Page 45 of Made

Esme immediately withdrew the pendant and said, “Evangeline. Talk to your midwife.”

Evie’s face resumed a mask of pain. “Hurts,” was all she said.

The midwife turned to me. “Who are you?”

“Her mother,” I replied.

“You and you…” She indicated Esme and me. “… can stay. Everybody else out.” With a glance at Diarmuid, she added, “He can stay.”

Keir squeezed my arm, then disappeared behind the priceless Chinese screens that formed a makeshift barrier with.

I stood a few steps away. Close enough that Evie could see me, but far enough not to be in the way.

After a minute of assessment, the midwife said, “Help me get her up.” Esme went to one side of the chaise lounge. I went to the other, being careful not to step on Diarmuid. “I need her to stand. She can lean on the back of this…” Without naming the furniture, she left an impression of disapproval.

Esme screamed again as we pulled her to her feet. What happens to a mom’s body when she hears her child scream is indescribable. It’s as if every cell stands at attention and pricks the nervous system. I hurt all over, but didn’t mind. Somehow, it felt better to be sharing in the distress in some lesser way. We managed to get Evie to walk three steps, then lean over the back of the chaise lounge.

When I realized Esme was dabbing at my face and chest with a dinner napkin, it took a few seconds for my addled brain to grasp that tears were pouring out of my eyes and onto the bare skin above the strapless gown.

“Thank you,” I told her at the same time the midwife said, “SHE’S HERE!!!”

Once Evie was maneuvered into a work-with-gravity position, Rhiannon came sliding out like she was onboard for a day at the water park.

With a triumphant smile, the midwife held my granddaughter up, then did a little fae magic to clean her up and dress her in soft pink swaddling.

Even though labor and delivery had been fast by human standards, Evie looked exhausted. Still, she had enough energyto “wish” herself and the furniture clean like new. She then re-dressed herself in a red plaid robe, cinched at the waist with a long swing skirt, topped by a priceless choker with five rows of pink pearls. Though she looked immeasurably tired, she was immaculate.

She held out her arms for Rhiannon and promptly unswaddled her to check the number of fingers and toes. After snuggling with her baby for a couple of minutes and delivering more kisses than could be counted, she promptly went to sleep.

After taking the baby from her, in seconds, I’d settled into the transcendent experience of holding a newborn. My first grandchild. She was warm, pliant, smelling like a person fresh from heaven. I’d forgotten just how special new babies can be. I bent at the waist and pressed her against my shoulder before standing up. Some things are never forgotten.

Diarmuid was still passed out. I wondered if we should wake him, but decided to let him come out of it on his own.

Knowing he’d hear me without raising my voice, I said, “Keir. You can come in now.”

He moved a screen just enough to squeeze past and joined me with a huge grin. “The new accessory looks good on you.”

I chuckled. “Right? I’m thinking about kidnapping her and running away.”

“You could try, but I guarantee the leader of the Wild Hunt has the wherewithal to track you down,” he said.

“You’re probably right.” I rocked back and forth on my feet. “Where did you take John David?”

“Bulgaria.”

Okaaaay. I admit that’s like the last thing I expected to hear. “Excuse me? Did you say Bulgaria?”

“I did. Yes.”

“Is there by any chance an English town by the name of Bulgaria?”

“The country.”

I blinked. “Okay. First, how did you get there so fast?”

“EVIE!!!” Diarmuid sat straight up, looking panicked.

The shout woke her. “Right here, love,” she said quietly. “Our baby is beautiful.”

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