38. Simon
There are things in this world that cannot be unseen, events that will sear themselves into your brain, never to be forgotten. Some of these will scar you for life, bringing forth nightmares you can never escape. Then there are others, memories that will live on inside you, changing you down to your very soul.
Standing beside Isobel, watching as she brings new life into the world, is the most exultant, thrilling, miraculous experience I’ve ever had the privilege of attending.
It’s also one of the most gruesome.
Patrice had joined us in the end, with one of the nurse midwives fetching her when I turned white as a ghost and almost fainted. Isobel’s doctor had decided to haul me down the bed and stand in the “catcher’s zone” alongside her, and the moment I caught a glimpse of what awaited me, the blood rushed from my head and pooled at my feet. It took me going back and standing at Isobel’s shoulder before my body recovered enough to feel steady again.
Viewing the trauma being inflicted on Isobel’s body as she labors to bring her and Quin’s cub into the world will scar me for life. I feel as though I’ve invaded Isobel’s privacy and violated her in some way, because neither of us really consented to me watching the baby crowing. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look Isobel in the eye anytime soon, nor Quin once he returns.
One final push has the cub hitting the cool hospital air, and despite the fact that she’s covered in blood and other various fluids, she’s beautiful. She arrives squalling and furious at her eviction, with a head full of dark hair and a set of lungs that would rival a howler monkey’s.
“Congratulations, Mommy! You have a beautiful baby girl! Let’s get all her measurements and the like, and then we can leave you to bond.”
The doctor passes the cub over to the nurses, then does whatever she needs to do between Isobel’s legs, probably to do with the afterbirth. I know enough about reproductive biology to know that just because the cub is out, it doesn’t mean that everything’s done with. There’s more going on down there, not that I really look. It’s not my place.
“Do we have a name for this little darling?” the doctor calls out to Isobel from her position at the end of the bed. The cub has not ceased in her fierce wailing, and each new cry reverberates around the room. I’m growing increasingly concerned that she’s not calming down at all. Is she uncomfortable? Are they hurting her? Why isn’t she settling?
“Her name is Arina, Arina Lenore, after my Maw Maw. Arina is my peace, my happiness. She’s the little light of my life.” Isobel’s voice is hoarse from effort and emotion, but her eyes are filled with joy and devotion.
Patrice swipes at the skin under her eyes as tears spill from them, beaming down at her daughter with pride.
“You realize Paw Paw is gonna be a mess, hearing how you’ve given your daughter Lenore’s name. If you thought he was a major presence in your life before, he’s gonna be a permanent one from now on. Would you like me to go let everyone know she’s here, and her name?”
Isobel nods her assent and Patrice exits the room to share the happy news. The midwife, now done with all the checks required for a newborn baby, brings her over and hands her to Isobel.
“She’s a healthy eight pounds, four ounces. Don’t worry, she’ll settle down soon enough. Some babies just don’t appreciate the sudden change in their circumstances. After all, one moment they’re floating in a warm, snug place with your heartbeat thrumming around them. Then the next, they’re squeezing through a constrictive tunnel into a world of bright lights, loud noises, fluctuating temperatures, and other forms of over-stimulation.”
I gaze down at the cub in Isobel’s arms, and in that moment my world shifts. Arina Lenore Basset is the most perfect little tigress I’ve ever laid eyes on, and Tálstrom and I are smitten.
Almost as though it has a life of its own, my hand reaches out and I stroke a finger down Arina’s cheek, following the curve of her face down and over her neck to her shoulder. Tracing a line down her tiny arm, I jolt as Arina flails a little, the tiny starfish of her hand latching onto my extended finger. The moment her grip tightens, her cries ease and something tugs at my heart. So much love pours from my core, racing down my arm and through the finger held within Arina’s tiny fist.
I’ve never felt a bond form like this before, because that’s what’s happening. My heartbeat increases rapidly, thrumming in my chest until it matches the rhythm of Arina’s. They stay in sync for several long moments, and that’s when it happens. A translucent filament, as delicate and substantive as spider silk, weaves its way into existence and tethers the two of us together. It’s beyond beautiful—it’s magical, ethereal, and awe-inspiring.
A tiny spark zaps me as the bond fully encloses, like a jolt of static electricity. Contentment and safety wash down to me through the bond, and my heart rate steadies back into its normal rhythm as Arina eases into sleep, snuggled securely in her mother’s arms. This is as close as I’ll ever get to fatherhood. Although a part of me wishes to experience it all for myself, I’d have to find a person willing to stand by my side even when others are spewing hatred for my past actions, and I refuse to ask that of an innocent party. Especially with how vitriolic some of the comments can get. I’ll just live vicariously through my friends and family, blood and chosen combined.
Apparently, I don’t hide my adoration well enough. Isobel looks up at me with a soft smile and gestures to the armchair set close to her bed.
“If you want to take a seat, I’ll pass her over to you for a cuddle. I’m sure she’ll be an absolute peach for you, especially with how she’s gripping your finger there.”
I know I don’t hide the panic suffusing my face at Isobel’s suggestion. I’m not the kind of person a mother should hand her newborn baby over to. I don’t know if I’ve ever had the ability to be gentle, or at least not the kind of gentle needed around babies, and my physical appearance is enough to scare off most children. In fact, the last time I held a baby was when I was still a child myself, and it was my younger brother. Even then, I had my father sitting next to me, making sure that I was holding Ryan securely, and supporting his head and neck. I was even younger than that when I’d first held Lily, and again, it had been with my father’s help.
Isobel laughs at the fraught expression on my face, but she shows me no mercy.
“Simon, sit down before you fall down. You’re not going to drop Arina, nor are you going to hurt her. The way you’re hovering, I’d take a stab and guess that you’ll become one of the most capable, caring, and overprotective guardian angels this little one is gonna have in her life. So, now’s the time to get some practice in before the other great oafs galumph their way in here.”
I obey.
I pull the armchair closer so that Isobel doesn’t have to move off the bed and then sit. My position means I have to lean forward with my arm outstretched so Arina won’t have to relinquish her hold on my finger. Isobel silently giggles at the display, her eyes sparkling with mirth.
It takes a moment of slight jostling and juggling and then I sit back in my chair, arms full of tiny, delicate, precious tigress.
Babies tend to look fairly similar when they’re first born. They’re all squished up, covered in blood and other stuff, and their heads are a funny shape. Despite all of this, Arina is enchanting.
She has a head full of dark hair just like her father’s, and her eyes are lined with lashes that look strange on a being so tiny. Her little mouth is pursed in a cupid’s bow, and her empty hand has also made its way from beneath the blanket swaddling her and is pressed to her lips. The tiny fingers that are wrapped around my thicker digit are long and slender, and topped with itty-bitty nails.
Tears well in my eyes at the abundance of emotion flooding me, and I send a silent vow down the thread linking us together that I will love, cherish, and protect her as my own flesh and blood, to my dying breath.
A small ruckus over by the door announces the arrival of Dane, Dillon, and Josiah. Jared and Patrice aren’t far behind, and I resign myself to being evicted from the room so that the rest of the family can form their own bonds with their newest member.
Arina Lenore is going to be smothered with love before the day is over.