When Baby Was Born

Abruptly, her face contorted with pain, and she sagged forward, hands spread on her stomach. Cade was by her side in a single stride, supporting her under her elbow as the contraction intensified, her fingers gripping his forearm, before it finally ebbed.

“How far apart are they?” he asked, still steadying her while she caught her breath.

She rubbed her forehead distractedly, as if that caused her pain, too. Had she hit her head and that was the reason for her memory loss? Cade wondered. Or had someone hit her?

The thought roused a fury of protectiveness in him.

“Maybe ten minutes or so,” she answered. “I haven’t been keeping track.”

“Well, let’s make sure we do that next time.” Her face sheened with perspiration. “Should you be up walking right now?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never had a baby before…at least I d-don’t think I have,” she said, that quaver creeping back into her voice, making him even more ashamed.

She was right, of course. The doctor had been extremely clear about a lot of things, but mainly that if Cade was this woman’s only source of support to get through this, then it was up to him to convey to her complete reassurance and trust in him. “The more fearful she is,” Doc had said, “the more she’ll like to have trouble. You know that, Cade. One of your mama cows goes into labor, ’specially for the first time, it’s a loving hand and calming voice that’s going to see her safely through.”

But this is no cow! Cade had thought, as just now he’d said.

Which he shouldn’t have. He hadn’t mentioned the amnesia to Doc, his own instinct deeming such information best kept to himself for now. Who knew the trouble this Sara might be in, or who in actuality had “sent” her here.

He decided he’d also keep the observation to himself that whoever or whatever force had sent her was about as reliable as the Texas weather outside, and she’d be wise to hitch her hopes to a different star from now on. Because while he’d delivered hundreds of calves, it wasn’t a process that came to him instinctively. That had always been Loren’s particular gift.

Whatever the case, as she’d said, he was all she had to depend on right now, as much as Cade might wish differently.

He noticed her watching him, as if actually looking for that sign, just as she had when she’d gazed at him from his bed.

Cade realized he still held her arm, and he released it.

“All right, let’s forget the third degree for now about why you’re here,” he said, pushing the hair off his forehead and back across his scalp. “The next contraction that comes, let’s keep tabs on how long it goes on and how long till the next one. Do you feel more comfortable walking around?”

“For now, yes.”

“Do y’know if you had a suitcase or some clothes other than what you’ve got on?”

“Th-there was nothing in the car. Not even a purse.”

The question seemed to upset her again, so he moved on. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I seem to remember stopping for…something on the way here,” she said with that certain vagueness he’d seen in her before. He chose to ignore it, since it tended to make him second-guess anything she told him.

“So that was some time ago. Doc said we need to keep your energy up but didn’t think you’d be wantin’ anything solid.”

She confirmed that assumption with a nod.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of broth or the like. I think there’s some orange juice, though. Would you like some of that?” he asked gruffly.

“Oh, yes,” she said with a grateful smile, the first he’d seen from her. And damn if it didn’t take him by surprise, stealing his breath away.

It was just a shade crooked, with one corner denting in, creating a dimple, while the other side of her mouth curved up. Combined with those blue eyes, it was about as fascinating as finding the first wildflower in spring.

Which made it doubly hard to do what he needed to next. He may as well get it over with.

“I…uh, I also need to get an idea of how the baby’s going to be presenting, so I can tell Doc.” Cade extended one hand, indicating her bulging waistline, and asked, “Do you mind?”

She shook her head.

Uncomfortable as hell, he hovered tentatively over that roundness before he gritted his teeth and touched her. Even through the corduroy of her jumper, he could feel how taut and smooth her skin was. He moved his hand downward, feeling for the baby’s backbone, hoping—there was that word again—to detect it pressing up against the wall of her womb. If the baby wasn’t in the normal position and they’d be dealing with a complicated birth, Cade didn’t know what he’d do.

“You’re right, I’ve done this hundreds of times with a pregnant heifer,” he murmured, more for himself than for her. But never a woman.

His touch, he was glad to note, seemed to calm her, for she put her hand over his and moved it over a spot on her belly. “Is that a foot there?”

The firmness of her swollen pregnancy captivated him, so much so he didn’t answer her. Every bit of her was baby, and despite the fear she’d expressed that she wasn’t ready to go into labor, he didn’t see how she couldn’t be. She was so fine-boned and slim, he wondered how she had been able to carry such weight. Wondered how she would look without it.

Who was she and why couldn’t she remember that? He’d have to find that note of hers and take a good look at it, see if he could tell who’d sent her into the great wide lonesome of West Texas to hook up with a perfect stranger.

And by God, where was the man who’d given her this child? If it’d been him, Cade knew nothing between heaven and hell could have made him leave her side.

He lifted his eyes to find Sara’s upon him, questioning—but hardly indignant at his familiarity. And oh, so very blue. She may doubt it, but some real instinct of his own told him: Sara was her name.

And he would have to get a handle on himself if he was going to make it through this.

Cade stepped away. “Far as I can tell, the baby is presenting properly. I’ll call the doctor back and get instructions on what to do next if you’ll time any contractions while I’m gone.”

He grabbed up his watch from the nightstand and handed it to her without even asking if she had one. But he needed to get out of there, away from her, just for a while, like a man needing to fill his lungs before diving back into the deep blue sea.

Cade gathered an armful of clean blankets and sheets from the linen closet and swung by the downstairs bathroom for a box of sterile gauze, a bottle of antibacterial soap and some rubbing alcohol before heading upstairs to his bedroom again. Doc Barclay had given him a bunch of instructions and told him to round up the supplies he’d need, most of which he didn’t have on hand and would have to improvise. He was going to have to use a couple of large plastic trash bags in lieu of a plastic sheet to protect the mattress. Luckily, he’d found a new pair of shoestrings in a drawer. Doc said that would be best for tying off the umbilical cord. The kitchen shears would have to do for cutting the cord after the baby was born. As for a syringe to suction the baby’s nose and mouth, all he had was an eyedropper. That’d do the trick.

At least he assumed it would. He and Doc had been cut off in midconversation when the phone went dead. Obviously, the storm was doing its share of damage. Cade took a measure of comfort in knowing that the generator would keep the furnace running, even if the electricity went out.

He’d hate, though, to deliver a baby by the meager glow of a flashlight. He was already enough in the dark as it was.

At the thought, his hands shook so hard he dropped the rubbing alcohol. The bottle bounced off the step and all the way down to the foot of the stairs, from where he retrieved it.

He had to get a grip on himself. Maybe he’d do better to separate himself a little from the situation, as he did when delivering calves. He’d have liked a tad more experience with women in general, however. But since Marlene, he hadn’t done much associating with the fairer sex.

With a start, he remembered the letter, still unread, on his bed stand. He’d forgotten it in all the commotion. Well, he’d no time to read it now. Yet he knew that particular moment of reckoning would have to come sooner or later.

Entering the room and setting the supplies on the dresser, Cade turned to Sara. “Doc said as long as you felt up to walking you should do it. It increases the effectiveness of the contractions,” he rattled off, avoiding her eyes. He refrained from calling her Sara outright. It kept the distance between them. “What are we talkin’ about so far as those?”

“The last one was about forty-five seconds long, seven minutes ago.”

“Do they feel like they’re getting stronger and closer together than they were before?”

She cradled her belly. “Y-yes,” she said softly.

“Then it looks like we should get prepared to deliver a baby,” he said, matter-of-fact. He brushed past her, going to the bed and stripping it. He wadded the used bedclothes in a ball and tossed them toward the doorway to remind him to put them in a load of wash. He didn’t have that many changes of sheets, and they were going to need at least two or three.

With silent efficiency, he made up the bed again, making sure he padded the middle with several layers of towels and arranging the pillows in a stack so when the time came for her to give birth, her back would be supported and she’d have leverage to push through the contractions.

Cade paused, not facing her. “I don’t really have anything like a nightgown for you to change into, but maybe that clean shirt of Virgil’s on the dresser will at least cover the vital areas. There’s some antibacterial soap there, and washcloths in the bathroom down the hall. You’ll want to wash up best you can. I’ll—I’ll give you a chance to change while I check on the water I’ve got boiling on the stove.”

He plain couldn’t look at her as he left the room again. She would know as well as he did that modesty would soon take a back seat to urgency.

Talk about really being exposed—and vulnerable.

Downstairs, Cade stalled for ten minutes, busying himself with sundry tasks, before venturing into the bedroom again to be greeted by the fetching sight of Sara in his ranch hand’s chambray shirt.

She swam in it, the tails hanging to her knees and the sleeves engulfing her hands as she clutched the neckline together. The color of the shirt brought out the blue in her eyes, making them shimmer as she looked askance at him.

She seemed so much an innocent girl in her daddy’s nightshirt and not a mother about to give birth that he had to remark, “Dang if Virgil’s shirt doesn’t fit you to a tee.”

Her frown was just as engaging as her smile had been.

Cade noticed that the toes of one bare foot curled over the other. “Here, let me get you some socks to keep your feet warm.”

He fetched a pair of his own from a drawer, and it seemed the considerate thing for him to put them on her himself, rather than make her struggle with bending over.

Going down on one knee, he patted his thigh for her to put her foot up, which she did while clinging to the bedpost for balance. Cade realized right away that while it was polite, it was also the wrong move so far as his composure was concerned.

Because she wasn’t a girl. She was all woman, no mistake. Holding her slender ankle, sliding one of his rough woolen stockings over her soft foot and tugging it over her delicate heel, being close to her and having the womanly scent of her overtake his senses…all of it nearly overwhelmed him, it had simply been so long since he’d been close to a woman this way. It was like that tidal tug he’d experienced earlier, making him want to slide his hand up her calf, over that fascinating indentation behind the knee, and further up—

“Oh!” she cried, and a gush of fluid poured down her legs and pooled on the floor in front of him.

In one motion, Cade came to his feet and grasped her upper arms in support as the contraction rocked through her. Eyes squeezed shut, she clutched her belly, gasping. “Oh…God.”

“Deep breaths now,” he counseled, even as he tried to count the seconds in his head. Where in hell was his watch? “Exhale. Get that air out for me. Now a deep breath in. That’s it.”

Sara was flushed and perspiring and shaking on her feet by the time the contraction passed. He eased her down on the bed then sidestepped to the dresser, grabbed a couple of towels, and dropped one to the floor to mop up the puddle. The other she used to dry herself. When she’d done with that, he got her a fresh one to hold between her legs in case of another onslaught.

Yup, so much for modesty.

Glancing up at him in apprehension, she asked, “H-how long was the contraction? I couldn’t tell.”

“So far as I could make it, it lasted about a minute.” He spied his watch lying on the sheet next to her and noted the time. “Looks like we’re moving right along,” he said as confidently as possible. He was doing a little sweating himself.

She nodded, obviously trying to take her cue from him. He could see she was scared, though. Scared as hell. “I—I think I’d like to lie down now.”

He didn’t question her, had been told by Doc Barclay to let her decide how much activity and what position felt best for her. Cade helped her up onto the bed, where she curled onto her left side, one of his pillows between her knees. He pulled the worn coverlet up over her shoulders, as he’d done a thousand times over his own.

It struck him then, fully, that this woman was having a baby here, in his own bedroom. In his own bed.

And it was just the two of them. Alone.

“Sorry about the mess on your nice wood floor,” she said, her voice tight with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it.” He sat on the edge of the mattress, keeping a close eye on both her and the watch. Thankfully, she seemed more comfortable in this position. She would need her strength for later on, he knew.

And that time seemed to be fast approaching.

With the only illumination coming from the bedside lamp behind her, her face was cast in shadow. Cade wondered if he should turn on the overhead light, but it seemed too glaring for this intimate a setting.

“So what would you like me to call you?” he asked abruptly.

She opened her eyes. “Call me?”

“I mean, if we’re goin’ through this together, I’m gonna need to call you something. Like, y’know—Sara.”

“If that’s my name.” She didn’t quite seem to have bought in to it yet, as he had. “What do you say when you’re helping a cow to birth her baby?” she asked.

Cade shrugged. “Well, I’ll say ‘C’mon, girl.’ Or else ‘You’re almost there, darlin’.”’

“You call your cows darling?”

He felt his jaw jut mulishly. His gaze stayed glued to the hands of his watch. “If that’s what seems to help her, then yes.”

She said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she spoke up, “Well. I guess, then, that you—” A gasp broke off her next words. Her hand shot out to clasp his.

He held on to it as tightly as the contraction ran its course. “Breathe as slow as you can,” Cade coached her.

He noticed her biting down on her lip hindered her respiration.

“If you wanna holler, holler,” he said, exaggerating his twang. “Cuss and swear as the urge takes you, too. There’s no one to hear but me, and nothin’ you say’s going to shock this old cowboy, believe me.”

Her brow furrowed with effort, and putting about as much wind behind it as she would to blow soap bubbles, she said “Damn,” making Cade laugh out loud.

It seemed to ease the tension in them both. After what seemed an eternity, she gave one final, cleansing exhalation, her face now gone pale and wan.

“You made it through that one just fine,” he said quietly, now finding it hard not to call her Sara. He smoothed a washcloth across her forehead, brushing curling wisps of hair away from her face. Her time was definitely drawing near. He was loath to leave her again but he needed to prepare for the birth. He’d see her through the next one, then go get things in order.

“Maybe…” Cade reflected aloud “…maybe that’s how we should go at this whole delivery thing—get through one contraction at a time and try not to worry too much about what’ll come after till it comes. Let go of what’s past, let what’s to be, be. And put all our efforts in the here and now.”

“Th-that sounds good to me,” she whispered, eyes closed. It was probably pretty apparent to her, however, that such a strategy was more to ease his mind than hers.

Although she was the one giving birth…she was the one who had come out of the storm, without the anchor of a past or the prospect of a future—except for the pure, blind faith that a man named Cade McGivern would be able to make things right with her world.

And truth be told, that was what scared the life out of him.

“Darlin’,” she said.

Cade started. “Beg pardon?”

“You can call me…darlin’.” She said it how he had, drawled and dropping the G. “If that comes more naturally to you. You know, because of your mama cows.”

She swallowed, eyes still closed, and put her hand over his as it rested on her shoulder.

Outside, the storm raged on, fierce and ferocious as a bull tearing full bore through a pasture. Inside, the air in the room hung heavy with both possibilities and portent. Yet a slow warmth stole through Cade. For sure, they were both all the other had right now.

Amazing, how quickly a life could change and get caught up in another’s.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

Chapter Two

“Talk to me,” Sara pleaded.

She saw Cade’s Adam’s apple bob. He didn’t answer.

The labor wasn’t going well. Even knowing nothing of her past, she knew this. She’d hit a period of strong, close contractions, but now they’d been in a pushing phase for the past hour. She’d sweated through the shirt and the sheets as she shifted from one uncomfortable position to another, seeking relief and never seeming to find it.

But keeping, just barely, the fear at bay.

Finally, she’d settled for sitting propped up by a load of pillows, knees drawn up. Cade, trying to be helpful, had suggested she come forward on her knees, or maybe squat and let gravity do more of the work, and she’d nearly bit his head off.

For which she was immediately and profoundly sorry. Even now, half an hour later, remembering the moment made her throat constrict with unshed tears. For some reason, she found it vital she keep them in check. Keep her temper in check. Keep the fear in check.

The problem was, she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to do all three and give birth to this baby—this baby she had no memory of conceiving or carrying, whose father she had no memory of. No memory of her own identity as its mother.

The realization struck her anew. It seemed a failure, an abandonment of her child and where it had come from.

A failure if she was to be unable to see it safely born.

She couldn’t think about that. If she did, she’d lose more than her memory. She’d lose her mind.

At least she had Cade. Through a fog of pain and confusion, he was the only sure thing in her world, even more than this unborn child was. Even more than the thin gold band on the chain around her neck.

She’d noticed it when she changed clothes. Still on its slender chain, she’d slipped it onto her left ring finger. It had fit perfectly.

The fact that it had infused her with caution, and she’d decided to keep it hidden for now. She had sensed that Cade wanted nothing less than to be trapped here in this situation she’d literally thrust upon him. The thought that he wouldn’t want to be, or that the instinct that had brought her to him might have been wrong, gave rise to that clawing fear in her again. But she couldn’t do this alone! She couldn’t lose this baby. She’d do anything, anything not to.

“Cade,” Sara said, bringing his gaze back from brooding out the darkened window. He had brown eyes, the color of whiskey, liquid and golden. Just looking into them, she found herself calmed. Reassured, as if she feared she’d forget him, too, should she lose for too long the connection between them. It was still so tenuous. “Please. Talk to me.”

His features gentled and, for the hundredth time, he brushed her hair from her temple, sticky with perspiration. He’d taken the liberty of divesting himself of his flannel shirt, and still the sweat beaded on his chest, dampened his thick auburn hair. He was worried for her.

“About what?” he asked.

“I don’t care.” She shifted, vainly trying to relieve the pressure on her back. “The sound of your voice…helps me keep my mind off of…things. Tell me about yourself.”

Obviously uncomfortable with the subject, he nevertheless cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I’m a rancher, as you’ve already confirmed. Been doin’ it so long I don’t guess I could do much else. Not that there’s much else I fancy doin’,” he added hastily.

Even from the edge of total fatigue, Sara caught his uneasiness. “Who’s this…Virgil you mentioned?” she asked.

Relief eased across his brow at the change of subject. “Virg is my ranch hand. Been around here forever, since when my granddaddy ran the operation.”

Again, he offered no further comment. The connection between them waned.

Mustering her energy, Sara persisted. “Your grandfather—and your parents. Are they still around, too?”

“’Fraid not. Granddaddy passed on some years ago. Daddy and Mother, we lost them when I wasn’t more’n ten.”

Strangely, she found herself buoyed by his admission—as if it somehow confirmed that instinct she’d had to find him. He was alone, too.

Still, she apologized, “I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”

Cade only shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“So you must have been in charge of the ranch when you were quite young.” She had noted the rugged yet youthful lines of his face. “You don’t look much past thirty.”

He blinked in surprise. “I hit thirty-one my next birthday.”

“And you’ve no other family?” Her mouth worked around the next question, trying to suppress it and failing. “Or a special…friend?”

“Nope,” Cade replied, returning to his characteristic terseness. “Just a brother. In New Mexico.”

The words sparked recognition in the back of her mind. “New Mexico?”

“That would be the state just west of Texas.”

She couldn’t keep from treating him to a cross look. “I know what New Mexico is. I haven’t lost all sense of the world.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, but how’m I supposed to know that?” Cade said mildly.

“I remembered I hadn’t passed through a town named Sagebrush,” she reminded him.

Her comment apparently struck a chord with him, too. “That means you weren’t coming from west. What was the last big city you went through?”

It was the last subject Sara wanted to pursue right now. To do so brought all the emotions she needed to keep control of from taking over. Yet she’d hazarded into this territory of her own accord in her attempt to engage him.

She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Where had she come from? The awareness grew, hovering on the edges of her perception and making her anxious, but this time she tried to go toward it. “I think it was…somewhere in Oklahoma.”

“Oklahoma?” Cade frowned. “That’s in the opposite direction. Was there something about New Mexico that seemed familiar?”

What was it that had caused a ripple in the vast, undisturbed surface of her memory? Massaging her forehead, she tried to think back, push the edges of what memory she had, but the effort seemed more than she could stand right now. “I don’t know.”

“Were you heading to New Mexico?”

She shook her head, which only made it throb even more. “I don’t know! I don’t know.”

Why couldn’t she remember?

Pain bit into her, shaking her in its jaws.

“Oh!” Sara’s chin snapped forward and she pressed her palms to her belly.