by Jillian Hart
Jacob smoothed her nightgown over her calves, a furrow of concern dug deep into his forehead. He was worried, too.
A new wave of pain tore through her lower back, ready to split her in two.
“Jacob.” She groped for his hand. She hated looking weak, crying out for him.
But his grip felt strong and comforting. “I’ve done everything I can, Elizabeth. We have to wait.”
“I can’t wait.” She whined, and shame flooded her. Libby prided herself on being strong, stoic, unbreakable. But her self-control snapped with another agonizing contraction.
Jacob took the washcloth from her hand and wet it again, wrung out the excess, bathed her face. “Does this help?”
“No.” Tears brimmed her eyes. “Oh, God. I hurt. I think the baby is dead.”
Jacob closed his eyes. Babies did die. “We can’t think about that, Elizabeth. Here, hold my hand.”
Tears ran helplessly down her face. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t stop her pain. All he could do was to brush her tears away.
“Jacob!” Her hand clutched his and she sat up in bed. “Jacob!” She screamed, and the sound tore through the small stillness of the room. Elizabeth flew into his arms, pressing her face into the hollow of his throat, filling handfuls of his shirt in her small fists.
Every instinct in his gut twisted hard. He rocked her gently, breaking a little. How he cared for her. He cared for her so much he couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, too.
“Lean back into the pillows,” he whispered, but she didn’t hear him. He could feel the pain in her body, feel the way she trembled as the contraction bore through her. She cried out, stifling a scream against his shirt collar.
“Hold me,” she begged.
His throat tightened and he could find no words. He wasn’t enough for her, this woman in his arms. He wasn’t brave enough, strong enough, able to save her from this horrible pain.
She screamed again, panting raggedly, and he closed his eyes, completely lost.
“Jacob. I—I can feel the baby.” Excitement lightened the heavy pain in her voice. She gazed up at him with wonder. “I can feel the baby move down.”
Tears streamed across her face. As the lamplight washed over her, they sparkled like diamonds.
“Oh, Jacob, the baby is coming.” Relief smiled in her eyes as she leaned back on her elbows, her face pinching as she bore down.
He didn’t dare hope. Feeling broken, Jacob pulled up her nightgown and sat down at her feet. He saw the shadow of a baby’s head like a rainbow at the end of a storm. Hope eased into his heart. He looked up over Elizabeth’s knees, and he smiled at her.
Exhaustion rimmed her eyes, drew lines in her face and paled her complexion, but he’d never seen her more beautiful. She panted again, wincing as she tried to push the new life from her body.
Jacob could cup that head with his palm. He could feel Elizabeth’s body bunch and push, stretching around the head that slipped out into his hand.
Two blue eyes stared up at him in complete amazement. Wonder washed over him and he laughed.
“It’s a girl,” Jacob choked. He laid a squirming tiny bit of life on her stomach, and Libby leaned just enough to see that the baby was alive.
Five of the tiniest, most perfectly shaped fingers waved in the air, and she caught that hand with hers. Pink and wet, the baby girl gripped her one finger with all five of hers, holding on so tightly Libby could feel her need.
All the love in the world bubbled out of her heart. More love than she ever imagined. Libby trembled with the wonder as Jacob wrapped the baby in a soft towel.
“Oh, Emma, come in.” She saw the shadow of the girl standing in the doorway and she beckoned her forward. “Come see my new little baby.”
Emma padded across the room, wary of her father, and came to stand beside the pillows. Together they gazed down at the little face, round like a full moon. Bright blue eyes stared toward the light above them, and Libby’s heart broke in two.
“Now I have two little girls to love,” she said quietly, reaching down to kiss that soft little forehead. Tiny fingers grabbed at her hair and she worked the strands free.
“She’s grimy,” Emma observed.
Libby couldn’t tell what Jacob was thinking as he leaned forward.
“I need to clean off the baby,” he said.
He sounded clinical and distant. Was he angry? Her heart squeezed as he lifted the little bundle from her arms. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t speak. Libby’s heart ached as she watched him leave.
“What are you going to name her?” Emma eagerly sat on the bed.
“I don’t know. I was hoping you might help me think of a name.”
Emma’s fingers squeezed hers. “Well, name her after who you love most.”
“Then I will name her after my mother and after you.” Old, unshed tears from a lifetime ago filled up Libby’s throat. She knew now love could hurt, too.
Jacob held the tiny girl in his hands. He tried not to look at her. She was red and wrinkled and so small she could fit into both of his hands. Wet honey blond hair clung to her delicate head.
He carefully tested the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot before he began to sponge off the baby. He tried to hold back his heart. She waved her fisted hands and threw back her arms in protest. Her old-woman face scrunched up and she cried.
He said nothing. He kept sponging her off, trying not to hear the need in her wails.
“Pa, she’s awful loud.” Emma padded to a stop beside him. Her brown head bobbed as she studied the newborn. “Libby said she needed you. Her stomach hurts again.”
The afterbirth. Jacob laid down the washcloth and wrapped the baby in a soft towel. Emma trailed after him as he knelt down on the braided rung. Heat radiated from the healthy fire, and he laid down the baby a safe distance from the hearth.
“Stay here and watch her. Don’t pick her up. Be careful with her.” Jacob walked away, unwilling to witness the love shining like the sky in his daughter’s eyes.
He felt so cold inside. So frozen.
Elizabeth smiled at him and lifted her head from the pillow. Damp tendrils clung in dark swatches to her forehead. “Is she all right?”
“Yes.” He sat down on the chair and took her hand. “Looks like you need me to take care of this.”
“If you don’t mind.” An apology shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to do this for me. I know you didn’t want to.”
“That’s not it.” Jacob stood up and turned away, the pain in his old heart hurting too much. “Where do you keep your rags?”
Elizabeth blushed. “In the top left-hand drawer of the bureau,” she answered quietly. “I’ve never had anyone take care of me before. Thank you for staying.”
Jacob’s throat filled, thickening with an emotion he didn’t want “You don’t have to thank me. I wouldn’t leave you alone, Elizabeth.”
Their gazes met, then locked across the small room. Jacob watched her face soften, watched tears fill her eyes. He didn’t want her tears. He didn’t want to love her. Fear still rocked him over the chance she’d taken. What if she had died tonight?
He rummaged through the drawer and found the soft muslin rags and clean underthings. “I’ll take away the sheets and bring you in some water to wash with.”
“I guess I am a mess,” she answered shakily.
Jacob shrugged. “This is just a part of life, Elizabeth.” He handed her the rags to tie for herself.
She gazed up at him. “Isn’t she beautiful, Jacob?”
His throat closed. She was proud of her new daughter. She didn’t mean to draw him closer, didn’t mean to make him remember.
“Yes,” he said, because it was what Elizabeth needed to hear. “You did a perfect job. You have a beautiful baby.”
“Thank you.” Tears winked in her eyes. “I’ve never been so happy.”
Jacob turned away. “I need the sheets,” he said quietly, remembering why he’d entered the roo
m. “Emma is watching the baby. When you’re washed up, I’ll bring her back in to you.”
“She sounds hungry,” Elizabeth smiled at him.
Thin, tentative wails murmured through the walls. “Will you be all right?” he asked.
Weariness darkened her eyes, exhaustion lined her face, but she smiled. “I’ve never been better.”
Oh, it felt like heaven to wrap little Charlotte Emma in the new gown. Libby smoothed the warm fabric over that tiny body. The bright yellow pattern was the same as the dress Emma wore.
“I’m glad I picked this out,” she said now.
“So am I.” Libby’s smile warmed her from head to toe and all the way through. She never knew a smile could do that. “Look, we’ll put on the red socks that match.”
Emma snatched up the socks and presented them to her. She stared at the things, larger than necessary, and pulled them onto those tiny, perfect feet.
“Is her head going to stay like that?” Emma wanted to know.
“No.” Libby smoothed her hand over the slightly coned shape. “Do you want to pick out a hat for her?”
The girl rummaged through the small knit caps and found one to match her socks. Bright red. Libby smiled at the color.
Jacob’s boots sounded in the lean-to, and she felt the cool nip in the air as the pounding wind drove inside the house. The door slammed, shutting out the sound of the storm.
“How’s Holly?” Emma called, not wanting to leave the baby.
“Shh,” Libby reminded her. Emma covered her mouth, shrugged, then scampered off to talk to her father.
Leaving Libby alone with her own daughter. Her daughter. She studied her baby. Dressed and snug, Lottie now slept soundly after a small meal and a lot of comfort. Her eyes were screwed tight against the new sensation of light.
In all of her life, Libby had never imagined this. She touched the small moon face, so red and wrinkly. Lottie’s skin felt as soft as a new kitten. She ran a loving finger gently across those chubby cheeks and little nose.
She felt his gaze and looked up.
Jacob stood at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand. His shirt was half-buttoned, showing the gray wool of his long johns beneath. Dark ebony hair scattered across his forehead and stubble clung to his jaw. She read the exhaustion shadowed beneath his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be up. You need to stay in bed,” Concern dug deep lines in his forehead.
Libby’s heart sank. He seemed so distant. Even now he stood with the entire length of the room firmly between them.
“I feel fine. I don’t want to lie down when there’s so much to be done.” Libby glanced down at her baby. “I’ve missed a whole day’s worth of work. And think of the sheets I’ve soiled.”
“I said I’d do the washing.” Jacob’s jaw worked, and he hung his head. Without saying more, he spooned sugar into the cup and stirred.
Libby looked away. She could feel his sorrow but didn’t understand it. All of her dreams felt like sand in her throat.
What did you expect? She couldn’t expect a man to love another man’s child. Not even Jacob. Libby closed her eyes.
“Here. This is for you.”
She looked up the solid length of him. His trousers were wrinkled. He bent down to set the full cup of coffee on the floor beside her.
She stared at the cup, filled to the rim. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She knew he loved her. But was it enough?
Libby cleared the sadness from her throat. Thank you, Jacob.”
He only shrugged. “You missed supper. Are you hungry?”
Libby smiled. “I’m ravenous. It’s a good thing I baked a whole pot of beans when I did. It will be easy for you to warm up.” Her smile faded.
Jacob turned away. “I want you to stay right here. I don’t want you to do anything more than rest.”
Her heart twisted at the concern in his voice and at the love he tried to hide. He was afraid. Libby listened to his heavy, uneven footsteps limp from the room.
Who wasn’t afraid of living? She touched a soft finger to Lottie’s relaxed hand. There was so much to lose, so much to hurt, so much pain.
But look at what could happen. Libby traced those tiny pink perfect fingers. Love and joy and happiness. It all went hand in hand.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jacob leaned one shoulder against the wall and stared at the rumpled bed he felt too tired to change. The tick needed to be emptied and scrubbed clean. He closed his eyes. He didn’t mind the work.
She could have died last night.
The unbearable bleakness gripped his heart. He’d made himself too vulnerable, damn it. Caring for her hadn’t made him immune to pain, to the possibility of loss. To the darkness descending over him.
Closing off his heart, Jacob bent to the sheets and dropped them on the floor. He hauled the tick off the frame, the ropes creaking in protest. He would concentrate on work. That always made the darkness more bearable.
She was still there, in the middle of the front room, sipping her coffee, her wheat-ripe hair burnished liquid gold in the firelight. Her blue skirts swept the rug around her, and she turned her gaze from the sleeping baby to him.
He looked away. Emma hopped in with her Mother Goose book, chattering on, telling him how she was going to read to Lottie.
Jacob’s heart pounded. Elizabeth had named the baby. He felt numb. Somehow he managed to say something appropriate as he pushed the tick across the varnished puncheon floor. The mattress slid easily along the wood surface, and he skirted around the corners of the large rug where Elizabeth sat so quietly.
Go to her. She could make this better.
But he couldn’t. Even looking at her emphasized what he could lose.
He reached the corner of the fireplace where the stone wall edged the kitchen, and he looked back. He saw them framed by the white-and-blue braid of the rug. Emma sat with the big book in her lap and searched through the pages for her favorite rhyme. The firelight glowed golden off the length of Elizabeth’s braid. Between them lay the small, brightly clad baby.
He concentrated on doing what he could. Emptying the tick. Filling it. Putting the beans on to warm and boiling up another pot of coffee.
Libby smiled at the baby suckling at her breast. This was such a new sensation, one little Lottie had finally mastered. Nursing earnestly, she blinked up at Libby with her curious blue eyes.
Jacob stepped into the room and froze. His gaze fell to her exposed breast, embarrassment staining his face. He took one step back into the kitchen.
“It’s all right,” she told him. “You’ve seen more of me than this.”
“Yes.” He bowed his head, and she could not see what he might be thinking. “I was going to bank the fires. Will you be up much longer?”
“No.” She could already feel Lottie’s contentment and smiled down at her daughter. “We’re almost done here.”
She heard Jacob’s uneven gait cross the wood floor. He hesitated by her side, then set something heavy down on the braided rug.
A cradle. A handmade, hand-carved cradle.
“She’ll need something to sleep in,” he said, uncertainty ringing in his voice.
“Jacob. It’s beautiful.” She stared at the cradle crafted from smoothly polished pine. Small raised flowers were carved into the wood. She wondered what his gift meant. “This took so much time to make. You must have started it months ago.”
“Not that long. I’ve been working on it at the livery. With the storms, business is slow.”
He stood so close, yet felt so distant.
“This gift means a lot to me.” Her whole heart squeezed.
He only shrugged.
Lottie began to doze, and Libby detached her from her breast. But before she could cover herself, Jacob knelt down beside her.
His hands covered hers. “Let me.”
She sat still, her heart fluttering as light as air. Jacob’s big fingers closed her dress front and buttoned the small round button
s.
“Can I hold her?”
She saw the loneliness in his eyes. “Yes.”
Jacob gathered the baby from her arms, cradling the small, wobbly head in his huge hand. He rose, carrying Lottie.
He folded himself into the rocker, so close she could reach out and touch him. He took such care with the baby. The small blanket had fallen away, revealing her bright yellow gown. Lottie slept, unaware of the big man who held her and the pain in his face.
“I was the first person to hold her,” he said, his voice so tight it cracked.
“Yes.”
“I walked away from Emma when she was as helpless as this.” Unshed tears thickened his voice, and his shoulders slumped a bit. “I didn’t even hold her. I just walked out the door and never came back, never came home until after the war.”
“You didn’t stay to see your Mary buried?” Libby asked into the silence.
“No.”
Sadness hung in the air, weighted by Jacob’s confession. The scouring wind outside howled, the clock ticked and measured the passing of each minute, but the stillness between them remained.
“I should have stayed, picked up the pieces of my life, been a good father to Emma.” Jacob lifted the baby to his chest and tenderly laid her against him, sheltering her in the strong curve between his throat and shoulder. “Instead, I ran.”
“You must have loved her very much.” Libby rose from her chair and knelt down carefully before him.
“Yes. Both Mary and Emma.” His throat worked. Pain lived on his face, ached in his eyes. “I left her with my mother because I couldn’t be a good father to her. Do you understand? I didn’t run away because I didn’t want her.”
Libby could feel the truth so painful in his eyes. “I know. You love Emma more than your life.”
“I do.” He waited. “I can’t do this, Elizabeth. I can’t give you what you want.”
Libby laid her hand tenderly on Lottie’s warm back. “What can’t you give me, Jacob?”
“The love you deserve.” He looked up and tears of grief filled his eyes. “This is just too much to lose. I can’t do it. Go ahead and hate me for it.”
