Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(25)

“Duncan’s crowning, Katie. I can see his head. He’s got hair! It’s dark. Do you want the mirror?”

She let out a sob, covered her eyes, and held up a hand for him to wait. “I loved him, so much. Tony. My parents, my brother, his family. My family. They’re all gone. The babies. The babies are all I have left of my family. I’m all they’ll have.” She wiped her eyes. “I want the mirror, please. I want to see them born.”

He adjusted it until she nodded. Coached her through the next contractions, then through the pushing.

She didn’t speak of loss again, but bore down like a warrior in battle.

Duncan, with his dark hair and waving fists, came into the world yelling. His mother laughed, held out her arms.

“He’s got good color, and damn good lungs.” Jonah wiped off the down, laid the baby in Katie’s arms. “I’m clamping off the cord.”

“He’s beautiful. He’s perfect. Is he perfect? Please.”

“We’re going to weigh him and get him in the warming tray. He sure looks perfect.”

“He … He’s going for the breast!”

“Well, he’s a guy.”

“The books say, especially with preemies … He’s latched right on! He’s hungry. And— Oh God, she’s coming. She’s coming.”

“Antonia doesn’t want to get left behind. Let me put him in the tray.”

“No, no. I’ve got him. He’s hungry. I need to push!”

“Okay, a good one now. You can do better.”

“I’m trying!”

“Okay, hold it. Relax, relax, breathe. I’m going to need one more. One good, strong one. She’s ready. Look at the mirror, Katie. Push her out.”

She sucked in her breath, let it out in a low, keening wail. Jonah cupped the head, turned the shoulders, and Antonia slipped into his hands.

“There she is.”

“She’s not crying, she’s not crying. What’s wrong?”

“Give her a second.” Jonah cleared out the baby’s nose, mouth, rubbed the tiny chest. “Come on, Antonia. We know you’re no crybaby, but your mom wants to hear from you. She’s just taking her time. She’s fine. The light’s in her, not the dark. I see life, not death.”

“What—”

“And there.” Jonah grinned as the baby let out a high wail, an insulted, annoyed little sound. “She’s pinking right up. Just wanted to take stock first, that’s all. She’s a beauty, Mom.”

Katie cuddled her. “Look at her sweet little head.”

“Yeah, her brother hogged all the hair. Give her some time, she’ll outdo him there. Cutting the cords. If he’s finished his snack, I want to clean him up, weigh him, check a couple of things. You’ve got another round with the placenta.”

“It’s got to be easier than delivering twins.”

Jonah took Duncan, carefully cleaned him, checked his heart rate and reflexes, weighed him. “He comes in at six pounds, two ounces. That’s a solid weight, even for a full-term single. Good job, Katie.”

“She’s watching me. I know that’s probably not true, but it’s like she’s looking at me. Like she knows me.”

“Sure she does.” Staring at the baby in his hands, Jonah felt … triumph, and a quiet, steady love.

“I want to put Duncan in the warmer for a bit. I need your girl, too. I’m going to hunt you up something cold to drink,” he told Katie as he cleaned Antonia. “Some food if I can find it. And your girl weighs in at five pounds, ten ounces. Good for her.”

“Contraction.”

“Okay, let’s get it all out. Nice and clean. Got a pail here. Just shove it out, champ.”

When it was done, Katie lay back, said nothing while Jonah wiped the sweat from her face. Then she gripped his hand.

“You said you could see life, not death. Light, not dark. And when you did, when you said that … you were different. I could see something different.”

“I was a little caught up in the moment.” He started to step back, but she tightened her grip, looked at him.

“I’ve seen things in the last weeks. Things that don’t make sense, things out of books and fantasy movies. Are you one of them? One of what they’re calling the Uncanny?”

“Look, you’re tired, and I’ve got to—”

“You brought my son and my daughter into the world. You gave me a family again. You gave me…” Tears streamed out as her voice quavered. “You gave me a reason to go on living. I’ll be grateful to you every day for the rest of my life. Grateful every time I look at my children. I have children. If part of the reason I have them is you having something, being something, I’m grateful for that, too.”

When his eyes teared, he found himself clinging to her hand like a lifeline. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t know. I can see death coming in someone, or injury. I can see how it’ll happen, and I can’t make it stop.”

“You saw life in my babies, and in me. You saw life. I know what you are. You’re my personal miracle.”

He had to sit on the side of the bed, to gather himself. “I was going to kill myself.”