“In my makeup case,” Beth groaned. “I have floss and Q-Tips. Will the baby be all right being born outside like this? It’s so cold.” She was shivering, but not entirely from the cold. Her legs were shaking hard, another sure sign she was far along in her labor.
“Everything will be fine,” Faith assured her, but she had no such assurance for herself. “Give me the knife.” She held out her hand. “I’ll deal with Beth’s clothes while you get the things we talked about.”
Jamie took off for the car at a run. Faith looked at the shivering girl on the wooden picnic table. It looked hard and uncomfortable but the only alternative was the stone floor. Thankfully Beth was wearing thin leggings and not jeans. If the penknife was sharp enough Faith thought she could split the crotch and panties and at least protect the girl’s legs and feet from more exposure to the cold.
She told Beth her plan and the girl nodded, lifting her hips off the table. Faith said a little prayer of thanks that Jamie’s knife was indeed sharp. The baby had not yet crowned but Faith was certain that one more contraction would bring the top of its head into view. She couldn’t risk examining Beth anymore closely for fear of infection later; she had no way to sterilize her hands. Washing them in the icy water of the old-fashioned pump outside the shelter house would have to do. But she couldn’t leave the laboring girl exposed on the table. She would have to wait on Jamie’s return to do even that much.
“Try to relax,” she said.
“Are you really a nurse?” Beth was half sitting, half reclining against Faith’s arm. But her weight was slight.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve delivered babies before?”
“Yes,” Faith assured her. That it was long ago and far away needn’t be said.
“You’re wearing a wedding ring. Do you have children?”
“No. I’m a widow.” The words came out tight and hard. There was no way she could stop them.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Beth said politely.
“So am I.”
“I have to push again.” The sounds Beth made deep in her throat were no longer quite human.
“Jamie, hurry!” Faith called over the rising wind and the sharp tattoo of sleet on the metal roof. Tiny icicles were already forming along the eaves, and the pine tree’s needles had begun to chime slightly whenever the wind set the branches swaying. Addy turned her back to the wind and dropped her head on her paws.
Jamie started the car and left it idling. He ran up the slope to the shelter, slipping a little on the icy crust forming on the brown grass. His arms were full of two down sleeping bags, a couple of red sweatshirts and a small plastic case, pink and sparkling—the kind of case teenage girls used to keep their treasures safe, emphasizing again how young they both were.
“Good thinking to start the car,” Faith praised him. “We’ll move Beth and the baby inside as soon as we can.” The baby was crowning and there was only time to lift Beth enough to slide one of the sleeping bags beneath her and to wrap the other around her as best they could. Faith murmured encouragement, forcing her breathing into a normal pattern, steeling herself not to show any of her own fear and uncertainty.
Another contraction, another long unearthly moan, and the head emerged. No one saw but Faith. Beth was staring fixedly at the butterflies on Faith’s sweatshirt, and Jamie was watching Faith, too, not wanting to look between his girlfriend’s legs.
Faith’s cracked and bruised heart began bleeding anew as she cradled the baby’s head in her hands. Oh, God, why did you have to ask this of me today of all days?
Aloud she said only, “Okay, honey. You’re doing fine. Just rest now, wait for the next contraction.”
Beth groaned. “When will it be over? It hurts too much. I can’t stand it any longer.”
“Yes, you can,” Faith said soothingly. “This will do it. Her shoulders will come out and the rest of her body will just slide along. I promise. Just push slowly and steadily so you don’t tear. You can do it, come on.”
“Please make it—” The word ended in a long drawn out moan as the baby’s shoulders came free and the rest of her small body slipped into Faith’s hands.
“You have a daughter,” Faith said. Mark had wanted their first child to be a girl.
“The baby’s not breathing,” Jamie whispered.
At the words, Beth—who’d dropped her head against his shoulder—jerked upright. “She’s not breathing. She’s all blue. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. She’s cold, that’s all.” Faith said another silent prayer that she was speaking the truth. She wiped the baby’s face and head with one of the clean sweatshirts, then bundled her into a second, careful not to entangle the umbilical cord. She took a cotton swab and cleaned out her mouth and nostrils as gently, but as thoroughly as she could. It wasn’t ideal, she really needed a suction bulb, but it would have to do. She tapped her middle fingernail against the soles of the infant’s feet, then a second time a little harder. The baby’s eyes popped open and she looked directly at Faith. She blinked once, then opened her mouth, took a deep breath and began to wail. The cry was weak and thready but the most beautiful sound Faith had ever heard.
“Look. She’s turning pink,” Beth murmured. “May I hold her?”
“Of course you can.”
Faith placed the baby in her mother’s arms, pulling the edges of the sleeping bag more closely around them both.
“She’s awfully tiny.” Jamie’s voice cracked as he spoke.
“She’s perfect,” Beth murmured. “Just perfect.”
Faith handed the matches to Jamie, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off his daughter. “Here, sterilize the knife blade with these. The afterbirth will be coming soon and we’ll need to get the cord cut and tied. Do you want to do it?”
He shook his head. “You do it.” His expression was suddenly grim.
Faith didn’t press the matter. Beth was already beginning to breathe heavily with the beginning of another contraction. “This won’t be as bad,” Faith promised. “It’s the afterbirth, the placenta.”
Beth shook her head, smiling down at the tiny infant in her arms. “It’s okay. I can handle it. Now that she’s here, it’s worth it. Oh, Jamie,” she whispered, looking up at the boy with love shining from her sky blue eyes. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Jamie didn’t smile back. He looked as if the entire weight of the world had shifted onto his shoulders. “She’s so tiny. How will we take care of her?”
“We’ll manage,” Beth declared.
Jamie didn’t speak again.
Faith delivered the placenta a few minutes later. It appeared to be intact and there was little bleeding. She recited a silent prayer of thanks. With any luck she would have her charges safely in the hands of the competent staff at Bartonsville Medical Center in a very short while.
She bundled the afterbirth into the oldest looking of the sweatshirts Jamie had brought from the car. “We should take this along to the hospital for the doctor to check. You do realize that Beth and the baby need to be seen by a doctor? Your daughter is very tiny,” she said quietly, so that only Jamie could hear. “She seems to be healthy but she might have some difficulty with her breathing, or regulating her temperature. Newborns sometimes do. She should be where she can be monitored.”
“Problems breathing?” His nostrils flared and he swallowed hard. “Like needing oxygen and everything?”
Beth