A moment later, the little girl emitted the sound that was music to every mother and midwife—a hearty cry.
Annie repositioned her hold on the baby. She had been kneeling on the floor for what seemed like hours—in reality only less than two. How would she ever manage to get to her feet? No matter. She’d marshal her legs later. The cord. It needed to be tied off.
A hand produced scissors and string. She tied and cut the cord, then passed the baby to Helen. The woman cradled the infant in her arms, tears of joy replacing those of pain.
Annie’s hands and the front of her apron were in need of a thorough scrubbing. She clambered to her feet with the grace of a drunken barkeep.
A man stood just behind her. In an instant, the space of thirteen years vanished with the speed of winter twilight.
Rumpled dark hair. Liquid brown eyes, flecked with gold. A face that had brought her to tears, haunted her dreams, lingered in so many memories.
Travis Hart.
In all his imaginings about their meeting, he never thought it would happen like this. Travis had been roused from his bed in the middle of the night by a frantic Andy Tatum. He’d thrown on some professionalism, along with a few clothes, and stifled his yawns on the ride to the Tatum residence.
He expected to find Mrs. Miller.
And instead encountered the woman he’d been powerless to forget.
The years had changed her. When he’d seen her last, thirteen years ago, she’d been a slight girl. Beautiful then. Even more so now. She was still thin, but some of her slender fragility had vanished. Erased by the war and the years after, no doubt. Circles ringed her hazel eyes. Stains from the evening’s events covered her apron, her gray skirt creased and wrinkled.
He’d yet to see a sight he found lovelier.
“Annie.”
“Y–yes…” She stared at him as if he were an apparition from the grave.
A thousand questions raced through his mind like unbridled horses on a stampede. Why are you here? How could I have not known you were in Hartville? Have you even once thought of me?
Yet his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, mobile as cement.
The infant’s mewling cries snapped him to reality. There was the afterbirth to be delivered, the baby to be cleaned and checked over.
Annie seemed to come to the same conclusion. Instantly she became the professional midwife; he, the dedicated physician. They worked in silence, passing instruments back and forth, changing the bedsheets. Annie cared for Mrs. Tatum, while he washed and assessed the baby. The newborn girl kicked tiny feet, her lips puckering. Holding an infant during its first moments on earth had always seemed to him a miracle. Proof of God’s goodness, His hand on every season of life. Tonight, that miracle was twofold. The woman he never expected to see again had come back into his life.
Would he once again be forced to let her go?
Travis placed the clean, swaddled infant back into the mother’s arms. Helen gave a sleepy smile of pure contentment.
“Thank you both for everything,” Mr. Tatum said.
“We’re—I’m glad to be of help.” Annie placed the last instrument in her bag and closed the clasps. She’d worked with greater efficiency than most doctors, setting both mother and room to rights in very little time. Admiration filled Travis. “I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you and your baby, but for now, everything seems to be in order.”
“Thanks so much, Doc.” Mr. Tatum stuck out his hand, and Travis smiled. “Sorry to come tearin’ to your house so late. Hope I didn’t wake your pa.”
“Don’t worry about it. My father will be glad to hear of your wife and child’s safety.”
After final farewells, they made their way out of the house and into the cool night air. Annie went down the steps first, Travis following.
Overhead, stars winked in the inky sky. Silence wrapped around them, uncertain as the wind.
“You did a fine job in there. It wasn’t an easy task.” He found a smile and added it to the words.
She wrapped her arms around herself, gazing up at him. Sweet Texas thunder, he’d forgotten how the depth of her eyes could snatch his breath.
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
His brothers had always teased him about his penchant for Byron’s poetry. Yet if he’d scrounged his brain a million years, he’d not have found better words to describe the woman before him.
“I was terrified. I’ve never dealt with something so complicated on my own.”
“You’re a midwife?” That she was seemed painfully obvious. Yet he had to say something. He couldn’t let her get on that horse and ride away. Not so soon.
She nodded. “I trained while living in Galveston. I’ve only been in Hartville three days.”
“You’re staying at your father’s ranch?”