“Push the little one out now, Ruthie.”
“Your labor is near over,” Brighit said. She stroked her brow.
Ruth gasped for breath. “Yes.”
“This will be it.” Martha nodded and smiled.
Peter stopped at the entrance and all color drained from his face. Brighit went to him, afeared he may fall to the ground. “What is amiss?”
He shoved the course cloth toward her and backed out. Surely it wasn’t the emerging babe, since Martha was blocking the view.
Brighit turned back to see Ruth’s own surprised expression right before she clenched with the pain again.
“There.” Martha accepted the blankets. “Push now.”
Brighit grabbed Ruth’s hand, steeling herself for the pain that always came at the end. Mothers had an excruciating grip at the end. She’d almost had her hand broken a time or two. Seeing the newborn was a wonderful reward.
The baby’s cry filled the cramped space.
“It is a girl,” Martha said, as if she were making a royal proclamation.
Peter’s head appeared in the doorway. His eyes wide with surprise.
“Come,” Ruth called to him, adjusting her gown. “It won’t bite you. I won’t bite you.”
She laughed and Brighit joined in. “Just do not allow her to take your hand. You’ll ner get it back.”
Peter stepped into the room as if any sudden movement might cause the ceiling to fall on their heads. He screwed up his face in confusion at their comments and stood far to the side of the bed.
“You two are silly.” Martha wiped the child dry then wrapped it in the blanket. “Here you go, my lady.” The babe cried out. “Oh my, she’s a hungry thing.”
Peter’s eyes remained on the small bundle as it went from Martha to Brighit to Ruth, whose face glowed with her happiness.
“Oh, my lovely, little girl.” Ruth kissed the tiny head. “You are a beautiful, little thing. Such a blessing.”
“A blessing?” Peter’s voice was loud with accusation. “How can it be a blessing when your innocence was taken from you? When you were raped?”
The only sound in the room was the babe’s breathing as it worked itself into a hungry wail. Brighit helped Ruth to bare her breast so the child could nurse. With practiced deliberation, Brighit supported the tiny head, shifting until its small mouth rooted solidly onto the nipple. The women gave a collective sigh. If a child was unable to suck, its hopes for survival were very small.
With the babe’s head now cradled in the crook of Ruth’s arm, she leaned back against the wall and looked at Peter. “How is it a blessing? God alone is good. He can make good out of any circumstance.”
Brighit tipped her head. Such wonderful words. Ruth had great faith. She’d said she’d hoped to learn from the Prioress. Perhaps even as Brighit’s own mother had learned from her. A lump swelled in her throat that made it hard to swallow.
If she stayed here and did her father’s bidding, she would never know intimate love or have a family of her own. Was it his place to make this choice for her? No. She should be able to decide for herself. Tears slid down her face. She also loved her father and would honor his wishes.
“Is there no longer fear that Ruth will die now?”
Ruth’s head jerked up. The child was undisturbed by the movement, asleep in its mother’s arms. Her tiny mouth grew lax and she released the nipple with a quietpop.
“Of course I will live.”
“Why would you ask such a thing?” Brighit swiped the tears from her cheeks and turned on him.
Ruth laid a gentle hand on Brighit’s arm and shook her head. Addressing Peter, she said, “Why would you believe I would die?”
He paused before answering. “No, I don’t suppose you will die. You had these women with you as well. They helped you birth the child.”
Ruth shook her head adamantly. “My lord, I am sorry, but they did not help me birth this child. I did it quite by myself. I assure you.”
