by Nora Roberts
Later, he would think that that alone had been a miracle.
On solid ground once more, he ran, feet pounding against the wet footpath, around yet one more turn. He could see the pub now, the warm, welcoming glow of light against the window.
Lungs burning, he focused on that. Then something drew his gaze over and up, a whisper under the wind? A weeping. He saw in the top window of the Gallagher house a woman. Pale hair glowing against the dark, green eyes watching him.
That was wrong, he thought, and she was gone as soon as he thought it. Against the glass was the faintest of light, and no movement behind it.
Wrong. Something was wrong. So he turned away from the pub and pushed through the wind to the door of the house. He shoved it open, letting in wild wind and wilder rain. Before he could call out, he saw Jude, sitting at the top of the stairs. Her face was sheet white, her hair a tangle, and the nightgown she wore damp with sweat.
“Thank God. Oh, thank God. I can’t get down.” She let out a little gasp, clutched her belly. “The baby. The baby’s coming.”
Ruthlessly he shut down panic, though he took the stairs two at a time to reach her, grip her hand. She squeezed it hard enough to grind bone. “Breathe. In and out, come on. Look at me and breathe.”
“Yes, okay, yes.” Her eyes clung to his, wide, glazed with the pain that ripped through her as the contraction crested. “God, oh, God, it’s huge !”
“I know. I know, honey. Keep breathing. You’re coming down the other side now.”
“Yes. It’s passing, but . . . I never expected . . . It’s all so fast.” Even as her breath gushed out in relief from the absence of that wicked pain, she lifted a shaky hand to push at her hair. “I was having tea in bed. I talked to Aidan and told him I was going to bed. And then the power went out and it all started at once.”
“We’ll get you to the hospital. Everything’s fine.”
“Trevor, it’s too late. I won’t make it.”
Panic wanted to flood back, but he dammed it up before it could touch her. “This business usually takes a while. How far apart are the contractions?”
“I haven’t timed the last few. The phones are out. I couldn’t call the pub or the doctor. I thought if I could get downstairs . . . but I couldn’t. Before, they were close, two minutes, and now they’re coming faster and harder.”
Jesus. Sweet Jesus Christ. “Did your water break?”
“Yes. It’s not supposed to happen so fast. All the classes, all the books. It should take hours. Get Aidan. Please, get . . . Oh, oh, God, here it comes!”
He helped her through it, voice calm and bracing as his mind raced. Much too close, much too hard. He’d seen the process three times and that was enough to know Jude was right. She would never make the hospital.
“Let’s get you into bed. Put your arms around my neck. That’s the way.”
“I need Aidan.” She wanted, badly, to weep. Just to scream out with sobs.
“I know. I’m going to go get him. You stay calm, Jude. You just hold on.” He laid her in bed, glanced around quickly. She’d managed to light several candles. That would have to do. “When the next one comes, breathe through it. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be all right.” She lay her head back where he’d propped pillows. Had to be. Everything in the world depended on it. “Women used to do this all the time without doctors and hospitals.” She did her best to smile. “Only, damn it, none of them were me. Hurry.”
He didn’t want to think how many contractions she’d go through alone, how frightened she’d looked lying there alone in bed with only candles for light. He didn’t want to think of what could go wrong.
He sprinted back into the storm. The wind had changed and was at his back, pushing him faster, shoving as if it, too, urged him to hurry. Still, it seemed he’d run miles before his hand closed over the knob of Gallagher’s Pub.
He burst into the warmth, the music and laughter.
Darcy spun around, beaming. “Well, now, look what the storm’s blown in.” She got no farther than that before the look in his eye registered. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, gripped her shoulder while he turned to Aidan. “It’s Jude.”
“Jude?”
Trevor had never seen the blood drain as completely, as quickly, from a man’s face before. “What is it?” Even as he asked, Aidan was throwing the pass-through up, bulleting through.
“The baby’s coming. Now.”
“Ring the doctor,” Aidan shouted, and was out the door.
“Now,” Trevor repeated to Darcy. “It’s coming now. There’s no time for the doctor, and the phones are out in any case.”
“Oh, Mother of God.” Then she bit back the spurt of fear. “Let’s hurry, then. Jack, Jack Brennan—man the bar. Someone tell Shawn and Brenna. Tim Riley, will you go for Mollie O’Toole? She’ll know what to do.”
Leaving her jacket on the hook in her rush, she scurried out into the rain. “How did you find her?” She was shouting, but her voice was all but swept away by the wind, drowned under the crashing of the waves against the seawall.
“I was coming down, the house was dark. I thought something might be wrong.”
“No, no, I mean how is she? Is she holding up?”
“She was alone.” Trevor would never forget the way she’d looked, or that he’d had to leave her. “She was scared. In pain.”
Fear skidded down Darcy’s spine. “She’s a tough one, our Jude Frances. She’ll come through it. As for the rest of us, we’ll just have to figure out what to do.”
Darcy shoved at the hair plastered to her face as she rushed into the house. “You don’t have to come up. It must be hard on a man.”
“I’m coming.”
Jude sat up in bed, her hands clutched in Aidan’s as she panted. His eyes were wild, but his voice was crooning. “That’s the way, darling, that’s just fine. Nearly over now. Nearly done.”
She collapsed back, her face running with sweat. “They’re getting stronger.”
“She’s having it here.” Aidan got to his feet, but kept his hand gripped on Jude’s. “She says she’s having it here. She can’t be having a baby here. I’ve told her. But she won’t listen.”
“Of course she can have it here.” Darcy spoke cheerfully over the sick dread in her throat. If Aidan panicked, she knew the desperate would become the impossible. “And won’t that be cozy? Such a night you’ve picked, Jude Frances, for bringing the next Gallagher into the world. It’s a wild one.”
As she spoke, she moved to the side of the bed, dried Jude’s face with a corner of the sheet. What to do? What was she supposed to do? God, she couldn’t think. No, she had to think.
“Now, then, you went to all those classes. Why don’t you tell us what we should do first to be some help in this whole business?”
“I don’t know. It isn’t supposed to be like this. God, I’m so thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water.”
“Ice.” Trevor took a step forward. “She can have ice chips. Aidan, she’d probably be more comfortable if you got into bed behind her, helped support her back. She’s better off sitting up a little. I was my sister’s backup coach during all three of her labors.”
Of course, he thought, that had been something of a lark. All happening in a nice clean and cheerful birthing suite, with his brother-in-law manning the post and a doctor and nurse-midwife in attendance.
“There.” Darcy smiled brightly. “A man with experience. Just what we need. I’ll get you a cool, damp cloth, darling, then some of those ice chips.”
Jude let out a gasp, one hand flailing in the air, grasping for Darcy’s arm. “Now! It’s coming now!”
“No, not yet.” Plan, priorities, order, Trevor told himself and bracing, flipped back the sheet. “It’s crowning.” He put everything out of his mind but what needed to be done. “Don’t push yet, Jude. Blow through it. Breathe. Aidan?”
“That’s it, darling.
Pant.” He wrapped an arm around her, ran his hand in circles on her rock-hard belly. “Hold on to it now and pant, and you’ll slide right over the pain.”
“Over it, my ass!” With the contraction at its vicious peak, Jude reached back, got a fistful of his hair, and had his eyes bugging out. “What the hell do you know about it? What the bloody hell do you know, you jerk!”
“You can do better than that,” Darcy urged and wondered if Jude’s fingers would dig right down to the bone on her arm. “There’s much better names to call him at such a time.”
“Idiot, moron, ape. Bastard! ” she shouted when the pain spiked.
“All of those and more, my darling,” he murmured, still stroking. “I’m all of those and more. There, there, it’s passing. Now, if you could just let go of me hair and leave me what you haven’t torn out by the roots.”
“Let’s get busy.” Time, Trevor thought, was getting short. He heard the crash of the front door, the thunder of feet on the stairs and was grateful they’d have more hands.
“Shawn.” He shot out orders the minute Shawn and Brenna ran in the room. “Get a fire going in here. We need it warm. Brenna, go down and get some ice, chip some for Jude to chew on. Find some good sharp scissors, and cord. Darcy, fresh sheets and towels.”
While they scattered, Trevor looked down at Jude. “I’m going to wash up. My sister liked music during delivery, said it soothed her.”
“We were going to have music playing.”
Trevor nodded. “Sing,” he ordered Aidan before he walked out of the room.
They worked smoothly together, and fast. Within ten minutes the fire was blazing, filling the room with light and heat. Outside, the storm was screaming in a kind of wild triumph, but there, in that room, voices were raised in song.
In bed, Jude leaned back against Aidan, trying to catch the breath the contractions robbed her of. Every ounce of will was focused on the child who was determined to be born. Such focus and purpose left no room for modesty. She could only be grateful that Trevor knelt at her feet, between her updrawn knees.
“I have to push. I have to.”
“Hold on a minute.” That was for himself, bracing room. “You have to stop when I tell you, so I can turn the baby, the head and shoulders.” He’d watched it, he reminded himself, fascinated by the process. He could do it.
“Okay, on the next contraction, push, and when I say stop, pant and blow.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. He took a breath, let it out.
“It’s starting. I have to—”
“Push!” he told her, just as lightning flashed, a million wild jewels of light. And to Trevor’s shock, the baby shot out, a slick bullet, into his hands, and already wailing.
“Wow.” He stared foolishly at the wriggling, furious life that he held. “She was in a hurry. It’s a girl,” he managed, and looked up. But his eyes met Darcy’s and watched, for the third time, as she wept.
“Jude.” Rocking, Aidan pressed his face against his wife’s hair. “Look at her. Just look. She’s beautiful.”
“I want—” Words strangling in her throat, Jude held out her arms. When Trevor laid the baby over her belly, and her hands touched her for the first time, she laughed. “She’s perfect. Isn’t she perfect? She already has hair. Look at her. Such lovely, dark hair.”
“And a voice to match.” Shawn came around the bed, bent to brush a kiss over Jude’s cheek. “She’s your nose, Jude Frances.”
“Does she? I think you’re right.” Turning her head, she met Aidan’s mouth with hers. “Thank you.”
He managed no more than her name before he laid his head on her shoulder.
“What do we call her?” Darcy turned the cloth she’d dampened again, dabbed at Jude’s face. She wanted to collapse beside the bed, lay her head on it and weep and laugh. Not yet, she ordered herself. Not yet. “What name did you finally choose for her?”
“She’s Ailish.” Jude stopped counting her daughter’s fingers—look how tiny! how perfect!—to look down at Trevor. “What’s your mother’s name, Trevor?”
“What?” He hadn’t moved, and now shook his head as if to clear it. “My mother? She’s Carolyn.”
“Her name is Ailish Carolyn Gallagher. And you’ll all be her godparents.”
For a little while no one noticed the storm had gone silent.
It was the oddest sensation to find his legs weak when he went downstairs. He felt full of energy, of light, so much so that he thought he could run ten miles without being winded. But his legs were weak as water.
Brenna and Shawn were already back in the kitchen and had a glass of whiskey poured for him. Without a word, he took it, knocked it back.
“That’s fine, but now you’ll have to have another.” Brenna did the honors and poured with a generous hand. “For a toast. To Ailish Carolyn Gallagher.”
They clinked glasses, and he drank again, forgetting his usual caution in the spirit of the event. “Some night.”
“That it is.” Shawn slapped his back. “God bless you, Trevor, you were a champion.”
“No offense to Trev, but I’ll give Jude the prize tonight. I hope I’m half as sturdy when my time comes.”
Trevor raised his glass, then caught the sparkling look that ran between them. “Are you pregnant?”
“We just announced it tonight at the pub, which is why I’ve tea in my glass instead of whiskey. But you needn’t worry, as I’m not due till February, and we’ll be done with all but the fancy work on the theater.”
“We should have ours at home as well, Brenna. It was lovely this way.”
“That’s fine, we’ll do just that. As soon as you figure out how to give birth.”
“Either way,” Trevor said, “congratulations.” He touched his glass to hers again, and Shawn’s. “Just do me a favor and try not to work as fast as your sister-inlaw. Managing the whole business in under two hours is just a little too nerve-wracking.”
“With the loveliest of endings. You did a fine job.”
“That you did,” Shawn agreed. “Now we’d best get over to the pub, spread the word. If you’re up for it, come and join the celebration. I can promise you won’t buy another drink in Gallagher’s in your lifetime.”
To Trevor’s numb shock, Shawn took him by the shoulders and kissed him with great enthusiasm. “God bless you. Let’s be off, Brenna.”
Trevor stood alone in the kitchen and laughed.
“It’s a happy night,” Darcy said as she stepped in.
“Shawn kissed me, right on the mouth.”
“Well, then, I can’t be outdone by my own brother.” She leaped, sent him staggering back, and kissed him hard and long. “There, now, that should do it.”
But the humor faded out of her eyes as they went soft, as she laid her hand on his cheek. “You’re a hero. No, don’t shake your head at me. We might’ve fumbled through that without you, but I don’t like thinking of it.”
“You kept your head.”
“I wanted to run screaming.”
“Me, too.”
She blinked at that, hopped down. “Is that the truth? You looked so competent, so calm. Laying down orders, then taking charge like you delivered babies as a hobby every Saturday.”
“I was terrified.”
“Then you’re even more of a hero.”
“It wasn’t heroics, it was stark terror.” And now he could admit it. “It was nothing like my sister. All I had to do with her was be there, hold her hand, listen to her curse my brother-in-law, maybe breathe with her. And there’s doctors and monitors and . . . stuff,” he said, running down. “This was . . . Jesus. This was primitive. It was fantastic.”
He finished off the rest of his whiskey. “Nothing was the way it should’ve been. The storm, the power, Jude sprinting through labor like that. Nothing was the way it should’ve been, yet it was all exactly right. Like it was meant.”
“All of us together this way, in this house.” She touched a hand to his arm.
“Yes, it was exactly right. I feel I was part of a miracle tonight. The baby, our Ailish, she looked healthy, didn’t she?”
“She looked perfect. Don’t worry.”
“You’re right, of course. Bellowing like that on the way out, and already nursing. What could be better? And Jude’s just glowing. So, let’s have ourselves a toast to our perfect little miracle.”
He eyed the whiskey bottle. “I’ve already had two, with Brenna and Shawn.”
“And your point would be?” she asked as she got another glass and poured.
“Nothing. Don’t know what I was thinking. To our miracle, then. The newest Gallagher.”
“Slainte.” She brought the glass to her lips, tipped her head back, and swallowed in a way that made him feel obliged to do the same. “I’m going to make the new mother some tea, then tidy up. Will you be at the pub?”
“I’ll wait for you here.”
“That would be lovely.” She turned to put the kettle on, spied the pot staying warm under a cozy. “Shawn’s beat me to this as well as to kisses. Sit down and take a load off,” she suggested as she arranged cups on a tray. “Miracles aside, delivering babies is an exhausting business.”
“You’re telling me.”
He started to sit when she went out, then felt guilty. He should go up, make sure, see if anything else was needed. Besides, he couldn’t sit. He was too full of that brilliant wash of energy.
Then he heard the front door open, and Darcy’s voice cheerfully greeting Mollie O’Toole.
Thank you, Jesus, Trevor thought fervently, and for the first time in his life was thrilled to pass the reins of control into the hands of another. He’d wandered around the kitchen, glanced out the dark window, and was just thinking about making coffee, if he could find it, when Aidan came in, all but dancing.
“There’s the man of the hour.”
This time Trevor was braced, but still didn’t manage to evade the hearty kiss. “That’s three for three,” he muttered. “I’m getting used to it. How’s Jude?”
“She’s glowing. Sitting up in bed, pretty as you please, and drinking tea while Darcy cuddles the baby.”
“Darcy?”
