And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. “Hey,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “What’s the matter?” Nice. If they were giving prizes for stupid, you’d need a trophy case.
Thankfully, she was so busy studying the fire, she didn’t seem to notice. “Nothing. It just... hurts.”
He could see how much the admission cost her. “Oh.” Another intelligent response. Frustrated, he searched for something relevant to say. “Yeah, well...I think you’re through transition, so it shouldn’t take much longer.”
The instant the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
Her head came around. Questions suddenly crowded her eyes. How come he knew so much? Where had he come by such knowledge?
It was a measure of her ability to unsettle him that for an instant Jack was tempted to explain. Except...what the hell would he say? That once upon a time he’d had a pregnant wife? That in an effort to be a good husband, a good father, he’d learned everything he could about pregnancy and childbirth, postpartum care and infant development?
Yeah, right—and then what? You going to tell her how, in the end, none of it mattered? You going to cry on her shoudder, tell her how Elise left you, explain why you gave up your son?
No way.
“Jack—”
“What?” He braced, wondering what she’d ask first.
As if she sensed his imminent withdrawal, Tess reached out and entwined her fingers with his, as if to anchor some part of him in place. “Can I get that part about this...not taking much longer...in writing?”
For a moment he was sure he hadn’t heard her right. Then he assumed she must be toying with him. Anger flashed through him. He jerked his gaze to her face.
To his surprise, she wasn’t even looking at him, As a matter of fact, her eyes were shut, her lips pressed together. She clutched at his hand as the mound of her stomach began to tighten convulsively. “Oh!” she gasped, holding on to him for dear life. “Oh, Jack, it hurts—!”
Her trust, in the face of what he’d been thinking, brought the last line of his defenses crashing down. “Easy. It’s okay—”
But it wasn’t. The contraction bowed her back, brought her arching up off the bed. She opened her eyes, staring at him in helpless distress.
He felt an edge of panic, and struggled to get a grip on himself. God knew, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do for her except pretend to be calm. He caught her other hand, as if to lend her some of his strength by the contact. “Stop fighting it,” he said forcefully. “I know it hurts, but you’re doing fine. Just don’t forget to breathe.”
She nodded, the flesh across her nose and cheeks taut with strain.
Then there was no more time for conversation, as the contractions began to come one after another, faster and faster. Everything seemed to blur together, the labored sound of her breathing, the muscle-wrenching expenditure of effort, the unrelenting, escalating cycle of pain. Jack didn’t know how much time had passed when Tess suddenly gave a tremendous shudder. Her eyes widened. “Oh! I can’t—There’s something—It’s coming—”
Earlier, out in the barn, he’d imagined this moment with dread. Not the mechanics of it; he’d barely given that a second thought. Like every rancher, he’d helped deliver his fair share of calves and foals, and he was more than familiar with the nuts and bolts of birth.
But to share such extreme intimacy with a stranger, especially one he found so disturbing... He’d been sure it would be awkward, uncomfortable, embarrassing for them both.
Yet, sometime in the past hour, he’d ceased to think of Tess as a stranger. As a result, he didn’t even stop to think, much less hesitate. “Wait! Don’t push, not yet, let me check, make sure it’s all right—” Without quite knowing how he’d gotten there, he found himself kneeling in the center of the bed, his hands warm and steady against Tess’s cold, bare, shaking knees. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he looked down, saw the top of the baby’s head emerging, and felt a mixture of awe and excitement spiral through him. Moisture, unexpected and mortifying, stung his eyes. He swallowed hard before he looked up at Tess. “So what are you waiting for? Push!”
From somewhere, she found the energy to roll her eyes before she pursed her lips, braced herself against the pillows and began to strain.
Once. Twice. A third time. Jack watched her struggle with a mixture of wonder and growing concern.
“Okay, okay... The head’s clear... There’s one shoulder... now the other... Come on...you can do it...”
“Ohhh...ohhhh...” She fell back against the pillows, breathing like a bellows. She was white-faced with exhaustion.
“Come on.” He was suddenly afraid that if she stopped now, she wouldn’t find the strength—or the courage—to resume. “Again.”
“I’m so tired—”
“I know.” As if his movements were dictated by some power outside himself, he found himself reaching up and gently brushing her hair off her face. “Listen. You can do this. But you have to concentrate.”
“Right.” Her mouth trembled as she tried to smile. “Wanna trade places... and see... if you still feel... the same way?”
Something alarmingly like tenderness curled through him. “No way. Now, shut up and push.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind, apparently seeing something in his face that convinced her he wasn’t going to let up. Gritting her teeth, she dug down deep, and found some last little reserve of strength. Jaw clenched, she pushed.
Jack sat back. “That’s right, that’s it. Come on. You’re almost there—”
She strained again, calling out. For a moment, nothing happened.
And then her cry was answered by a high, wavering baby’s wail.
Stunned, Jack stared down at the squalling infant suddenly filling his hands. He felt an instant of unreality, a rush of astonishment. Swift on its heels came an explosion of elation, as bright and intoxicating as champagne. “Tess—” for some reason, his voice was shaking “—it’s a girl!”
For an instant she looked blank. “What? I thought—are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Her lips began to tremble. “Is she okay?”
“She’s perfect.” Quickly he toweled off the baby, wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to her mother. “Honest. Ten fingers and ten toes.”
“Oh. Oh, my.” Tess looked down at the little red face and managed a shaky smile. “She’s...beautiful.”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. The damn moisture was filling his eyes again, and he seemed to have something stuck in his throat. Nevertheless, there was something he had to say. “You...you did great.”
She glanced up in surprise. For a long moment, their gazes met. Until, with no warning, her face crumpled and she began to cry, great wrenching sobs of exhaustion, relief and joy.
For the second time that night, Jack didn’t stop to think.
He simply moved up the bed and gathered her and the baby into his arms.
Jack awoke slowly the next morning.
He was conscious first of the light. It was silvery-white against his eyelids, indicating that it was well past dawn, his usual time for rising. Perplexed, he started to stretch, only to be further disconcerted when he felt the chair at his back. Hell. Why wasn’t he in bed? He rolled his head, winced at the crick in his neck—and froze as his cheek brushed against an impossibly