Garrick watched in awe, his eyes fastened on the tiny baby. Uda shook the child, then shook it again. Garrick held his breath, waiting for some sign of life.
“I am sorry,” Uda said. “The baby is dead.”
“Nay!” Garrick bellowed and came into the room. He took his son in his large hands and then stared helplessly at Uda. “He must not die. She will say I killed him!”
“The child cannot breathe. This happens to many babies. There is naught we can do.”
Garrick looked down at the unmoving infant in his hands. “You must live! You must breathe!”
Heloise came to his side, tears in her eyes. “Garrick, please. You only torture yourself.”
He did not hear his mother. He was torn apart inside, so aware of the air that moved his own chest yet did not move his son’s. He stared at the tiny chest, willing it to fill with air. Without thinking, he blew his own breath into the baby’s mouth.
“Aiee!” Uda shrieked. “What is he doing?” She ran from the room screaming. “He is mad!”
Nothing came of Garrick’s desperate attempt to breathe his own life into his son. But he was beyond rational thinking and tried again, this time covering the infant’s mouth and nose so the air would have no place to go but into his son. The tiny chest filled and the arms thrashed, then the infant gulped air by itself and emitted a cry so loud it echoed through the house.
“Praise God for this miracle!” Linnet cried, and fell to her knees to give thanks.
“’Tis indeed a miracle, Garrick,” Heloise said softly.
“But one that you brought about. You gave life to your son.”
He let her take the screaming baby from him. Miracle or not, he was too relieved to speak. He felt such overwhelming pride, as if this was the greatest accomplishment of his life, and nothing would ever come close to it again.
“I need not ask if you accept this child,” Heloise said as she wrapped the baby in a blanket and placed it at Garrick’s feet for the ceremonial acts of birth.
He bent down and held the child on his knee, then sprinkled water on it from a cup Heloise brought. He had seen his father do this to his sister, and he knew the same had been done to himself and Hugh.
“This child shall be called Selig, the Blessed.”
“A good name, for he is surely blessed,” Heloise remarked proudly, and took the baby once again. “Now go below and tell your father he has another grandson. His pride and joy will be as great as yours.”
Garrick did not move toward the door; instead he walked slowly to his bed. Brenna’s eyes were closed. He looked questioningly at Linnet.
“She fainted when the child was born,” she told him as she wiped moisture from Brenna’s brow. “She does not know you fought to save her son, but I will tell her.”
But will she believe you? Garrick wondered. “I know she lost much blood. Will she live?”
“The bleeding has stopped. She will be weak, as the child is. We can only pray that they both gain strength quickly.”
“Do not worry, Garrick,” Heloise said from across the room where she bathed Selig in warm water, against his loud protests. “All that you did cannot be for naught. Both child and mother will live.”
For the first week after the baby’s birth, every time Brenna woke she was filled with fear, and she could not dispel her feelings of apprehension until she assured herself her baby was all right. Her aunt had told her a wild tale about Garrick having saved her son’s life, but she could not bring herself to believe it. If it were true, if he cared for the child at all, he would have come to see it. Not once did he come.
Brenna recovered slowly from the birthing, but Selig gained weight rapidly. It was a grievous disappointment to Brenna that she was not responsible for his glowing health. She had so wanted to give her baby the nourishment he needed, to be the only one he would be dependent on. But for some reason, either because of her weak condition or the fact that she did not take better care of herself in the early months when she carried him, her milk lasted only a fortnight.
She was filled with self-recriminations when Heloise insisted on bringing in a woman who had ample milk to give, having just lost her own child at birth. But Brenna accepted the situation quickly, knowing it was the only way. She made up for her lack with extra love, spending every possible moment fussing over her son. Then she was scolded by her aunt for overdoing it. She began to feel as if everyone was trying to alienate her from her child, that she could do nothing right.
Fortunately, her resentment did not last long and she bowed to the wisdom of her elders. She began to relax in the presence of her tiny son, to stop smothering him with this new love that she felt so strongly. Finally she was at ease when she cared for him, dressed him and bathed him. She let their relationship develop slowly. When he first smiled at her, she knew he was aware of her love.
Brenna also knew it was time they went home. The only reason she had stayed this long in Garrick’s house, nearly three months, was because she had not once seen Garrick in all that time. She did not know where he slept, or if he was even in the house. Nor could she bring herself to ask anyone about him, not even Janie or Maudya.
Her two old friends cooed over Selig every time they brought Brenna her meals, and they remarked many a time at how improved their lives were since he was born. Brenna did not question this either. She could only assume that Garrick was so loath to be near that he had gone to live elsewhere, no doubt at Morna’s, while she occupied his house.
When Brenna told her aunt that she was ready to go home, Linnet did not voice any objections. “You will live with me, will you not?” Brenna asked hopefully.
“For a while more. But eventually I will return to Anselm’s settlement.”
