“Okay. I’ll have the ambulance people bring in a stretcher.”
“There’s a bag packed ready for going into hospital. It’s in my bedroom, along the hallway on the right.”
“I’ll put it by the front door. Is it all right for me to leave you for a minute?”
“Yes.”
But the moment he left the study the pain cut through her again. She struggled out of the chair and leaned against the desk. Somehow that was easier for her to manage the contraction than from a seated position. Peter came back, stood beside her, stroked her hair, making her choke up at the unexpected gesture of tender caring from him.
“Won’t be long before the ambulance arrives,” he murmured sympathetically.
Tears swam into her eyes. She couldn’t speak. It ran through her mind that if she had told him about her pregnancy, maybe he would have looked after her. Independence was all very well—she had coped—but it had been very lonely and she was intensely relieved not to be alone right now, to have Peter taking charge of everything.
He remained by her side; in the ambulance, at the hospital, in the labour ward. No one questioned his right to be there. The nurses seemed to regard him with awe, quickly answering anything he wanted to know. Dr Davis also treated him with considerable deference as he monitored Erin’s labour, assuring them both that everything was proceeding normally.
It never once occurred to Erin to protest his presence. Although he hadn’t declared himself the father of her child to all and sundry, there was no denying he was, and she wanted him with her at the birth. However deep their differences, they had made this baby together and it felt right for their child to be welcomed into the world by both parents.
The contractions were coming fast. She barely had time to catch her breath in between the waves of pain. Peter sat beside her, watching anxiously, giving her his hand to grip, repeating what the doctor said—head engaged, won’t be long, bearing down soon— as though she couldn’t hear for herself, or he needed to assure himself that this agony had a short time limit.
Erin didn’t try to speak. She’d stipulated a natural childbirth, thinking she might never have another child and wanting to remember everything about having this one. Her entire concentration was focussed on willing her baby to make a safe journey from her womb, imagining every pain as a positive step forward. The urge to push came suddenly and was almost uncontrollable.
“Not too hard, Erin,” the doctor instructed. “Slow it down if you can, a nice, gentle passage, no tearing. Yes, that’s good…coming now…head in my hands…”
She felt a rush of release, heard her baby cry, and tears welled into her eyes.
“It’s over…over,” Peter murmured huskily, gently wiping the trickle of moisture spilling down her cheeks.
“You have a healthy baby boy,” the doctor declared. “And despite being a month early, he’s a good birth weight, Erin. Nothing for you to worry about.”
The assurance brought a further gush of tears. She’d worried so much about so many things, but now her baby was safely born and she didn’t have to let Peter Ramsey know he was a father because he was right here, and he couldn’t be angry with her for giving him a son, could he? There was no anger at all in the caring way he was mopping up her emotional spillover, trying to calm her down with soothing words.
“It’s okay, Erin. You did it. And the baby’s fine. I’ll bring him to you.”
He rose from his chair. She realised he must have been anxious about the birth, too, worrying over having brought on premature labour by raging over her decisions. He probably felt the same overwhelming relief she did. It would be silly to read too much into his caring for her. She was the mother of his child—reason enough to set other issues aside for a more appropriate time.
“Cord clamped. All wrapped up ready to go,” Dr Davis said cheerfully, laying their newborn son in the crook of Peter’s arm. “We’ll just clean up here, then leave the three of you together.”
Three…
Linked for the rest of our lives, Erin thought, watching Peter’s face as he looked down at the baby who would be part of his future. How large a part would Peter want? A whimsical little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he murmured in a bemused tone, “He’s so little.”
You’re so big.
“Won’t be when he grows up,” Dr Davis remarked knowingly. “He’s a long baby. Going to be a tall boy.”
Peter’s smile widened into a grin. Just like me, was written all over it. Would the likeness make his paternal possessiveness stronger? Fear fluttered through Erin’s heart. What if he fought her for more than his fair share of their child? She held out her arms, wanting to hug her baby to herself.