offering him much reassurance.
“Have you done anything like this before?” Donovan probed.
“I’ve never had to.” She had turned her back on him again. “This is only my seventeenth baby. But I know how. I’ve read about it.”
“Read about it! Good Lord, woman—”
“Would you rather do it yourself, Mr. Cole?” Her Yankee voice crackled like splintering ice.
Donovan surrendered with a ragged sigh. “All right. What can I do to help?”
“Come on.” With an abrupt swish of petticoats, she strode behind the quilt, where Varina sprawled damp, tearful and exhausted on the rumpled sheets. Donovan’s heart contracted at the sight of her. His questions about Sarah Parker evaporated as he knelt to take his sister’s hand.
Sarah had taken a tin of greasy salve out of her satchel and was rubbing the stuff on her hands. “How long ago was the last pain, Varina?”
“Three…maybe four minutes.” Varina’s tired voice was so faint that Donovan could barely hear.
“We’ll wait for the next one to pass. Then I’ll try and turn the baby.” Sarah hesitated, then continued. “It will hurt. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but—”
“I know,” Varina whispered. “It’s all right. Do what you have to. And Sarah—”
“Yes?”
“If it’s a question of saving me or the child…I want this baby to live.”
“Hush!” As Sarah leaned over to squeeze Varina’s hand, Donovan caught the glint of tears in her eyes. “Don’t talk that way, Varina Sutton! You’re going to be just fine, and so is your baby!”
Varina did not answer. Donovan watched the contraction take his sister. He watched it seize her swollen body in its cruel talons, squeezing and twisting until he wanted to scream for her.
“Get ready.” Sarah shot him a hard glance through her round glass spectacles. “As soon as the pain eases, you hold her. Keep her as still as you can.”
Donovan nodded, his throat too constricted to speak. He clasped Varina’s hands, noticing how weak her grip was. She was nearing the end of her strength.
Varina’s fingers began to relax as the pain diminished. Donovan could feel Sarah’s presence in the tiny enclosure. He could sense the exquisite tension in her as she waited, drawing into herself like a cat preparing to spring.
“Now!” she exclaimed, shifting her position to the foot of the bed.
Donovan clasped his sister in his arms and held her with all his strength. Varina’s nightdress, draped between her raised knees, blessedly screened Sarah from his view. But he could imagine what she was doing. He could feel every move she made in the agonized spasms that racked Varina’s body. And once more, silently this time, he prayed.
Seconds oozed past like drops of blood. Varina’s raw, anguished breathing rose to a gasp as she bit back the pain.
“It’s all right, Varina.” Sarah spoke with effort from the foot of the bed. “It—it won’t be much longer now. I’m going to count to three, and when I do, you’re to scream for all you’re worth! Do you understand?”
“The…children,” Varina murmured weakly.
“They’ve gone to Mr. Ordway’s. They won’t hear you.” Sarah’s shadow danced on the wall as she raised the lantern and set it on the washstand, then repositioned herself over the bed. “When I count three, now. One…two…three!”
Varina screamed. She screamed with the pent-up agony of hours. She screamed for Charlie, crushed in the mine. She screamed for Virgil, shattered by mortar fire at Antietam. She screamed for her own lost girlhood, and for the grace of a life that had vanished with the war’s first shot.
Donovan squeezed tears from his eyes as her anguish knifed through him. If Varina survived this, he vowed, he would do anything to see her happy. He would work his fingers to the bone, risk anything to provide her with the comforts that footloose Charlie Sutton had never managed. Varina and her children were his only living kin. He would see that they never wanted for anything. He would-”It’s done!” Sarah gasped. “Varina—the baby’s turned!`Now—quickly, when the next pain comes—push! Push with all your might!”
Varina’s next contraction came on the heels of Sarah’s words. Shifting his position, Donovan cradled his sister’s shoulders with one arm. Her frenzied fingers gripped his free hand as she bore down.
“Push…push…”
Donovan could hear the midwife urging as Varina gasped and strained. The two women were working together now, battling for the baby’s life. Donovan could not see Sarah, but he could sense her agitation. He could hear the ragged little sobs of her breathing as she echoed Varina’s effort. “Push…oh, yes, yes!”
Varina went limp in his arms as the new life slid out into the world. Donovan heard the sound of a sharp slap; then, miraculously, a thin, mewling cry.
“Oh!” Sarah’s voice was husky with awe. “Oh, Varina, it’s a boy! You have a beautiful little son!”
Varina stirred, moaning softly.
“Did you hear?” Donovan’s own eyes were damp. His arm tightened around his sister’s shoulders. “You’ve got a boy! Listen to him squall!”
Varina lay still for a moment, then rallied. “Let me see him,” she whispered. “Give him to me, Sarah—”
“As soon as I cut the cord and wrap him up.” Sarah fumbled with the knife and string behind the veil of Varina’s nightdress. A moment later she straightened into full view, a tiny, squirming bundle in her arms.
“Here’s your new son, Varina!” she exclaimed, her face glowing.
As she bent over the bed, Donovan noticed that the pince-nez glasses had dropped off her nose and were dangling from a cord pinned to her shirtwaist. Her eyes were a luminous silver gray, framed by thick, lustrous lashes. Tendrils of light brown hair had escaped their tight bun. They framed her sweat-jeweled face in damp, curling wisps. Her mouth, curved in a tender smile, was as softly inviting as a ripe peach.
Again, that sense of recognition stabbed Donovan’s memory, this time with a force that made him reel. What the devil was going on here? He could have sworn on a stack of Bibles that he’d never seen Sarah Parker outside Miner’s Gulch. And yet-”Give me my boy!” Varina gathered the pucker-faced infant into her trembling arms. “I’ve got a name for him already. Charles Donovan Sutton—for his father and his uncle.”
“That’s fine, Varina.” Distracted once more, Donovan gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He didn’t relish the thought of his own name being coupled with mutton-headed Charlie’s, but if that was what his sister wanted-”We won’t be needing you anymore, Mr. Cole.” Sarah’s crisp voice broke into his thoughts. She’d replaced her spectacles, Donovan noted, and tucked the loose tendrils of hair behind her ears. “If you’ll be so kind as to leave us, I’ll wash Varina and get her settled.”
“I’ll
