Part 3 (2/2)
Caleb watched in astonishment as the baby inched toward the nipple.
The infant reached her goal and, lifting her head, made several attempts before she maneuvered the nipple into her mouth and latched on.
”Oh, look, dearest. You found your first milk by yourself. Clever girl.” Maggie crooned. ”I knew you could. You're going to make your way in the world and find what you need.”
Caleb couldn't take his eyes off the baby. ”That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life. I never would have thought she'd be so alert, so active, so able to search and find-” he lifted his gaze to meet Maggie's ”-her dinner.”
”My grandmother believed that a vigorous crawl to the breast means resiliency in life. I remember my mother talking about how strong I was as a baby, how fast I latched on. But. . . .” She glanced down at her suckling daughter. ”She's a miracle.”
”She is indeed. And so are you,” Caleb told her with the upmost sincerity. ”With what you've just gone through, you've proven your grandmother's belief.”
Maggie lifted her gaze to his. ”Thank you, Caleb, for being here. Helping me through this. Delivering her. You've saved our lives.”
He shook his head, denying her praise. ”I'm the one who's grateful to you, for I know I've had an experience that would have been denied me. Even if I have children someday, Dr. Cameron will deliver them, and I'll be pacing the parlor. I won't see the mother and child for a while afterward. I never would have known what I'd be missing by not being there the whole time.”
Maggie smiled and nodded, seeming to understand, and returned to watching her baby.
Caleb had never seen anything so beautiful. Madonna and child. A mystical feeling of awe touched him, and he felt connected to the divine, indeed, to all of humanity-generations upon generations of fathers who watched their wives nurse their newborns. In that moment, he forgot the mother and child didn't belong to him.
Finally, Maggie finished studying the suckling baby and smiled at Caleb.
”Do you have a name for the baby?”
”We'd discussed Oswald-horrible name-for a boy, of course. For a daughter, Anna after Oswald's mother. I wanted Viktoria, with a k, for my mother and grandmother. It's Hungarian. But my husband wouldn't hear of it. In fact, he barely considered that we'd have a daughter. He was so sure the baby would be a boy.”
”Are you going to keep the name Anna?”
Her eyes glinted. ”I don't have to use it.”
”Victoria is a lovely name.”
She rubbed her belly and shot him a considering glance. ”Maybe I'll name the baby after you, instead. Caleb is a fine name for a boy. There's no feminine version of Caleb, is there?”
”Caleba?” he teased. ”Calebina? I know. Calebimity!” Her throaty chuckle was a reward far richer than money.
”You must have a middle name.”
”Two actually. Charles and, if you can believe it-” he smiled ”-Victor.”
”Caleb Charles Victor Livingston. Quite grand.”
”I believe it suits me,” he said with a mock arrogant air. His gaze dropped to the baby. ”Will you call her Viktoria with a k, then?”
”I will call her Charlotte Victoria, without a k, after you-your two middle names.”
Before he could speak, Caleb had to swallow down a rise of emotion. ”I'm honored. The name fits her well. Far better than Caleba.”
She chuckled. The gold flecks in her brown eyes sparkled like stars. ”I don't know what I'd have done without you, Caleb.”
”Not been in this situation.”
”No,” she retorted. ”One far worse. My pains coming. . .only Oswald to help deliver the baby. . .if he would have even stopped. The baby and I might not have survived.” Her voice lowered. ”And I doubt he would've even cared.”
”More fool he. Your husband missed out on-” Caleb gestured to Charlotte ”-the most wondrous experience a man can witness.”
”I think you did more than stand as a witness.”
”Not in comparison to you, Maggie. You were marvelous.”
Her eyes widened. ”I have another urge to push. The afterbirth, I think.”
Caleb grabbed a basin he'd brought for the task and placed it between her legs. With a gush of blood, the placenta slid out. So much blood. Is it normal, or is something wrong? The thought made his stomach clench. After all we've been through, I can't lose Maggie or the baby now. He set aside the basin, planning to later take the placenta and dig a hole for it near where he'd bury Oswald. Hopefully the distance would protect them from any animals who might smell the blood.
After he used a warm cloth to clean Maggie, Caleb washed his hands and face. His body still felt shaky after the birth experience, but his heart was full. When he returned, the baby was still nursing. He sat down next to them, Indian style, content to watch.
After a while, Charlotte pulled her head up like she was ready to stop. Then she seemed to change her mind and continued to suckle for a minute. The next time the baby lifted her head, she relaxed her mouth so the nipple slipped gently away. She turned her face and nestled her cheek against her mother's soft breast.
”I suppose we should clean her up.”
”Just a little.” She ran a finger over Charlotte's head. ”This white coating is supposed to be good for her skin.”
Caleb stood, his legs aching, and shook them out before walking to the fire. Grasping a corner of a washcloth, he dunked it into the pot of water, and then raised it, holding it aloft to cool a bit. The cloth flapped in the wind until he judged the temperature to be the perfect warmth for Charlotte's delicate skin. He returned to Maggie's side.
She held out the baby for him to wash.
He crouched and dabbed at Charlotte's cheeks.
The infant scrunched her face and turned away.
”Your first bath, my love,” Maggie crooned.
Feeling like a clumsy oaf, Caleb persisted, moving as gently as he could.
”She won't break, or so Mrs. Tisdale a.s.sured me. Rub her head clean.”
Caleb obeyed, slicking the washcloth over Charlotte's head and causing some of the baby's downy dark hair to swirl in tufts.
Maggie guided him in applying a diaper and dressing her in the baby bunting. After being swaddled inside her blanket and full with her mother's milk, Charlotte fell into her first contented sleep.
Caleb wondered if the babe had a sufficient wardrobe. He felt an urge to rush to Sweet.w.a.ter Springs and place an order for baby clothes and such. ”I should attend to the cord.” He used his pocketknife to fish the string and butcher knife out of the pot of boiling water and held them aloft to cool.
”Remember,” she instructed. ”Tie off the cord about an inch and again at four inches. Cut between.”
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