The Tender Stranger. Carolyn Davidson

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СКАЧАТЬ you feel better if I told you a tall tale?” he asked, and then smiled as she hesitated to answer.

      “I’ve hauled calves and colts into this world. I’ve watched cats and dogs deliver more blind little creatures than you can shake a stick at. And in every case, things worked out as they were supposed to.”

      He eased his body straighter, tugging her gown down to cover her knees. “There, that seems to have done the trick.”

      “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling the flush creep up from her breasts to bring heat to her face. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m just not used to.”

      Quinn smiled again, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. “We’re in this together, honey. I can’t say it’s what I’d have chosen, but I’m sure as hell glad I’m here. You’d be in sad shape if you were facing this alone.”

      Erin nodded. “I know that.” And then she drew up her legs, turning her head aside as another pain began its assault. Again the tension mounted, and once more the muscles of her belly and back rebelled as her womb drew in upon itself. Erin closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, her fingers widespread against the hard surface of her abdomen.

      “Try to relax,” Quinn said, his own big hands covering hers, as if he would lend his strength to her endeavor.

      She nodded, inhaling sharply as the pain reached a pinnacle. It began a downward slide, and she counted the throbbing beats of her heart as her body softened and relaxed against the sheet beneath her.

      It was the middle of the night before the pain took a new twist, and Erin cried out for the first time as she was caught up in the vise that gripped her. Barely had she caught her breath when the onslaught began anew.

      “Don’t fight against your body,” Quinn murmured, his fingers offering hers a place to grip. She clutched at him, abandoning all pretense of dignity as she was engulfed by the white-hot torture her body could only accept.

      Whether it lasted for minutes or hours, she could not have judged. Only the blurred edges of Quinn Yarborough’s face remained in her line of vision, and she squinted her eyes as she sought some measure of reassurance there. If his smile was strained, she ignored it. If his brow was furrowed, she was too intent on her own suffering to pay it any mind.

      Survival was the issue, and Erin was determined to find ease from the agony of this night. If that meant using her muscles to push the baby into the cruel realities of the world, then she would do as this man asked and push with all of her strength.

      “That’s the way,” Quinn said, his voice coming to her in the mist of her misery. “Push, Erin. Push hard.”

      She heard her wail of despair as if it came from another’s mouth, and cringed at the message it delivered.

      “I can’t. I can’t do this anymore!” Surely that wasn’t her speaking those words of surrender. Her breath rasped loudly as she inhaled and concentrated on the words Quinn spoke once more.

      “Yes, you can! Listen to me, Erin. Take a deep breath again. Now, push. Hear me? Push!” His tone was filled with command now. He’d done with being kind, she decided, and almost laughed at the thought. As if a laugh could have been formed from her throat. As if she could think of anything but the rending of her body.

      And then there was a silence that threatened to swallow her whole, perhaps lasting for only a moment after all, ending with the fragile wail of her child. Her mind welcomed it as she was swallowed up by the bed beneath her.

      Just so quickly, every bone in her body relaxed from the strain of the battle fought and won. Just so brutally, she felt an overwhelming weariness seize her, and she could only reach a hand to the man who held her babe.

      “Let me see.” Erin’s words whispered from between dry lips. She blinked, willing her vision to clear, only vaguely aware that tears flowed in a steady stream. And then she saw the tiny, wizened face of a being so minute, so infinitely precious, it came near to halting the beat of her heart.

      “I’m going to put him on your stomach, honey,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ll clean you up a little here and then tend to him.”

      Erin felt a new series of tugging pains, felt Quinn’s hands against her flesh, but knew only the joy of watching the movements of her child. Quinn had wrapped him in a length of flannel from her belongings, and only the tiny face was visible to her. But his body trembled beneath the covering and she felt an urgency to hold him.

      “Give him to me,” she whispered, holding up her arms, fearful of snatching him up from his precarious resting place, lest she drop him.

      Quinn stood erect, his stance weary, and shot her a glance that pierced her to the depths. “Let me get rid of this first,” he said, wrapping a bundle and depositing it near the door. He turned back, and she felt a moment’s dread as he hesitated.

      “What is it?” she asked hoarsely, lifting herself to her elbows to better see the mite of a babe.

      “I fear he’s not big enough, Erin. He’s trying hard, but his breathing isn’t too good.” Quinn stepped quickly to where she lay and picked up the small bundle, cradling it in his two hands. He bent over her and she turned to her side, the better to hold his offering against her breast.

      “He’ll be fine,” she said quickly. “Look, he’s moving his mouth.”

      Quinn sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, one big hand against her back, giving welcome support. “I see him, honey.”

      It was almost more than he could stand, watching this valiant woman cradling the poor little scrap of humanity against her bosom, as if she could pour strength into the baby she held. With blue lips parted, the child struggled to inhale, his efforts bringing harsh reality to the forefront.

      “Erin…I’m afraid for him,” Quinn said, bending low to turn the baby to his back. He leaned to touch the blue lips with his own and blew his own breath in tiny puffs of air within the boy’s mouth. He watched as the miniature nostrils pinched in an effort to inhale.

      Once more Quinn attempted to instill his own life force in the babe. And again he watched as the struggle worsened.

      Erin’s eyes widened, pinning Quinn in place with her gaze. Her hands loosened their hold and she gave full access to the baby he’d delivered. As if she placed her trust in his knowledge, she joined his vigil, inhaling as he did, breathing small bits of air in time with his.

      The small body they watched shivered, and Erin cried out, a wordless agony of sound. Again the soft bundle convulsed, and Erin’s cry was softer, desolate, as she sensed the end of the short, futile battle.

      Quinn shook his head. “I don’t think we can help him. He’s so little, Erin. He didn’t have long enough to gain strength for this world.”

      She was silent now, as if she accepted his words, and he shifted his attention to the pale oval of her face. Her eyes were no longer wet with tears, her lips barely trembled, as if she faced and accepted the pain of her loss.

      “Poor little mite,” she crooned, gathering the still, silent bundle to her breast. She bent her head low, her mouth touching the soft, dark down upon bis head.

      Quinn felt the tightening of his muscles, long misused in the hours of СКАЧАТЬ