Christiana immediately took charge, helping Mrs. Radcliffe out of her chair, Noah on the other side of her. They walked with her to the bedroom, and Noah helped ease her to the bed.
He turned to Christiana. “A phone?” he asked hopefully.
Mrs. Radcliffe, still suffering through her pain, gritted out, “We have no phone. Neighbor does. Across the street.”
“You’re going to call a doctor?” Christiana took him aside and whispered so the woman couldn’t hear.
“I’m going to call your mother.”
Christiana nodded in gratitude. She felt more assured as a midwife since Lanie’s delivery, but assistance was always better, and Noah had often made it clear he didn’t wish to repeat the role he once played.
“The twins …,” Mrs. Radcliffe muttered.
Noah sharply turned. “You’re having twins?”
Christiana hoped she wouldn’t have to try to catch him since he looked about ready to fall.
“Mrs. Radcliffe has twins—Mark and Mary—three years old. They’re sleeping.”
“I can’t leave them alone. They’ll be up from their nap soon. And my husband won’t be home from the Expo for some time.”
“Leave it to me, Mrs. Radcliffe. I’ll call Mrs. Leonard, and then I’ll watch the twins.”
“Don’t you have to report to the office?” Christiana wondered if he had any idea what he had just signed to. He had seen how many hours labor could take, and they had arrived toward the end of Lanie’s travail. Yet Christiana also could see no other way.
“You don’t have to do that,” Mrs. Radcliffe said. “Mrs. O’Brien, my neighbor across the street, said she wouldn’t mind watching them when needed.”
Noah nodded in relief and headed for the neighbor’s house. The elderly Mrs. O’Brien, kind as she appeared, barely held on to the door as she opened it. One look at her bleary eyes and reddened nose and Noah realized he might be sitting with the twins after all.
“Feeling a bit under the weather,” she admitted when he asked about her condition in concern. “Not to worry, dear boy. I’ll be all right.”
Once Mrs. O’Brien heard the news, she led him to her phone. First, Noah called Mrs. Leonard, who assured him she would come immediately. Second, he called his boss. He had to hold the earpiece away from his ear at the man’s irate reply, but the crusty geezer had developed a reputation for being a hardnosed editor. Noah often suspected that beneath beat a softer heart, and he found proof of it when the man told him in a quiet voice to do what he had to do to help the women.
Thanking the widow O’Brien, he settled his hat more firmly on his head and approached his newest challenge—entertaining two three-year-old children.
Surely that couldn’t be as much of a strain on the mind and emotions as the one time fate had forced him to become a midwife’s assistant.
To Christiana’s relief, her mother soon arrived. Helen Radcliffe’s labor pains came more intense at this stage than Christiana would have expected, but after a first child that sometimes happened. To her absolute shock, her mother quietly told her she would assist and Christiana would deliver. Knowing that her mother sat near helped to ease the sudden lurch of dread, which then faded when she remembered she’d done this once before. She had learned then that God was her supplier to give her all she needed. They prayed for the mother and the child and for guidance and prepared for the long wait.
While Christiana fed Mrs. Radcliffe ice chips, she wondered how Noah was faring. The twins woke up two hours ago, their excited voices heard on the opposite side of the door. As Mother encouraged their patient, Christiana glanced out the bedroom window, shocked to see her answer: Noah pushing a wheelbarrow with both children inside. Absent of his sack coat, his shirtsleeves pushed up to the elbows, he careened back and forth over the lawn while the towheaded tots squealed in glee, the girl holding to the sides of the wheelbarrow, the boy in front of her, clapping his hands.
Mrs. Radcliffe’s latest spasm of pain subsided, and she also turned her head to look. “He seems like a fine young man,” she whispered to Christiana.
“He is,” Christiana said somewhat dreamily as she watched Noah with the twins.
Mrs. Radcliffe soon had another pain, and Noah was temporarily forgotten.
Six hours and twenty-three minutes later, Tobias Radcliffe entered the world. Squalling and red, he was not one bit happy about it, until he found solace in his mother’s waiting arms.
Exhausted but pleased that there’d been few complications and both mother and baby were well, Christiana left the bedroom to find more towels to clean up. She came to a sudden halt as she entered the parlor.
Thoroughly mussed, Noah sat sprawled on the sofa, his head back and eyes closed. Mary also slept and clung to his middle, resting her head on his chest. Mark sat on the other side of Noah, wide awake and holding a bowl of what looked like applesauce. He pulled the spoon from his mouth and held it out to Christiana. “Wan’ some?” he asked. Applesauce spotted the two children and Noah, as well as the sofa and floor and anything else within the vicinity of Mark’s waving spoon.
Her heart twisted in amusement at the tender sight, and in that instant Christiana knew: she had fallen deeply in love with Noah Cafferty.
Chapter 9
Three weeks had passed since Mrs. Radcliffe delivered her son. In that time, Noah interviewed one other expectant mother, spoke with Christiana twice more at church, and immersed himself in the news stories his editor assigned to him.
He told himself he wasn’t avoiding her, but that was a lie. Since she had opened the door to his frantic knocking on that first night, what seemed ages ago, she had disrupted his well-ordered, long-conceived notions with her opposing views. She had shaken the tenets of his male existence with every nuance of her feminine personality. When he closed his eyes at night, it was her bright, intelligent eyes and coy smile that he saw. And when he opened them, she was always the first thought on his mind. He was, in a word, hopelessly and completely besotted.
He prayed over his dilemma and spent hours poring over her journal, which he had yet to return. He spent equal time recalling how perfect Christiana was in her role, how happy she had been with giving herself to others. His interviewees had all offered diverse but sound reasons why they preferred a midwife. He would be a heel to ask Christiana to quit what she felt God had chosen her to do, what Noah had seen with his own eyes—a fearsome task he doubted that many, if any, men had experienced, save for Eve’s husband, Adam, and the physicians, of course. And he had witnessed her confidence each time she spoke of her vocation.
At last, coming to a decision, Noah gathered his notes. He stayed late at the office and spent the next two hours writing out his story. His editor showed surprise the following morning but to Noah’s relief agreed to print it in the next edition. He hadn’t been sure what the crusty man would say to Noah’s unusual approach.
But it was really Christiana’s reaction that concerned him.
Christiana opened the door to Noah. Her heart gave a little jump of delight to see him. It had been so long!
“Noah, what a pleasant surprise. Come in.” She held the door open.
“Actually, I was hoping you might come outside. I have something to show you.”
Her heart beating fast at his peculiar behavior, she nodded and closed the door behind her.
“Since your father doesn’t get the Portland New Age …” He held out a newspaper. “Page two.”
She felt she should apologize for her father reading a rival paper and almost admitted that she’d bought every newspaper of his since they met, just to read his articles, but his serious expression stalled further comment.
Her eyes narrowing in puzzlement, she opened to the page, giving a little gasp when she read the title and byline: MIDWIFERY IN THIS PROGRESSIVE ERA BY NOAH CAFFERTY.
Excited, she read the succinct article, creatively written, citing the interviews with quotes and bringing up the controversy, touching on it from both
angles. But it was the personal addendum at the end, which she had never seen him use in any of his articles, that had her mouth drop open in shock:
… I have always been led to believe that women should not work outside of hearth and home, and in some cases, I still adhere to that belief. However, after spending time in the Leonard women’s company while witnessing the differences they make, the lives they touch, and the skills they possess, I am convinced no physician could have done a worthier job. It is this reporter’s belief that midwifery is still as important as it was thousands of years ago. In conclusion, perhaps the true progression of our era is to open our minds to novel ideas, not only in technology but also with regard to our women in society.
Stunned, Christiana looked up and blinked. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll go with me to the Exposition again. This weekend.”
She gave a soft laugh, slightly shaking her head no then nodding yes in confusion.
“I stayed away because I didn’t think it would be fair to either of us to continue seeing each other after you made your position clear. I’ve had time to consider, and that”—he glanced down at the paper she still held—“is my answer.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Are you saying …?”
He took the newspaper from her and dropped it to the ground, taking her left hand in both of his and holding it up between them. “I am saying, my dear Christiana, that one day I hope for the honor of calling you my wife. I have found that a life without you is no life worth living. I am hopelessly in love with you, you understand. So now I must ask, is there a chance you might put me out of my misery and agree again to let me court you?”
Her smile grew with each moment of his nervous avowal, and her heart soared at his declaration of love. “Oh yes, Noah, I think there is much more than a chance.”
His bright smile soon faded. “And now, to ask your father’s permission.”
Both of them glanced at the window to see the curtain remained closed.
“One step at a time,” she said softly, bringing his hands still clasping hers to her lips, the caress landing on this thumb.
She felt a little shock as he moved his hand so that his fingertips brushed her jaw, tilting her chin. A thrill surged through her at the anticipated touch of his warm lips on hers.
Their first kiss …
His, a kiss of promise. Hers, a kiss of hope.
And the first of many to come …
She would see to that.
Epilogue
Two years later
Noah’s father-in-law slapped him on the back, keeping his hand there in comfort. “She’ll be fine, son. The good Lord knows she and her mother have plenty of experience at this sort of thing.”
“Yes, I know. You’re right.” But this was different….
This was Christiana.
“I think I’d like more lemonade. Fill your glass, sir?”
“You don’t need to be taking care of me. Just relax.”
“I feel better when I’m active,” Noah admitted, and the older man nodded in understanding.
Noah headed to the kitchen. It had taken six months into his yearlong courtship with Christiana before he became comfortable around the gruff professor, and two months after their marriage before they became friends. While he felt relief that he was no longer considered the enemy, he had bigger problems at the moment.
Instead of lemonade, he found himself chipping ice into a glass. He had thought that being there was the greater trial—but not being there, not knowing, was ten times worse.
This was Christiana!
Uncertain of his reception, he approached the second landing and hovered at their bedroom door. She panted heavily then softly moaned and clutched her distended belly.
Propriety was the least of Noah’s concerns as he rushed to her side and knelt on the floor near her.
“Noah?” her mother said in surprise from the foot of the bed.
“I thought you might need assistance.” His eyes remained on his wife’s glistening face. He smoothed the tousled hair from her damp brow as the pain subsided, her strained features slackening in relief.
“This is most unusual,” her mother said.
“Yes, I know.” He never looked away from Christiana. “But I’ve done it before.”
Christiana smiled tenderly, her eyes glowing. “I want him here, Mama.”
“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her hair, her cheek, her lips.
“And I love you….” She stroked his cheek with her hand. “Are you sure you’re up to this? You did say you would rather be boiled in oil than go through this again.”
“I’m the reporter who writes about supporting novel ideas, if you’ll recall. I don’t think it gets any more novel than having the father at the delivery.” He grew serious. “I want to be here, Christiana. I want to be here for you….” His hand lowered to spread gently across the mound of her stomach. “For our child.”
She nodded, a tear slipping from her lashes. He kissed it away.
“Well, you won’t have much longer to wait,” Anna Leonard said with a smile. “I think my grandchild will soon make an entrance.”
At the announcement, both excitement and dread filled Noah, but he was determined. Five months into their courtship, when he knelt before Christiana in her mother’s rose garden and proposed, he never dreamed he would have succumbed to this.
He held his wife’s hand through the worst of her travail, fed ice chips to her in between pains, even sat behind her to help support her when the big moment loomed nearer. Somehow he didn’t pass out, though he wanted to weep when Christiana’s pains came stronger, and he wished he could take all of her suffering away.
He ceased to breathe as she gave one final push. As long as he lived, Noah would never forget the astounding sight of glimpsing his daughter enter the world, caught in her grandmother’s hands. Then and there, he silently vowed that his little girl would always know love and safety. He would protect her with his dying breath, and woe to any rapscallion who ever made his baby girl cry….
For the first time, he understood what Christiana’s father must have felt upon meeting Noah.
“She’s perfect,” Anna said.
“A girl?” Christiana asked with a tired smile.
“A girl,” Noah confirmed, his eyes falling shut while he held Christiana against him and kissed her hair, thanking God for the gift of his wife and child. After a moment, he moved away, helping her to lie back among the mound of pillows as he stood to his feet.
Once he straightened, Anna held the infant out to him.
He stared at her in shock.
“You wanted to assist,” she said quietly, slipping the featherlight bundle of soft femininity into his arms. “Please take your daughter while I finish things here.”
Within the blanket, his child’s face was cherry red, her head a trifle squashed, but Noah saw nothing but beauty. Huge blue eyes. Dark hair. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Two tiny hands and feet …
“Noah?”
“… And do let your wife see.”
Noah had been so immersed in gaping at the miracle of his daughter that he had not moved. At Anna’s teasing prod, he smiled in sheepish apology to Christiana. Carefully, he handed the precious bundle over to her mother.
“Oh, Noah,” she breathed. “She’s wonderful…. I think she has your beautiful mouth.”
“And your eloquent eyes,” he added, lowering himself beside the bed.
Christiana tilted her head to rest against his shoulder as they gazed with awe at the culmination of their love.
“Hello, my little Pollyanna. Your papa and I have waited so long to see you. Your grandparents, too. Oh, the life you will have, the love you will know! And when you’re older, you’ll have tea parties with your grandpapa, and lovely strolls with your papa and me, and your papa will tell you such exciting stories. We’ll teach you all you could ever wish to know….”
Noah wasn’t sure, but he th
ought he saw his baby girl smile.
PAMELA GRIFFIN lives in Texas with her family. She fully gave her life to Christ in 1988 after a rebellious young adulthood and owes the fact that she’s still alive today to an all-loving and forgiving God and to a mother who steadfastly prayed and had faith that God could bring her wayward daughter “home.” Pamela’s main goal in writing Christian romance is to help and encourage those who do know the Lord and to plant a seed of hope in those who don’t.
And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth.
GENESIS 9:16
Keep the Home-fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads be far away
They dream of home;
There’s a silver lining
Through the dark cloud shining,
Turn the dark cloud inside out
Till the boys come home.
—From Keep the Home-Fires Burning,
by Lena Guilbert Ford, 1915
Author’s Note
Home Fires Burning is set at the World War I military hospital at Fort Snelling in Minnesota. For years before the war, the Red Cross had kept a roster for the surgeon general of qualified nurses who agreed to work for the United States military in times of emergency. Women responded wholeheartedly to the United States’ need for nurses in World War I. In March 1917, just before the United States entered the war, 403 nurses were on active duty. On Armistice Day, November 11, 1918, 21,480 women were members of the Army Nurse Corps.
No nurses were killed by enemy fire in the war. Even so, the first United States war casualties were two nurses. The Base Hospital Number 12 unit was aboard the SS Mongolia on its way to Europe in April 1917, when one of the ship’s guns misfired, killing the two nurses and wounding a third.
The Valiant Hearts Romance Collection Page 51
