Epilogue #2
A strong pain washed over her, but she did nothing more than grunt softly as Gar squeezed her hand and told her how brave she was. Rhoswyn, who had noticed the pain, came alongside the bed and put her hand on Mattie’s belly.
“That one was close behind the other,” she said softly. “Do ye feel like pushing yet, sweetheart?”
Mattie was quickly growing uncomfortable.
The servants had brought out the birthing chair, the one Jordan and several of her daughters and daughters-in-law had used, and Mattie had intended on using it, too, but she was lying on the bed to please Gar, simply to keep him calm.
The pains weren’t so bad when she was sitting up, but shifting to her back made them come on more swiftly and strongly.
Things were definitely in motion.
“No pushing yet,” she said. “I will lie here with my husband for a moment and then he can leave when I move to the chair.”
“You want me to leave?” Gar said, hurt. “But I was there for Jasper and Oliver. You let me stay.”
“Do you want to stay for this one?”
“I want the first arms to hold my son to be mine.”
It was a sweet plea, something he’d said with the last two boys she’d delivered.
He hadn’t said it with the first three because he’d been terrified of the childbirth process, but Andreas had convinced him that being present with one’s wife when she gave birth to your son was a soul-fortifying experience.
It had been, except the first time with Jasper, Gar had nearly gagged when he saw his child emerging from his wife.
He’d been embarrassed until Mattie reminded how she first reacted to battle wounds those years ago.
Unsurprisingly, that didn’t make him feel better.
But being the first one to hold his son did.
“Then you’d better be ready to hold him—because I think he is coming,” she said, grunting as another pain washed over her. “Help me to the birthing chair, Gar. This baby is not going to wait.”
Trying to keep his nerves under control, Gar gently pulled her up from the bed as he and his mother helped her over to the birthing chair where Avrielle was waiting.
Everyone else was busy around them, making sure the water was ready, making sure the rags were ready to clean up the mess.
Someone had spread a large towel underneath the chair to help mitigate the blood and fluids that would make the floor very slippery, and Mattie sat down carefully as Rhoswyn pulled up the skirt of her dress.
She never even had the chance to change from her wedding finery, which seemed to concern her more than the impending birth of the child at the moment.
“Can we remove the dress?” she asked, feeling another strong pain as she lifted her arms. “Gar, can you help me, please?”
Gar went to work on the laces up the back of the dress, quickly loosening them so he could lift the yellow silk over her head. But just as he pulled it up, Mattie suffered a huge pain and she bore down, groaning.
“The head is here, Mattie!” Avrielle said encouragingly. “Push with your next pain, sweetheart. Your child is ready to be born!”
Gar paused midway in removing the dress, peering down to where his child’s head had just emerged into the world. “Is he here?” he said, incredulous and excited. “Is it male?”
“Gar!” Mattie shrieked. “My gown!”
He looked at her, startled, only to realize he’d left the dress over her face and head so she couldn’t see a thing. It looked like the top half of her was covered with a big blanket and he yanked it free, greatly remorseful.
“My apologies,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I was simply excited to see the child. I am very sorry, truly.”
Mattie frowned at him, pushing her hair out of her eyes because the inept removal of the dress had messed her coiffure. Before she could become irate with him, however, another pain rolled over her and she gave a big push—only for the child to come sliding out into Avrielle’s waiting hands.
“A lass!” Avrielle said. “Mattie, you have a daughter!”
Mattie crowed happily. “Praise the saints,” she said, panting with exertion from the fast delivery. “Gar, did you hear? A lass!”
Gar, who had been momentarily shocked that his wife had actually given birth to a girl-child, quickly put out his hands.
“Give her to me,” he said, enraptured by the first glimpse of his daughter. “Please, let me hold her.”
With the help of Rhoswyn, Avrielle cut the cord and wrapped the child up in a clean blanket so the eager father could take her.
“Careful, Gar,” Avrielle said as she handed over the precious cargo. “Be very careful with your little girl.”
Gar was quite competent with infants. Unlike most fathers, he liked being active in their rearing and care.
He’d found a good deal of satisfaction and joy in it.
He clutched the little one to his chest, bring her over so that Mattie could see her.
Together, the parents admired their latest offspring.
“Look how beautiful she is,” Gar said, awe in his voice. “She has your hair, Queenie. It’s the same color.”
Mattie was inspecting the little hands, making sure the infant had all ten fingers. “She’s magnificent,” she said. “I think she looks like you.”
Gar grinned, but there were tears of emotion in his eyes. “She looks like you,” he said softly, turning to kiss Mattie sweetly. “Thank you, my love. I am so very grateful.”
Mattie accepted his kisses. It did her heart good to see how enchanted he was with a daughter.
After so many sons, she honestly hadn’t been sure she would ever have a girl and was thrilled to know her fears had been for naught.
But as Gar kissed her cheek, the pains in her belly started up again and she grunted when a particularly strong one rolled over her.
“God’s Bones,” she muttered. “That was painful.”
“It is the afterbirth,” Avrielle said, her hand on Mattie’s belly. “It is coming away.”
Mattie nodded, but on the tail of the strong pain came another one, even stronger than the first. She gasped at the force of it.
“That does not feel like the afterbirth coming away,” she said. “I know what that feels like and that is not it. Something is wrong.”
Those words sent terror into Gar’s heart and he looked at his wife in panic as both Rhoswyn and Avrielle struggled to see what was happening down below.
Mattie’s belly was contracting tightly and she was in a good deal of pain, but after a minute of trying to figure out why, it was Rhoswyn who finally realized what was happening.
“A second baby,” she said. “There are twins.”
“Twins?” Gar gasped. “Two… two babies?”
Mattie gripped the chair, grunting as more pain rolled through her. She was giving birth again, so soon after the first one, and the pain had quickly reached a desperate level.
“Can you see it?” she begged. “Please, can you see it? Is it coming?”
It was. Feet-first. Rhoswyn and Avrielle passed concerned glances as Mattie struggled to push the child out.
They didn’t dare convey their fears to Gar, who was standing beside Mattie, holding the first infant and trying not to become distraught at what was unfolding in front of him.
Rhoswyn, who had suffered through a breech birth with her fourth child, knew that this one would be more grueling. She spoke calmly.
“This bairn is a wee bit naughty,” she said. “He’s coming out with his feet first, Mattie. It just makes it a little more difficult tae push him out, but he will come. With yer next pain, push as hard as ye can, sweetheart.”
Terrified, Gar reached down to grasp Mattie’s left hand and she squeezed hard enough to break bones as she struggled to push the infant out.
Gar didn’t even want to see what was happening.
He knew it was something terrible and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down. For Mattie, he had to be strong.
He had to be brave.
“Push, Queenie,” he said softly. “You’re doing so well, my love. You are so brave.”
Mattie pushed and pushed. Several minutes later, she was still pushing and Gar looked at his mother to see what her expression was.
If he could see fear, he knew he was going to lose his composure, but Rhoswyn was calm, as was Avrielle.
The infant’s legs had been delivered and, with a little turning and twisting, a second little girl slid right out into her grandmother’s waiting hands.
“Another lass,” Rhoswyn announced as Avrielle moved quickly to cut the cord. “A beautiful little lass, Mattie. She’s perfect.”
But the baby wasn’t crying. As exhausted as she was, Mattie realized almost immediately that the child wasn’t crying and fear clutched at her.
“Why isn’t she making noise?” she asked, frightened. “Why isn’t she crying?”
Gar was still holding her hand, but he knelt down next to her and put his free arm around her, hugging her tightly, his lips against her temple.
“All will be well,” he whispered. “I swear it, all will be well. She’s simply a quiet lass, ’tis all. Give her time.”
Rhoswyn was rubbing the child vigorously, trying to force her to breathe, as Avrielle dealt with the afterbirth, which finally came. Just when the tension in the chamber reached a splitting level, the infant let out a weak cry, piercing the warm air.
Mattie began to weep.
“Is she truly well?” she asked. “She is breathing?”
“She is breathing,” Rhoswyn assured her calmly, wrapping the infant up. “She’s turning pink now. She’s well, Mattie, I promise. It just took her a little longer, that’s all.”
Mattie wanted to hold her, so Avrielle handed the infant over to the desperate mother.
With Gar holding the other infant, who was now dozing, the parents doted over their twin girls, one of whom had had a difficult time coming into the world.
But she was here now, and seemingly well, and all was right once again.
Gar had never felt so much relief in his entire life.
And gratitude.
“They’re beautiful,” he murmured, kissing Mattie tenderly. “How do you feel? Are you feeling poorly at all? Do you want to lie down?”
Mattie’s tears had calmed sufficiently now that she was holding the second twin, a little girl who was indeed quite pink now that she’d filled her lungs a few times.
“I will be perfect,” she said. “I’m simply tired.”
“I would believe that,” Gar said, his free arm around her as he looked between their infants. “I’m tired simply from watching. But we have two lasses, Queenie. Two. I do not think we chose any names for lasses, did we?”
Mattie chuckled wearily. “I did,” she said. “But you were convinced it would be a boy. I refuse to name one of my daughters Henry.”
He grinned. “Henrietta?”
Mattie shook her head. “Nay,” she said, inspecting a tiny, flailing hand and admiring the beautiful shape of the fingers. “I was trying to decide between naming a daughter after your grandmother or my mother. Now, I do not have to choose. They will be called Jordan and Julia.”
Gar smiled, looking between his daughters. “Jordan and Julia,” he murmured. “Those are perfect names.”
Mattie sighed with contentment as he kissed her forehead, hugging her as tightly as he could while the infants mewled and squirmed.
Their family had been blessed with two new daughters who, in the weeks to come, would make clear that they were identical.
In the years to come, the exploits of Jordan and Julia de Wolfe would become legend.
But that is a story for another time.
As Gar went to inform his family that his wife had given birth to two beautiful daughters, Rhoswyn and Avrielle put Mattie to bed so she could feed the infants and gain some much-needed rest herself.
When Gar came back to the chamber later that night, after the boys had been put to bed, he found Mattie lying on her side with Jordan and Julia swaddled tightly next to her.
Jordan was suckling on the left breast while Julia was sleeping soundly.
Sliding into bed on the other side, Gar lay down with the new infants between him and his wife, watching the infant feed and marveling at what their love had created.
For certain, every child they’d had was conceived in a love that would outlast the sun.
Not every child born in the world could claim such a thing, but theirs could.
It was a love story for the ages.
And, yes… Gar wore the patchwork pants to every wedding of his children to remind them what true love looked like.
They looked like an old, stained pair of linen breeches.
And the legend of the Patchwork Pants lived on.
* THE END *