move him there?’ Rayne said quietly.
‘I could, but he needs to do a sequence. He needs to learn to poke out his tongue before he attaches, and he’ll get there under his own steam at just the right moment.’
‘He’s only half an hour old.’
‘That’s why a baby stays skin to skin on his mother’s chest for that first hour. Shouldn’t get nursed by anyone else or have needles or get weighed or anything. It gives them the chance to do all this and the breastfeeding rates go through the roof if the baby attaches by himself. You watch.’
Baby was bobbing his head up and down like a little jack-in-the-box, and Maeve saw him narrow his gaze on the left nipple and lean towards it. Tiny jerking movements, and shoulder leans, and hand scrunching, and slowly his body changed angle, his neck stretched, and incredibly he was almost there. Another wriggle and head bob and stretch, a series of little tongue peeps as he began to edge closer.
‘Come on, little guy,’ his father whispered, and she had a sudden vision of Rayne on the sideline of a tiny tots soccer game, being the dad yelling, ‘Go, son!’
‘Do you like Connor as his name?’
Rayne looked at her. Grinned. ‘Spelt with two ns.’
‘Lord, yes. As much as I like the Irish version of Conor, this child will not go through life having to spell his name, like I did.’
‘Or have people say “Rain, as in wet?”‘
‘I was teasing.’
‘Beautifully.’ He leaned across and kissed her and in that moment her world was complete. ‘I think he looks very much like a Connor.’
‘You can choose the second name.’ She saw his face shutter. Felt the withdrawal.
‘I didn’t do enough to warrant that privilege.’
She felt the slap of reality right when she didn’t want to. Acknowledged he was feeling inadequate, and maybe even vulnerable at the moment but, hey, she was the one with no clothes and had exposed herself to the world. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Then try harder.’
She searched in her mind for a way to make him see that unless he wanted to, they would never lose him. ‘Besides, he’s going to cost you a fortune.’
He grinned and she saw the tension fall from his shoulders. Saw his look at her and the comprehension of how adroitly she’d manoeuvred him. Given him something he really could do, regardless of his parenting skills. His smile had a touch of the old bad-boy Rayne who’d been missing for the last few hours. ‘In that case, how about the middle name of Sunshine?’
She knew he was kidding. She hoped he was kidding. ‘Is that Sunshine from Rayne?’
Just then Connor found the nipple, poked out his tongue, opened his mouth wide and swooped. On! And didn’t let go. Maeve gasped and smiled. ‘That feels really weird.’
Rayne sat back in wonder. Tara leaned in from passing by and nodded. ‘Good work, young man.’
‘Connor.’
‘Nice name. Welcome, Connor.’ And she smiled at them both.
‘Connor Sunshine.’
‘Really?’ She grinned at Maeve, who glared briefly at Rayne before looking back at her son. ‘Awesome.’ Then Tara had a brief feel of Maeve’s belly, to check her uterus was contracting, gave it a little rub, then went back to sorting the room and writing the notes.
‘You should’ve seen your face.’
But Maeve had moved on. Was gazing down at her son, whose jaw was working peacefully, his hands each side of his mouth, fingers digging into her breast every now and then. And all the while his big dark eyes stared up into her face. A swell of love came out of nowhere. Like a rush of heat. Her baby. She would protect this tiny scrap of humanity with her last breath.
‘He’s incredible,’ she whispered, and all joking disappeared as they both watched him.
The next fifteen minutes were very peaceful. They didn’t talk much, mostly just stared, bemused at the new person who had entered their lives and would change them as people for ever.
Until Maeve felt the first wave of dizziness and realised the wetness beneath her was spreading and she was beginning to feel faint.
Rayne watched the downy jaw go up and down on Maeve’s breast and marvelled at the dark eyes watching his mother. He could feel his heart thawing and it wasn’t comfortable. Maeve had had his baby.
He thought about the last twenty-four hours. Driving to Lyrebird Lake, not knowing if she would see him. Or knowing if that powerful current between them from the night so long ago had been real or instigated by the events that he’d known would follow.
Then seeing her this morning, pregnant, catching her as she’d fallen, daring to calculate on the slightest chance it could possibly be his child when Maeve should never have conceived. His fierce exultation that had drowned out his shock.
The swell of emotion was almost a physical pain in his chest as he went over the last tumultuous few hours of labour and finally the birth. Now here he was. A father with his son. A helpless newborn with him as a father. At least Connor had a father.
‘Take him, Rayne.’
‘He’s still drinking.’ Rayne was glued to the spectacle but something in her voice arrested him.
‘Started bleeding,’ she said faintly. ‘Get Tara.’ Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted like she had when he’d first seen her, only this time he caught his son.
Rayne’s heart rate doubled. ‘Tara!’ Hell. He scooped Connor off his mother’s chest as Maeve’s arms fell slack, wrapped him in the bunny rug that had covered them both under the big blanket and hugged him to his chest as he leaned over Maeve.
Connor bellowed his displeasure at being lifted off his mother and automatically he patted his bottom through the rug.
Tara scooted back to the bed from her little writing table in the corner, lifted the sheet and sucked in a breath at the spreading stain on the sheets that just then flowed down the sides of the bed. ‘Hit that red button over there for help and grab the IV trolley. We’ll need to insert cannulas.’ He saw her slide her hand over Maeve’s soft belly, cup the top of her uterus through the abdominal wall and begin to rub strongly in a circular motion as he forced himself to turn away and do what needed to be done.
Once he’d pushed the emergency bell, he strode into the treatment room he’d cased earlier and grabbed the IV trolley and pushed it back towards the bed, not as fast as he’d have liked because it was awkward with his son tucked like a little football against his chest. Connor had stopped crying and when Rayne glanced down at him his dark eyes were wide and staring.
Put the cannulas in. That he could do. He glanced around for somewhere to put Connor. Saw the little crib and tucked him in quickly. Connor started to cry.
‘Sorry, mate.’ He could find and secure veins on tiny infants so he should be able to do it on someone bigger. Someone he couldn’t afford to lose.
