Another contraction bore down on my body, and I tried to let it do its job without resistance, though it was hard.
Dr. Austin finally appeared, and he and Saphira sat with me through the long hours of labor. Gray paced the hallway, for though I longed to have him in the room with me, it wasn’t common practice in 1887.
I had never wished for the conveniences of a twenty-first-century hospital more than I did that evening. If I needed a cesarean section, I knew my chance of survival was very slim. I could advise the doctor with the knowledge I had and increase the odds, but I was still concerned about changing history.
When it was time to deliver my baby, it looked as if everything would proceed as planned. Twenty minutes after I began pushing, the doctor held up a beautiful, healthy baby girl. She was small, but her lungs were strong as she cried.
In the dim candlelight I looked at her chest and saw that there was no mark. My relief was palpable, and I lay back against the pillow, exhausted beyond reason, and smiled.
But when the doctor handed the baby off to Saphira to clean her, I noticed she had a mark on the back of her head. My heart fell.
She would have one other path—in a time before this one—and she would have twenty-five years to choose.
Another contraction tightened my stomach, surprising me.
Dr. Austin looked at me, his face serious. “It appears there is another baby, Mrs. Cooper.”
“Another?” I frowned, confused.
He smiled. “Twins. You’ll need to push again on the next contraction.”
Twins? I could hardly believe it, but it made sense with so many of the symptoms I’d experienced in this pregnancy.
After another five minutes of pushing, my second child was born, another beautiful baby girl.
“Does she—” I couldn’t bear to ask, but I had to know. “Does she have the same birthmark on her head?”
The doctor turned her around, and a smile lit his face. “She does. They’re identical twins.”
I stared at him, a dozen questions filling my mind. I had never heard of identical twins with the time-crossing mark. I had no idea what it meant.
When Gray was finally allowed back into the room, I held a baby in each arm. I was tired yet elated. Excited yet deeply concerned.
The doctor and Saphira blended into the background as Gray entered our bedroom. His gaze was upon me first, and I knew he was trying to see if I was okay. I smiled for him, but I couldn’t hide my apprehension. He frowned slightly until he lowered his gaze and saw our daughters for the first time.
“Twins?” He looked back up at me, his face filled with wonder.
“Identical girls,” I told him, emotions taking control as tears came to my eyes.
Dr. Austin and Saphira left the room, gently closing the door as Gray came to our bed. He sat on the edge and looked at each baby in turn.
“May I?” he asked as he reached for the first.
I handed her to him, and then gave him the second baby. They were both sleeping peacefully, their perfect little faces poking out of their blankets.
I was not prepared for the rush of love I felt at seeing him with our newborn children.
He stared down at the babies and then looked up at me, and even before he asked, I knew what he wanted to know.
“Yes,” I nodded, sounding braver than I felt. “They carry one of my marks on the backs of their heads, which means they will have two paths. This one and one in the past.”
Awe filled his gaze, and he shook his head. “Will they go together?”
I lifted my shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of identical time-crossers. I don’t know what it means.”
“And we don’t know what other times they might occupy?”
“We won’t know until they’re old enough to tell us.”
