It's 1854, and the south is thriving on agriculture. Men do the hard work, and women raise the babies.
I feel like I'm being smothered.
I've always been too smart for my gender. Too eager to learn. Too expressive.
I want too much. At least, that's w...
"Sir, you can't be in here. We need all the space possible," a nurse told me gently, doing her best to urge me out of the room.
Swallowing thickly, I met my wife's pain-filled eyes over the nurse's head. I didn't want to leave her. Not when she was in this much pain. But when she screamed again and bore down to push, I allowed the nurse to shove me out of the room and slam the door shut so she could get back to helping my wife.
"Come have a drink," Ethan said as he came from down the hall where the girls were hopefully still peacefully sleeping. "You look like you need one."
I just nodded and followed him down the stairs to the study we now shared. After grabbing two glasses, he poured us each two fingers of whiskey before passing me one of the glasses. I quickly threw the liquid back, letting the alcohol burn down my throat.
Catherine's scream rang out above our heads, and I clenched my jaw before reaching forward to pour me another. "Sounds like she's in quite a bit of pain," Ethan murmured.
I stiffly nodded my head. "I hate it. Hate it so much because I can't do anything to help her. The nurses and the midwife won't even let me be in the damn room."
Blowing out a harsh breath, I began to pace back and forth. Ethan took a seat and silently watched me. I knew I was probably making him antsy, but I couldn't sit still. That would be impossible until Catherine was out of pain and our sweet baby was born.
Catherine let out another scream, and then a moment later, a different sound burst through the silence.
The sound of a baby crying.
My eyes almost bugged out of my head, and then I was rushing out of the study, my shoes pounding up the stairs as I rushed to our bedroom. The door was opening just as I got to the landing, and the nurse that poked her head out beamed at me.
"Would you like to meet your son, Mr. Abernathy?"
My words stuck in my throat, I quickly nodded my head and stepped into the room when she moved aside. Catherine was propped against a bunch of pillows, cradling our sweet baby boy in her arms. Her skin was glistening was sweat, and her hair was plastered to her face and neck. But the beautiful, breathtaking smile on her face as she gazed at our precious gift told me everything I needed to know.
All the pain and discomfort she'd endured had been worth it. It had all been worth being able to hold him.
She looked up at me, and her lips trembled, tears glistening in her eyes. "She's perfect," she croaked. A tear ran down her cheek. "He's so perfect, Easton."
I eased onto the bed next to her. "Can I hold him?" I rasped.
She sniffled and quickly nodded her head before gently passing him over to me. The moment his tiny body was cradled in my arms, my chest opened, and my heart fell into his tiny hands. He owned every single part of me just that quickly.
Heart-shaped lips slowly opened before closing again, and his eyelashes fluttered, but he didn't open his eyes. He was so quiet and calm, so almost unbearingly perfect.
"We need to try to get him to breastfeed, Mrs. Abernathy," one of the nurses said quietly. She glanced at me after. "If you don't mind, that is, sir."
"Of course not," I rushed out. The nurse helped Catherine unlace her nightgown until one of the sleeves slipped off her shoulder and a breast was bared. They were full of milk already, ready to nourish our baby and give it everything it needed.
Once he was settled back in Catherine's arms, she followed the nurse's instructions to settle him at her breast. A moment later, he was latched on. Catherine softly laughed in surprise.
"I thought it was harder to get them to latch on at first?" she asked.
The midwife chuckled from where she was helping get things cleaned up. "Some women and babies are absolute naturals at it, Mrs. Abernathy. Seems you and your little one are one of those."
Catherine glanced at me, a beaming smile on her face. I leaned forward and softly kissed her, my hand cupping her soft cheek.
"What are we naming him?" I asked her once we'd parted.
She glanced down at our sweet baby boy and brushed a finger over his cheek as he suckled. "Oscar Jack Abernathy."
I smiled at her, a chuckle rumbling up from my chest. "Your brother will be thrilled."
She easily returned my smile. "Can you send for him?"
I grabbed her free hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I'll send Ethan now."
"Thank you," she whispered.
I pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before getting off the bed, being careful not to jostle her no-doubt sore body. "Anything for you, sweetheart."
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