Jodi O'Donnell - When Baby Was Born

“How far apart are they?” he asked, still steadying her while she caught her breath.

She rubbed her forehead distractedly, as if that caused her pain, too. Had she hit her head and that was the reason for her memory loss? Cade wondered. Or had someone hit her?

The thought roused a fury of protectiveness in him.

“Maybe ten minutes or so,” she answered. “I haven’t been keeping track.”

“Well, let’s make sure we do that next time.” Her face sheened with perspiration. “Should you be up walking right now?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never had a baby before…at least I d-don’t think I have,” she said, that quaver creeping back into her voice, making him even more ashamed.

She was right, of course. The doctor had been extremely clear about a lot of things, but mainly that if Cade was this woman’s only source of support to get through this, then it was up to him to convey to her complete reassurance and trust in him. “The more fearful she is,” Doc had said, “the more she’ll like to have trouble. You know that, Cade. One of your mama cows goes into labor, ’specially for the first time, it’s a loving hand and calming voice that’s going to see her safely through.”

But this is no cow! Cade had thought, as just now he’d said.

Which he shouldn’t have. He hadn’t mentioned the amnesia to Doc, his own instinct deeming such information best kept to himself for now. Who knew the trouble this Sara might be in, or who in actuality had “sent” her here.

He decided he’d also keep the observation to himself that whoever or whatever force had sent her was about as reliable as the Texas weather outside, and she’d be wise to hitch her hopes to a different star from now on. Because while he’d delivered hundreds of calves, it wasn’t a process that came to him instinctively. That had always been Loren’s particular gift.

Whatever the case, as she’d said, he was all she had to depend on right now, as much as Cade might wish differently.

He noticed her watching him, as if actually looking for that sign, just as she had when she’d gazed at him from his bed.

Cade realized he still held her arm, and he released it.

“All right, let’s forget the third degree for now about why you’re here,” he said, pushing the hair off his forehead and back across his scalp. “The next contraction that comes, let’s keep tabs on how long it goes on and how long till the next one. Do you feel more comfortable walking around?”

“For now, yes.”

“Do y’know if you had a suitcase or some clothes other than what you’ve got on?”

“Th-there was nothing in the car. Not even a purse.”

The question seemed to upset her again, so he moved on. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I seem to remember stopping for…something on the way here,” she said with that certain vagueness he’d seen in her before. He chose to ignore it, since it tended to make him second-guess anything she told him.

“So that was some time ago. Doc said we need to keep your energy up but didn’t think you’d be wantin’ anything solid.”

She confirmed that assumption with a nod.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of broth or the like. I think there’s some orange juice, though. Would you like some of that?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a grateful smile, the first he’d seen from her. And damn if it didn’t take him by surprise, stealing his breath away.

It was just a shade crooked, with one corner denting in, creating a dimple, while the other side of her mouth curved up. Combined with those blue eyes, it was about as fascinating as finding the first wildflower in spring.

Which made it doubly hard to do what he needed to next. He may as well get it over with.

“I…uh, I also need to get an idea of how the baby’s going to be presenting, so I can tell Doc.” Cade extended one hand, indicating her bulging waistline, and asked, “Do you mind?”

She shook her head.

Uncomfortable as hell, he hovered tentatively over that roundness before he gritted his teeth and touched her. Even through the corduroy of her jumper, he could feel how taut and smooth her skin was. He moved his hand downward, feeling for the baby’s backbone, hoping—there was that word again—to detect it pressing up against the wall of her womb. If the baby wasn’t in the normal position and they’d be dealing with a complicated birth, Cade didn’t know what he’d do.

“You’re right, I’ve done this hundreds of times with a pregnant heifer,” he murmured, more for himself than for her. But never a woman.

His touch, he was glad to note, seemed to calm her, for she put her hand over his and moved it over a spot on her belly. “Is that a foot there?”

The firmness of her swollen pregnancy captivated him, so much so he didn’t answer her. Every bit of her was baby, and despite the fear she’d expressed that she wasn’t ready to go into labor, he didn’t see how she couldn’t be. She was so fine-boned and slim, he wondered how she had been able to carry such weight. Wondered how she would look without it.

Who was she and why couldn’t she remember that? He’d have to find that note of hers and take a good look at it, see if he could tell who’d sent her into the great wide lonesome of West Texas to hook up with a perfect stranger.

And by God, where was the man who’d given her this child? If it’d been him, Cade knew nothing between heaven and hell could have made him leave her side.

He lifted his eyes to find Sara’s upon him, questioning—but hardly indignant at his familiarity. And oh, so very blue. She may doubt it, but some real instinct of his own told him: Sara was her name.

And he would have to get a handle on himself if he was going to make it through this.

Cade stepped away. “Far as I can tell, the baby is presenting properly. I’ll call the doctor back and get instructions on what to do next if you’ll time any contractions while I’m gone.”

He grabbed up his watch from the nightstand and handed it to her without even asking if she had one. But he needed to get out of there, away from her, just for a while, like a man needing to fill his lungs before diving back into the deep blue sea.

Cade gathered an armful of clean blankets and sheets from the linen closet and swung by the downstairs bathroom for a box of sterile gauze, a bottle of antibacterial soap and some rubbing alcohol before heading upstairs to his bedroom again. Doc Barclay had given him a bunch of instructions and told him to round up the supplies he’d need, most of which he didn’t have on hand and would have to improvise. He was going to have to use a couple of large plastic trash bags in lieu of a plastic sheet to protect the mattress. Luckily, he’d found a new pair of shoestrings in a drawer. Doc said that would be best for tying off the umbilical cord. The kitchen shears would have to do for cutting the cord after the baby was born. As for a syringe to suction the baby’s nose and mouth, all he had was an eyedropper. That’d do the trick.

At least he assumed it would. He and Doc had been cut off in midconversation when the phone went dead. Obviously, the storm was doing its share of damage. Cade took a measure of comfort in knowing that the generator would keep the furnace running, even if the electricity went out.

He’d hate, though, to deliver a baby by the meager glow of a flashlight. He was already enough in the dark as it was.

At the thought, his hands shook so hard he dropped the rubbing alcohol. The bottle bounced off the step and all the way down to the foot of the stairs, from where he retrieved it.

He had to get a grip on himself. Maybe he’d do better to separate himself a little from the situation, as he did when delivering calves. He’d have liked a tad more experience with women in general, however. But since Marlene, he hadn’t done much associating with the fairer sex.

With a start, he remembered the letter, still unread, on his bed stand. He’d forgotten it in all the commotion. Well, he’d no time to read it now. Yet he knew that particular moment of reckoning would have to come sooner or later.

Entering the room and setting the supplies on the dresser, Cade turned to Sara. “Doc said as long as you felt up to walking you should do it. It increases the effectiveness of the contractions,” he rattled off, avoiding her eyes. He refrained from calling her Sara outright. It kept the distance between them. “What are we talkin’ about so far as those?”

“The last one was about forty-five seconds long, seven minutes ago.”

“Do they feel like they’re getting stronger and closer together than they were before?”

She cradled her belly. “Y-yes,” she said softly.

“Then it looks like we should get prepared to deliver a baby,” he said, matter-of-fact. He brushed past her, going to the bed and stripping it. He wadded the used bedclothes in a ball and tossed them toward the doorway to remind him to put them in a load of wash. He didn’t have that many changes of sheets, and they were going to need at least two or three.

With silent efficiency, he made up the bed again, making sure he padded the middle with several layers of towels and arranging the pillows in a stack so when the time came for her to give birth, her back would be supported and she’d have leverage to push through the contractions.

Cade paused, not facing her. “I don’t really have anything like a nightgown for you to change into, but maybe that clean shirt of Virgil’s on the dresser will at least cover the vital areas. There’s some antibacterial soap there, and washcloths in the bathroom down the hall. You’ll want to wash up best you can. I’ll—I’ll give you a chance to change while I check on the water I’ve got boiling on the stove.”

He plain couldn’t look at her as he left the room again. She would know as well as he did that modesty would soon take a back seat to urgency.

Talk about really being exposed—and vulnerable.

Downstairs, Cade stalled for ten minutes, busying himself with sundry tasks, before venturing into the bedroom again to be greeted by the fetching sight of Sara in his ranch hand’s chambray shirt.

She swam in it, the tails hanging to her knees and the sleeves engulfing her hands as she clutched the neckline together. The color of the shirt brought out the blue in her eyes, making them shimmer as she looked askance at him.

She seemed so much an innocent girl in her daddy’s nightshirt and not a mother about to give birth that he had to remark, “Dang if Virgil’s shirt doesn’t fit you to a tee.”

Her frown was just as engaging as her smile had been.

Cade noticed that the toes of one bare foot curled over the other. “Here, let me get you some socks to keep your feet warm.”

He fetched a pair of his own from a drawer, and it seemed the considerate thing for him to put them on her himself, rather than make her struggle with bending over.

Going down on one knee, he patted his thigh for her to put her foot up, which she did while clinging to the bedpost for balance. Cade realized right away that while it was polite, it was also the wrong move so far as his composure was concerned.

Because she wasn’t a girl. She was all woman, no mistake. Holding her slender ankle, sliding one of his rough woolen stockings over her soft foot and tugging it over her delicate heel, being close to her and having the womanly scent of her overtake his senses…all of it nearly overwhelmed him, it had simply been so long since he’d been close to a woman this way. It was like that tidal tug he’d experienced earlier, making him want to slide his hand up her calf, over that fascinating indentation behind the knee, and further up—