“Every bairn has a mind of his own. And we’ll fix the wee one, don’t you fret. It may not be comfortable, but it can be done. Paul, come and help me.”
“It will be all right,” he told Juliette. “Try to relax, and we’ll do what we can.”
“You’re going to hold your wife and help her through it while I turn the bairn,” Bridget instructed.
Though Paul could do it, his mother had done it far more often, and he wasn’t about to intrude upon her expertise. Juliette was fighting to breathe, perspiration upon her forehead while she held his hands.
“It hurts,” she moaned. And when Bridget pressed against her womb, she cried out, shuddering as another pain wracked her. His mother continued her attempts to turn the baby, but he suspected it wasn’t working.
The contractions were constant now, one coming on top of the other. Bridget met his gaze, and her sober expression confirmed what he already knew. The child could not be turned.
His eyes drifted toward his medical bag nearby, in silent question. His mother shook her head, as if to say,It’s too grave a risk.
He knew that. But if it meant saving Juliette’s life, he’d do whatever was necessary.
“Ye must stop pushing, Juliette,” his mother warned. “It’s too soon for that.”
“It’s—the only thing that helps me endure the pain,” she said, her voice trembling. A cry tore from her lips as another contraction seized her. Paul had never felt so helpless in his life. Bridget continued to manipulate his wife’s womb, trying once again to turn the bairn.
“P-Paul,” Juliette whispered, gripping his hands so tightly, it was a wonder she hadn’t broken his fingers. “I love you. I always have.”
“I know,a chrìdhe.As I love you.” He smoothed back her hair, meeting her eyes. “Hold on, and soon you’ll have our wee bairn in your arms.”
Her green eyes were bleak. “I was afraid this might happen. But I don’t regret being with you.” Tears threatened, and her voice grew hoarse. “If I die, promise me you’ll take care of our baby. And tell Matthew one day… that I loved him.”
“You’ll tell him yourself,” he insisted. But the surrender in her expression terrified him. She didn’t believe she would live to see this child born. And if they didn’t get the bairn out soon, both of them would die.
“She’s ready,” Bridget pronounced. “My girl, it’s time for you to push now.”
“H-has the baby turned?”
“No. But we’ll do as ever best we can,” Bridget promised.
Paul prayed to God he wouldn’t have to cut in. A breech birth was dangerous enough, but surgery could claim Juliette’s life in any number of ways.
The minutes stretched to over an hour, but he helped support his wife against him, holding her knees back while she pushed. Bridget was struggling, and her expression looked grave as she tried to ease the child out.
“Take her,” Paul commanded. Though his mother had delivered thousands of bairns, this was his Juliette. He needed to see for himself what was wrong, or he’d never be able to live with himself.
Bridget took his place, holding on to Juliette while Paul examined his wife. Only one leg had emerged from her womb, and he didn’t doubt that the tiny infant was fighting for life at this moment.
God be with us,he prayed, casting another glance toward his bag. He pushed back, feeling for the infant’s leg, trying to adjust the child. His brain was screaming at him, while he recalled just how many of the infants had died in the cases he’d read.
He had to make a decision. Now, before he lost both of them.
Chapter Nineteen
Juliette was hardly aware of anything but a sea of pain. Her husband and his mother were arguing, and without warning, she felt the sharp slice of a blade. Warm blood spilled against her, but she was past the point of knowing what was happening.
The man she adored was fighting for her life and the life of their child. In the blur of agony, she saw the fear on his face. But there was nothing she could say to reassure him. Nothing except a weak “I love you, Paul.”
“Stay with me,” he warned. “Don’t give up, Juliette. Keep trying.”
She wasn’t aware of anything, but her body was past exhaustion and had now slipped into a haze of defeat. Hands were pushing against her, and a moment later, she heard the faint cry of a newborn. The sound of the infant’s voice slashed through her consciousness, dragging her back.
Their baby was alive. Through her tears, she managed a smile, and a moment later, Paul placed the baby on her stomach. “It’s a girl.”
The grateful look in his eyes was mingled with awe, as if he could not believe he was a father.
