Page 116 of Foolish Bride
“Michael?” Elinor gasped from the bed.
“You must push.” Sweat dripped down the midwife’s ruddy face, but she would brook no argument.
Michael went to the side of the bed and leaned down next to Elinor. He never dreamed he would be able to father a child after his injury. They would have been content with Jimmie and Sarah. Everett would have inherited the properties and titles, and his children thereafter.
When Elinor had announced that she was pregnant a few months after they were married, he had been shocked but ecstatic. He would have a son to inherit, and he would also have Jimmie and Sarah to love and raise as his own. No man could be so lucky.
Now, looking down at Elinor, enormously rounded with the baby and covered in sweat, he wished she had never become pregnant. He thought of losing her, and his throat closed up until he couldn’t breathe.
He took her hand. “You have to push now, love.”
She looked up at him, gripped his hand like a vise, and pushed until the effort lifted her from the bed. Another piercing scream tore through her.
“There, there, there,” the midwife said.
The next sound was the unhappy wail of the baby coming into the world.
“It’s a boy.” The midwife cut the cord, swaddled babe, then rested him on Elinor’s chest.
Michael’s heart contracted, then expanded.
Elinor cooed to the infant, who immediately stopped crying and looked up at her expectantly.
Too soon, the midwife took the baby to a basin on the dresser.
He had to clear his throat to speak. “What will we call our little man?”
Her face was covered in sweat. He plucked a cloth from the side table and wiped her brow. There were dark circles under her eyes, but she was the most beautiful he had ever seen her.
“We could name him after your father,” she suggested.
Heavens, no.“Never after him. What about ‘Rolf?’”
She wrinkled her nose. “My father deserves no such honor. If it had been up to him, we would not be married, and that would mean that this little nugget would never have existed. Not to mention that Jimmie and Sarah would be up in Scotland with no one to care for them. No, not ‘Rolf.’”
The midwife returned the baby to them. He was clean and fussy.
“All right then, what?” he asked, touching his son’s face with the tip of his finger. His skin was so soft.
The baby looked toward him, and his eyes widened just as Elinor’s always did when surprised.
Pure sustained joy welled up, making Michael laugh.
“We could name him after you, Michael.”
His son should have his own name and his own path to follow. He hoped it wouldn’t be the path of a soldier. “How about ‘John?’ ‘John’ is a good, sturdy name for a sturdy boy.”
“John,” Elinor repeated. The baby turned his little head and looked at her again.
“See, he likes it.” Michael’s heart was near to bursting.
A small scratching at the door broke them from the trance that John had them under. “Come in.”
The nurse opened the door, and two little heads poked through.
Michael marveled at his wonderful life. “Come in and meet your new brother, John.”
Jimmie and Sarah rushed through the door and up to the bed. Jimmie reached out his hand to touch the baby, but Sarah had eyes only for her mother.
