66. Time Flies
Chapter 66
Time Flies
Rancho Bautista del Murciélago—A hundred years later
T he knock at the upstairs bedroom door was unexpected. Henry squeezed Cerissa’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry,” she groaned, sweat on her brow.
He mopped her forehead with a soft cloth before exchanging glances with the Lux doctor—the one who’d been caring for Cerissa during the past nine months.
“She’s doing fine. Go see who that is.”
Henry rushed to the door and cracked it open. “Yes?” He growled at the sight that met him from the carpeted hallway. “Anne-Louise, what are you doing here?”
“Papi.” His son suddenly appeared from behind her full vintage skirt and tugged at his pant leg. “Something’s wrong. Please, Papi, let me in.”
The slender, black-haired, brown-eyed, brown-skinned boy looked so much like Henry at the same age. He gently maneuvered David back, closed the door behind him, and knelt in front of his son in the hallway. “David, Amma is giving birth. You can’t go into her room right now.”
“But she’s in pain.”
“The doctor has given Amma medication for the pain.” Henry stood and glared at Anne-Louise. “Your grandmother shouldn’t have brought you here.”
Wearing a dark blue Victorian dress with a narrow cage-style crinoline supporting the skirt’s layers and a frilly blouse to top it off, Anne-Louise huffed out a regal-sounding breath. “Grand-Mère, not grandmother. And we’re here because he slipped past his nanny again.” She took the boy’s hand in hers, wrapping it in her pale white fingers. “I promised him a biscuit if he told me before leaving my house.”
“You mean the nursery?”
“My house. The house you built for me to stay in when I visited. Which you turned into a nursery for Lux babies.”
“We needed the space. But that’s besides the point. You should not be feeding him cookies. They aren’t good for him.”
“He’s a growing young man.” She glanced affectionately at David. “He can have a biscuit or two on occasion.”
“In this country, they are called cookies. And we are watching his sweets.”
“But these are good for him. I went to the open-air market yesterday. Dried nuts and fruits and honey were plentiful. I baked them last night.”
“Since when did you become a baker?”
“Since I was mortal. I found it fun to sneak into cook’s kitchen when I was a child and learn how to make the dough.”
David tugged at his pants leg again. “Papi, she’s still in pain.”
“Amma’s pain is normal right now, David, I promise.”
“Not Amma. No, sister. Sister is in pain.”
Then it struck Henry. The boy was sensing the distress of the soon-to-be-born baby. He needed to get back inside. “Anne-Louise, I must return to Cerissa and tell the doctor what David told me.” He ruffled the boy’s hair to give an air of calm that he didn’t feel. “I’ll make sure the doctor takes good care of your sister. You go with Grand—”
“Mère.”
“You go with Grand-Mère, and you may have a cookie.”
“Two.” David held up two fingers. “One for telling her I was leaving, and one for going back.”
“Negotiating already.” Anne-Louise scowled. “He gets that from your side of the family.” She swished her skirts as she turned and held out her hand. “Come, David. We’ll have two cookies and see what nanny is planning for your dinner. Then we might take an evening stroll in the vineyard. It’s a pleasant night.”
All the summer nights were pleasant now that the Lux controlled the weather within the dome. Perfect for growing grapes and other produce to feed the hungry throngs who lived under the dome’s safety. Once he saw Anne-Louise lift David into her arms and carry him to the stairs, Henry immediately returned to Cerissa’s bedroom. She’d had her first baby at home, and insisted on having the second one there as well. Cerissa refused to flash after she was in her second trimester—she was too concerned about the side effects it might cause. So the Lux doctor came to her.
He returned to her bedside. “How are you doing, mi amor ?”
“Henry, how is there still another centimeter to go? I’m so— Dammit!” she groaned, and another contraction rippled her stomach, contorting her face in pain.
As soon as she became pregnant, the naturally occurring morphing hormone had locked her into her mortal body for nine very long months. She hadn’t been able to morph into her Lux form—or any of her animal forms—even when in pain like this. He’d been there to comfort her, to care for her, to make it easier for her to endure the waves of nausea and the stress of staying in one skin all that time.
“Breathe through it.” He panted with her. Once the contraction finished, he caught the doctor’s attention. “My son just told me his sister is in pain.”
“What?” Cerissa asked.
“I am sure it is natural, Cerissa. Right, doctor?”
The doctor tapped a finger against her cheek. “Not uncommon for Lux siblings to feel a connection. It may be nothing more than the sensation the baby feels from being pushed into position by the mother’s uterus. Let me check, to be certain.”
While the doctor checked her instrument readings, Henry held Cerissa’s hand. “Breathe.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head. “I’ve told you all. David can feel his sister—he was concerned.”
Cerissa huffed at him. “I wish Karen was home. She’d tell me the truth.”
The baby had come a shade early. Karen and Rolf were on the other side of the planet, working together on a Lux project. Ari had promised to collect them and flash them here as soon as they woke. “ Querida , that’s not fair. I have been honest.”
The doctor cleared her throat. “It’s nothing to worry about. The baby’s heart rate is slightly erratic, but not drastically so. I want you to turn on your left side. It’ll help with the blood flow, and I can reassess.”
Cerissa groaned and tried to roll to her left, and Henry helped her, supporting her round belly as she moved.
“That’s better,” the doctor said. “It’s steadying out.”
Henry dabbed a cool cloth on Cerissa’s forehead and cheeks.
She grimaced with another contraction. “I swear, this is the last child I’m having,” she said with a groan.
He smiled. She’d sworn the same thing last time.
After another ten minutes, she caught the doctor’s attention. “Can I get up and walk for a while? Or do I need to stay on my side?”
The doctor studied the monitor’s readout. “I’d prefer a full twenty minutes in that position, but let me check after you stand, and we’ll see how the baby responds.”
Henry hovered as she rolled out of bed and onto her feet, wrapping an arm around her to support her. He glanced over at the doctor, who stared at the readout screen, which was being fed data from a monitor affixed to Cerissa’s belly, and then gave an approving nod. “It’s reading fine now, but we’ll need to keep you under constant monitoring just to watch it.”
“Okay,” Cerissa said.
They paced together, Cerissa leaning against him. The baby monitor connected wirelessly. When another contraction came, he held her steady and breathed with her. Something about walking helped her manage the pain. The Lux couldn’t tolerate epidural-injected anesthesia the way mortals did. Instead, their scientists had developed a pain reducer for labor, but it didn’t completely block the pain; it only reduced the sharpness of the contractions. The positive side was the medication didn’t numb her legs, so she could still walk.
He’d been through her first delivery and knew her preferences. She liked to change positions frequently and had already been on her feet multiple times before becoming too tired and returning to bed.
After twenty minutes had passed, the doctor said, “Let’s get you onto the birthing chair. I want to check the dilation. You should almost be there.”
He helped Cerissa sit on the special chair and put her legs on the cushioned rests. She groaned as she shimmied into a comfortable position. Or what he guessed was a more comfortable position. At this stage, she’d complained that no position stayed comfortable for long.
The doctor examined her. “Good news. You’re fully dilated. With your waters broken, you should be transitioning and feeling the urge to push any moment now. I want you to get ready for it.”
“All right, querida . Deep breaths.”
“Even here, you’re bossy,” Cerissa told Henry.
He dropped a kiss to her lips. “Breathe.”
Cerissa nodded and took some deep breaths. Another strong contraction rippled her belly, and her knuckles turned white squeezing his hand. The moment passed and then another hit her as she grunted through the contraction.
“Henry,” she said, breathless when the spasm eased. “I’m worried.”
“You are nearly there, mi amor . Everything is well.”
“No—I—” She tugged his hand. “Will this change things? With David?”
He met her eyes, and his brow furrowed. Why was Cerissa worried about David? “Yes, but he’s excited about having a little sister. You’ve done a beautiful job of preparing him to be her big brother. David will love her.”
“No— Ugh,” she groaned, a contraction cutting her off. “Dammit.”
“ Cari?a , do not worry about our son—”
“No!” she snapped. “I meant, will this change things for you? With David. Will you…” Her face clenched in anxiety. “Will you see him differently?”
“Why would I—” Henry began, and then his confusion cleared. Cerissa was worried because David wasn’t his biological son, and this coming child was. The Lux had done a good job of matching David’s genetic donor to Henry’s ancestry. There’d been hints that the donor was a great-great-great-great-nephew, on his sister’s side. David looked so much like Henry that the theory was likely true, but he hadn’t pushed to find out. Because the biological parent didn’t matter. Even without a direct genetic link, David was his son in every way.
He’d told Cerissa that it didn’t matter to him if none of his children were genetically his, but through sheer determination and guts and Lux technology, she’d made that happen—and now, on the cusp of their daughter’s arrival, she was afraid having a biologically sired child would change how he felt about their son.
“Cerissa. Never. It changes nothing. David is my son. He always has been, and he always will be.”
She stared into his eyes a moment longer, and then released a deep breath, the anxiety clearing from her face. “Of course, Quique. I knew that. I know that. I just—”
She’d panicked.
Henry nodded. “I understand.”
Pain contorted her face, and her hands shook, holding his. “Oh Goddess, I’m—” She panted. “Oh! She’s—”
“Do you feel the need to push?” the doctor asked as she checked the progress again.
Cerissa nodded, her eyes closed. “It feels—”
“Yes, you’re crowning. Now, I want you to push when I say push. Don’t unless I tell you. And if I tell you to hold—hold.” The doctor stood next to Cerissa, her hand on Cerissa’s belly, and looked up at him. “Do you want to deliver your baby?”
They’d discussed this. If all went well, he could be the one to catch the baby as she came through the birth canal. He’d done the same with David. Henry sat on the stool that allowed him close, but wheels on its legs would allow him to move out of the way fast if the doctor determined the baby or Cerissa needed special intervention. A cushioned, egg-shaped tub sat between his legs to catch the baby, just in case she slipped through his hands.
Not that he’d ever let that happen. He’d support and hold her gently for her entire life, allowing nothing to happen to her.
After the doctor coaxed Cerissa to push a few times, the back of his daughter’s head appeared, covered in thick black hair like his.
The doctor caught his eye. “Now help your daughter’s head and chin leave the vagina. Just as you did with David.” And to Cerissa, the doctor added, “Push.”
He placed his hands as instructed and touched his daughter for the very first time. Pressing his lips together, he bit back the tears forming in his eyes.
Our daughter.
“That’s it,” the doctor encouraged him.
“Henry?” Cerissa asked between contractions.
“She’s beautiful. Just beautiful, Cerissa.”
“Get ready for another contraction,” the doctor said. “Henry, use gentle downward traction to help the shoulder pass through. Cerissa, push.”
With that last thrust, their daughter slipped free of Cerissa’s body and turned in his hands to lie on her back. Holding her gently, he watched as she gasped her first breath and hiccupped. He’d been through this before with David—not all newborns cried, and he knew from experience that the slight amount of blood mixed with amniotic fluid on her skin didn’t trigger a desire to feed.
Besides, he’d fed well in anticipation of the birth.
“Excellent.” The doctor took the child from his hands, gave her a quick inspection, clamped and cut the umbilical cord, and then laid her on Cerissa’s belly, wrapping a warm blanket over the baby and snugging a knit cap on her head to keep her cozy.
Henry stripped off the medical gloves he’d worn and went to Cerissa’s side. He laid a hand on the baby’s blanketed back, feeling her irregular breaths—pauses followed by rapid, shallow breaths, which the doctor told them to expect—the same pattern he’d observed when David was born. He stroked Cerissa’s forehead, moving the hair out of her eyes. With a few more contractions, the doctor delivered the placenta.
He leaned over and kissed Cerissa, then placed a gentle kiss on the baby’s cheek.
Stroking the baby, Cerissa sighed. “She’s perfect.”
“Just like her mother.”
“No, Quique.” The smile Cerissa gave him warmed him to the core. “Just like her father.”