LITMIR.BIZ

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him. “Come then,” he said tightly, tugging her to the steps.

      Leah closed her eyes. It was too much. How could she deny the woman what small help she could give? Either she would deliver a healthy baby or she wouldn’t. “I’ll get my bag,” she whispered, snatching her arm from his grip.

      He followed her into the house, and she fumbled for the lamp, striking a match and lighting it quickly.

      “Wait here,” she said, striding purposefully through the doorway into her bedroom. Falling to her knees before the big chest she kept beneath the window, she opened it wide. Under her summer dresses was a leather bag, and she gripped the handles, feeling them warm in her palm.

      She rose to her feet and drew a deep breath. It was happening again. She could feel the hopelessness grip her as she turned to face the man who had followed her into her bedroom. As if he were afraid she would disappear, he stood in the doorway, eyes alert and scanning the simple contents of her room.

      “You needn’t follow me, Mr. Lundstrom. I said I’d come with you.”

      He nodded his head. “Yes, you did.” His eyes were bold as he surveyed her. “Are you stronger than you look, Mrs. Gunderson?” He waited for a moment and nodded again. “Yes, I think you are. You may need to be, ma’am.”

      He turned and she followed him, her gaze filled with the broad back, the slight hitch in his gait and the glow of his golden hair in the lamplight.

      She blew out the lamp and they walked out onto the porch. “I need to tell my neighbor where I’m going, and I promised her some salve for her quinsy,” she said, suddenly remembering Mrs. Thorwald. “Pick me up by her gate.”

      She hurried down the path, aware of his big sleigh sitting in the street. It was a wonder she had not noticed it earlier.

      Mrs. Thorwald accepted the jar of salve with thanks, then clucked her tongue knowingly as she heard Leah’s words of explanation. “That one will keep you up all night, I’ll warrant. She’s what they call a hard delivery, Leah. Perhaps she’s lucky the doctor’s not available. He hasn’t done her much good in the past.”

      With those words ringing cryptically in her ears, Leah made her way to the sleigh, where a gloved hand reached down to her. She hesitated for only a second, then placed her palm in that of Gar Lundstrom. He pulled her with little effort into his sleigh.

      A fur robe was tucked over her lap, and Gar cast her one searching glance before he picked up the reins. Leah felt the heat of his body beside her, yet shivered as if an icy blast had cut through her covering.

      “Sit closer,” he said bluntly. “You need to stay warm.” His big hand circled her shoulder, and he moved her across the seat until their thighs were brushing.

      Leah swallowed words of protest that begged to be spoken. He was too big, too warm, too close; yet, for just a moment, she relished the warmth, the size and the nearness of the man. For just this short time, she allowed her mind to be blank of all else, to dwell only on the presence of Gar Lundstrom beside her.

      

      The woman who labored on the big bed was as pitiful a sight as Leah had ever been exposed to. Hulda Lundstrom’s dry lips were drawn back over clenched teeth and her hair hung lank with sweat. She groaned unceasingly.

      In less than a second, Leah cast a glance around the bedroom, tossed her cloak aside and placed her bag on a chair. “I need water to wash with, good hot water.”

      “Right away.” Gar Lundstrom’s voice was gruff with emotion as he left the room, Leah’s cloak over his arm.

      “How long have you been like this?” Leah asked Hulda Lundstrom, who panted harshly as her body convulsed with the pain of a violent contraction.

      “Not long…a couple of hours maybe.” Her voice was raw, weakened by her pain, and Hulda opened her eyes to reveal a dull acceptance of her state. “It’s no worse than the other times.” She rested, taking deep breaths as the pain left her, her body seeming to sink into the depths of the mattress.

      “How many other times have there been?” Leah asked, looking up as the door opened and Gar backed into the bedroom, his hands cradling a basin of steaming water.

      “Two. No, three. But one was only three months gone and it was nothing.” Hulda’s gaze fastened on her husband. “You don’t need to be here, Gar. Go be with Kristofer,” she whispered. “It will be a long time yet.”

      Leah turned to the man, anger rising in her throat. “You didn’t tell me your wife was having a difficult labor. I think you need to go back to town and find the doctor. If she has lost several babies already, we need to use every precaution this time.”

      The wash water was deposited on the dressing table with care, lest it slosh over the edges. The tall man straightened to his full height, turning to face the bed.

      “He won’t come.” There was a finality to his words that sent a chill down Leah’s spine.

      “He told her the last time that she would not be able to deliver a live child, that her organs were damaged from the other times. He said he would not be responsible for encouraging her in her foolish efforts.”

      “Foolish efforts.” Leah repeated the words without emotion, though her heart was pounding within her, and her anger rose even higher.

      “I want to give my husband another child. Is that so bad?” Hulda’s eyes filled with tears as she turned her head to look at Leah. And even as she spoke, she stiffened, groaning as another contraction knotted her belly. Her hands spread wide over the mound, and her head tipped back against the pillow as the pain ravaged her.

      Leah stepped to the side of the bed and sat next to the woman who labored now in silence before her audience. “Wring out a cloth in the warm water,” Leah said, glancing only momentarily at Gar, who watched from across the room.

      He took a clean flannel square from atop a pile and wrung it out in the basin, then brought it to the bed. “Let me do this while you wash,” he said quietly.

      Leah rose, giving way to him, and walked across the room, rolling up her sleeves as she went. Immutable sadness enveloped her as she scrubbed at her hands with the carbolic soap she carried in her bag. The chances of a live birth seemed small, given Hulda Lundstrom’s history. And yet, Leah must do all she could to birth a live child for this small, needy woman.

      “Pull back the sheet,” she told Gar, returning to the bed. “Then put a clean sheet or blanket beneath her.”

      “I don’t…” Hulda gasped for a breath, her face contorting as she allowed a groan to escape her lips. “Leave, Gar. Go…I don’t…”

      “He can leave when he’s done as I asked,” Leah told her softly. “Let him lift you, Hulda. I want you to have clean bedding beneath you.”

      A nod signified Hulda’s agreement, and Gar did as Leah had requested. His big hands were gentle as he slid them beneath his wife’s limbs to spread a clean, folded sheet under her lower body. He stood erect and looked at Leah, awaiting further instructions, and she was struck by the hopelessness in his eyes.

      No longer the possessor of the dark, arrogant glare of a strong man, he cast her only a pleading, anxious look that begged mercy at her hands. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me.”

      Leah nodded and took his place on the side of the bed. “Pull up your gown, Hulda,” she said quietly. “I want to feel the child.”

      Hulda’s fingers twisted in the white flannel cloth, and she tugged it high over her stomach, exposing the swollen mound that contained her child. As Leah watched, it rippled, the muscles still strong as the womb fought to expel its contents. She placed her hand against the hard surface, closing her eyes as she felt for the body parts within.

      Nothing nudged her hand, no trace of movement, only the pulsing rhythm of the pain that would not cease until the child was delivered.

      “Has

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