Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(4)

Fred blinked at tears. “It was you-know-what A, and awesome.”

Will bent over, kissed the top of Arlys’s head. “You stagger me,” he told her.

“It felt … right. Once I got over the hump, it just felt right. How long was I on?”

“Forty-two awesome minutes.”

“Forty-two.” She swiveled in her chair. “I shouldn’t have kept the twins at it so long. I’m so sorry, Katie, I just lost track.”

“They were fine. I kept track,” Katie assured her. “They’re going to need a nice long nap.” She glanced toward Hannah, curled up and sleeping in Bill’s lap. “Like their sister. You look like you could use one. That had to take a lot out of you. You look a little pale.”

“Actually, I think about five minutes in, I think I started having contractions. Maybe actually before that. I thought it was nerves.”

“You—what? Now?”

Arlys gripped Will’s hand. “I’m pretty sure we should go see Rachel. And I think it’s—Okay!”

She braced one hand on the table, and squeezed Will’s hand—bone against bone—with the other.

“Breathe,” Katie ordered, hurrying over to lay a hand on Arlys’s rock-hard belly, and began to rub in circles. “Breathe through it—you took the classes.”

“Classes my ass. It doesn’t hurt like this in classes.”

“Breathe through it,” Katie said again, calmly. “You just did the first New Hope simulcast while in labor. You can breathe through a contraction.”

“It’s easing off. It’s easing.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Will muttered and flexed his aching fingers. “Ow.”

“Believe me, that’s not even close to ow.” Arlys blew out a strong breath. “I really want Rachel.”

“Me, too.” Will levered her up. “Let’s take it slow though. Dad?”

“I’m having a grandchild.”

Katie lifted Hannah from his lap. “Go with them.”

“I’m having a grandchild,” Bill repeated.

“Fred?” Arlys looked back. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Really? I can? Oh, oh boy! I’ll run over and tell Rachel. Oh boy! Chuck.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’ll pass. No offense, Arlys, but, uh-uh.”

“None taken.”

“We’re having a baby!” Fred spread her wings and flew out the basement door.

Duncan walked to the door to watch them all go. “He wants to come out.”

Katie shifted Hannah. “He?”

“Uh-huh.” Tonia walked over to stay with Duncan. “What’s he doing in there?”

“That’s another story,” Katie told her. “Come on, kids, time to go home. Good work, Chuck.”

“Best job ever.”

Over the next eight hours Arlys learned a number of things. The first, and most urgent for several of those, was that contractions got a lot harder and lasted a hell of a lot longer as labor progressed.

She learned, not with any surprise, that Fred was a cheerful and tireless co-coach. And Will—no surprise, either—was a rock.

She got reports—a fine distraction—that her broadcast had reached at least the twenty miles out where Kim and Poe had traveled with a laptop on battery.

She sure as fuck learned why they called it labor.

At one point she dissolved into tears and had Will wrapping his arms around her. “It’s almost over, baby. It’s almost over.”

“Not that, not that. Lana. I thought of Lana. Oh God, Will, oh God, to have to do this alone. Without Max, without Rachel, without us. To be alone and doing this.”

“I don’t believe she was alone.” Fred stroked a hand down Arlys’s arm. “I really, really don’t. On the night—I could feel it. A lot of us could. The birth of The One. She wasn’t alone, Arlys. I know it.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay. Okay.” When Will brushed her tears away, she managed a smile. “Almost over?”

“He’s not wrong. Time to push,” Rachel told her. “Will, support her back. Next contraction, push. Let’s get this baby into the world.”

She pushed, panted, pushed, panted, and eight hours after she made broadcast history, Arlys brought her son into the world that was.

She learned something more. Love could come like a bolt of light.

“Look at him! Look at him.” Exhaustion fell away in stupefied love as the baby cried and wiggled in her arms. “Oh, Will, look at him.”

“He’s beautiful, you’re beautiful. God, I love you.”

Stepping back, Rachel rolled her aching shoulders. “Will, do you want to cut the cord?”

“I …” He took the scissors from Rachel, then turned to his father, saw the tears on his cheeks.

He’d lost grandchildren in the Doom. A daughter, a wife, babies.

“I think Granddad should. How about it?”

Bill swiped fingers under his glasses. “I’m honored. I’m a grandfather.”

As he cut the cord, Fred swept the room with rainbows. “I’m an aunt, right? An honorary aunt.”