When Baby Was Born

She glanced up, needing to see that confirmation in his face, and found instead some other man, not Cade, stood beside her. He looked like Cade, though, even if his nearness produced hardly a fraction of the same powerful reaction Cade’s did. He had Cade’s dark brown hair and whiskey eyes—eyes that were clouded with concern as he looked down at her.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, the sense that she’d had this conversation before immediately striking her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m afraid it’ll be difficult to get in touch should you need something on the road,” he said doubtfully. “Maybe we shouldn’t go—”

“Go! Go and don’t worry a minute about me. You won’t get this chance again for a long time once the baby comes,” she said with affection, touched by his concern.

The man smiled at her with the same fondness—but no more than that. “Well, at least you’ve got Cade’s contact

info if somethin’ happens,” he said. “Just explain what you need, and I know he’ll see to it.”

Regret filled his eyes, even as he said with quiet humbleness, “He’s one of the best, my brother. It isn’t in him to quit a person he loves—even when that person quits him. No, I never saw him give up on anything or anyone, no matter if sure defeat stared him in the eye.”

The tears dried on her cheeks as she stared at him in hushed silence, each word striking like the chime of a clock, deep and resonant, until all that remained was their memory in her heart.

The crying, though, went on…and on…and on—

“Sara. Sara, wake up.”

Sara came out of her dream like one drugged. With effort, she lifted her head and tried to orient herself in the darkened room. She still heard crying, and with a start, she realized it was her baby, lying next to her in the bed.

“Oh! Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry!” She’d pushed herself up on one elbow, blindly reaching for the babe, when a large hand on her shoulder urged her back down.

“Relax,” Cade murmured. “I’ll try to quiet the little mite while you get your bearings.”

She heard him pick up the infant, who continued to wail at an ear-piercing volume. Now fully awake, Sara tried to sit up, stifling a groan. Where right after the labor she’d been tired, now she ached all over, as if she’d climbed Mount Everest.

A lock of her hair got caught between her back and the headboard, and she tugged it free, gathering the whole damp mass of it in her hands and twisting it over one shoulder.

“All right, I can take him now,” she said, holding her arms out toward Cade’s shadowed form, dimly backlit by the pale light filtering in from the hallway. “And you may as well turn on a light. It doesn’t sound like he’s going to settle back down right away.”

“You sure?” Cade asked, holding the still-fussing infant, insignificant as a peanut against his broad shoulder, and patting his back.