Page 38 of Heart of Danger
Mac’s body language had been clear on that. He rarely took his eyes off her and was always within a hand’s span of her. However, for someone so large, he managed to never be in the way. He was simply…there. Like a huge guard dog.
He didn’t interfere but he didn’t stand around like a lump of protoplasm as most men would have, either. She had to hand him that. Actually, he’d helped, handing her instruments whose name he knew, keeping close to her without in any way impeding her movements.
The woman—Bridget—had been in labor for two hours before they called Catherine in. Effacement was almost complete and contractions had been coming every twenty minutes when Catherine entered the room. They soon started coming harder and faster. It took Bridget three hours to dilate to 7 cm, huffing and puffing and clinging to her husband’s hand.
Catherine moved carefully, making sure her movements were calm and reassuring. It wasn’t hard. From somewhere deep inside came a vast assurance, an ease that she’d never felt during medical school or her internship. Medical school had been training scenarios and the internship had been mostly observation. This wasn’t a training scenario or observation, this was the real thing.
Bridgetneededher.
When she’d walked into the infirmary, the first thing Catherine had done was take Bridget’s hand and tell her she was here to help. A tidal wave of emotion had washed through her and for the first time in her life, it hadn’t hurt. Bridget was scared and excited, in love with her child and with its father, who was holding her other hand.
No dark swirls, no hidden hatred or aggression waiting like chunks of barbed wire to hook and hurt Catherine. There was nothing there that hurt at all, nothing to recoil from, just the bright colors of Bridget’s love and fear, the echo of her husband’s love for her and their unborn child and at the very heart of it all, a bright shining light that was the baby, working hard to be born.
“We’re close, Bridget,” Catherine murmured and the woman blew locks of sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes. Catherine shot a glance at Mac. A moment later, a sponge soaked in cold water was pressed into Red’s hand and he started wiping the sweat away from Bridget’s face and neck. “Very close.”
It was time, now. Bridget was almost fully dilated. Beneath her hands, Catherine could feel a vast strength gathering, something bigger than Bridget, something that connected to the earth and transited through one small woman and one tiny, powerful source of light inside her belly.
The power swirled and pulsed.
The fetal heart monitor showed the tiny heart beating perfectly, and when Catherine switched on the speakers, there it was—a healthy 140 beats a minute. As if the baby’s heart were beating fast with excitement at entering the world.
Bridget’s husband, Red, never let her hand go, not once, not even when she was insulting him, screaming at him, promising no sex for the rest of their lives. Ever. He hadn’t even blinked, just held her hand tightly and breathed with her.
And touching Bridget—oh man.
Catherine was nearly overwhelmed with the emotions of the woman. Joy. Pain. Love. Excitement. Fear. But above all, love. Love for the child being born and for the man who was holding her hand as if it were a lifeline and who she was insulting with every word that popped out of her mouth.
And behind all that—the faintest echo of something else. Another set of emotions. Almost—another soul. Like an angel hovering, like a sun spreading light and warmth. Steady and sure.
Just as Catherine realized what she was sensing, Bridget’s belly rippled and she groaned through clenched teeth. She clutched Red’s hand so strongly her knuckles were white.
Between Bridget’s legs, Catherine saw a tuft of dark red hair.The baby!Every single thought fled her mind as she concentrated on bringing a new life into the world. She knew what she was doing. The instructors in OB-GYN had been thorough and strict. But more than the scientific knowledge of how babies were born, she was imbued with some magical substance that led her through the process as if she’d been born to it. Something that steadied her hands and heart and voice. As if she were plugging into some arcane knowledge base connected with the very earth.
Her hands moved of their own accord, quick and sure. Bridget was panting now, the ripples coming faster and faster, one closely following another. Her face was ferociously scrunched up in concentration. Red’s eyes never left her face. Bridget’s entire body worked hard, seized by some outside force working its way through her.
“You’re doing fine, Bridget. That’s right, the baby’s crowning, another few pushes and we’re done and you’ll have yourself a beautiful new baby to love, just a few more, that’s good, concentrate on your breathing, excellent, you’re being very brave, that’s right…” Catherine was barely conscious of what she was saying, she just knew that as she spoke, as she touched Bridget’s thighs, Bridget’s fear diminished, as if each word Catherine said whisked some of the fear and pain away.
She could feel the effect of her words, the effect of her presence, feel how reassured Bridget was because she was there. A force was being handed back and forth, power surging between them.
The infirmary was superbly well-equipped. Someone who knew what they were doing, someone with a lot of money to spend, had bought just about everything that could be necessary. If you needed open heart surgery or brain surgery you should probably go elsewhere, but otherwise, the infirmary had what you needed, including episiotomy scissors.
She made a tiny, controlled cut to help Bridget and immediately afterward applied Derma-Glue, which eliminated stitches that often carried infections. It was a miracle that was saving lives in the few hospitals where it was available. This small outlaw infirmary seemed to have an unlimited supply.
Bridget was red-faced, trying to control her panting, face contorted as her belly rippled again. “How. Much. Longer.” She puffed between contractions.
Catherine smiled at her. “Not long now. Do you know what you’re expecting?”
Red answered. “No. We wanted the surprise.”
Another huge contraction. Catherine could hear Bridget’s teeth grinding. Another inch of dilation. A little more and the baby would come out.
The room was cold, as infirmaries should be, but Catherine was sweating. She tried to wipe the sweat from her brow on her sleeve but it was awkward. A handkerchief appeared and wiped her face.
Startled, she looked up at Mac. His face was grim, as always. But the gesture had been kind.
“Thanks,” she whispered. He nodded, stepped back slightly. There, without being too close.
Bridget gave a controlled scream and Catherine concentrated on the new life coming out of the woman. In a few minutes of blood, sweat and tears, a miracle happened, and a little baby girl with bright red fuzz covering her head slid into her waiting arms and started wailing.
