“You can,” Lilliana repeated right into her ear. “Push when she tells you. Look at me. Do not look at the fear. Look at me.”
Ailsa worked with grim focus, guiding the tiny body carefully as if it were glass.
Minutes stretched. Sweat slid down Lilliana’s spine. Her arms ached from holding Mairi upright, but she did not move. She could feel the village women watching, judging, waiting for her to falter.
The distrustful woman muttered, “If she panics, she will make it worse.”
Lilliana did not answer.
Ailsa’s voice sharpened. “Head is next. Mairi, listen to me. Ye push like ye mean it.”
Mairi made a sound that was more animal than human, body straining. Lilliana held her tighter, bracing her.
For one terrible moment, everything went still.
Ailsa swore under her breath. “Come on,” she growled, hands working. “Come on.”
Lilliana’s heart hammered.
Then, suddenly, a wet startled cry sliced through the air, thin and furious.Life.
Mairi collapsed against Lilliana, sobbing with relief. Ailsa lifted the infant and turned it quickly, clearing its mouth with practiced efficiency. The baby cried again, louder.
Lilliana’s eyes stung. She had not realized she was holding her breath until she released it in a shaking exhale.
“It is a girl,” Ailsa announced.
A murmur rose. Relief spread through the room like warm water. The husband made a broken sound and sank onto a stool, face in his hands.
Lilliana looked down at Mairi, who wept silently, exhausted beyond speech.
Ailsa wrapped the child and placed her against Mairi’s chest. The baby rooted and settled, and Mairi’s trembling hands curled protectively over the bundle.
At that moment, something inside Lilliana shifted.
It was not a thought she chose. It was a feeling that arrived like truth, stunning her with its intensity.
This is what I could have. A home. A child. A life that is not merely survival.
Her throat tightened. She turned slightly, needing air, and found the distrustful woman staring at her.
The woman’s expression was different now. Still guarded, but less sharp. “She did not run,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
Ailsa glanced over her shoulder. “Nay,” she agreed. “She didnae.”
The woman stepped closer, hesitating as though it cost her pride. “I thought ye would faint,” she admitted roughly. “Or make a fuss. English ladies do fuss.”
“I am not here to fuss,” Lilliana said.
The woman’s eyes flicked to Mairi and the babe. “Me name is Elspeth,” she said, as if that alone were an offering.
Lilliana inclined her head. “Lilliana.”
Elspeth nodded once, then cleared her throat. “Ye did well.”
Two simple words, but they landed heavily.
Acceptance did not come quickly in a place like this. If it came at all, it came in small, hard-won pieces.
