Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 1) (32 page)

Chapter Sixty-One

    
 
T
imothy
heard his voice being called from somewhere in the fog. He could see into the mist and Rebecca was standing there, tears running down her cheeks. He could not move his legs to go to her. “Timothy,” she called to him again and he sat upright in the bed.

      Rebecca was not in the bed beside him. He pulled on his trousers hurriedly and heard her voice again.

      She was standing in the bathroom, an odd look on her face.

      “Oh, I’m glad you heard me. I think it’s time.” She gathered up the hem of her nightgown and blushed. “I think my water has broken.”

      Timothy Elgerson had practiced this moment in his mind a thousand times, yet none of what he had carefully planned came to him as he stood there in complete confusion.

      “Alright.” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair trying to think.

      “You need to go up to the house and get your mother, Tim. It’s time for the baby to come.” She spoke to him slowly, carefully.

      “Yes!” He turned to follow her instruction. “Wait, what about you?”

      “I’ll wait here.” She smiled.

      “Where’s Mark?” he looked around the hall where he stood as if he expected to see the boy.

      “He’s sleeping. I’m fine. Just go up and get your mother.”

      Before she could stop him he ran and woke the boy, instructing him to dress quickly and watch Rebecca and not let anything happen while he was gone. He threw on a shirt and ran up the hill to the main house.

      “Rebecca!” the boy gasped. “Are you okay?” He ran to her, flustered, and he saw her standing in her crumpled gown.  “How did you get all wet?”

      “It’s almost time for the baby to come. Remember how we talked about it floating?” Mark took her arm and tried to sit her in the chair in the hall.

      “Yes,” he replied, his eyes wide with fear.

      “Well, before the baby comes the water that’s it’s been floating in comes out. It’s perfectly normal.” She cursed Timothy for waking the boy, leaving her with such an awkward explanation.

      “Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “Cows do that, too.” Rebecca sighed.

      Rebecca was overcome with a powerful contraction and suddenly appreciated that Mark had put her in the chair.

      “What can I do?” The boy frantically wanted to help.

      Rebecca panted softly as the contraction passed.

      “It’s fine, Mark. It’s just the baby’s time to come and it’s very hard work.”

      “It looks like it. Does it hurt?”

      “Oh, yes,” she laughed.

      “Do you want something to bite down on?”

      “What?” She looked at the boy questioningly.

      “One of the men at the mill got a big splinter of wood in his leg once and they let him bite his belt while they pulled it out. I can look for Pa’s belt.”

      “No, thank you. I think I’ll be fine.”

      “Okay.” He watched the young woman closely.

      “Whiskey maybe? Sometimes people drink whiskey. They said it’s good if something really hurts.”

      Rebecca gasped and grasped the arms of the chair tightly.

      Mark watched her straining and remembered how helpless she had been the day he found her in the shack and how he had cared for her. Everyone told him he had done a good job of helping her and he wanted to do well now. Isabel had talked to him about how to not upset Rebecca in any way. His father had given him honest information on how babies were born, and how they came to be, but no one had told him how to get them born. He had witnessed many births of cows and horses at Stavewood, but he was certain a person having a baby had to be very different.

      He stood beside the woman, holding her wrist while she gripped the chair, and felt the strain in her arm. As soon as she began to relax he pulled a blanket from the bed and wrapped it gently around her shoulders and asked her if she wanted dry clothes so she didn’t catch a chill.

      “Thank you, Mark. No,” she whispered and began again to pant softly.

      “Does it feel like when you were hurt at the cabin?” He hoped that maybe if she kept talking she might not notice the pain so much.

      “No.” Rebecca looked up to his worried face. “It’s like a very, very tight squeeze. It’s very tight and then it stops for a minute. You just stay with me until the next one comes and your father brings Grandmother Isabel. That would be a great help.”

      She grasped his hand tightly as her next contraction began and Mark was shocked at how forcefully her tiny hand grasped his. He was taller than her now and he never realized she was so strong.

      As she relaxed again he heard the carriage pull up in front of the cottage, but he stayed by her side until Isabel and his father hurried in.

      Timothy rushed to Rebecca, still in his bare feet, his face taut with worry.

      “Rebecca,” Isabel squatted down to face the laboring woman as she panted softly. “The pains, are they close?”

      “Very!” Rebecca tried to force a smile as her contraction intensified.

      Isabel placed her hands gently on Rebecca’s abdomen and felt the intensity of her pain.

      “Mark,” she rose and faced the boy. “I want you to go with Grandfather Phillip to get the doctor. He’s waiting in the carriage. Do not let him drive like a crazy man. Do you understand? We’ll be fine until the doctor comes. Just make sure he doesn’t go too fast. Alright?”

      The boy nodded vigorously in agreement, looked at Rebecca worriedly and ran out to the carriage.

      “Timothy, I want you to strip the bed and make it up with those things I prepared, then come back here and help me get Rebecca into the bed.”

      The big man was relieved to have something to do and rushed to change the bed.

      “Tell me about the pains, Rebecca. Are they stronger in the front or against your back?”

      Rebecca whispered. “The back.”

      Timothy returned and helped Isabel, carrying his laboring wife into the bedroom where they situated her on the bed.

      “I want you to wait outside while I examine her, Tim.” Isabel’s voice was clear and controlled. “I’ll call if I need you.”

Chapter Sixty-Two

    
 
T
imothy walked from the room, feeling helpless at the sight of his petite wife straining on the bed. Isabel closed the door behind him. He sat on a chair with his head in his hands and sighed nervously.

      Isabel examined Rebecca carefully, running her hands along the woman’s abdomen as another contraction began and checked for the presentation of the infant’s head. Since losing babies of her own in childbirth, she had studied everything she could get her hands on and now she often assisted women in the area with their deliveries. Isabel examined Rebecca again and the young woman begged not to be touched. She was certain the baby was breech. If she could not turn the child it would not go well for Rebecca or the baby, and this was such a slight girl. Isabel became very concerned.

      Rebecca moaned and gritted her teeth, gripping the sheets tightly, her face contorted in pain.

      “Timothy, get in here!” Isabel called.

      The man rushed into the room, panting hard as he watched his wife struggling on the bed.

      “Timothy, I need you to help me turn her over. Do exactly as I say. You must help me to get her over onto her and knees and as soon as I tell you, then we must turn her back over onto her back and then get her upright. It is imperative that you do exactly as I say.”

      “Something’s wrong,” he groaned quietly.

      “We need to turn that baby, now do as I say!” Isabel’s commands were clear and concise and Timothy rushed to the bedside.

      “Yes, like that. Lift her and set her up on her knees with her hips elevated. Carefully, take her by the hips and lift. Yes, like that!”

      Timothy was alarmed, afraid that the rough handling of his wife would only hurt her further. He was unsure of how he could manipulate Rebecca as his mother instructed, without injuring his wife.

      Rebecca screamed out in pain, begging the man to let her be and she felt her baby shift inside her. Terrified, she begged him to stop.

      “Now, turn her over quickly!” Isabel directed him and he deftly turned Rebecca’s tiny body, slipping her on her back onto the bed. Isabel examined Rebecca again quickly. She was confident that the baby had turned and she felt Rebecca surrender to another contraction.

      “Timothy,” Isabel looked seriously at her strapping son. “I’m going to need you to help me hold her up. You can do it. You have to hold her exactly as I say and do not let her slip away. Get on the bed behind her.” Timothy stepped up on the bed, lifting Rebecca from behind, his face dark with fear.

      “You need to put your arms around her chest here.” Isabel grabbed Timothy’s arms firmly and crossed them beneath Rebecca’s breasts. “Lift her up so she is squatting over the bed. We need to keep that baby facing the right way and this will help Rebecca deliver more quickly.” Timothy was intensely afraid he would break the girl’s ribs, and struggled to hold her firmly, but do no damage.

      Rebecca screamed out as Timothy lifted her upright and then got on his knees behind her. He held her, squatting over the bed and the girl pushed, struggling against his broad chest.

      “Rebecca, listen to me!” Isabel took Rebecca’s face in her hands and spoke to her firmly, calling her name until she was sure Rebecca heard her.

      The girl moaned, trying to focus on the woman’s face through her pain and terror. She knew something was very wrong. Timothy’s grip on her was keeping her upright when all she wanted to do was collapse on the bed.

      “When I tell you to push, you must push, Rebecca. Even if you think the pain is going to pass for a moment, you cannot let it. You have to push.”

      Rebecca whimpered and begged them to let her be.

       “No, Rebecca. It’s time for your baby to come and you must do as I say.”

      “Timothy, please,” she begged through clenched teeth. “Put me down, please!” She tossed her head against his shoulder, crying and begging in pain.

      “Keep her up, Timothy. Do not let her slide down.”

      Timothy fought against his wife’s straining as she pushed with amazing strength against his expansive chest and he struggled to keep her lifted over the bed without crushing her. Rebecca’s body was slick with perspiration, and she pleaded again for him to release her.

      With his hands and arms across the top of her abdomen he could feel the strength of her contractions, and for a moment he opened his fingers against her straining pressure. He could feel the miracle of her body’s force as the muscles within her pushed to bring forth their baby.

      “Now! Push! Push as hard as you can!” Rebecca strained violently, groaning with effort, her back solidly against Timothy as she pushed into his unyielding strength and her contraction overcame her. As the pressure began to ease, Isabel shouted to her through the fog of her labor.

      “Keep pushing, Rebecca. Push! It’s almost here. Honey, you must push! Timothy, tell her!” Isabel shouted.

      “Push, Rebecca! Please, push now!” His voice was deep and his words were hot in her ear. She grimaced with pain, put her chin on her chest and pushed with all of her might to free her baby.

      She fell back against him as she felt the release, shaking and begging for it to be over.

      “Again, Rebecca. Push again! The baby’s head is here, honey. You need to push once more!”

      “No, no more,” Rebecca cried pitifully.

      “Our baby is here, Rebecca! Push one more time!” Timothy whispered to her as he felt another contraction compress her slender body.

      Timothy and Rebecca’s baby slipped into Isabel’s waiting hands and the infant let out a lusty wail.

      “It’s a girl! You have a baby girl!” Isabel inspected the baby quickly, setting her on the bed for a moment while she pressed Rebecca’s belly firmly to finish the delivery.

      Rebecca screamed in agony and collapsed back into her husband, trembling and in tears.

      “You can lie her down now.” Isabel dried the infant quickly and swaddled her tightly once she had tied off the cord.

      Timothy let his wife fall against him and cradled her in his arms. Her face was pale and beautiful and she tried to whisper his name as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. He gathered her exhausted body and kissed her cheek. Stepping off of the bed, he lifted her gently, her body quivering with exhaustion, and placed her tenderly on the bed.

      “Timothy,” she looked into his fatigued eyes. “The baby, is the baby alright?”

      “She’s perfect and beautiful, Rebecca!” Isabel answered. She walked to the bed and lay the tiny bundle in Rebecca’s arms as Timothy lifted her up to sit upright, holding her as she accepted the newborn from Isabel’s loving hands.

      Rebecca looked down at the tiny infant and gasped. “Oh, my,” she whispered.  Placing the baby on her lap, she unwrapped her carefully and studied her daughter. She touched the baby’s solid chest and stroked her little bowed legs.

      “She is so small!” Rebecca caught her breath as the dainty infant squeaked. She swathed the baby carefully and lifted her gently, turning to her husband and looking into his astonished eyes.

      “Timothy, I need you to take the baby into the other room while I examine Rebecca and clean her up.” Isabel watched the couple with her new granddaughter, pride swelling in her chest.

      Timothy took his newborn daughter into his immense hands and held her before him reverently, carrying the child out of the room as though she might break at any moment.

      Isabel could not contain her amusement and laughed aloud as she closed the door to the room.

      She pressed Rebecca’s belly firmly, while the petite woman squirmed, and assured her that everything was perfectly normal. She helped her to a chair and quickly changed the bed. After putting her into a fresh gown, she situated Rebecca as comfortably as possible in the bed.