Mountain Midwife

Usually, there was an implied trust between midwife and mom, but this situation was anything but usual. As Rachel hooked up the fetal monitor, she tried to be conversational. “When is your due date?”

“Two days from now.”

“That’s good. You carried to full term.” At least, there shouldn’t be the problems associated with premature birth. “Is there anything I ought to know about? Any special problems during your pregnancy?”

“I got fat.”

Rachel did a double take before she realized Penny was joking. “Are you from around here?”

“We lived in Grand Lake for a while. I went to high school in Granby.”

“That’s where I live,” Rachel said. “Is your family still in Grand Lake?”

“It’s just me and my mom. My dad left when I was little. I never missed having him around.” She touched her necklace and rubbed her thumb over the shiny black pearl. “Mom gave me this. It’s her namesake—Pearl. She lives in Denver, but she’s house-sitting for a friend in Grand Lake.”

They weren’t too far from there. Grand Lake was a small village—not much more than a main street of shops and lodging for tourists visiting the scenic lakeside. “Should I try to contact your mother?”

“Oh. My. God.” Penny rolled her eyes. “If my mom knew what I was up to, she’d kill me.”

Her jaw clenched, and Rachel talked her through the contraction. Penny must have had some Lamaze training because she knew the breathing techniques for dealing with the pain.

When she settled back against the pillows, she said, “If anything happens to me, I want my mom to have my baby.”

“Not the father?”

“Mom’s better.” She chewed her lower lip. “She’ll be a good grandma if I’m not around.”

Considering a premature death wasn’t the best way to go into labor. Rachel preferred to keep the mood upbeat and positive. “You’re doing fine. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Do you believe in premonitions? Like stuff with tarot cards and crystal balls?”

“Not really.”

“My friend Jenna did a reading for me. Hey, maybe you know her. She lives in Granby, too. Jenna Cambridge?”

“The name isn’t familiar.”

“She’s kind of quiet. Doesn’t go out much,” Penny said. “Every time I visit her, I try to fix her up. But she’s stuck on some guy who dumped her a long time ago. What a waste! Everybody falls. The trick is to get back on the bicycle.”

Though Rachel wasn’t prone to taking advice from a pregnant criminal who didn’t trust the father of her baby, she had to admit that Penny made a good point. “Doesn’t do any good to sit around feeling down on yourself.”

“Exactly.” She threw up her hands. “Anyway, Jenna read my cards and told me that something bad was going to happen. My old life would be torn asunder. Those were her words. And she drew the death card.”

Her friend Jenna sounded like a real peach. Pregnant women were stressed enough without dire warnings. “The death card could mean a change in your life. Like becoming a mom.”

“Maybe you’re right. I have changed. I took real good care of myself all through the pregnancy. No booze. No cigs. I did everything right.”

Except robbing a casino. Rachel finished hooking up the monitor and read the electronic blips. “Your baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.”

When Cole returned with the raspberry tea, Rachel moved into the familiar pattern of labor—a combination of her own expertise and the mother’s natural instincts. Needing to move, Penny got out of the bed a couple of times and paced. When she complained of back pain, Cole volunteered to massage. His strong hands provided Penny with relief. He was turning out to be an excellent helper—uncomplaining and quick to follow her instructions.

When the urge to push came, Penny screamed for the first time. And she let go with a string of curses. Though Rachel had pretty much heard it all, she was surprised by the depth and variety of profanity from such a tiny woman.

Cole looked panicked. “Is this normal?”

“The pushing? Or the I-hate-men tirade?”

“Both.”

“Very typical. I bet you’re glad you took the gun away.”

“Hell, yes.”

A mere two hours after Rachel had arrived at the house, Penny gave birth to an average-sized baby girl with a healthy set of lungs.

Though Rachel had participated in well over two hundred births, this moment never failed to amaze her. The emergence of new life gave meaning to all existence.

Postpartum was also a time that required special attention on the part of the midwife. Penny was leaking blood onto the rubber sheet they’d spread across the bed. Hemorrhage was always a danger.

Rachel held the newborn toward Cole. “Take the baby. I need to deal with Penny.”

Dumbstruck, he held the wriggling infant close to his chest. His gaze met hers. In his eyes, she saw a reflection of her own wonderment, and she appreciated his honest reverence for the miracle of life. For a tough guy, he was sensitive.

Her focus right now was on the mother. Rachel urged, “You need to push again.”

“No way.” With a sob, Penny covered her eyes with her forearm. “I can’t.”

She had to expel the afterbirth. As Rachel massaged the uterus, she felt the muscles contract, naturally doing what was necessary. The placenta slipped out. Gradually, the bleeding slowed and stopped.

Cole stood behind her shoulder, watching with concern. “Is she going to be okay?”

“They both are.”

Penny forced herself into a sitting position with pillows behind her back. “I want my baby.”

With Cole’s help, Rachel clipped the cord, washed the infant and cleared her nose of mucus. The rest of the cleanup could wait. She settled the new baby on Penny’s breast.

As mother and child cooed to each other, she turned toward Cole in time to see him swipe away a tear. Turning away, he said, “I’ll tell the others.”

“Whoa, there. You’re not leaving me with all the mess to clean up.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Rachel sank into a chair beside the bed and watched the bonding of mother and child. Though Penny hadn’t seemed the least bit maternal, her expression was serene and gentle.

“Do you have a name?” Rachel asked.

“Goldie. She’s my golden child.”