“What’s happened?” he demanded as he knelt across from Mrs. Denzinger. Catherine’s face was contorted in pain, and her breathing came in ragged little gasps.
“I don’t know. We were talking, and then she suddenly clutched her stomach and cried out,” Mrs. Denzinger said as she held Catherine’s hand in hers.
“Is it the baby?” Mrs. Bell said from behind Jonathan.
Catherine nodded but said nothing. A tear trickled down her cheek and Jonathan instinctively reached up to brush it away.
“She ought to lie down,” Mrs. Bell said. “Jenny, will you fetch the doctor?”
Mrs. Denzinger nodded, and carefully extracting her hand from Catherine’s, made for the door.
“I’m going to carry you to your room,” Jonathan said, trying to keep his voice even. If he let it go for even the barest fraction of a second, he wouldn’t be able to contain his worry. All he could do right this moment was carry her, and so that’s what he’d do.
The rest would be up to the doctor and God.
He slipped a hand under her knees and reached his other arm around her shoulders. “Hold on to my neck.”
She did as he asked, tears pooling in her eyes. Carefully but quickly, he carried her to her room, where he laid her gently on the bed.
“It’s happening,” she said, her voice barely audible as he straightened. “The baby is . . . it’s . . .”
“Ssh.” Jonathan drew up a chair and sat by her side, taking her hand in his. “The doctor will be here soon. He’ll know what to do.”All will be well, he wanted to say. But he didn’t know that it would.
Panic threatened to rise from the depths of his emotions, and so he fixed his eyes on Catherine. “Tell me what you feel so I can tell the doctor.”
“It was a pain. Not terribly strong, but it lasted and lasted. And—oh!” She grimaced as she laid a hand on her belly.
Jonathan rested his hand on hers.Please stay with us, little one. He didn’t know whether it was a prayer or a plea or simply a thought, but he wanted it so badly that it repeated over and over again in his mind.
After a few seconds, Catherine’s face relaxed. “It’s gone again. Oh, Jonathan, I don’t know what’s happening!” She clutched his hand with hers, squeezing his fingers.
Before he could answer, Mrs. Denzinger had returned with the doctor, and Jonathan was ushered out of the room. He paced up and down the hall until Mrs. Bell threatened to have Mr. O’Rourke remove him from the premises entirely. After that he sat on the edge of one of the kitchen chairs, watching Mrs. Bell fiddle with unnecessary but mind-occupying tasks while he imagined the worst.
After what seemed like hours but had only been minutes, the doctor emerged from Catherine’s room. Jonathan leapt up as Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Denzinger flocked behind him.
“It’s nothing to worry over. Her body is merely preparing for the act of giving birth,” the doctor said as he shifted his bag from one hand to the other.
Mrs. Bell looked at Mrs. Denzinger, relief evident in both their eyes. But Jonathan wasn’t so easily convinced. “Are you certain? She’s had trouble in the past with carrying babies, and she—”
“While I’m not in the business of making promises, I can assure you that baby is as healthy as can be at this very moment.” The doctor held Jonathan’s gaze until finally, a tiny bit of relief settled into the pit of his stomach.
He couldn’t find words, and so he simply nodded.
“It can be tiring though, so it’s best if she lies down or remains seated for a couple of days. Something tells me she hasn’t done much of that lately,” he said as he eyed the baked goods on the countertops and little projects spread out on the table.
“I daresay she hasn’t,” Mrs. Bell replied. “But we’ll ensure that she does.”
Jonathan walked the doctor to the door, where he paid the man and thanked him. Once the doctor had left, Jonathan shut the door and leaned against it, exhaustion taking over his limbs.
Catherine and the baby represented everything that he was, everything he hoped to be. He would do everything in his power to ensure they both remained healthy—whether Catherine liked it or not.
