“Stitches look even as always,” Hortense observed from the doorway, her voice calm and soothing like a balm. The elderly midwife stepped into the room, her hands clasped in front of her apron, a basket of medical supplies by her side.
“Thank you, Hortense,” Cassie replied, pausing her work to look at the woman who had become a pillar of strength for many mothers in the community. “I just wish my thoughts were as orderly as my stitches.”
“Mind if I sit?” Hortense gestured toward a chair as Cassie nodded. There was something about Hortense’s presence that made everything seem calmer, more natural.
“Every mother finds her way,” Hortense said, pulling her chair closer. “Now, tell me what’s weighing on your heart. I can see you’re troubled by something.”
Cassie hesitated. Finally, the words spilled out. “It’s foolishness, I suppose. But I worry...What if I don’t feel that fierce love for my baby? What if I look at him—or her—and feel nothing?” Cassie truly worried that something inside her wasbroken, and she would be incapable of loving the little person who God had given her.
Hortense reached out, her weathered hand covering Cassie’s own. “Child, I’ve delivered more babies than I can count, and not one of those mothers has been unhappy with their child. Fear is natural, but it’s the love that takes you by surprise.”
“Really?” Cassie asked.
“Truly,” Hortense smiled. “You’ve got so much love in you, dear. It’ll come pouring out when the time is right.”
Somehow, Cassie believed her. With a renewed sense of purpose, she turned back to the dresses, stitching away the last of the morning hours.
The clock ticked on, and Cassie worked, her hands moving with practiced ease. Each dress was a masterpiece of color and craft, but as the pile grew, so did her restlessness. “Should have saved some of this work for later,” she muttered to herself, considering the empty days stretching before her until the baby’s birth.
“Work keeps the mind steady,” Hortense remarked, standing to pack her things. “But rest is just as important. Remember that, Cassie.”
“I will, Hortense.” Cassie felt the tightness in her chest soften just a bit. With each stitch, she felt slightly more prepared.
CASSIE’S HANDS WEREsteady as she threaded a needle despite the unrest in her heart. A soft clatter of needles announced Deborah’s arrival, her knitting basket in tow. Settling beside Cassie, she pulled out a half-finished shawl, the yarn a calming shade of blue.
“Remember when we’d race to see who could finish their chores first back at the home?” Deborah asked, her voice gentle as the click of her knitting needles.
Cassie chuckled. “I always lost. You had a way with those socks and gloves that I never managed.”
“Yet here you are,” Deborah said, glancing over at the dresses arrayed like a colorful fan across the table, “creating beauty from fabric.”
“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be any good with a baby,” Cassie confessed, her stitches faltering for a heartbeat.
Deborah stopped knitting, her eyes warm yet serious. “Cassie, you’ve excelled at everything you’ve put your mind to. I can’t sew a perfect seam to save my life, but you—you’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
“Easy for you to say,” Cassie sighed.
“Truly,” Deborah insisted, the corners of her eyes crinkling with conviction. “And we’ll all help. We’ve decided to bring meals for you after the baby comes.”
“Every day?” Cassie blinked, the worry lines on her forehead smoothing slightly.
“Every single day,” Deborah affirmed, her needles resuming their dance. “You won’t have to cook unless you want to.”
“Thank you,” Cassie murmured, the knot in her chest loosening. The thought of her sisters’ support filled her with contentment. She would have her hands full with the baby, and doing anything beyond taking care of him...well, it felt like too much.
“Anytime,” Deborah said. “Now, let me see that dress. I think you dropped a stitch.”
“Impossible,” Cassie joked, handing over the garment with feigned indignance.
“See? Even in jest, you aim for perfection.” Deborah winked, and they both laughed, the sound mingling with the hum of the summer afternoon, light-hearted and full of promise.
CASSIE’S HAND FLEWto her belly as a sharp twinge caught her by surprise. She drew in a quick breath, steadying herself against the table laden with fabric scraps and half-finished dresses. The pain subsided as quickly as it came, but Cassie knew what it signified. Her heart thumped unevenly, a mix of fear and something she couldn’t quite name pulsing through her veins.
“Judy!” Cassie called out, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. “I need you!”
The screen door clattered as Judy hurried in, eyes wide and alert. “What is it, Cassie? What’s wrong?”
“Fetch Hortense,” Cassie instructed, gripping the edge of the table. “It’s time.”
