

”No, I'm not.”

”I'm not going to argue the truth.”

Maggie sipped water, nodding when she was done. ”The tea?”

He laid her back down. ”I'll build a fire and boil water. Then you'd better tell me exactly what to expect and what to do.”

She nodded, grabbing her knees, grunting with pain and the effort to endure. When it was over, she caught her breath. ”Someone's filled my insides with p.r.i.c.kly pear cactus and is wringing me out.”

Caleb winced. ”You certainly have a way with words.”

”I'll trade places with you.”

Never. ”You're doing just fine.” Playfully, he tapped her nose. ”If men were the ones to have babies, the human population would die out within a generation.”

She chuckled. ”True.”

Caleb rocked back on his heels, surprised by how good her husky laughter and their repartee made him feel. He wasn't a man given to bantering with women-with anyone for that matter. Out here in the wilderness, with a woman about to give birth, he wasn't the banker or the hotel owner. I'm just a man trying to hold his guilt and terror at bay and make sure this mother and child survive.

CHAPTER THREE.

Between Maggie's contractions, Caleb rushed about the business of setting up camp. He cleared an area near the bed, dug a fire pit, and started a fire to brew her tea. He hiked through the trees to a stream at the base of the hill, filled two buckets with water, and hauled them back to the fire.

Meanwhile, she explained what supplies were needed for birthing the baby-the washtub for soaking b.l.o.o.d.y clothes, the pot for boiling water, a pile of clean rags, a flannel blanket, the string and knife for tying off and cutting the cord, diapers and soakers, and a little cloth garment for the baby to wear.

He tried to memorize her instructions, terrified there'd come a time when he'd need to know what to do, and she wouldn't be able to tell him. Once inside the caravan, Caleb rifled through Maggie's possessions, careless of making a mess. Or maybe I should say more of a mess. He bundled everything into a basket that hung from a hook in the ceiling near a corner.

While he worked, Maggie dozed, only to awaken a minute or two later when another wave of pain possessed her. She panted, groaned, and grunted her way through multiple pushes through each contraction.

The next hour pa.s.sed in a blur. Somewhere along the line, Caleb lost his fear, so intent was he on the birth. His world narrowed to a grim need to get mother and child through this ordeal.

After a contraction, Maggie let out a breath. ”I feel better if I continuously push my way through the entire thing.”

”You said Mrs. Tisdale told you to trust your body, so I suppose that is what you are doing. Would you like a drink?” He lifted up her shoulders and offered her sips of the raspberry leaf tea, holding the cup to her mouth while she drank, for he could see she was totally spent. Then he laid her back down and wiped her sweaty face.

Soon the cramping came in swift waves, one on top of the other. Maggie was so inwardly focused, she didn't respond when he spoke to her, almost as if she couldn't hear him. To get her attention, Caleb had to lean close to her face when he spoke.

After one long contraction, with intense pus.h.i.+ng, Maggie couldn't seem to get comfortable. She tried s.h.i.+fting her hips one way, then the other. ”This isn't working.” Her eyes flew open. ”The baby's coming out!”

Caleb drew back the nightgown to view the part of a woman he wasn't supposed to see. Between her legs, a hairy scalp about the size of a silver dollar gradually grew larger. He inhaled the dusky smell of birthing.

At last Maggie found a position of comfort on her uninjured side, legs drawn up to her chest, hands gripping her thighs behind the knees.

Caleb remembered he was supposed to hold a cloth to support the baby underneath her female parts, but he couldn't seem to move. He felt as if he was looking at Maggie through narrowed vision, breathing too fast, and he became lightheaded. Keep taking slow breaths. This is no time to keel over, Caleb Livingston, he sternly told himself. He grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it under her.

The baby's head emerged, facedown.

”It's coming!”

She ignored him, taking another deep inhale, and pushed.

With her second push, as the baby's face turned toward Maggie's knee, Caleb supported the head. He took his hand and wiped the infant's nose and mouth, pulling away the fluid, flicking it to the ground.

She took another deep breath and pushed. Labor seemed to have taken over her body, compelling her to do nothing but thrust out the baby.

With the next push, the lower shoulder slipped through into Caleb's hands, and he intuitively moved the baby downward to make room. The top shoulder squeezed out next, then the rest of the body glided out. A girl.

A splash of clear fluid followed. The tiny body was slippery, and he held her tightly, afraid she'd slither out of his grip. He rotated the infant faceup, holding her about ten inches away from his face.

The top of her head had a slight cone shape. Her blue-tinged hands pinked. The baby's eyes were open, alert and seemingly amazed. They connected with his.

A jolt of intense feeling, of recognition, flowed between them. As he gazed on the scrunched features of the infant, love surged through him. He'd never felt such a feeling before, and his chest ached with the joyful pressure. Caleb wanted to curl her to his chest and keep her safe. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling a scent that surprised him with its sweetness.

”My baby?” Maggie asked.

The infant broke eye contact with Caleb and turned her face toward the sound of her mother's voice.

He blinked back moisture from his eyes and grinned. ”You have a beautiful daughter.”

Maggie let out a cry of joy.

Goose b.u.mps swept over Caleb's skin, and his voice shook with emotion. ”She's so little. So perfect.”

A huge smile broke out over Maggie's face. She looked at him in obvious elation. ”Let me have her.” Completely unabashed, she pulled up her nightgown to her shoulders, and then stretched out her arms for her daughter.

Careful not to jerk on the cord, he handed over the baby.

Maggie kissed her daughter and laid the infant face down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Caleb grabbed up the flannel blanket warming by the fire. Moving to Maggie's side, he laid the cloth over the baby.

The baby's head turned toward her mother.

Her expression glowing with maternal love, Maggie explored the infant's face with fingertip touches. ”Oh, sweet baby, you have my mother's nose.” She continued to examine her daughter, unfurling miniature, delicate fingers and obviously delighting in the child's perfection.

The baby turned her head toward a breast and pushed her feet on Maggie's stomach, slowly moving sideways.