A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(62)

She took a sip, then closed her eyes to wait until the next contraction wracked her body. When she’d given birth to Gretchen, the birthing pains had been more gradual, not so painful all at once.

If only Mutter were there.

Sorrow slipped around Annalisa’s chest, mingling with the pain of her birthing, taking away all the anticipation she’d had for the new baby.

Mutter wouldn’t be coming to help her—would never be there ever again.



Another spasm hit her, and she tried to hold back a scream. But with each agonizing cinch, a cry tore from her lips and filled the small cabin.

“Gott, help me!” Her stomach gurgled with the need to vomit, as she already had several times.

Carl reached for her hand. “I would trade places with you if I could.” Misery laced his voice.

He’d done everything just as she’d instructed him from what she could remember Mutter having done during Gretchen’s birthing—giving her spiced ale, warming water for the baby, and finding clean linens. Without the midwife, who would have brought a birthing chair, Carl had helped her position herself and had cushioned her with fresh hay.

He pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. “I must get help. I have to ride to town and get Frau Pastor. She’ll come. I know she will.”

“You’re still too weak to ride.”

“I have to try . . .” His voice cracked. “I cannot sit back and watch you suffer this way.” But even as he stood, he began to sway.

“I’ll be fine . . . Really, the pain is normal . . .” She shook her head at him, huffing through another contraction.

He sat back down on the edge of the bed. The unshaven scruff and unruliness of his hair, the thinness of his cheeks, and the dark circles under his eyes all testified to the fact that he still wasn’t well, that he should be the one in bed, not her.

“I cannot bear to see you in so much pain,” he said, gently sliding a hand over her cheek.

His attention was so sweet. She knew she should send him away, that no man should have to witness the intensity and pain a woman went through during childbirth. He was worrying altogether too much.



But she didn’t want to be alone, couldn’t bear the thought of having to go through the experience without anyone by her side.

When he bent his head toward hers and let his lips touch her forehead, she could almost believe that he truly cared about her.

“Annalisa.” He pressed another kiss to her hot skin, this one against her temple. “Please keep trying. I don’t want to lose you, and Gretchen doesn’t either.”

At the mention of Gretchen’s name, fresh strength enveloped her. Women died in childbirth all the time. Wasn’t that why Idette had married Leonard? Because his wife and baby had both died during the birthing, leaving him all alone with the other children?

Annalisa would not let that happen to her. She couldn’t leave her daughter to fend for herself.

Another wave of agony gripped her, and a cry slipped from her lips even though she tried to hold it in.

Carl began praying aloud with earnest pleas.

She cried out silently with her own prayer, not sure if Gott would hear her, but hoping He was at the very least listening to Carl.

“Take away her pain, Lord,” she heard Carl say. “Please take it away. Give it to me instead.”

Even through her agony, she almost smiled. “The pain’s worth it,” she said, as the squeezing subsided in her abdomen.

“I want to kill Hans for doing this to you.”

This time her smile broke free. “Women have been giving birth like this since the beginning of time.”

He shook his head, and disbelief filled his dark eyes. “I’ll never put my wife through such pain.”

She gave a soft laugh. “We can’t have the beauty and miracle of new life without going through the hardship.”

Her words made her pause. She couldn’t have anything that was truly worthwhile without fighting for it—her farm, her family, and perhaps even love.

Maybe she hadn’t fought hard enough for love in the past. Maybe through all the pain and heartache she needed to keep fighting and believe in true love.



The stream of sunlight from the window and soft whimpers awoke her. She pushed up from the bed, sticky with sweat and blood. How long had she been asleep?

Her gaze darted around the cabin before landing on Carl, asleep in the chair next to the bed. A strand of hair hung haphazardly across one of his eyes. Weariness had carved grooves into his face. But there was something else there too, something she couldn’t read.

She shifted her attention to the bundle in his arms. A tiny fist poked through Carl’s attempts at swaddling, followed by a newborn grunt. Bittersweet joy sifted through her again as it had earlier when she’d held her baby for the first time—joy over this new life mixed with sadness that her mutter was gone.

Carl’s eyes flew open, and he tenderly adjusted the swaddling so that it covered the baby’s hand. Then very slowly, as if afraid of awakening the baby, he cradled the infant closer to his chest.

Annalisa didn’t breathe for a long moment. She couldn’t. The tenderness of his gesture was so unusual and so infinitely beautiful it took her breath away. She’d never seen a grown man hold a newborn. Most left all the caring of infants to the women.