Chapter Eighty-One
Datiye was cleaning up after their dinner. Jack held Shoshi, making faces and sounds. The baby gurgled and smiled back. He flailed his little arms, catching Jack’s chin. Jack laughed. Shoshi ga-gaahed, smiling in that peculiar way young infants do.
He looked up. Candice, bigger than ever now, was watching, standing a short distance away, to the side.
He felt a bit guilty, but studied her for signs of jealousy and didn’t see any.
Datiye got up and left with the pot to wash and sand it.
Candice approached slowly, then, awkwardly, sat down by his feet. Their eyes met.
“I guess I look sort of silly,” Jack said sheepishly.
Candice smiled, but she wasn’t watching him. Her eyes were fastened on the baby. “Can I?”
He started. “Sure.”
He handed her the baby. He watched, amazed, at the soft smile that spread over her beautiful features. She cooed to Shoshi, rocking him gently against her breast. He felt overwhelmed by the sight of her there, holding his son.
Later that night Jack climbed into the bedroll beside her.
She still insisted on sleeping with him, which was fine for her.
She practically passed out these days. But he was so afraid to disturb her, he could barely sleep.
Now, however, he saw that she was awake.
He leaned over to kiss her mouth lightly.
Her arms came up, clenched him, and her lips opened, inviting him to deepen the kiss.
He did. Incredibly, surges of hot desire swept him.
Even with her due in a few weeks, he still wanted her as much as ever. No, more.
“Jack?”
“What?”
“Promise me something.”
“If I can.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t let them tie me to a tree like they did Datiye.” There was a tremor in her voice.
“Candie, it helps, it really does.”
“No!” she cried.
“All right,” he soothed, taking her in his arms and propping himself into a sitting position. “I’ll hold you up myself. Not all women are tied. Some squat. But believe me, trust me, it’s easier than lying down.”
She didn’t answer. He looked down and saw fear on her face.
He suddenly was overwhelmed by a dread sensation and an image of Chilahe lying dead in a pool of her own blood after giving birth to their child.
God, he didn’t want to even think it! He hugged her harder.
What if Candice had a hard time? No, she was as healthy as a woman could be.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, but he was suddenly sick with anxiety himself.
“I’m not worried,” she said, and they both knew she was lying.
His fears wouldn’t leave. As the days passed, he became obsessed with memories of how Chilahe had died after hours of agonizing pain and awful, heart-wrenching screams. He reminded himself that the shaman had said her passage was too narrow, her hips too small.
He had Candice examined by a medicine woman against her will.
The shaman was cheerful and optimistic, assuring him that Candice was healthy and should have no problems. When he had asked about the size of her hips and birth canal, the woman had laughingly told him to leave well enough alone.
He couldn’t help it. He was terrified with the thought he might lose her.
He wished he could stop remembering Chilahe’s death.
He knew he was being completely foolish. One had only to look at Candice to know she was meant for bearing children. She was a woman built strongly. Her hips were wide without being overly large. Her breasts were full now with milk. She was the picture of health, but he was obsessed with fear.
It was early July. Jack was down at the creek, fishing.
Not for food, for the Apaches never ate fish.
But for sport and amusement and to stay distracted.
He heard Candice coming a mile away. These days she waddled, making her even noisier than before.
Someday, he thought, I will teach her how to move quietly.
He turned his head to see her emerge from the woods.
She smiled at him, her face flushed. “I thought I saw you coming down here,” she said, breathing a bit hard.
He dropped the spear he had been using and stood. “You look overheated,” he said worriedly. “You shouldn’t be tramping around like this.”
“You’ve become a mother hen, Jack,” she said with a smile. Then she winced.
“What is it?” He felt panic.
“Jack, I think I’m in labor.”
“You think?”
She smiled wanly and suddenly winced again. “They were so dull before, I thought I was imagining …” Suddenly a spasm took her. She gasped and sank to her knees.
Jack was at her side instantly. “Candice, damn it. Are you—”
“Oh, I think so.” She moaned as another spasm took her.
“Candice, another pain?” He was aghast. They were coming too quickly, one right on top of the other.
“Jack,” she cried out, grabbing his shoulders and digging into them. She moaned.
“Usen! Candice, I’ll go get help! Don’t do anything until I get back! When did the pains first start?”
“A few hours ago.” She moaned, panting, pushing, straining, as she slid to her back.
“A few hours ago!”
“I didn’t know they were labor pains! Jaaack!”
“Oh, shit.” He groaned, kneeling, afraid to leave her. Her legs were bent at the knees, spread. He pushed the skirt up. “How could you not know, Candice?” he cried.
She was panting. “They were … so slight. Just a … discomfort—oohhh!”
“You have to squat,” he said, lifting her up.
“No, Jack—oohh.”
“Squatting is easier, trust me.” He panted, his arms around her, forcing her up.
“How would you know? Ohh—God!” Her hands, covering his, gripped and clawed.
“Believe me, I know,” he cried. “Are you pushing? Are you breathing? Breathe and push!”
“I’m breathing, I’m pushing,” Candice cried. “For God’s sake, Jack, you’re holding me too tightly …”
“You should be tied, dammit, you should be tied!”
“Don’t—oh!—yon even think it!” She started to press away from him, and taken by surprise, he slipped, and they went tumbling down, Candice in his arms.
“Look what you did!” Jack panted, stumbling to his knees and lifting her back up. Sweat ran down his face.
Candice grabbed Jack’s hands and removed them. “I am lying down now, Jack,” she announced calmly, placing her bottom on the ground and then her back.
“No, trust me.” Jack gasped, his arm going beneath her to lift her. Then: “Shit!”
“Ohh!”
“Usen give me strength,” he muttered, forgetting all about his wife being in the wrong position, because suddenly he could see the baby’s head. “I see the head, Candice, push, hard!”
“I’m pushing.” She panted, and she pushed.
“It’s coming,” he cried, and then before he knew it, a white-coated baby had slipped into his hands.
Candice closed her eyes and lay gasping for air.
“A girl, Candice, it’s a girl!” he cried, awed, thrilled, relieved, and exhausted. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and reached for his knife. He cut the umbilical cord.
“Oh,” Candice whispered. “Let me, Jack …”
“Let me wash her first,” Jack said, staring at the red-faced baby.
She was bald, her eyes screwed shut. He hurried down to the creek and washed her, then removed his loincloth to dry her and wrap her in it.
She opened her eyes and blinked. He smiled, then, drinking the sight of her in.
Her eyes were blue. He noted that she wasn’t completely bald, there were a few dark hairs above her forehead.
She opened her mouth, turning her face against his belly, searching. He hurried back.
Candice reached out, her face glowing. Jack knelt and placed the baby in her arms. “Oh,” she whispered. “She’s beautiful.”
“Like her mother,” Jack said softly, then started laughing. A rich, warm, relieved laugh. “You did better than any Apache woman I ever saw, Candie. I can’t believe you didn’t know you were in labor,” he said.
“But I didn’t,” she said simply, stroking the baby’s soft, downy head.
“Do you feel all right?” he asked softly.
“Wonderful,” she murmured. “Hello, Christina. You are so beautiful. My little lady,”
“Why do you want to call her Christina?”
“It’s a real lady’s name,” she said, never even looking at him. “A Christian lady’s name. And she’s going to grow up to be a fine Christian lady.”
Jack looked at her, absorbing her words, watching as Candice freed her breasts, moving Christina closer to one soft nipple.
A fine Christian lady, he thought, the words echoing disturbingly.
Then his attention became fastened on his daughter as she found her mother’s nipple and began to suck.
He felt incredibly proud watching this scene.
His beautiful wife, his beautiful daughter.
He sat behind her and propped her head up on his leg. “Better?”
She smiled contentedly.