Thorn in My Heart (63 page)

How dare he ask God for forgiveness when he could not forgive himself? When his sins were without number?

O God, in the multitude of thy mercies, hear me.

Duncan rested a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing for a time, only squeezing it now and again. “Your wife's in pain, Jamie, make no mistake. A woman in travail has naught but sorrow, for she kens her hour has come.”

As though in answer, Leana moaned loudly, calling his name. “Jamie! Jamie!”

He shot to his feet and pounded on the door. “I'm here, Leana! I'm here.”

“Sit ye doon, lad. Ye've no business in there.” Duncan tugged him back to his seat, a wry smile on his craggy face. “Just pray she only calls ye Jamie and not somethin meikle worse, eh?”

“But I have to
do
something, Duncan.
Listen
to her.” He pressed his hand to his mouth, stifling his misery.

“Ye'll wait, Jamie, like every faither has waited since Adam himself. ‘Twill be the most helpless hours of yer life, for ye canna do ane thing to help her. But fear not. As soon as she's delivered of the child, she won't remember the pain for the joy that yer son is born.
Yer
son, Jamie. Are ye hearin what I'm sayin to ye?”

Jamie dropped into his seat and hunched over, his hands pressed to his head. “You've cut me to the quick, man. I hardly know what to say or do.”

Duncan snorted mightily, then laughed a great, rolling laugh that came from his chest. “ ‘Twill be the easiest thing done in this house today. Ye're goin’ to beg God for mercy, Jamie. Ye're goin’ to pray like ye've niver prayed before. No young man of my acquaintance has ever needed mercy more and deserved it less, but ye'U ask for it, and Almighty God will give it to ye because he can. D'ye believe that, Jamie?”

I will never kaveyou.
Jamie gulped. “I believe it, aye.”

“Say the words with me, lad, for ye learned them at yer faither's knee: ‘Have mercy upon me, O LORD; for I am weak.’ ”

Jamie choked out the words. “Have mercy upon me, O LORD, for I am…weak.”

“Aye, that's the way. Ye are weak, Jamie, but there's not a man who isn't, if he's honest. What ye're doin now is the strongest thing a body can do.” Duncan rested a hand on Jamie's shoulder. “Now ye're going to pray for the courage to love and respect yer wife. Can ye do that, lad? Can ye pray sic a thing and ken that yer words are bein heard?”

“Aye.” Jamie fumbled for his handkerchief. “Aye, Duncan, I can. And I will.”

“Guid. I told ye these words afore, the day ye heard aboot the babe. Now ye need tae speak them for yerself, Jamie. Will ye say them after me? ‘Husbands, love yer wives.’ ”

“Husbands…” Jamie broke down. Nothing would come but groaning.

Duncan's voice was low but sure. “Take yer time, lad.”

Like granite chipped from a Dalbeaty quarry, the truth finally came out. “I am not…a husband.”

“Aye, but ye are. The law and the Lord say so.” Duncan moved closer, stretching his arm across Jamie's shoulders, his own gruff voice strained to the breaking point. “Come, we'll say it together. ‘Husbands, love yer wives.’ ”

“Husbands…love your wives.”
Forgive me, Leana.

“Aye, that's good, Jamie. ‘Even as Christ also loved the church.’ ”

“Even as Christ also loved the church.”

“And so he did. Now the last of it: and gave himself for it.’ ”

The hardest of all.
“And gave himself for it.”

“That's how much love Leana deserves, Jamie. All you can gie her.” Duncan stood with a grunt, then squeezed Jamie's shoulder with affection. “Ye ken what else needs to be said and done this night. I'll be in by the hearth if ye need me.”

Jamie nodded, blowing his nose. He was ashamed of many things but not of his tears. Not now, not with Duncan. Duncan cared about him. It was plain as day on the man's face. Leana loved him too, and that was plainer still.

Left to himself, Jamie bowed his head, pressing his forearms into his knees, and said the only thing left to say.
Hear me, God. Hear me.

On the other side of the door, his wife called for him again, her voice pleading. “Jamie! Jamie!”
Leana.
She loved him completely. And he needed her love. Desperately.

Please, God, help me love her in return.

Jamie clenched his hands together, determined to keep praying until his prayer was answered.
Please, God, help me love her in return.

A Man like to me,
Thou shalt love and be loved by, forever.
A Hand like this hand
Shall throw open die gates of new life to thee!

R
OBERT
B
ROWNING

H
e must love you, lass, to stand so close to your door.”

Leana looked at Mistress Bell through a sheen of unshed tears. “Who?” she whispered, her throat parched, her lips so dry she feared they might stick together. “Who is close by the door?”

“Your husband, of course. The one you keep calling for.”

Jamie.

Leana fell back on the pillows, already exhausted, yet strengthened by the thought of him so near. Jamie, the man she loved and would always love, even if he never loved her in return.

In a corner of the shadowy room she spied her sister, looking forlorn. “Rose,” Leana called, holding out a weak hand. “Come closer, dearie.” Before Rose could move, another spasm racked Leanas body. Nedas hand clasped hers with a comforting grip while Leana bore the pain as best she could. When Leana opened her eyes, Rose was there, hovering nearby, her eyes wide with fright.

“Leana,” she whispered. “Are you…” ones hne.

Neda spoke too sharply, Leana thought.
Poor Neda.
Always protecting her like the mother she was. Leana reached for her sisters hand. “Rose is worried because.

“Aye, because of yer mither. I should have realized.” Nedas features softened as she slid her arm around Roses waist and pulled her close. “Agness McBride would be proud of ye both tonight, behavin like sisters, helpin each other.”

A stream of tears started down Roses cheeks, but she would not let go of Leanas hand to dry them. “Leana,
Ym…I'm…sorry”
The word came out on a sob.

“I know you are, dear sister. So am I. Sorry as can be.” The pain came again, stronger, more insistent. She could only squeeze the hands that held hers and endure. It finally passed, followed by a short spell of blessed relief.

“Lass, tell me quick.” Neda leaned forward, searching her face. “D'ye have yer mither's blue thread on yer person? Always wise to carry it aboot when ye're near the end o’ yer time. The fever and all.”

“Nae, I…nae.” Leana struggled to marshal her wits. “When Mother died, Father was beside himself. He…he cut off the thread and threw it in the fire.”

Neda's eyes widened. “I'd completely forgotten! Och, lass, that does not bode well.” The housekeeper turned toward the other women of the parish behind her. They shook their heads, their faces anxious, their whispers tense.

Leana tried to sit up, determined to say what she must before she could say nothing at all. “Neda, you were the one who told me the child was a gift from God, aye?”

“Och! Ye ken verra well that I did.”

“Then trust the Almighty to bring this babe into the world.” Leanas words faded into a groan. She felt the baby turning, moving, fighting. Seized with a fresh stab of pain, she drew her knees toward her distended belly, groaning through another contraction, then fell back a minute later, grateful for a moment to breathe. They were coming closer.
Soon, soon.

Neda bent over her, wiping her brow with a cool cloth. “Are ye sayin ye want to put aside the auld ways, Leana?”

“Aye, that's it.” Leana sighed, grateful she understood. Almighty God had no need of rusty nails or fir candles or spoonfuls of salts. “See that the women hold their Bibles over me. And pray.”

Neda nodded, then stepped away to tell the others. Leana could hear their agitated murmuring somewhere on the other side of the fog that enveloped her birthing bed. No matter. God alone would see her through.

Day turned into night, and still she labored. She breathed when she could, screamed when she needed to, and prayed without ceasing. The room was a cave, and she was trapped in its black center, clawing the sheets, begging for deliverance.
Help me, Lord
, Rose stayed close by, her hands clasped, her eyes beseeching. “Don't die, Leana!” she whispered. “Don't die!”

“I'm not dying, Rose,” she assured her between gasps. “Pray…pray for the baby to come.”

A distraught Jamie burst into the room at one point, shocking the poor women senseless. In the darkened room—the candles burned down to stubs, her pain unending now—Leana could barely see him oudined by the flickering light of the hearth. She said his name, though it sounded more like a groan. “Jaaamieee…”

“Please, Neda!” His voice was desperate, pleading. “Please, she's calling me. Can't you hear her? I need to see my wife. Just for a moment, please.”

But Neda brooked no visitors in a birthing room and hastily pushed him back out the door. “It won't be lang now, lad, and ye'll have her all to yerself. Patience, Mr. McKie.”

Leana watched him leave, his broad shoulders sagging.
Poor Jamie.
She prayed for him to be strong and for God to be stronger still. For her sake. For their sons sake. She had no doubt it would be a boy
Ian.
That would be his name.
Gift from God.
Aye, the perfect name.

Then all conscious thought flew from her head.

The end had come.

“Almost, Leana.”
Nedas voice.
“Ye're so close, lass.”
Push.
“There's the head. I see it!”
Deep breath.
“Wait now, wait…and…push!”

The women circled the bed, their heavy family Bibles held high, their voices lifted up as well. “Deliver her, Lord!” When the child came at last, a lusty cry pierced the air, and all joined in the chorus, Leana the loudest among them.

“Yer son is born!” Neda crowed, gathering the slippery bundle into her arms while Leana lay there, exhausted and drenched with tears, able to do litde more than open her eyes. She heard Jamie outside the
door, banging on the wood, begging to know if she was well, if the babe was well.

“Someone tell Jamie,” Leana whispered hoarsely, watching Neda quickly bathe the whimpering infant. At last the babe, wrapped in fresh linen, was tucked into her waiting arms. How snugly he fit, how right he felt!

Neda kissed them both, her eyes brimming with tears. “Well done, lass. Well done.”

Leana nodded her thanks and pressed her lips against his tiny head, still wet from the water, still warm from her body.
Ian.
His hair was dark brown and soft as down, like his father's. “Welcome, Ian James McKie,” she whispered. “God has given me the gift of you this night, and I will praise his name forever.”

“Leana?” Neda leaned over her, brushing her damp hair away from her brow, a smile in her voice. “There's a braw young faither here quite beside himself to have a word with you. Might you gie him a bittie of your time?” Neda stepped back and motioned Jamie forward. “She's all yours, lad.”

Leana gazed over Ian's head and watched Jamie move toward the bed while Rose, a hand pressed against her mouth, eased away, disappearing into the shadows. Jamie did not look at Rose or at Neda. He did not even look at their newborn son. He looked at her, his wife. Straight into her eyes, as though stunned at the sight of her.

“Jamie.” She tried to wet her lips but could not. “I must look a fright.”

He knelt down on one knee beside the bed. “You look like the mother of my son.” Placing one trembling hand on hers and the other on their son's head, he bound them together with his touch. Neither of them could speak for all that was in their eyes.

The room grew quiet around them as Neda ushered the neighborhood women gendy out the door, sending them home to worried husbands and hungry children. The housekeeper was the last to leave, her face hopeful as she closed the door behind her.

All was silent but the fire in the hearth.

“Leana, will you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” She thought she had cried all her tears while she labored, but she was wrong. “I will do better than that, Jamie McKie,” she whispered. “I will always love you. Always.” When his face crumpled and he fell against the bed, she comforted him, smoothing back his hair. “Jamie, sweet Jamie. My love for you gives me the strength to forgive anything.”

His words were muffled. “You are more than I deserve, Leana.” After a moment he lifted his face to meet her gaze. “You are the blessing of God to me. I know that now.”

“And here is another blissin.” She nodded at the babe and held him out a bit. “Will you take your son?”

Jamie straightened, wiping a sleeve across his face, then gingerly gathered up his son and peered into his tiny face, awed. “He looks like…”

“Aye.” She laughed softly. “A twin of you.” When the child began to fuss, she held out her arms. “Better let me feed the lad. You'll stay and keep me company?”

Jamie slowly placed the infant back in her arms, then stood to his feet while she attended to the hungry newborn, kindly averting his eyes while she struggled to get the child setded. When she looked up with a small sigh of relief, Jamie was gazing down at her again, his face full of a yearning she'd not seen before. “Leana, would you believe me if I told you that God once spoke to me in a dream?”

She thought before she answered, stroking Ian's head as she did. It was clear Jamie had given the question a great deal of thought. “Aye, I believe God might speak to you while you are sleeping, Jamie. Heaven knows, I do.”

“You do?”

“Aye.” She smiled. “When you're snoring beside me, I can say anything I like to you and never be interrupted.”

The babe in her arms wriggled, and both of them laughed. “Already this one has found a way to come between us,” she teased.

“Nae.” Jamie was suddenly serious. “Nothing will come between us again.”

She shook her head, the smile gone from her voice. “Please do not make promises you cannot keep.”