LITMIR.BIZ

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or at least something that would reassure him. ‘Why don’t you check the equipment? And the resuscitation trolley? All the drugs on the trolley? Check the suckers and oxygen.’

      He couldn’t help his horror showing in his face. ‘You haven’t checked those?’

      She actually laughed. ‘Yes, Dr Walters, I have checked those. But I’m trying to distract you!’

      ‘Oh.’ Now he felt dumb. ‘Sorry.’ He put his finger under the collar of his T-shirt because suddenly it felt tight.

      Tara’s voice was gentle. ‘Maybe doing those things would be helpful if Angus called you in an emergency in the next few weeks.’

      He sighed. Get a grip. Thank goodness Tara did have a sense of humour. ‘Sorry. It’s just been pretty sudden. I’m not normally such a panic merchant.’

      She looked at him. ‘I have no doubt that’s true. I think you’ve done exceptionally well, considering the scenario you’ve fallen into. But here’s the thing.’ Her voice dropped and her face was kind but serious and she glanced at the closed bathroom door. He started to wonder if Maeve and Tara had cooked up this pep talk for him between them.

      He guessed he’d never know.

      ‘I need you to be calm. I need you to be Maeve’s rock. You don’t need to say much—just be here. Agree with her. She really wanted you to be here. And hold her hand when she wants you to. Rub her back when she wants you to. Okay?’

      He took a big calming breath. ‘Okay.’

      ‘No more panic vibes, please. And in the meantime you can familiarise yourself with the equipment only if you need distraction.’

      Okay. He got that. The bathroom door opened and Maeve came out. He sat quietly in the corner of the room while Tara felt Maeve’s abdomen, discussed the lie of the baby, which was apparently pointing in exactly the direction and attitude they wanted, and listened to his baby’s heartbeat.

      Geez. That was his baby’s heartbeat. Cloppety, cloppety, clop. It was fast. He knew foetal hearts were fast. But was that too fast?

      Calm. He needed to be calm. Dissociate. That was the answer. Pretend it wasn’t his baby. Okay. He felt calmer. In fact, he felt in total control. It was cool. Normal heart rate.

      ‘Rayne?’

      ‘Yes, Maeve.’

      ‘Can you hear our baby’s heartbeat?’

      ‘Yes, I can. It seems very fast!’

      Tara looked at him with eyebrows raised.

      He racked his brains. ‘Baby must be as excited as we are.’

      Maeve laughed. ‘That is so cute.’

      Cute. Geez. He stood up. Might go check the equipment.

      The next hour was traumatic.

      Then Maeve decided to get out of the bath and the hour after that was even worse.

      But baby was fine. Heart rate perfect, with no slowing after contractions. Rayne’s heart rate slowed after the contractions because during the contraction it doubled. And not just because he was rubbing Maeve’s back non-stop.

      Between contractions Maeve was calm. Rational. Gathering her strength for the next wave. During contractions it was hell.

      Noisy. Intense. Painful when she had his hand in hers and dug her nails in.

      Tara was the rock. Quiet. Steady. Unflappable. Like the calm in the storm. He’d look across at her when a contraction was at its height and she would be smiling. Gentle and calm. This was Maeve’s profession as well. How did these women do this day in, day out?

      ‘I am so going to be at your birth, Tara,’ Maeve ground out as the contraction finally eased.

      ‘Good. We’ll swap places.’

      Rayne shook his head. How could they carry on a normal conversation when two minutes ago she was ready to rip all their heads off?

      And then it was time to push. Eleven forty-five p.m. He looked at Maeve. It had been incredibly hard work. Perspiration beaded her brow, and he leant across and wiped it.

      ‘Hey, Rayne,’ she said softly. ‘You okay?’

      How could she possibly care about him when she was going through hell? ‘As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      He smiled. ‘I’m fine too.’

      She smiled back wearily. ‘Home straight now.’

      There had been a bit of a lull in the contractions after a series of torrid strong ones. ‘So why has it stopped?’

      ‘Nature’s way of giving us a break before the last stretch.’ Then her face changed. ‘Oh.’

      The next twenty minutes would be forever etched in his mind. Angus was outside the door in case he was needed. He’d checked, but they didn’t see him. Simon had arrived as well but was waiting to be invited in afterwards. He’d bet there was some pacing happening out there. As much as he was suffering in here, it would have been a hundred times worse imagining outside the door. Especially with the Maeve soundtrack they had playing.

      With each pushing contraction a little more of the baby shifted down. The excitement was building and Maeve was much more focused now she could use the contractions to make things happen. If there was one thing his Maeve could do, it was make things happen.

      Maeve was impatient. No surprise there. She moved position several times, kneeling, leaning on a ball, leaning on Rayne. Even sitting on the toilet, but that stressed him out until Tara smiled and put a towel over the toilet seat so he could stop envisaging his baby falling into the toilet bowl. But eventually they were standing beside the bed, and he could actually see the hair on his baby’s head.

      ‘You’re doing well,’ Tara said.

      Well? Doing well? She was freaking amazing, incredible. ‘Come on, Maeve. You’re nearly there, babe.’ He saw her glance at the clock and register it was a few minutes after midnight. She’d got what she wanted, and she looked at him.

      Triumph, thankfulness and new determination, and he realised it would never be the same between them again. But that was okay. He could admit she was stronger than him. In some ways, anyway. Maeve turned to face him. ‘I want to sit back on the bed against the pillows.’

      So he lifted her and put her back on the pillows. ‘Love that,’ she panted, and even in that moment their eyes met and she tempted him. Then she relaxed back against the pillows, hugging her knees, and gave one long outward sigh. And suddenly the crown appeared then a head of black hair, stretched into a face, one shoulder and then the other.

      ‘Want to take it from here, Rayne?’ Tara murmured, and he got it instantly. He stepped in and put his hands under his baby’s armpits and, gently eased with the pressure Maeve was exerting, his baby entered the world with his own hands around him in a rush of belly, thighs, long legs and feet and a tangle of cord and water—and suddenly in a huge internal shift and crack through the wall of years of keeping emotion at bay, tears were streaming down his face.

      Maeve was staring down with surprise and he lifted the squirming buddle of …? He glanced between the legs, grinned. ‘It’s a boy!’ His eyes met hers and for that moment, when she looked at the baby, and then him and then the baby again, he didn’t see how anything could ever stand between them.

      His son cried. Loudly and lustily, and Maeve gathered him and snuggled him up against her breasts, and the baby’s cries quieted instantly.

      Boob man. Chip off the old block. He experienced such a swell of emotion his heart felt like it was going to burst.

      In shock he saw the second midwife—where had she come from?—lean in to dry the little legs and arms and belly and rub the damp

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