The Christmas Treasure

by Kane, Mallory

  "Eight months is nothing. Jesus, he could not wait to come. He is born seven months."

  Lorilla assessed Josepha, wondering if she were lying just to make her feel better. "Really? Seven months? And Jesus is fine, right?"

  "Si. He was a small one, but you see him now. Taller than his father. I told you, your body, she know best. It is time."

  Lorilla felt a wary relief. The baby was ready, but there was another consideration. She rubbed her distended belly, and talked to her child. "All right then, baby. I know you're ready to be born, but you have to wait for your father. He must be here when his child is born. We can't let him down." She looked at Josepha. "Just go back to your baking. We're going to wait for Gabriel."

  Another pain seared through her, the worst one so far. "Oh. Now little one, please relax…and wait for…your father."

  Josepha started out of the room, then stuck her head back in. "I will send for the doctor. Then I be back. You stay."

  Lorilla smiled with an effort. "I'm not going anywhere, Josepha. But I'm not having the baby until Gabriel gets home."

  Josepha just shook her head as she left.

  Lorilla spent the day in bed, alternating between bouts of excruciating contractions and periods of calm, when she would nap. By the time the sun went down, the doctor still had not shown up, and Josepha's wizened face was pinched with worry.

  "Senora, Lorilla, you must push. You must breathe deep and push."

  Lorilla braced for another agonizing pain. When it hit her, the intensity stole her breath and exhaustion lay like a pall over her. But Josepha's voice droned on and on, like a persistent bee, urging her to push, push, push more…

  "I…can't…push…any…more," she wheezed, then collapsed as the contraction, which was the worst one yet, finally let go of her insides.

  She awoke, gasping, with the sensation of drowning. But it was only Maria Joseph bathing her face with cool water.

  She was so tired. Exerting a great effort, she looked around the room. "Why is it dark, Josepha?" she whispered.

  "Ah, Lorilla, it is nighttime, and the snow, she is falling."

  Lorilla licked dry lips and struggled to breathe. Her limbs quivered, her eyes would not remain open. Too tired, too tired.

  "Christmas eve. Gabriel promised he'd be back by Christmas."

  She took a ragged breath, and hot tears burned her eyes. "He's not coming back, is he?" she whispered. "He doesn't love me. I thought I could make him happy by giving him a baby, but he still loves Elena."

  "Hush, little one, hush. Save your strength. This baby want to be born, and you must let it. You cannot wait for Senor Gabriel. The baby will suffocate."

  Josepha bathed Lorilla's face with cool water, and Lorilla's tongue lapped out at the droplets.

  "The baby? No. The baby will be fine. We're just waiting for Gabriel."

  She gasped and cried out as another wrenching contraction enveloped her. "Gabriel will come home for…his baby. Not for me. But that's--okay. He needs

  his child. I can--leave. A…a burden. Always a burden. I'm sorry, Gabriel. I am so--sorry."

  GABRIEL PULLED HIS COAT tighter around him and tugged his broad-brimmed hat further down on his forehead. The snow hadn't let up. If anything, it was getting worse. He'd been riding for over two hours from Santa Fe. His horse knew the way home, but Gabriel was worried. The animal was exhausted and blinded by the snow, just like he was. It was taking too long. They should have reached the hacienda by now.

  He flexed his fingers inside his leather gloves. They creaked with the cold. And even with the sheepskin-lined coat, his body felt chilled through. If he was lost, he could die out here, and no one would find him until spring. And he would never see Lorilla again.

  The thought made his heart ache with loneliness. He'd been gone almost eight months. Gabriel blinked against the snow that blew into his eyes. Eight months, and the last time he had seen her, he had hurt her. Those last moments had played over and over in his head, until he thought he would scream.

  He knew why she was upset that day. He had left their bed to visit his dead wife's grave. What would any woman think? Then he'd made light of her fears.

  He winced as he remembered his last words to her.

  Perhaps you are more trouble than you're worth. He'd thrown the comment at her as he'd ridden away. He was a coward. He'd been so afraid of his feelings that he'd lashed out at her with the biting sarcasm he knew hurt her. He deserved to be horsewhipped for that, especially when the truth was if she'd asked him one more time not to go he would have gladly told the governor to find someone else.

  Then her last words came back to him.

  Don't expect anything when you return.

  What if she had decided to return to St. Louis? He shook his head. No. He could not believe that. He knew she loved him. She had told him in so many ways.

  Had she ever said the words? Gabriel knew she hadn't, but then, he had never told her either. What kind of stubborn pride had kept him from declaring his love? He'd finally admitted to Elena that he loved Lorilla. Why hadn't he said the same words to her?

  The snow was getting worse. Gabriel raised his head to look around. He blinked, then looked again. Was that a faint glow? Or was he snow-blind? He urged his horse forward. The animal's pace quickened. As soon as the horse's hooves clattered on the front terrace, Gabriel bounded off its back and slammed the doors open.

  "Lorilla!"

  No one answered. Gabriel flung his snow caked coat and hat down in the front hall, his body shivering as the warmth of the house seeped into his chilled bones.

  He looked around. No lamps had been lit. Where was everyone?

  Suddenly, fear clutched at his chest. Something was wrong. Had Lorilla left him after all? The desolation he felt at the possibility almost undid him.

  "Josepha? Maria Joseph!" He shouted. "Where is everyone?"

  Then he heard it. A scream…someone in intense pain.

  Lorilla!

  Gabriel bounded up the stairs two and three at a time, as dread pierced his heart. He burst into his bedroom, and the sight that greeted him nearly drove him to his knees.

  Lorilla, her flaming hair tangled and dripping with perspiration, sat up in bed with nothing but a white sheet draped over her. Josepha crouched on the bed in front of Lorilla's drawn up legs. Maria Joseph held a pan of water and a cloth, which she used to mop Lorilla's forehead.

  "Push, Lorilla, push. Senora, push!" Josepha cried, and Lorilla panted.

  "Ah. . . ah . . . Ahh!" she screamed weakly. "I--can't, Josepha. It's no…use." She collapsed back against the pillows, her face pale as the sheet, purple shadows rimming her eyes and a drop of blood on her lip where she'd bitten it.

  "Come on, do not stop. I can see the baby's head." Josepha pressed her palms against Lorilla's knees. "Keep pushing!"

  "Madre de Dios," Gabriel whispered, as his frozen brain slowly took in the sight in front of him. "Lorilla," he choked out, his chest tightening until he thought he would suffocate.

  Josepha didn't even look up. "Patron! Gabriel! Come here. Your baby is being born, and your wife need you."

  Lorilla's head turned slightly, although she didn't open her eyes. "Gabriel?"

  Gabriel's heart broke at the sound of her weak, exhausted voice. "Si, Senora Beltran," his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard against a growing lump. He blinked back tears. "It's your prodigal husband, returned at last."

  He stripped off everything but his breeches, and climbed onto the bed beside Lorilla. Carefully, as Josepha nodded her approval, he picked his wife up and nestled her between his legs, so he could support her as she strained to bear their child.

  He felt her body shiver as his cold skin met hers.

  Gabriel brushed wet hair off Lorilla's forehead and wrapped his arms around her. "We'll push together, okay, chiquita?"

  Lorilla barely nodded. He could feel her fast, fluttering pulse under his lips as he kissed the side of her neck. He shot a ques
tioning look at Josepha.

  Josepha gave a barely perceptible shrug. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut at the message. She wasn't sure if Lorilla would make it. Dios! How would he live without her?

  "What kind of mischief have you gotten into while I was gone, wife, that you have ended up in such a state?" He struggled to keep his voice light.

  Lorilla didn't respond.

  "Chiquita? Josepha, what can I do?"

  "I have send for the doctor, but he has not come."

  Gabriel nodded grimly. "The blizzard."

  "If she does not push," Josepha said, "the baby, she will die."

  Gabriel set his jaw. "And my wife?"

  "She is bleeding. And her strength is gone."

  Raw pain tore his broken heart to bits. He hugged Lorilla's precious, limp body to him and buried his nose in her fiery sunset hair.

  "Lorilla," he rasped. "Don't quit trying. Please. You promised me you wouldn't die. I've lived eight months for the moment when I'd be home, holding you in my arms."

  He swallowed. "You must keep your promise, chiquita. You have the will. I know you do. Stay with me, Rilla."

  He gently turned her face to his and kissed her lips, wishing he could breathe life into her. "Come on, chiquita, wake up. We have work to do."

  "Gabriel?" Lorilla's voice was no more than a breath, but Gabriel almost sobbed with relief.

  "Si, Rilla. I'm here. Please help me. I want to see our child."

  "Here comes a contraction," Josepha warned. "Push, Senor y Senora, push!"

  Gabriel held Lorilla's small, fragile body in the cradle of his. Her weak hands squeezed his as she gathered the last dregs of her energy.

  "You came back," she rasped.

  "Of course I did. Now push." He could barely see, his eyes were so hazy, but he felt her panting, straining, so he lent her all the energy he could and talked to her the whole time. "One would think you were a city girl, too weak for this life. Push harder."

  She stiffened against him. "You think I can't…do this?" she wheezed, her thready voice barely audible.

  But Gabriel heard her familiar determination, and his heart soared with hope.

  "I've birthed colts and fed cattle and bandaged wounds…while you were sipping…brandy with the President. Ahh!" Her body trembled with effort.

  Gabriel held onto her, whispering encouragement as the contraction wracked her exhausted body.

  "Good!" Josepha cried. "Just a little more!"

  Then Gabriel witnessed an amazing sight. Their baby emerged from the mess of white sheets and blood and water, and his breath stuck in his throat and tears slipped down his cheeks.

  Sobbing weakly, Lorilla collapsed back against him as Josepha laid the tiny squirming bundle on her stomach.

  Gabriel wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her naked shoulder, his tears mixing with the beads of perspiration on her skin.

  "Oh, Gabriel," Lorilla breathed. "Thank God you finally got here," she whispered.

  "What?" he asked without lifting his head.

  "Your baby wouldn't wait any longer."

  Gabriel lifted his head and stared at her. "Wouldn't wait…?"

  Josepha looked up. "The Senora was determined not to have this baby until you returned, Patron."

  "Rilla, what will I do with you?" he laughed through his tears and reached to kiss her, but she had fallen unconscious. "Josepha? Is she all right?"

  "Si, Senor. Now that your daughter is here, the bleeding it has stopped. She just needs to rest."

  Gabriel stared at the tiny wrinkled child. "A daughter. Look, Rilla," he whispered, although Lorilla couldn't hear him, "she has your red hair."

  He carefully slipped out of bed, settling Lorilla down on the pillows. He asked Josepha if he could help with anything, but she just waved him away.

  Downstairs, Gabriel saw that the snow had stopped, so he pulled on his coat and hat and walked outside. He shivered in the cold air as he trudged through the snow up to the family graves.

  He paid his respects to his father and mother's graves, and to his son's, then he crouched by Elena's grave, brushing away the fresh white snow. "Mi paloma, a true miracle has happened here tonight. Tonight…" he stopped.

  "Tonight is Nochebuena, isn't it? Christmas Eve. Well then, it is a perfect night for miracles." He stood and wiped his eyes, feeling the chill air on his damp cheeks and palms. "This hill, where I once buried all my hopes, all my dreams, has been a solace for me during the years since you died. I have come to you with my problems, with my heartaches, my loneliness. But now, tonight, I come to you with my happiness. I have not treated my Rilla very well, but she has stayed with me. She has accepted me as I am and has given me a child. I will visit you, I will always be grateful to you, but I have a new family. Fly with the angels, mi paloma and watch over us."

  Gabriel leaned over and placed a kiss on the cold stone of Elena's grave, then walked back to his home, his wife and his daughter.

  LORILLA WOKE UP SLOWLY, without opening her eyes. She lay, feeling the aches in her muscles and the soreness in her abdomen. As she came to full consciousness, she remembered her baby had been born.

  "Senora Lorilla."

  Lorilla's body wanted to drift back into sleep, but her mind was instantly alert. "Maria Joseph? My baby? Is it all right?"

  "Si, Senora. I have her here, for you."

  Lorilla opened her eyes as Maria Joseph placed a tiny bundle in her arms. "Oh," she breathed, as she held her baby for the first time. She pulled the blanket away and peered at the little red face.

  "Oh, look at you." Her exhaustion forgotten, she unwrapped the baby and looked at every inch of her. "Such a tiny little girl. And look at that hair. And those fingers, and those perfect toes."

  Lorilla's heart felt full to bursting. She had a child. A daughter. Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at the finest miracle in all of creation, the miracle of new life.

  She touched her baby's mouth and the little lips tried to fasten around her fingertip and suckle, so Lorilla held her to her breast.

  "What will I do with you," she whispered, her heart suddenly aching and her eyes filling with tears. "Gabriel wanted a son. He wanted a son, and a woman who would not disturb his life. I'm afraid I failed him miserably on both counts." Lorilla pressed a kiss on top of her baby's head, and as tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks, she closed her eyes and prayed that Gabriel would not hate her.

  A cool draft and the sound of the bedroom door closing alerted her. She opened her eyes and met her husband's intense blue gaze.

  They looked at each other across the fuzzy head of their child. Gabriel's face was somber. Lorilla swallowed.

  "You have a daughter, Senor," she said.

  "Yes. So I saw."

  The memories came rushing back then. Gabriel holding her, supporting her, whispering encouragement to her as the awful pain engulfed her. Gabriel's lips against her cheek, his breath warm on her face as he helped her birth their baby. Lorilla's face grew warm and a smile curved the corners of her mouth.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  For a long moment Gabriel stood frozen. Uncertainty gripped her. What would happen now?

  "I'm sorry she's not a son," she said, willing herself to look steadily into those blue eyes without blinking, without revealing how much his reaction meant to her.

  Suddenly, he was beside her, pulling her into his arms, the baby cradled between them.

  "Never say that again, chiquita," he muttered, his voice muffled by her hair. "I am so happy to have a daughter. And our daughter is not just any girl. She is the loveliest baby in the entire world. Do you know why?"

  He pulled away and touched her cheek with his fingers. Lorilla shook her head against his palm, her heart in her throat.

  "Because she has your hair, and your pink cheeks."

  "And your blue eyes."

  Gabriel laughed. The sound of his laughter was as music to her ears.

  "You cannot know that her eyes will stay
blue. All babies are born with blue eyes."

  "Hers will stay blue." Lorilla lifted her chin.

  "Ah. The Patrona has spoken." Gabriel touched the baby's hand with his finger, and she immediately curled her minuscule fingers around his giant one. He glanced up quickly at Lorilla, awe flooding his face. "I think she likes me."

  "She has good taste, like her mother."

  Gabriel pulled her closer. "So you like me, eh?"

  "I love you."

  He bent his head and kissed her. "And I love you, Rilla. More, perhaps, than you'll ever know. But now, we must think of a name for our beautiful daughter." He nodded toward the window, where the first light of dawn shone

  in a cloudless sky. "Our Christmas gift."

  "What is the Spanish word for gift?"

  "This little beauty would be better named a treasure, tresoro."

  "And for Christmas?"

  "Well, Josepha has an aunt who was born at Christmas. Her name is Natalia."

  Lorilla nodded. "Natalia Tresoro. That's her name."

  "A very large name for a very small baby."

  "She will be worthy of it," Lorilla assured him as a knock sounded on the door and Josepha came in.

  "Felice Navidad, Patron et Patrona," she said, her black eyes twinkling. "You, Senora Lorilla, you need to sleep. Let me have the baby."

  "Natalia Tresoro, meet your duenna, Josepha." Gabriel smiled as Josepha took the small bundle from Lorilla's arms.

  "Natalia Tresoro? Hmph." Josepha paused at the door and beamed at them. "That is the perfect name."

  When she was gone, Gabriel yawned. "Sorry. It has been a long night for everyone, especially you." He slipped under the covers.

  Lorilla eased down in the bed and turned carefully onto her side. Gabriel's warm, strong arm wrapped around her and his body pressed close to hers.

  "This is how we lay that first night," she murmured, relaxing against him.

  "I remember," he said, and Lorilla felt the evidence of his desire as his hard body pressed against her. "Do you remember what I said?"

  She thought for a moment. "Not really."

  He leaned in close and whispered, his breath warm on her ear. "I said lie still, for your sake and for mine."