Pilus chose you. He chose all of you. That makes you just as much his children as this baby will be. Do you understand? Jonah's eyes filled.
"You promise? I promise. And so does your paw. You're his son, Jonah, in every way that matters." "Okay." He wiped his eyes roughly. "Okay, Ma." She pulled him close.
This boy who'd been forced to grow up too fast and whispered against his hair. "You're going to be the best big brother again." Jonah laughed, the sound watery, but real. I've had a lot of practice. The months that followed were full of preparation and anticipation. Silas built a cradle from smooth pine carved with flowers and birds.
The girls sewed baby clothes from scraps of fabric, tiny and perfect. The valley women came by with advice and gifts and promises to help when the time came. And through it all, Mara watched her family grow and settle and become something permanent, something real. They weren't running anymore. They were home.
The baby came in November during the first snowstorm of winter. Mara had been feeling strange all day, restless, uncomfortable, unable to settle. By evening, when the contraction started in earnest, Silas sent Jonah racing through the snow to fetch Sarah Miller and the valley's midwife, Mrs. Henderson. "It's too early," Mara gasped between pains, gripping Silas's hand hard enough to leave marks.
"The baby's not due for another 2 weeks. Babies come when they're ready," Silas said, trying to keep his voice calm, even though his face was pale. "You're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine." But his hand shook as he helped her to the bed as he gathered blankets and water and tried to remember everything he'd learned when his first wife was pregnant. That had been nearly 10 years ago, and he'd been young then, confident in a way he'd never be again.
Now he knew too much. knew all the things that could go wrong, knew how fragile life was, how quickly it could slip away. Silas. Mar's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. Look at me. He met her eyes, saw the fear there, but also the fierce determination that had carried her through everything else.
I'm not going anywhere, she said firmly. You hear me? I'm not leaving you. You better not, his voice cracked. because I can't do this without you. You won't have to." Another contraction hit and she doubled over, breathing hard.
"But you might want to get those kids out of here before I start screaming." Silus looked up to find all seven children clustered at the edge of the room, watching with wide, frightened eyes. "Eliza," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Take everyone up to the loft. Tell them stories. Keep them calm.
Can you do that for me?" Eliza nodded, already hurting the younger ones toward the ladder. But Jonah hung back, his face pale. Pa, is Ma going to be okay? Silas wanted to lie. Wanted to promise everything would be fine.
But Jonah deserved honesty. I hope so, son. I really hope so. Now go on up. Your mom needs quiet.
Jonah climbed the ladder slowly, looking back every few steps, and Silas turned his attention back to Mara just as another contraction seized her. Sarah Miller and Mrs. Henderson arrived 20 minutes later, snowcovered and out of breath. Mrs. Henderson, a nononsense woman of 60 with hands that had delivered half the babies in the county, took one look at Mara and started barking orders.