Gifts of Love

by Raine Cantrell

“It’s the baby, isn’t it? The baby’s coming.”

  Mace couldn’t answer her. The baby was coming, and far too early.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Push, Erin,” Mace demanded from his position at the foot of the bed.

  Her shallowed, labored panting and a weak moan were his only reply.

  “You want this baby, don’t you? Try. Help me.” His voice was gruff. His gaze slid quickly up her pale face, seeing the dark shadows bruising the skin beneath her eyes, her lips blood red in the late morning sunlight from where she had bitten them.

  “How early is this baby, Mace?” Ketch asked, entering the room with fresh water.

  “I’m not sure. By Owhi’s reckoning, maybe four or five weeks.”

  Wringing out a cloth and coming to the bedside to wipe Erin’s face, Ketch tried to speak calmly. “What do ya mean? By Owhi’s reckoning? Ain’t you ever asked her?”

  “I never did.”

  The guilt-laden words silenced Ketch and he glanced from Erin’s face to Mace’s. He didn’t know which one needed help more. He didn’t have the heart left to berate Mace, for he could see, along with knowing, the torment the man was going through, and had been since that harrowing trip down the mountain with them and Jake.

  “Help her sit up a bit, Ketch. She ain’t got the fight of a weak kitten left in her.”

  Ketch did as he asked, sliding in behind Erin’s head and gently lifting her exhausted body up so that he cradled her back against his chest. Her anguished cry sliced through him and Ketch began praying as he never had before. Mace would not survive losing another wife in childbirth. Ketch didn’t have to ask him, he knew. And to help, he began to coax Erin just as Mace was.

  Clawing pain gripped Erin, tearing her from the sweet place she floated toward. Mace’s demanding voice began its litany again, and another’s was added to it. She was tired. So tired. She struggled to do as they wanted, anything, just so they would leave her in peace. She felt the scream build inside her and opened her mouth, unaware that a pitiful whimper was the only sound she made.

  “Want the baby, Erin,” Mace pleaded, his eyes blurring with tears. “Help me. Dear Lord, let her fight.” And in an anguished whisper, “Let her live.” There was no room for shame that Ketch had heard him. He had no secrets from Ketch. He didn’t have to hide the agony he felt at witnessing yet another woman, too weak to fight, too easily giving over to a call he felt powerless to overcome.

  With his strong hands, he began at the upper slope of her belly, gently pressing downward. He could see the quiver of Erin’s spread thighs, see the crown of the baby’s head. Another weak cry tore from her lips and still he begged, pleaded and yelled, trying to reach through to her.

  Pressure built, threatening to rip her apart. Erin was grateful for the hands that gripped her wrists, for the flow of strength that they imparted. She shook her head wildly, fighting to find the breath to scream.

  “A little more. That’s it, Erin. Just a little more.”

  Mace. That was his voice again. Praising her? Was she finally doing something to please him? Blinding pain seared her body. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t stand…another moment. Again and again the pressure came, stretching her until she knew she was dying. The sudden flood of wetness brought the feeling of relief. Her life’s blood was leaving her body. It was almost over. She knew it was almost over. Even Mace was telling her that. From far off, she heard him.

  The baby slid free into Mace’s waiting hands. His exultant shout roused Erin.

  “Mace?”

  “It’s a girl, Erin. A little girl.”

  A half-formed smile teased her lips and Erin closed her eyes. A girl…

  Ketch slipped out from behind Erin, lowering her down to the pillow, and came around to take the baby from Mace so that he could knead Erin’s stomach and rid her of the afterbirth.

  With the gentlest of touches, Ketch cleaned the baby, grinning at the squalling red face. “Fine lookin’ little lady, Mace. A mite small, but she seems to have the right parts.” The baby’s lusty cry brought a whoop from Ketch. “Well, you hear for yourself how she’s howlin’ her way into the world.”

  But Mace didn’t respond to Ketch. He was leaning over to whisper to Erin, stroking her brow. “It’s going to be all right. I promise you. You’re not going to die.”

  “Stop it, Mace. Look at her. She’s gettin’ a bit of color back. Erin’s a fine, strong woman. She ain’t dyin’. You’ve got to lay the past to rest.”

  Mace nodded, but Ketch wondered if he really heard him. After washing and wrapping the baby in a length of soft flannel, Ketch held her and crooned to her while Mace cared for Erin. Once Mace had her in a clean nightgown, he lifted her into his arms.

  “Gonna take her back to her room?” Ketch asked.

  “No. Strip the bed and make it up fresh. She’ll stay here with the baby.”

  “Well, then, set yourself down an’ hold on to your ladies, boss, while I tend to that bed. All they need is a good sleep. Best for all, to my way of thinkin’.” Ketch caught Mace’s absent nod and knew by the way he watched every breath Erin drew and released that he was still worried about her. Trying to distract him, Ketch said, “There’s still that cradle you made up in the loft. Think I should send one of the boys to fetch it down an’ clean it up?”

  “Sure. Whatever you think, Ketch.”

  Smoothing the quilt on the bed, Ketch was satisfied and went to take the baby. “Get your woman in bed, an’ then, jus’ to ease your mind, get in beside her.”

  Mace set Erin down, wishing he had thought to brush the tangled length of her hair. He brushed it aside with his fingers, moving over to allow Ketch to place the baby in the crook of her arm. Mace swallowed as he gazed down at the small red face sucking on its tiny fists as if the baby couldn’t make up its mind which one it favored. Tiny and helpless…But you’re gonna have your mama, little one, he silently promised. Come time to fight the devil himself, I’ll make sure of that.

  He saw that Erin’s breathing was deep and even and that Ketch was right about the color returning to her face. He lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, thanking the Lord that Erin and the baby had survived. He couldn’t believe that she had risked her life and that of the child she wanted so much to save Jake. Just as he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the night Sky had given birth to Jake and the nightmare that followed as her life’s blood seeped from her no matter how he pleaded, how he prayed or what he did.

  Ketch rested his aged hand on Mace’s shoulder. “Know what you’re thinkin’, son, an’ this ain’t the same. Erin ain’t Sky. You’ve got to stop lettin’ the past haunt you.”

  “I know. But something keeps pulling me back.”

  “The only thin’ pulling you back is you. You won’t let go. I tol’ you then an’ I’m tellin’ you now, weren’t your fault. The good Lord saw fit to take her an’ nothin’ you did was gonna stop it from happenin’. He left you a son an’ maybe, to the Lord’s way of figurin’, he’s given you a second chance to make things right in your mind.”

  “Ketch, I—” Mace’s voice broke and he lowered his head, unable to talk.

  “Son, sometimes a woman’s way of easin’ hurt ain’t so bad for a man. I’ll admit I did some cryin’ myself when we found Jake and Erin. I’ll leave you now to see to your own.”

  Dusk had forced Mace to light the lamp in the room and he led Becky and Jake in, his finger held to his lips when he saw that Erin was once again asleep. She had been awake for a little while, long enough to nurse the baby and count fingers and toes. Mace would never forget the shyness in her eyes, or the tenderness of her smile when she looked at him and thanked him.

  Becky and Jake stood near the cradle where the baby slept. Her cheeks were still bright, her nose small as a button and tiny lips pale as a spring rose. There wasn’t much more of her to see, wrapped tight as she was. With a hand on each of his children’s shoulders, Mace waited for Jake and Becky’s reaction.

/>   “She’s tiny,” Jake said, cradling his injured arm with the other. “I didn’t think babies were so small.”

  “She’s pretty and I’m gonna help take care of her,” Becky announced in an important whisper, glancing over toward Erin to make sure they did not wake her. “Big sisters have to take care of little ones.”

  “So do brothers, right, Papa?”

  Concerned that they would wake Erin with their talking, Mace ushered the children out, careful to leave the door ajar in case Erin called out.

  Seated before the fire in the parlor, Mace gazed at the two of them. “You really feel like this baby is your sister?”

  Becky chose to answer. “You married Erin, so what else is she? But Papa, what are we gonna call her? Erin never said.”

  Mace shook his head, not in answer to Becky’s question, but in disbelief that they were so accepting of Erin’s child. And he had to know if that was Erin’s doing. Easier thought than said, for he never knew what turns Becky’s mind would take and how much he would later reveal to Erin.

  “Oh, so you don’t know, Papa. I hoped Erin told you.”

  “No. We never talked about a name.” Or much else.

  “Now we’re a bigger family,” Jake supplied, basking in his father’s sudden smile.

  Mace was grateful for an opening. “Is that how you see it? I guess Erin told you that?”

  “Erin didn’t say it,” Becky answered before her brother could. “She didn’t have a family of her own. I told her we all loved her and would be her family. That was right, wasn’t it?”

  “Only if it’s what you and Jake want.”

  “We do, don’t we, Jake?” Without looking at Jake, Becky proceeded to tell her father about Erin’s dream and when done, cuddled close to him. “It’s going to be so nice to have a little sister. There’s all sorts of things I can teach her. Erin said so.”

  “And me. Brothers can teach things, too. Even if she’s only a girl.”

  “Well, one thing you won’t be teaching her is to run off and not let anyone know where you are, Jake. There wasn’t time to punish you because of Erin having the baby, but don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  “I ran off ’cause I was afraid that Erin didn’t love me anymore. You can’t spank me, Papa. I’m hurt.” To make sure, Jake lifted his injured arm.

  Hearing his son express his very fear softened Mace’s thoughts about punishing him. But before he could speak, Becky interrupted.

  “You’re silly, Jake. I asked Erin and she said she had love for all of us. The baby won’t take a bit away from you and me. If you asked instead of running off I could’ve told you so.”

  In the soft glow of the firelight, Jake’s crestfallen expression moved Mace to hug him tight. “I think maybe we can forget a punishment this time. You learned your lesson.”

  “She yelled at me and Scrap. Erin never yelled at me like that.”

  Mace was caught between defending Erin and wanting to ease Jake’s concern. He spent nearly an hour talking to them before he managed to get them to bed.

  He felt as if a burden had lifted to know that his own fear of Erin turning from his children once she had her child had been groundless. To hear Becky speak of Erin’s dream reminded him of her telling him that several times.

  His own guilt for the way he had treated her these last months ate at him. He returned to the parlor, banking the fire, and found himself restless though tired. Pouring out a glass of whiskey, he stood with one arm resting on the mantel, staring into the dying flames.

  He thought of the passion she had given to him, and wondered if Erin’s love, lavished so freely on his children, could be his, too. A family, a real family…

  Her dream was not an impossible one. The Lord knew that he was tired of burning with fever for her, tired of fighting himself and her. Jake and Becky needed Erin, and since it seemed a night for honesty, he needed her, too.

  Need was not something he had shown her. Need and a host of other things. A quick swallow of whiskey eased some of the tension that was building inside him. But as he raised the glass to take another sip, the baby began crying.

  With a rueful smile, he remembered other nights, but there was no bitterness to follow, for he wasn’t alone to care for a helpless infant. Erin was here.

  With a light step, Mace headed for the bedroom.

  Erin was struggling to get out of bed. The soft swearing alerted her to Mace’s presence and she fell back against the pillows. “The baby—”

  “I’ll get her for you.”

  Apprehensively, Erin watched as Mace turned the cover aside and gently lifted her swaddled child. Her eyes widened as he crooned meaningless sounds, his big hands cupping the baby’s head and bottom. She couldn’t help but wonder why the child had ceased its cry the moment he picked her up. Added to that was the time it was taking him to walk the short distance to the bed and give the baby over to her.

  Her sleep had not been restful but filled with dreams of seeing herself fall over and over into a bottomless pit. She had called for Mace, screamed his name, but he never came, never answered her. With this fresh in mind, she reached for her baby, taking her from Mace with a possessive gleam in her eye. The baby’s rosebud mouth worked frantically, searching for substance, but Erin was waiting for Mace to leave.

  Apprehension turned to dismay when he seated himself at the edge of the bed, leaning over to catch a tiny fist and insert his finger. “She’s strong, Erin.”

  “Yes.”

  Her reluctantly given agreement forced him to look into her eyes. Green eyes that were wary of him. Mace couldn’t summon anger, for he felt she had every right to question his every word, every move.

  The baby’s face reddened, her mewling cry growing stronger as her hunger went unabated.

  “You’d best feed this little one before she wakes the house.”

  No censure in his voice. He sounded almost as if he were teasing her, and didn’t care who the baby woke. Erin shook her head. She wasn’t thinking clearly. This was Mace, not the man of her dreams.

  “If you’ll leave—”

  Mace shook his head, silencing her. He brushed the back of his hand across her flushed cheek, then rose to fix the pillows behind her. Before Erin could ask what he was doing, he eased her up so that she rested more comfortably.

  Shielding herself with the edge of the sheet, Erin opened her gown’s ties and put the baby to her breast. She winced at the strength her daughter showed, yet a feeling of deep contentment stole over her. Her daughter, she repeated to herself, gently rubbing one finger across her baby’s forehead. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out Mace’s presence, but he seemed to reach out and make himself a part of this most precious time. She owed him more than thanks for fighting to bring her this child. Without Mace she didn’t think she would have survived.

  Emotions stirred inside Erin as the child suckled. She fled from the embarrassment of knowing that both Mace and Ketch had helped her give birth. There was just a flare of annoyance that it didn’t bother Mace at all. Thinking of her promises to both herself and the unborn baby, she began to doubt her capabilities to carry them out. But, for now, she put that worry aside. All she knew was that love seemed to be overflowing with the passing of every moment that she held her baby.

  A dreamy smile played over her lips before a sigh escaped and she cuddled the child closer. Mace had not abandoned her as she sometimes feared he would. He was here, offering his help, and she now understood the depth of the commitment he had made in claiming this child as his own. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, but they wouldn’t form into spoken words.

  The melding sound of their breathing made her open her eyes to look at him. Somehow, she wasn’t at all surprised to find him still watching her.

  “Do you know how beautiful you look right now, Erin?”

  Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn’t this. How could she appear beautiful? She dropped her gaze to the quilt, feeling the weight of the baby
, tiny as she was, begin to sap her strength.

  Mace reached out and brushed a loose tendril of hair from her face. “You are, you know. To me, seeing you now is to see the precious circle of life renew itself, renew me,” he said, hearing the huskiness in his voice and for once uncaring of the emotion it revealed. She was, with each second that passed, chasing away the nightmare he had lived with so long. He had helped this child to have life, but more, much more meaningful to him, was that Erin was alive.

  The gaze he bestowed on Erin when she looked at him held a soft, strange expression. She had seen desire’s hot fire waiting to snare her, she had witnessed fury and cold contempt from his dark eyes, but never this…Warmth without passion’s heat, a tenderness that made her wish it was love. Erin felt herself coming apart. She had promised the Lord she would ask for no more if He kept Jake safe, and she had kept that promise through the hours she had struggled to bring her child forth and have life. But she was greedy now; she wanted Mace’s love…wanted it with every fiber of her being.

  Still holding her gaze, he reached over to lower the sheet, his rough callused hand cupping the baby’s head. “Don’t shy away,” he pleaded softly. “There aren’t many men who are given a second chance, Erin. I’m one of the lucky ones.”

  “Mace, I—”

  “Hush, there’s plenty of time for us to talk. I just wanted you to know that I stayed in case you fell asleep again.”

  “Did I? While holding her?”

  A smile broke his lips, a smile that coaxed one from her. “Don’t worry. She’s stronger than she looks. Most babies are. And don’t be blaming yourself,” he reassured her, seeing that her eyes filled with dismay. “You had a rough time of it. But you’ll be strong again, Erin. I promise that.”

  Joy bubbled up and spilled over inside Erin. Could her prayer be answered? His husky voice made her think he really cared, and the tender look of his eyes seemed somewhat deeper.

  There was no shame now to know that he watched her with the baby. That surprised her and yet, reflecting upon it, she knew this is what she wanted; a real marriage. One that had no fear, no shame. Erin decided to test it before she was overcome by the need for sleep.