Chapter
33

Nolan paced the hallway outside his room. With Hannah’s every scream, impotent fear filled his lungs, making the simple act of breathing near impossible.

Please, Lord, help Hannah. Don’t let her die. I can’t lose her again now that I’ve just gotten her back.

When Edward and Iris left, he’d gone in to sit with Hannah, holding her hand while she labored, until the pain got even more intense and the midwife had shooed him out of the room, claiming she couldn’t work with him in the way. Now he seethed with frustration at his helplessness to aid his wife and child.

Nolan descended the great staircase and peered out the front door, willing his father’s carriage to appear, but masses of swirling snow impeded his vision. He closed the door and paced the area inside. What was taking them so long? They’d been gone for hours. Hours that Hannah had writhed in agony. Nolan didn’t know how much more she could take—or he, for that matter.

At last, he made out the sound of horses’ hooves and carriage wheels crunching over hardened snow. Nolan opened the front door as his father emerged from the carriage. He helped Iris out, and a man soon followed.

Edward entered the house, shook the snow from his overcoat, and removed his hat. “How is Hannah?”

“In tremendous pain. Is this the doctor?”

The man nodded. “I’m Dr. Greenley. I understand your wife is having some difficulty.”

“Yes. She’s on the second floor.”

The man shrugged out of his bulky outerwear, grabbed his bag, and followed Nolan upstairs. Nolan entered the bedroom with him, determined that no matter what the midwife or doctor said, this time he was not leaving Hannah’s side.

His wife needed him, and he would not let her down again.

Edward removed his wet boots and accompanied Iris into the parlor where they took seats by the fire.

At the sight of her anxious expression, he reached for her hand. “It will be all right now. The doctor will ensure the baby is safely delivered.”

“Dr. Greenley is an excellent physician. I know he’ll do all he can.” Yet lines of tension still creased her brow.

Edward’s pulse quickened. He wished he could take her in his arms and kiss away her anxiety. Since when had it become his sole purpose in life to make this woman happy?

Iris squeezed his hand. “Would you do something for me?”

Edward gazed into those arresting eyes and nodded. If it was within his power, he would do anything she asked of him.

“Would you pray with me? It’s the one thing we can do right now for Hannah.”

Surprisingly, he did not find the idea at all aversive. In fact, he welcomed the opportunity to pray with Iris. He bowed his head over their clasped hands. “Of course. Why don’t you begin?”

After giving Dr. Greenley time to examine Hannah, Nolan quietly reentered the room, his eyes trained on the bed where he and Hannah had awoken earlier that day. The midwife stood by the headboard, wringing out a cloth. Nolan’s stomach fell as he caught sight of his wife.

Hannah lay unmoving against the pillows. Her usually lustrous hair hung in lifeless strands over the linens. The thin chemise clung to her chest, damp with perspiration. Suddenly, her whole body convulsed, and she let out a low moan.

Attempting to swallow his panic, Nolan moved forward to grasp her hand. The only other time he’d felt this helpless was at his mother’s deathbed. At that time, he’d asked God to spare her, but the Lord had chosen not to grant his request. Would He now?

When the pain receded, she opened her eyes and gave him a weak smile. “Nolan. You’re here.”

“Yes. And I won’t leave again.” Nolan turned to the doctor at the foot of the bed and lowered his voice. “Is the baby all right?”

Dr. Greenley raised his head. “From what I can ascertain, everything appears normal.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Some women have a harder time than others.”

Nolan gripped the bedpost. “What can I do to help?”

“It’s almost time to push. You can support your wife and lend her your strength once she begins.”

Nolan nodded and, ignoring the midwife’s disapproving scowl, climbed up beside Hannah. “All right, sweetheart. We’re going to bring our child into the world. Together.”

If only he felt as confident as he sounded.

I need you, Lord. Let me be Hannah’s strength now. Use me to help her deliver our child.

“On the next contraction, Mrs. Price, you must start pushing.” The doctor’s firm voice roused Hannah.

She opened her eyes and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

When the next pains began, Hannah gripped Nolan’s arm with the force of ten men.

On a burst of energy, he helped raise her upper body as she pushed. “That’s it, Hannah. You can do this.”

Her breath came out in panting gasps, then she fell back with a thud. “No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Focus on my voice.”

She lay weakly against him for several seconds until her whole torso stiffened, and another contraction started.

“Again, Mrs. Price,” the doctor ordered.

“Push now, Hannah.” Nolan hoped she would obey without question and that instinct would take over.

She bore down, grunting with exertion, then fell back against him when the contraction ended. With each new pain, she struggled until he thought she would swoon from the sheer effort it took.

How many times had he seen a mare deliver a foal and watched sheep, cows, and even barn cats give birth? Most times the process happened with barely a grunt from the animals. Why was it so difficult for humans? If Nolan could, he’d take every ounce of pain in Hannah’s stead.

Finally, the doctor beckoned to the midwife. “Bring me a clean sheet.”

The woman hurried to do as he requested.

“That’s it, Mrs. Price,” the doctor said. “One more big push should do it.”

Hannah’s groans indicated how hard she was straining. She stiffened, then collapsed against Nolan.

His heart stilled in his chest. “Hannah? Don’t give up on me now.”

Just then a lusty cry split the air.

“Congratulations, Mr. Price,” Dr. Greenley said. “You have a son.”

One thing Edward hated was feeling helpless. Powerless. Out of control.

His grandchild’s life hung in the balance, and there was nothing he could do about it. He stood outside the bedroom waiting for Iris, who at his request, had gone inside moments earlier to check on the progress, since he feared he would go mad if he didn’t know what was happening.

At the sound of a baby’s wail, Edward jumped away from the wall. His heart pumped at a furious rate. Crying was good, wasn’t it? It meant the child was alive at least.

For a moment, Edward’s sole focus centered on the door that hid the secrets of life and death behind it. The child’s cries quieted, and Edward’s palms grew slick with sweat. When he thought he couldn’t stand still another moment, the door opened, and Iris emerged carrying a bundle in her arms.

Tears streamed unchecked down her face, but he couldn’t tell if they were tears of sorrow or joy. Repressing a fierce urge to gather Iris in his arms, he took a deep breath to steady himself for whatever was to come.

“Edward,” she whispered. “Meet your new grandson.” A tremulous smile quivered on her lips as she moved the cloth away to reveal a tiny, wrinkled being with a shock of black hair.

Edward stared down at the closed eyes, fringed with impossibly small lashes, the bud of a nose, and miniature, pouting lips. He swallowed past a lump in his throat the size of a hen’s egg. “Is he . . . all right?”

“I don’t know much about infants, never having had one of my own, but he appears to be fine. The doctor said his color is good, and he’s breathing well.” Iris raised wide eyes to him in what looked like awe. “I’ve never held anything so precious and . . . new.”

He reached out a finger to touch the petal soft skin of his grandson’s cheek. “I barely remember my daughters being this small.” He frowned. “Why isn’t he with his mother?”

“Hannah lost consciousness when he was born. Nolan won’t leave her side.” Iris’s chin quivered.

Alarm shot through Edward’s veins. How would his grandson survive if his mother perished? “What is the doctor doing for her?”

“He’s trying to stop the bleeding.”

Edward raked fingers through his hair. “We have to do something.”

“All we can do now is pray. Let’s take the baby to the parlor by the fire. Keep him warm.”

Helplessly, Edward followed Iris down the staircase and into the parlor. She took the seat closest to the hearth and motioned him to sit beside her.

“Would you like to hold him?” she asked.

Nerves roiled through his stomach. He’d never held a newborn before, not even his own daughters, and had no idea how to support such a fragile thing. He opened his mouth to refuse, but Iris laid the blanket on his lap.

“Support his head in the crook of your arm,” she instructed.

His arms stiffened like two pieces of firewood as he looked down into the face of his progeny. Gradually the warmth of the small body seeped into Edward’s muscles until they relaxed.

He looked down at the tiny creature cradled there. Never had he experienced such joy and wonder. On this child rested the future of the earldom—a new generation of Fairchilds.

Molly entered the parlor. “Aunt Iris? Did I hear a baby?”

“Yes, dear.” Iris smiled. “Come and meet your nephew.”

Molly rushed over and knelt in front of Edward to peer at the child. “He’s beautiful.”

“Yes, he is. A miracle from above.” Iris held out a hand to Molly. “Now let’s pray for Hannah and this beautiful boy.” She bowed her head.

Edward glanced from the face of the child in his arms to Molly’s fair head bent in prayer. Then he fixed his eyes on Iris. With her eyes closed, her mouth reciting the soothing words, she had never looked more beautiful.

Edward’s heart swelled. This is what had been missing in his life. This bond, this sense of connectedness. Even in the midst of a crisis, Edward had never felt more part of a family than he did right now.

He bowed his head and joined in their heartfelt prayers.

Hannah drifted out of sleep, slowly coming back to consciousness. Her body felt both hot and cold at the same time. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids refused to cooperate. Somewhere in the distance, an animal cry could be heard. The noise grew louder and more insistent until Hannah felt an odd tugging in her breasts.

Fighting the urge to sink back into sleep, a deep instinct urged her to fully awaken. She forced her lids open as the crescendo of harsh sobs climbed.

Her baby!

“Nolan.” She tried to speak, but her voice was a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. This time footsteps clattered across the floor.

Nolan’s concerned face appeared in front of her. “Hannah? How are you feeling?”

“Tired. But how is the baby?”

Nolan leaned over the bed and smiled. “Our son is perfect. But he needs to nurse. Do you think you’re up to trying?”

Hannah moved a hand to her chest, felt the wetness there, and realized what had happened. Her body had answered her child’s cries. A rush of joy filled her soul. “Bring him to me.”

Nolan reappeared seconds later with a swaddled bundle in his arms. “The midwife will help if you need her.”

Very carefully, he brought the baby down to her level. He moved the blanket aside to reveal a very red-faced infant.

A lump rose in Hannah’s throat. This was their son.

She untied her chemise and brought the baby to her breast. After a few unsuccessful attempts, the child finally latched on and began to suckle. She marveled at the way the baby and her body knew instinctively what to do.

Tears slid down her cheeks. “He’s so beautiful, Nolan.” She glanced over at her husband, who had been so strong through the whole ordeal, and saw tears in his eyes as well.

“Yes, he is. And so are you.” He pressed his lips to her hair, his shoulders shaking.

“Nolan, is everything all right?”

He smiled at her through water-rimmed eyes. “Thanks be to God, it is now.”