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When Daniel and Annie arrived, both Adam and Rebecca were in the bedroom, holding Jesse’s hands while she moaned in pain. Annie took Adam’s place and he went out to fall weakly on the couch.
“How’s it going?” Daniel asked.
“Rebecca says she’s doing fine. Everything as it should be. But it sure is good to see you.”
“Annie wanted to come. Doctor on the way?”
“Brian went for him about two o’clock this morning. He should be back by now.” The anxiety Adam had managed to keep hidden from his wife found its way into his voice.
“I heard there was an outbreak of fever up at the Navajo camp.”
For a moment, Adam stared at him. “Oh, God! If he went up there, Brian’ll never get him back in time.”
“I could go get Mother.”
“Would you?” Adam leaped to his feet and herded Daniel toward the door. “Take Apples, he’s the fastest. Here’s your hat. My saddle’s on his stall.”
“Can I take my coat, too?”
“Take anything you want—just go! Now!”
With the woodsman gone, Adam began to pace up and down in front of the hearth, smoking incessantly and listening to his wife’s moans. On occasion, Annie or Rebecca would come out for fresh towels or water and tell him Jesse was doing fine. He struggled to believe them, and her first scream hit him like the blow of an ax. He stood still then, just outside the bedroom door, ready to run to her if she called for him. Or if she were afraid. He was standing there when his mother arrived.
The sun had passed its zenith; he couldn’t believe so much time had passed. Molly took his hand and guided him to the rocking chair.
“Sit here, acushlah,” she said as if he were a child. She brushed his black hair back. “You need your hair trimmed, my lad.” He gave her a half-hearted smile as she squeezed his hand. “There is no need to be afraid. She will be fine. The baby will be fine, I feel it. Do you remember your Gran said the sorrowful times are over?”
“Almost,” he replied, “almost over.”
“Yes, for she knew that she would soon leave us, and that we should have sorrow for that. She said you would find great happiness. Have you?”
“Yes.” It was like a prayer, reverent and low.
“Then believe in it. Believe in your grandmother’s vision.”
Adam’s eyes popped open as Jesse screamed. “Go to her,” he begged. “Help her.”
“Yes, acushlah, and soon we shall have another little Donovan.”
Daniel came in moments later and Adam held out a hand to him. “Thanks. For bringing her. And for bringing Annie.”
“How is she?”
“They’re still telling me she’s fine. But, brother, it sure don’t sound like fine to me.”
As if to punctuate his sentence, Jesse screamed again, her voice starting as a low rumble, then traveling up the scale to a note that would make a prima donna envious. He heard his mother soothing her, saw Annie run out to the kitchen with the black bag, heard Rebecca’s voice in encouragement. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the sounds any longer, and an old, melodious voice whispered in his ear. All will be well.
Molly had sent Annie out to prepare a tisane for Jesse. She’d listened to the beating of the baby’s heart, felt the strength of the last contraction, and determined that Jesse’s small body was ready to deliver her baby. The tea, when it came, was comprised of white willow bark, which would dull the mother’s pain without making her lethargic, and trillium, or Indian shamrock, to strengthen her womb and her contractions. Jesse drank it without protest. Within minutes, whether by nature’s design, or God’s or the medicine’s, Molly was holding the baby’s head.
“All right, mavourneen, one more time for the shoulders, then it will be easier. There’s a good girl.”
Annie and Rebecca stood on either side of the bed, Jesse clenching their hands hard. Her moan escalated to a scream but she continued to follow Molly’s direction, as the perfect little baby fought his way into the world.
Molly bound the cord in two places and cut it swiftly; she cleaned the infant, clearing his tiny nose and mouth. Then she picked him up and jiggled him, slapping him gently on the seat to make him breathe. He let out a lusty yell, and Jesse opened her eyes wide, reaching for him. Molly swaddled him and laid him on his mother’s breast. She touched the tawny head and said, “You’ve done a wonderful job, mavourneen. He’s beautiful.” But Jesse didn’t look up.
Molly washed her hands and left the room. Her eldest son stood outside the bedroom door. Brian had made it home, too, and was just taking off his hat and coat. Daniel sat by the fireplace and they all beamed when she said,
“Another little Donovan baby. My son...” She took Adam’s hand and squeezed it as her voice dropped a notch. “You have a son.”
“Thank you.” He hugged her hard. “Is she all right? Can I see her? Can I see him?”
“She’s fine. They’re both fine. Give us just a few minutes to straighten up.”
He nodded speechlessly and turned to his brothers, found himself enveloped in Brian’s bear hug. Scarcely able to breath, he hugged his twin back. Then Daniel was pounding on his shoulder so hard it staggered him. He couldn’t say a word as they congratulated him—his wife was fine, and his baby was alive. He hadn’t realized the depth of this fear, but its sudden absence made him dizzy. Then his mother beckoned to him from the doorway.
He went in slowly, quietly, as Annie and Rebecca came out. Approaching the bed with reverence, he saw his infant son at his mother’s breast. He went down on his knees, put his head on her pillow, stroked her hair, then touched his son’s perfect little cheek.
Annie was peeking around the door, and motioned for the others to come close. They heard him say, “Oh, Jesse, mavourneen, I love you so much.”
“Acushlah,” he said to the baby, “you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Except for your mother.” Raising his head, he asked, “Does he have a name?”
“Kevin.”
“Kevin.” He’d been sure she’d choose Brian. “But Jesse, you said...”
“I said ‘after’,” she said with a sly look. “‘After all your brothers.’ And ‘K’ comes after ‘J’, doesn’t it?”