by Kris Tualla
“And you were able to do so?” Nelson sounded deliberately skeptical.
“Yes, sir.”
“With Mr. Hansen’s help, I assume?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you expect me to believe that neither of these rather large and imposing gentlemen,” Nelson turned and indicated Rickard and Nicolas, “were able to control this stallion, but you did so all on your own?”
Sydney faced Judge Benson. “Your Honor, I’m under oath to speak the truth. Plus, I’m doing so in front of these men. If you still don’t believe me, then by all means, ask them!”
Judge Benson looked at Rickard and Nicolas. Both of them nodded.
The judge cleared his throat. “Proceed.”
“Three months after my rescue, I regained my memory. I realized that I was injured as a result of events that transpired when I discovered my former husband’s infidelity. I had removed my wedding ring at that time and told him that I would divorce him.”
Robert and Andrew Bell slumped stupidly with their mouths hanging open.
“The same day that I remembered these things, Nicolas contacted Mr. Ivarsen and had the divorce papers drawn up. I signed them and so did my unfaithful husband.”
“You remember this situation, Your Honor, as you, yourself signed the decree?” Nelson prompted Judge Benson.
“Yes, of course.” More throat clearing. “Proceed.”
Nelson Ivarsen addressed the judge. “Your Honor, under the circumstances described here by the witness, it is clear that there was no conscious intent to commit adultery, the one and—I must point out, only—time actual congress occurred between Mr. and Mrs. Hansen.
“In addition, when it became apparent that the witness was, in fact, married, steps were taken immediately to rectify the situation. Furthermore, it’s clear that the witness and the defendant were also victims, not only of an unfaithful husband, but of an unfaithful husband who purposefully hid Mrs. Hansen’s identity and marital status from both her and Mr. Hansen.”
Judge Benson nodded his agreement. “Is there anything further on the charge of adultery?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then the adultery charge is dropped as well. Let’s move on.”
Sydney shifted her weight again and leaned on the railing, frowning at Nelson. Nicolas knew her well enough to deduce she was in pain. He leaned forward and dug his nails into the arms of his chair, legs flexed and ready.
“Now as to the charge of rape. Mrs. Hansen, were you raped?”
“No.”
“Was the singular act which occurred between you and Nicolas Hansen consentual?”
“Yes.”
“Have you aught more to add to that?”
“No.” The crowd was silent, the Bells unmoving.
Judge Benson frowned. He pointed out Nicolas’s size and rough appearance. “Mrs. Hansen, I have given you considerable dispensation to testify here. Let me assure you, Madam, if there was any force, of any kind, used against you, you may say so under the complete protection of this court.”
“Your Honor, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or disrespectful in any way. You have allowed me to testify in this case and for that I thank you most sincerely.” Sydney winced. Rickard reached over the railing and clamped his hands on Nicolas’s shoulders.
“…But if I’m sturdy enough to break a stallion that neither of those men could handle, why would I marry a man who raped me?”
An excited murmur went through the crowd. The gavel came down again.
“Order!” Then turning to Nelson Ivarsen, Judge Benson asked, “Are there any last words, Counselor?”
“May I?” Sydney spoke. At Judge Benson’s nod, she straightened; the effort it required was evident to everyone present. “If anyone here could be called a victim, it would be me. But I didn’t bring charges against this man. Instead I’m here to testify on his behalf. He’s my chosen husband and father of my child and I love him with all of my being. To find him guilty would only serve to leave me without a husband and our child—who will be born very soon—without a father.”
Punctuating her words, Sydney gasped and doubled over. Water pooled at her feet. Nicolas threw off Rickard’s restraint and shot from his chair. He picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and turned to face the judge. He would do what Sydney needed him to do, the court be damned!
Judge Bernard Benson banged his gavel and shouted over the chaotic crowd, “Case dismissed!”
Chapter Thirty Six
The courtroom churned with excitement.
“Take her to my landau out back!” Nelson Ivarsen directed Nicolas with a shove.
Sydney frantically tried to keep control, though it soon became apparent she had none whatsoever. She threw her arms wide and grabbed the doorjamb.
“Stop!” she shouted with all the effort she could spare.
Nicolas was trembling. “What’s amiss Sydney?”
She leaned back over her shoulder and got an upside-down view of the courtroom. “Rickard! Rickard where are you?” she called out, desperate to find him.
“I’m here, Sydney!” She saw him push his way toward her. “Bring Rosie! To the hotel!”
“I’ll get her and meet you there.”
Sydney relaxed and let Nicolas carry her through the doorway.
“Why do you want Rosie, of all people?” Nicolas growled.
“It is a long sto—oh!” Sydney closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her fingers dug into Nicolas’s shoulder. He halted.
After a minute she opened her eyes. “That was a birth pain.”
The bruises on Nicolas’s face seemed to darken. He set Sydney on her feet. In the carriage, he leaned her against his chest. Nelson joined them and, once the landau was moving, articulated his praise.
“I’ve never seen anyone command a courtroom with such panache! Not only were you eloquent and rational, but, good Lord! What a finish!”
Sydney rewarded him with a lop-sided smile. “Anything to win, eh?”
Nelson laughed delightedly.
“Can you tell me why Rosie was there?” Nicolas demanded.
“I asked her to testify on your behalf, should it become necessary,” Sydney said.
“And how, might I ask, would it have become necessary?”
“Rape. If your ‘needs’ were met, you didn’t need to force anyone. Oh, skitt!” Sydney closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Her grip threatened to crush Nicolas’s hand. After a minute she opened her eyes again.
“There was another one. How far apart do you believe they were?”
“I don’t know, ten minutes? So, let me understand this. You, my wife, asked a whore to stand up in court and testify that your husband made it a habit of visiting a brothel?”
“Well, I offered to pay her for her time!”
Nicolas shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know what’s worse! That you’d seek her out and discuss that sort of testimony about me, or that you’d even think of such a thing in the first place!”
Sydney leaned to the side and challenged him face to face. “And would you rather be in jail, sir? Because I’d much rather have you here! And if that means facing your past actions, so be it.”
Another birth pain hit.
“Ouch! Damn it!” Tears leaked under her eyelids as Sydney tried to relax through the contraction, but her outburst at Nicolas made it impossible. Nicolas rubbed his fingertips over her taut belly.
“Don’t worry, min presang. I’m sorry. Everything’s fine. You did the right thing.” Barely concealed panic colored Nicolas’s tone.
Sydney drew a deep breath as the pain eased. “I couldn’t bear it if they took you away, Nicolas, I truly couldn’t.”
The carriage stopped in front of the hotel. With one man under each arm, Sydney navigated the icy walk up the steps to the hotel’s door. Nelson shook Nicolas’s hand and congratulated him on both the trial’s outcome and the impending birth.
Sydney walked into the hotel lobby under her own steam, b
ut
she halted at the bottom of the stairs. Without a word Nicolas lifted her in arms as strong as steel, and carried her to the upper floor.
When he set her down in the hallway, another pain came on her. She grabbed him for support, moaning softly as she waited for the intense pressure to pass.
Nicolas helped Sydney out of her dress and she climbed into bed, shivering in the chilled room. Nicolas set about coaxing the small banked fire to life. He lit the oil lamp as the winter’s weak sun lowered behind the clouded sky.
Pulling the chair next to the bed, he asked, “Why did you send Rickard for Rosie now?”
“Whores have babies. It’s bad business if they die doing so. If she recommends a midwife, that’s a good midwife to have. And Rosie’s been present at enough births to know what’s going on. Besides, she’s the only woman ‘friend’ I have in St. Louis.”
Nicolas smiled at that. “My ex-whore is my wife’s friend? Unbelievable.”
“Keep saying ‘ex” and we’ll be fine!”
Another pain came, this one stronger than the ones before. Sydney held Nicolas’s hand and breathed deeply, counting slowly to herself. When she reached sixty, the pain passed.
“You’re so calm, Sydney,” Nicolas ventured. “Does the screaming come later?”
“I don’t plan on screaming.” Sydney opened her eyes. “I’ve watched so many mares birth their foals that I did what they do. Of course, my last two babies were a lot smaller than this one!” She rubbed her belly.
Nicolas jumped to answer a knock at the door. Rickard was in the hallway with Rosie, now in a plain woolen dress and cloak. She crossed straight to Sydney’s side.
“That was some great theatrics in the court, there! You brought the house down!”
Sydney grinned. “Thank you for being there. I’ll see that you’re paid for your time.”
Rosie turned to Nicolas. “Did your wife tell you what she asked me to do?”
“Uh, yes. She did.” Nicolas’s blush was visible from the neck of his shirt to the top of his forehead. It flew out to the tips of his ears.
“This here’s some little woman you got, Nicky.” Rosie addressed Sydney. “So how’re you doing?”
“The pains are getting harder and they’re less than ten minutes apart. Might you fetch that midwife you told me about?”
“Let me time you for a pace, first.” Rosie removed her cloak and sat down on the chair that Nicolas had vacated.
“I reckon this is when we leave,” he said to Rickard, and turned toward the door.
“Oh, no!” Sydney reached for Nicolas. “Rickard needs to go, true, but you must stay!”
Nicolas was appalled. “Me? Stay? Here? You don’t mean for the actual birth, madam?”
Sydney’s eyes hooked his. “Yes.”
“But—men don’t—they’re not—No!” he thundered. “I’ll wait downstairs with Rickard!”
“Nicolas, I need you.” Sydney swallowed the strangling fear straining her voice. “I can’t do this alone.”
“You’re not alone,” he protested, waving at Rosie. “Besides, you know I can’t stay. And you know why.”
“Nicolas, please? I was willing to do anything required when you were arrested and needed me. And now I need you.” She tried to muzzle her fear. “Please don’t abandon me. I’m so scared.”
Nicolas was at the bedside so quickly, Sydney wasn’t aware of him crossing the room. He kissed her and his beard pricked her chin.
“I’ll never abandon you, min presang, never. If you need me here, I’ll stay.” His warm breath tickled her ear as his words flowed through her and calmed her panic.
Another pain came, the strongest one yet. Rosie produced a small clock from the pocket of her cloak which she wound up and set on the mantel.
“Alright, now we’ll see how far apart they are. Nicky, you’ll want to find a brace more chairs.” Rickard volunteered for that duty. When he returned, Rosie asked him to see about supper for everyone except Sydney.
“Your body don’t have time for food right now,” she explained. “You’d just end up puking it on the floor.” After supper, Rosie went for the midwife and Rickard made his exit. Nicolas and Sydney were alone.
“Thank you for staying,” she whispered.
“Is there aught else I can do for you?”
“Count out loud during the pains. It helps me know that I can make it through them.” Another one came. “Start now…”
Rosie returned an hour later with the midwife. Anabelle Graham was a tiny red-haired woman in her late forties, and she had an unmistakable demeanor of authority. Rosie warned her that Sydney insisted on Nicolas staying with her.
Anabelle’s skeptical gaze blazed a path from his top to his toes and back again. “He can stay until he faints.”
She gave him her rigid back. “I’ll need the clean rags and a pot of hot water,” she said to Rosie. Rosie nodded and set about the task.
Anabelle rinsed her hands and dried them on her starched white apron. She uncorked a small flask and poured oil on her fingers before she examined Sydney. Sydney gasped at the necessary intrusion. Nicolas averted his eyes.
“You’re more than halfway opened up. When the water’s hot, we’ll begin softening your skin so it doesn’t tear when the babe comes out.”
The internal exam prompted another pain, and this time Nicolas counted to sixty-five before it ended. The next one came in four minutes and lasted until seventy.
Rosie pulled the sheet back and started the hot compresses at the opening to Sydney’s womb. Anabelle rubbed oil on Sydney to help soften the skin there. She ran her fingers around the opening, pulling a little, her ministrations comforting Sydney between the intensifying pains.
Nicolas was unexpectedly fascinated. His first surprise remained that Sydney wasn’t screaming or writhing. Other than the occasional grunt or whimper, she didn’t make a sound.
His second surprise was how much the midwife was able to ease Sydney’s birthing. Had Lara’s midwife taken the time to prepare Lara the way Anabelle did? Did she have hot compresses and oil? Was she calm and authoritative, inspiring trust? Nicolas didn’t remember her that way.
Tucked inside that revelation was his assurance that Sydney would come through this fine. Within hours he would hold his second child. Nicolas could hardly contain his excitement. He leaned over and kissed Sydney hard on the mouth.
“Our baby is to be born!” he whispered.
Sydney opened one eye. “Yes it is. Now count.”
Hours passed, and Nicolas marked them in his mind. He wasn’t certain how long births were meant to take. Successful ones, that was. Sydney gripped his hand during—and wilted into the mattress between—every contraction.
“I’m so tired,” she whispered. Nine hours had passed since her water broke.
“You’re doing fine, min presang, I’m so proud of you.” Nicolas was covered in his own sweat. Between worry for his wife, and straining through her labor pains with her, he was exhausted.
With the next pain, Sydney croaked, “I believe I need the chamber pot…”
“That’s the baby.” Anabelle and Rosie pushed the sheets out of the way. They pulled Sydney to a sitting position. “You,” Annabelle pointed at Nicolas, “sit behind her and prop her up.”
Too startled to argue, Nicolas slid one leg across the bed and straddled it. He winced at the pressure his breeches put on his groin, but there was no help for it. He rested Sydney against his chest.
“Hold her legs up,” Anabelle instructed. “Now at the next pain,” she spoke to Sydney, “you can start to push.”
Sydney’s face screwed tight and turned bright red. When the pain ended, she collapsed, panting, against Nicolas. The next pain came quickly and she pushed again. And again. And again.
And suddenly there it was: a small melon-shaped, sopping wet, blood-smeared, light brown hair-covered head. Anabelle wiped the nose and swept the mouth with her finger.
&n
bsp; Sydney panted and whimpered.
“Easy on the next push,” Anabelle instructed. “Let me work the shoulders out.”
Nicolas stared, transfixed as she pulled first one shoulder, then the other. In one slick motion, the baby slithered out of his wife.
“It’s a girl!” Rosie shouted.
Anabelle placed the baby on Sydney’s chest and scrubbed her
with a rag. Indignant at being squeezed out of her mother’s warmth, she wailed her protest.
Nicolas could do naught but ogle the tiny creature who, moments ago, had not existed in his life. Now there was no question that he would lay down that very life for her. Anabelle picked her up, cut the tied umbilical cord, swaddled her, and handed her back to Sydney.
“Put her to your breast,” she instructed. “I’ll help with the afterbirth.”
As the babe suckled, she opened one dark blue eye, then the other. Her eyes rolled around, trying out their new function. She suddenly let go of the breast and looked at Sydney and Nicolas.
“Hello, little one,” her exhausted mother whispered. Nicolas couldn’t speak. He put his finger in her hand and she gripped it reflexively, cementing her grip on his heart.
“So what’s her name?” Rosie asked.
“Kirsten Ciara Hansen, if that’s acceptable to you?” Sydney twisted around to look at Nicolas. “After both our mothers?”
“I like it fine.” Nicolas pushed Sydney forward. “I need to get off the bed.”
Nicolas pulled a deep breath when the pressure on his groin was relieved. He stood and stretched, then bent his knees and shook out his legs to make room in his breeches. His scrotum radiated a deep, pulsating ache down his thighs.
“She looks so big. How much do you think she weighs?” he asked Anabelle.
“Eight or nine pounds. And she’s long.” Anabelle nodded toward Nicolas. “Like her father.”
While the midwife packed her things to leave, she gave one last instruction: no intercourse for at least a month and a half. Nicolas nodded glumly and wondered if he would ever be able to have intercourse again. No point in worrying about that now.
He turned to Rosie and asked if she would mind telling Rickard he could come see the baby.
