Second Chance Pass (Virgin River #5)(110)

“You sure?” Paige asked.

The baby, not out yet, began to cry. “Hear that? I’m sure. Bring her out, Paige, easy does it.” The baby slid neatly into Mel’s hands and screamed bloody murder. “Oh boy, she’s strong! Listen to those lungs! And big!” She put the baby in her newborn towel, placed her on Paige’s belly to dry her off. That done, she clamped and cut the cord. Preacher stood on shaky legs, watched the cutting of the cord and slid weakly into the chair again, groaning. Mel tried not to laugh.

She rewrapped the baby and passed her to Paige. After a little snuggling, she helped Paige settle her baby to the breast, since Preacher wasn’t going to be able to do it. “John, I want you to keep your eyes up here, on your wife and baby. All right?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I still have delivery work to do, there will be blood, and I don’t want you to faint.”

“I won’t faint,” he said.

“You do as I say,” Mel told him.

“Here, John,” Paige said softly. “Look at your girl. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Mel was massaging the uterus when she heard a sound. She looked up over Paige’s raised knees and saw a most stunning sight. Big old Preacher was resting his lips against the baby’s head and crying his eyes out. Huge tears ran down his cheeks and dropped onto the newborn’s head. He slipped a meaty arm under his wife’s shoulders, holding her and the baby as one, and sobbed.

Remarkable. Paige just smiled and touched her husband’s face with gentle, loving fingers. Mel was moved almost to tears herself by the big man’s emotion. He worshipped his wife, his little family, and he was so grateful, he was overwhelmed. It was so gratifying to help bring a child into a union of such devotion. It was what she lived for.

Her work was not done; the placenta had not delivered. A midwife friend who was older than Mel by twenty years had given her a tip years ago that seemed like sheer magic, yet worked. Mel looked at Paige and said, “Paige, time to let go of the placenta, please.” Then she got back in her position, massaged a little more and, remarkably, the job was done. She shook her head and chuckled to herself. People who didn’t do this all the time would simply never believe it.

Mel finished her work, let the baby suckle awhile to get the uterus contracting and stanch the bleeding. She examined her patient—no stitches necessary—then covered her and took the baby. “Let’s clean her up,” she said softly. “People will want to see her soon.”

Preacher sniffed back his tears, wiped at his face. But when he spoke, his voice was still weak with emotion. “God, Mel—thank you. Thank you so much. You took such good care of her. Of them.”

“They did most of the work. Help me, Preach. Help me wash the baby.”

She unwrapped the newborn and placed her in Preacher’s palms; his large, soft, gentle palms. Mel coaxed him to lower her into the bath and carefully ran a warm cloth over the little body, cleaning her off.

“Look at those big feet,” Preacher said. “Look at that tiny little head.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Mel held the towel. “Right here, Preach,” she said.

Preacher laid the baby in the clean towel and Mel wrapped her. “Take her out in the hall to show Doc. But please, stay upstairs for now. I’m going to do a little cleanup and you can bring her right back in.”

Mel didn’t want Preacher in the room when she handled the cleanup of his wife, the changing of bloody sheets. And she didn’t want him carrying the baby down the stairs in case he got light-headed again. She worked faster than usual. “How are you feeling?” she whispered to Paige.

“Like I’ve been up all night.”

Mel palpated her uterus. “You’re already contracting like mad. That uterus is getting nice and firm.” She smiled at her patient. “He’ll be okay now, I think.”

“Poor John. That was harder on him than me.”

“The bigger they are…” Mel laughed.

Her work was done by 7:00 a.m. Preacher was seated at Paige’s side, holding his baby daughter. Mel went downstairs and stepped out into the fresh, bright morning. She stood on Doc’s porch and heard the sound she loved. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Jack was splitting logs behind the bar. She walked across the street.

She leaned on the corner of the building, watching him. Her mind wandered back in time to her first delivery in this town—a one-hundred-percent-successful delivery much like the one she had just assisted. Then, as now, she had crossed the street and watched Jack as he hefted an ax over his head and brought it down. Watched the muscles in his arms and shoulders at work and admired his hard good looks.

When he saw her, he leaned the ax up against the stump and went to her. She smiled and walked into his arms. He crossed those arms under her bottom and brought her up to his face. “It was perfect,” she said.

“I love the way those babies light you up.”

She kissed him deeply and his arms tightened under her.

“How are they doing?”

“Preacher’s a little wobbly, but Paige and the baby are great.”

“He’s been looking forward to it for so long,” Jack said.

“He might’ve gotten himself a little too worked up. Maybe he peaked too soon,” she said. “Did you sleep?” she asked, touching his hair.