“I think so…”
“Come with me, lass,” Mairead ordered her, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the corridor. “We’ll gather some clean cloth. I’ll send one of the boys to fetch Arran.”
What came next was such a rush, Mary could scarcely make sense of it. She rushed after Mairead and Donna, the midwife, carrying a stack of clean cloth in one hand and a bucket of warm water in the other. By the time they reached the study, Amelia was on all fours, her cheeks red, puffing in pain.
“Where’s Arran?” she demanded as they helped her to her feet.
“I’m here, my love,” Arran called, darting towards his wife and slipping his arms around her to support her. “Where to, Donna?”
“The bedroom. Are the sheets clean?”
“I’ll go ahead and check,” Mary offered, and she took off down the corridor to make sure everything was ready for her sister to bring her child into the world. Her heart was pounding with excitement, but she was a little fearful for Amelia, too. Though her eldest sister had always seemed utterly sure of herself, she was not as invincible as she made herself out to be, and Mary was not foolish enough to believe that nothing ever went amiss.
Once Mary had straightened up the sheets and laid out the water and towels, Amelia appeared in the doorway to the room, flanked by Arran and Mairead. Donna was leading her to breathe in a certain way, and it seemed to be going some distance to helping her manage the pain. They laid her down on the bed, and Amelia held out her hand for Mary.
“Hold my hand, please! Oh…”
She let out a loud whimper of pain, and squeezed Mary’s hand so tight Mary nearly cried out in agony herself. But she bitit back, reminding herself of how important this was, focusing on her sister.
“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked Mairead and Donna, as Arran moved to the head of the bed, kissing his wife on the temple and holding her other hand tight. Donna had Amelia’s dress pushed back, and she grimaced.
“She’s near ready to push already,” she muttered. “Amelia, can you hear me? Push! Push, lass!”
Mary was not sure how long it lasted for, the pushing part of it. Amelia cried out with each one, but she breathed through the pain. Arran encouraged her, and Mary just held on to her hand, wishing there were more she could do, but knowing well the most she could manage was staying at her sister’s side through this momentous event.
Then, all at once, a sound cut through the tense air in the room; the sound of a baby’s cry. Amelia half-laughed, gasping in shock, and turned to Arran.
“A boy!” Donna exclaimed. “A lovely wee boy. Here, Arran, come here and cut the cord with me.”
A boy? Mary glanced at Amelia, hoping that she would not be disappointed by the revelation, but Amelia just laughed again.
“A boy,” she breathed. “Oh, a boy…”
Arran pulled the child into his arms. Though it was still red and slick with blood, the crying had stilled for a moment, as if he knew that he was being held by his father.
“What did you decide on for a boy?” Mary asked her sister softly, as she gazed at the little child.
“Robert,” she replied, as Arran came to hand Amelia their son.
“Robert,” she whispered again, as she looked down at him. She reached out her finger to touch him in the center of his forehead, and giggled, as though she could hardly believe he was real. Mary leaned over to see him as Mairead and Donnaprepared some clean cloths to wipe him down with, this little child who was her nephew, and Amelia looked up at her sister.
“Isn’t he perfect?”
“He’s perfect,” Mary agreed. It seemed almost impossible, that he could have come to life so quickly, but here he was, sitting before them, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have emerged from her womb to make himself known, once and for all.
“My heir,” Arran murmured as he joined them at the head of the bed, peering down at his son with wonderment in his eyes. He kissed Amelia’s sweat-stained forehead as Mairead took the boy to clean him up. Even now, Mary could see the love in his eyes, the adoration he felt for this newborn. Though she’d never gone into great detail about it, Amelia had told her something of the struggles he’d had with his own family, and she supposed this must have meant even more to him as a result.
“We should celebrate,” he announced after a pause. Amelia stared up at him.
“I’m not sure I’m up to do much other than lie with the little one,” she replied. “But yes, you should celebrate. I want everyone to know about our little boy!”
Mary had scarcely seen Arran so animated in all the time she had known him. As he made his way downstairs, he seemed to almost levitate with every step. He called for his close friend Gregory when they reached the main hall, and he appeared a moment later, his eyes wide.
“I heard Amelia was in labor,” he blurted out, trying to catch his breath.
“Aye, she was!” Arran replied, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “And now I have a bairn. A boy, an heir!”
“Aye, you do!” Gregory agreed, shaking his head in delight. “I cannae believe you beat me to a son, Arran.”
