But as afternoon wore into evening, Doc Miller's expression grew concerned. The baby was taking too long. Something wasn't quite right. The possetion maybe, or the size, something that made this harder than it should be. I might need to intervene, he said quietly to Sarah.
If the baby doesn't turn soon. No. Norah gasped between contractions. No cutting. I can do this. I'm strong enough.
Being strong isn't always enough, Doc. Miller said gently. Sometimes we need help. Then help me, Norah replied. But don't cut me open, please.
What happened next required every ounce of Doc Miller's skill and Norah's determination. He worked to manually turn the baby, his hands gentle but insistent, while Norah breathed through pain that made her earlier discomfort seem trivial. Sarah wiped her forehead with cool cloths. Mrs. Chen murmured encouragement in Chinese and English both. Outside, Silas heard Norah cry out, a sound of such pain and effort that he was halfway to the bedroom door before Tom caught him.
"You can't help in there," Tom said firmly. "All you can do is trust that she's strong enough and that the women know what they're doing." "What if she's not?" Silas whispered. "What if I lose her?
What if this baby costs me everything that matters?" Then you'll survive it, Tom said. The same way you survived, James. The same way she survived being rejected by every man in Missouri. You'll survive because that's what people do.
But she's not going to die, Silas. She's too damn stubborn. And that baby's too damn wanted. They're both going to be fine. As if in response to Tom's words, a new sound came from the bedroom.
A thin, reedy whale that built into a full-throated cry. A baby's cry. Their baby. Silas was through the door before anyone could stop him, bursting into a room that smelled of blood and sweat and something indefinably sacred. Norah lay propped against pillows, her hair plastered to her head with sweat, her face exhausted and transcendent.
And in her arms, wrapped in a blanket Sarah had made, was the smallest, most perfect thing Silas had ever seen. We have a daughter, Norah said, her voice raw from hours of labor, but filled with wonder. Silas, we have a daughter. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, could only stare at this tiny person who hadn't existed an hour ago, and now was the center of his universe. The baby had Norah's dark hair and his small bone structure.