Her Best Christmas Ever. Judy Duarte
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Название: Her Best Christmas Ever
Автор: Judy Duarte
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Cherish
isbn: 9781472057082
isbn:
The fact that his mom had died in childbirth was enough to spike his spinal fluid with ice water, but he shook off the nervous fear and focused on the task at hand. He had to help Connie have her baby whether he wanted to or not.
“The head is out,” Greg told both Doc and Connie, as he followed the directions of the experienced country doctor.
Moments later, the baby slid into his hands. His own breath held as he waited for it to cry, to breathe. As the tiny little girl let out a wail that pierced the silence and announced her arrival, he blew out a huge sigh of relief.
His movements were almost robotic, but he did everything Doc told him to do, step by scary step. And as the minutes ticked away, as everything proceeded the way Doc said that it would, wonder overcame the fear that had been dogging him since Connie’s labor had started and the birth became imminent.
After he cleaned up the screaming, flailing baby girl, he bundled her in flannel like a little burrito and handed her to her mother.
Connie, with tears streaming down her face, took the baby from him and cooed at her. “Hello, sweetheart.Welcome to the world.”
Asense of awewashed over Greg, and he found himself experiencing an unprecedented high, a mind-boggling sense of wonder.
“Oh, my God.” Connie looked up from the newborn long enough to latch onto Greg’s gaze. “Look at her.”
He had been looking. And while the tiny little newborn was scrawny and wrinkly and gooey and had an uncanny resemblance to E.T., the extra-terrestrial, he couldn’t help thinking she was the cutest little alien he’d ever seen.
“She’s beautiful,” he told Connie. “Are you still going to call her Amanda?”
“I don’t know. Does she look like an Isabella to you?”
She was asking him for an opinion? “It sounds like an awfully big name for a little baby, but I guess she’ll grow into it.”
“I could nickname her Bella. Or Izzy.”
Greg looked at the little flannel-wrapped cherub, at the rosebud mouth, the wispy dark hair.
“Not Izzy,” he said, thinking of a ton of rhyming words that kids might use to tease her, Dizzy or Frizzy or Lizzy Lizard. Kids could be thoughtless, he’d learned. And cruel. “But Belle or Bella suits her. Either one would make a good name for a little princess.”
Then he tore his gaze away from the mother and child, doing whatever he could to make Connie more comfortable.
Yet even when his job appeared to be nearly over, when he finally had an excuse to close the door and leave them to rest, he hadn’t been able to do so. Instead, he kept looking for reasons to stick around.
Had he really been the first human to touch that baby girl? The one to cut and tie the cord?
He sat in silence for the longest time, basking in a slew of emotions he couldn’t quite peg. Feelings he’d never experienced, never expected to.
As he got to his feet, he continued to watch them like some kind of voyeur. Or maybe he’d taken on a protector role. Either way, he couldn’t help feeling a bit envious.
Not that he expected to bond with the new little family of two; he’d done his part and could now go on his way. But as Connie whispered loving words to her new daughter, he found her voice soft and mesmerizing, the sight warm and touching.
When the baby looked at her with eyes that crossed, Greg damn near choked up. Again, he wondered if he really ought to be privy to this special moment, yet he was unable to move.
Awed by what he’d just seen, he was also caught up in admiration for thewoman who’d bravely fought pain and fear to bring her newborn daughter into the world, a woman who now bore a maternal glow and a mesmerizing beauty he couldn’t explain.
Connie, who cuddled her infant daughter in her arms, looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Greg. I don’t know what I would have done without you here.”
“It was no big deal,” he said.
But it had been bigger than big. It had been huge.
He didn’t think he’d ever forget this moment. He’d witnessed a miracle, and what had once seemed like the worst night of his life had somehow become one of the best.
The kind of night that made a musician want to grab his guitar and sit up until dawn, trying to re-create a memory in song.
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