When Baby Was Born. Jodi O'Donnell
peered about for clues. On the passenger seat lay a road atlas with a route from Albuquerque to Oklahoma City highlighted in yellow. Except no—Sara said she’d come from the east.
What was in Oklahoma City that she’d have been returning from—alone?
He opened the compartment between the bucket seats. Some change, a paper clip, that was about it. There wasn’t much else in the car—no clothes, an old receipt, not even a CD or cassette tape which might have given him an idea what kind of person owned the vehicle.
Then he opened the glove box. There, he found an operator’s manual—and the registration.
With fingers deadened by the cold, Cade tried to remove it from its plastic sleeve and failed. He held it up to the light and caught only glare off the plastic. Damn it! He turned it, and the names became readable.
Loren and Sarah McGivern.
Cade sat for some time slumped in the driver’s seat of the car. His feet were frozen, his hands were frozen. He was numb clear through to his bones, and still he continued to sit staring at the paper in his hands.
He couldn’t stay there forever, though. He needed to get back and take care of his brother’s wife and son.
The dream was all flashes of impressions and vague images.
She was back in labor, although there was no pain. Just the fear. Instead of wanting the baby to come, she resisted. It was too early, much too early. She couldn’t lose him!
It made her cry, great keening wails that seemed to come up from the depths of her being. The sound of her cries stopped dead in the air, though; no echo came back to her, answered her.
Alone. That’s how alone I am. The realization was like an arrow through her heart, making her cry harder. She didn’t think she could endure it. She had to, though. She had to—for this child she wanted and yet didn’t want.
What kind of woman did that make her?
Then she felt Cade’s presence there beside her, enveloping her, connecting with her and pulling her back from the depths of hopelessness with his touch and solemn vow: Wherever both of you came from, darlin’, you’re here now—in my house, in my bed, right where you need to be. For now, you’re mine. You belong to me. And I won’t let you down.
Peace settled in her like a dove alighting on a branch. Yes, Cade was there. He wouldn’t leave her, no matter what.
She glanced up, needing to see that confirmation in his face, and found instead some other man, not Cade, stood beside her. He looked like Cade, though, even if his nearness produced hardly a fraction of the same powerful reaction Cade’s did. He had Cade’s dark brown hair and whiskey eyes—eyes that were clouded with concern as he looked down at her.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, the sense that she’d had this conversation before immediately striking her. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m afraid it’ll be difficult to get in touch should you need something on the road,” he said doubtfully. “Maybe we shouldn’t go—”
“Go! Go and don’t worry a minute about me. You won’t get this chance again for a long time once the baby comes,” she said with affection, touched by his concern.
The man smiled at her with the same fondness—but no more than that. “Well, at least you’ve got Cade’s contact
info if somethin’ happens,” he said. “Just explain what you need, and I know he’ll see to it.”
Regret filled his eyes, even as he said with quiet humbleness, “He’s one of the best, my brother. It isn’t in him to quit a person he loves—even when that person quits him. No, I never saw him give up on anything or anyone, no matter if sure defeat stared him in the eye.”
The tears dried on her cheeks as she stared at him in hushed silence, each word striking like the chime of a clock, deep and resonant, until all that remained was their memory in her heart.
The crying, though, went on…and on…and on—
“Sara. Sara, wake up.”
Sara came out of her dream like one drugged. With effort, she lifted her head and tried to orient herself in the darkened room. She still heard crying, and with a start, she realized it was her baby, lying next to her in the bed.
“Oh! Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry!” She’d pushed herself up on one elbow, blindly reaching for the babe, when a large hand on her shoulder urged her back down.
“Relax,” Cade murmured. “I’ll try to quiet the little mite while you get your bearings.”
She heard him pick up the infant, who continued to wail at an ear-piercing volume. Now fully awake, Sara tried to sit up, stifling a groan. Where right after the labor she’d been tired, now she ached all over, as if she’d climbed Mount Everest.
A lock of her hair got caught between her back and the headboard, and she tugged it free, gathering the whole damp mass of it in her hands and twisting it over one shoulder.
“All right, I can take him now,” she said, holding her arms out toward Cade’s shadowed form, dimly backlit by the pale light filtering in from the hallway. “And you may as well turn on a light. It doesn’t sound like he’s going to settle back down right away.”
“You sure?” Cade asked, holding the still-fussing infant, insignificant as a peanut against his broad shoulder, and patting his back.
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