"We won't need him," Rachel cooed sweetly. "I'll get Polly to help us instead. She's delivered more babies than Dr. Earle."
"I want the doctor," Ian insisted.
John touched his arm, "If her pains are coming so fast, there isn't time to send for him, Ian. Now try and settle down a bit. There have been plenty of babies born in this house: Byron, Elliott, Melissa, and my brother and I, just to name a few."
Alanna and her sisters had been sent to the neighbor's house on the day of her brother's birth, and she had no memories of it, but reacted to the tension in the room with her old fright. "I'll get Polly," she called, as she started down the hall. Barefoot, she ran from the house without taking a lamp or candle, then nearly lost her way in the dark. The McBrides lived a quarter of a mile down the road that ran through the plantation, but Alanna sprinted the whole way. When she reached it, she pounded on the door with both fists, instantly waking all the McBrides.
It was Jacob, wearing a tattered nightshirt, who opened the door. "Lord, Miss Alanna. What's wrong?"
Alanna hurriedly explained why Polly was needed, but she didn't wait for the cook to get dressed before she started back to the house. When she reached the third floor, her aunt, uncle, cousins, and Ian were still clustered around the bed. "Polly's on the way," she informed them. "Don't you think Melissa needs more room to breathe?"
"Of course, she does," Rachel agreed. She pushed up the sleeves on her nightgown before waving toward the door. "John, you take Ian and our boys downstairs and keep them entertained. Despite the way Melissa is carrying on, I don't think we'll see our grandchild before dawn."
"I don't want to leave," Ian argued.
Barely recovered from the throes of another anguishing pain, Melissa still made her wishes known. "Please, Ian, just go," she begged.
When the young man failed to move, Rachel took it upon herself to usher him toward the door. "She wants you to go, son, and believe me it will be better for the both of you, if you do." When they reached the door, she leaned close to whisper. "She'll do just fine. Don't you worry. She's just always loved attention is all."
Ian looked over his mother-in-law's head for a final glimpse of his wife. He still wanted to stay with her, but afraid he would only be in the way rather than of any help, he succumbed to Rachel's insistent gestures and went downstairs.
Alanna remained at the open door waiting for Polly, but she cast frequent glances toward the bed, where Melissa continued to weep and moan. "Try and have courage. Babies are born everyday," she called.
"Not to me," Melissa cried.
Rachel tugged on her daughter's arm. "Come on, get out of bed. Your labor will go faster, if you walk a bit."
"That's impossible." But Melissa obeyed. She held on to the nightstand, then her mother's arm, and tried to take a few steps. "Something's wrong, Mama. It shouldn't hurt this bad, I know it shouldn't."
"I never told you it wouldn't hurt," Rachel reminded her. "You won't be able to remember any of it, once the baby comes. I can promise you that. No woman would ever have more than one child, if she could remember the pain."
Polly reached the landing in time to hear that remark, and clucked her tongue as she came through the door. "What are you telling that child, Miss Rachel?"
"The truth is all."
Swiftly taking charge, Polly sent Alanna for towels to protect the bed. "Bring us a kettle, too, and we can make hot water for tea in the fireplace right here. We'll need us some warm water later to bathe the baby. Better add another log to the fire."
Alanna was kept busy supplying Polly with all she required, but she was frustrated the practiced midwife could do so little to calm Melissa and ease her pain. One hour slipped by and then two, but despite the frequency and harshness of Melissa's pains, Polly described her as being only in the first stages of labor. "You mean this could go on all night?" she asked.
"You want to go back to bed, Miss Alanna? This could easily take until noon."
Melissa was again lying curled up on the bed. She looked worn out, and Alanna couldn't leave her. "No. I'll stay, but isn't there something more we can do?"
Polly shook her head. "Just wait is all. Now where are the baby's clothes?"
"On the dresser, and the cradle's all ready, too. It's sitting there in the corner."
"Oh, yes, I remember that pretty cherry wood cradle from when Miss Melissa was small. You were such a pretty baby, child."
Melissa was beyond caring how attractive she might have been. Engulfed in another wave of pain, she no longer had the strength to do more than whimper. For the first time it occurred to her that born early, her baby might not survive. If his frail little body were whisked away and laid in a tiny coffin before Ian saw him, then her secret would be safe. It was an awful thought, and even to save herself, she couldn't wish the infant dead, but she feared that if he was suffering as badly as she, he couldn't possibly survive.
To go through this terrible agony for nothing was a horrid possibility. She heard her mother and Polly talking softly, but she could no longer make out their words. Through a veil of tears, she saw Alanna, still in her nightgown, hovering near, and gestured helplessly for her to come closer.
"Don't let Ian see the baby," she begged.
"Melissa, what are you saying?"
Melissa reached out to catch her cousin's wrist in a feeble grasp. "I want to show him the child. Only me. Promise."