Page 177 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
“One more push, my lady!” The midwife encouraged, her voice sounding ragged after hours of trying everything she could to help the labor progress.
Les whimpered, and Harlan smoothed her hair from her forehead and kissed the top of her head. “You can do this. It’s almost done.”
She squeezed his hand weakly as she cried out, pushing with all the strength she had left. Harlan never let her go.
“She’s here! It’s a girl!” the midwife cried. “She’s…”
Harlan didn’t hear the cry of life. All he heard was the midwife slapping the baby’s skin.
Les’ breathing was shallow. Harlan pushed himself up, his arm still around his wife. “Midwife?”
The woman’s face was haggard and pale at the end of the bed. She met his eyes, panic clear in her gaze. “Brigadier General…”
Stars, no.
Had he wished it true? Had his thoughts about saving his wife over the baby made this happen? White hot fear and anger flooded his veins.
“Harlan?” Les asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where is…where is…she? Why can’t I hear her?”
In that moment, the battlefield calm fell over him. He was no longer a husband and father. He was a medic on the front with soldiers who needed saving.
He pushed himself off the bed and went to the midwife. The baby girl in her arms was still wet and glistening, the birthing waters coating her blue skin. The woman tried to position the baby for better airway access. The baby wasn’t moving or reacting to anything the woman did.
No.
Harlan took the girl from the midwife and ordered, “Fetch Lord Fairchild and warm blankets now!”
He needed his medic partner, and the baby needed warmth. There had to be a solution.
The midwife ran from the room, and Harlan didn’t have enough knowledge of how to help a baby, but he looked toward his wife, whose blue eyes were wide with terror despite the exhaustion in the lines of her face. He placed the baby on her chest, grabbing whatever blankets he could find and bundling them both.
Les couldn’t stop her tears as she clung to the girl. Neither could Harlan, though he was only vaguely aware of them cascading down his cheeks.
The baby’s pulse. He couldn’t feel it.
Her skin was too cold.
He could only feel his panic.
He couldn’t lose someone else. His heart could not take it. He…he…
The door to the chamber burst open. The midwife sprinted in with more blankets. Ezekiel flew in behind her, his eyes and hair wild.
“The babe…” Harlan managed to get out.
His brother-in-law searched the room, his head whipping right and left. “Your locket, Lessie. Where is your locket? The one I gave you?”
Les was crying too hard to answer. Harlan tugged it over her head and handed it to Ezekiel. His friend pulled a pocketknife from his pocket.
Harlan paused, rubbing the girl’s back as Ezekiel pressed the open knife to his finger and bled onto the locket in his hand.
“I need the baby’s blood,” Ezekiel commanded.
Harlan stopped him, pushing him away from his stillborn baby and his wife. “What are you doing?”
Ezekiel’s eyes were filled with rage and anguish. “I can fix this.”
Harlan still didn’t move. Les cried harder.
