Chapter Thirty-Nine Gertrude
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Gertrude
Seven hours after the Oceanus was torpedoed
The sun had long set, and the air had turned colder. Everyone in the lifeboat was huddled several feet from me, but they kept their gazes averted as if to give me as much privacy as possible. I lay against blankets and stared up at the night sky as the boat rocked over the rolling waves.
“You’re doing very well, Frau Werner,” Dr. Brooks said.
His soft expression hid so much, and I didn’t trust his gentle tones. He was like the ocean, as calm as it could be dangerous.
I’d been running for so long, but I was again held prisoner in a life I didn’t want.
And if I survived childbirth, getting away from Dr. Brooks, Sigrid, and William with an infant would be doubly difficult.
There’d been no sign of Chief Mate Riggs, and even if he did appear, even he couldn’t swim against these strong tides.
“Don’t look so distressed, Gertrude,” Sigrid said. “You’re young and strong. I know your baby’s father would be pleased.”
Not his child. This child belongs to the ocean.
The boat rolled over a wave, spraying water on my face.
Sigrid wiped it off. My fears were silenced when another contraction racked my body.
The strain was ripping me in two. Mrs. DuPont, who’d been sitting beside me, took my hand and allowed me to squeeze.
My grip was strong, and I didn’t care if I was hurting her.
The urge to push overwhelmed every cell in my body. Dr. Brooks laid his hand on my calves and slid his hands up my legs. I cringed and tried to draw my legs closed.
“You must let the baby come, Gertrude,” Dr. Brooks said. “I want to see your baby safely into this world.”
I shook my head. “I won’t let him have this baby.”
“He won’t be a problem for you anymore,” Dr. Brooks said.
“Can you be sure?”
“I am very sure.” His steady gaze reminded me of an unruffled still lake. Inviting. Calm. But what was under the surface?
My body convulsed again with another spasm, and I could barely inhale. I was bare before this stranger, and even with the pain, my humiliation was real.
Dr. Brooks pushed up my skirt higher and pressed my legs apart. “It’s going to be fine,” he said softly. “I can see your baby’s head. A few more pushes, and the pain will be over.”
The waves rolled under me, coaxing me to relax and push.
Sigrid moved behind me, next to Mrs. DuPont. She steadied my shoulder with strong hands. “We must do this now. You must bear down.”
I had no choice but to comply, no matter how hard I resisted. So, I bore down and pushed. My body screamed. A moan rumbled in my throat. My body felt as if it were splitting.
“Breathe,” Dr. Brooks said. “Breathe.”
I pulled salt air into my nose and huffed it out through my mouth. I repeated it over and over. The pain built. I was convinced that I was dying.
“One more big push and the shoulders will pass,” Sigrid said.
Gritting my teeth, I bore down so hard I could feel the veins in my neck bulge. And then I felt the child leave my body. There was a rush of relief. My breathing grew rapid, and I was suddenly anxious to see the child.
I looked over my bent knees and watched Dr. Brooks holding my child face down. He was patting the child’s back. The baby remained silent. Its small body was so still and small. It wasn’t breathing.
Dr. Brooks turned the baby on its side and cleaned out its mouth. Another flip and smack on the bottom, and the baby let out a loud wail.
My sense of relief was sharp. Tears that I’d refused to shed for years welled in my eyes.
I’d spent my pregnancy dreading this moment.
I’d sworn I didn’t want this child. I’d believed it was a curse, a tangible reminder of my foolish choices.
And yet the child was here, and I wanted to hold it in my arms.
Dr. Brooks tied off the cord and wrapped the baby in a blanket. Sigrid moved beside me and accepted the child from Dr. Brooks. “Next, the afterbirth.”
“Give me my child,” I said.
“Not just yet,” Dr. Brooks said. He kneaded my belly with his fist. The discomfort was as intense as the birth. But whatever was yet to come rushed out of me.
Sweat—or was it seawater?—plastered my hair to my head. “I want my child.”
“Not just yet,” he said.
He tied off the cord and cut it with a knife from the boat’s first aid kit. He wrapped the afterbirth in another blanket and tossed it over the side of the boat. The ocean swallowed it up.
Slowly, he pulled my skirt down and lowered my legs. He nodded to Sigrid, who clung to the child for what felt like an endless beat as the boat swayed with the sea.
And then the infant’s wails echoed in the night, tearing at my heart. The women and the sailor, who’d been so quiet, cheered. Finally, Sigrid, with all the others watching her, laid the child in my arms.
If all the others on the boat were to describe this moment, they’d call it touching and heartwarming. But I knew the truth. The presence of Dr. Brooks and Sigrid around my child and me was a dark and ominous threat as dangerous as any U-boat.
The baby stopped fussing and nestled into the blanket and my arms. I studied the small face. It was round like mine, but I could see hints of Alfred in the curve of its brow. There was a tuft of dark hair on the baby’s head. Alfred now had the perfect weapon to break me.
“It’s a boy,” Dr. Brooks said.
“Congratulations,” Sigrid said. “The child looks healthy and sound.”
I understood the implication simmering under her words.
A boy. An heir. My husband would move heaven and earth for his son. I imagined Sigrid bargaining for a higher bounty on the boy.
“You’re safe,” Dr. Brooks said.
“How can I trust you?” I asked.
He glanced toward Sigrid. “I’ll always protect you.”