Page 49 of A Cozy Holiday
“Is she going to be okay with the baby being breeched like that?” Jamie asks, looping a harness around her muzzle and stroking her chin. “We’ve only dealt with it once.”
“She’ll be fine. I’ll need to reach in and help guide the baby out.”
I reach into my bag, trying to find my gloves, but they must’ve fallen out. There’s no time to go back to my cabin to grab another pair.I pour water over my hands and retrieve the bucket Jamie carried over from the snowmobile.
Jamie eyes it curiously. “What is that?”
“Lube.”
“Lube?”
“An old teacher told me it’s handy. Keeps the area lubricated and makes it easier for me to move my hand.”
I dip up to my elbow into the goopy substance. Despite the urgency, there’s something beautiful about this moment. I carefully feel around before gently pushing my hand inside her, searching for the other leg. The contractions grip around my forearm, and I focus intently, helping her body do the work. I will definitely have bruises on my arm after this.
For the next twenty minutes, it’s a blur of careful adjustments and timing to work with Arrietty’s contractions. Finally, with a big push, the baby comes tumbling into the blankets I’ve spread out in the snow. Arrietty sinks back into the ground, sides heaving, and the second I place her calf against her nose, she starts licking its tiny, wobbly head with the kind of love that’s instantaneous. Like the years she spent not getting pregnant all led her to this perfect moment.
A crack happens in my chest then—a sharp, loosening ache—and my vision blurs. I look up, half expecting to see a sudden flurry of rain, but it’s not the sky. It’s me. It’s tears.
crying?
Not the kind of crying I always assumed would finally come, ugly and gasping, the way I sobbed when we buried Moonie, my first dog, in the backyard. This isn’t that.
This is soft. Like settling into a steamy bath after a long day.
“That was incredible, Joy.” When I turn toward Jamie, his green eyes have a sheen to them. He’s not embarrassed, and I realize I’m not either.
“I’m crying,” I say, my voice breaking on a laugh.
“You’re crying,” he echoes, smiling as he drops into the snow beside me.
I’m not an ice queen like Parker said I was. I’d just shut off a valve in my heart a long time ago, and it finally opened today.
For a long moment, we just kneel there together, our knees going numb while we watch Arrietty nuzzle her baby. The cold stings my cheeks, but inside, everything feels cozy. A week in Cranberry Hollow has done more for me than years of skating through life pretending I was fine.
I snatch up a clean towel, then wipe my hands.
“You should name the baby,” Jamie says. “He’s here because of you.”
“I don’t want to break the girls’ Studio Ghibli streak.”
“Start a new theme,” he says easily. “Something you like. The girls won’t mind.”
My mind is suddenly blank, and then a ridiculous idea pops up. “I can’t name it Mrs. Claus’s Blow Job.” I chuckle at the memory of doing shots at Grandpa’s Basement.
“MCB.” He tips his head.
“No way.” I laugh. The early morning light glints off the flecks of gray in his mustache. The same color as patches of gray on the calf. “What about Selleck?” His eyebrows knit together. “After Tom Selleck. Apparently, I have a thing for mustaches.”
Chapter 12
Crying is the Best Aphrodisiac
After we getArrietty and the baby settled in the barn, I’m covered in blood, amniotic fluid, and what I’m pretty sure is reindeer placenta.
“You go get cleaned up,” Jamie says.
“Did the girls get to school okay?” I ask.
