Her Best Christmas Ever

Not that he expected to bond with the new little family of two; he’d done his part and could now go on his way. But as Connie whispered loving words to her new daughter, he found her voice soft and mesmerizing, the sight warm and touching.

When the baby looked at her with eyes that crossed, Greg damn near choked up. Again, he wondered if he really ought to be privy to this special moment, yet he was unable to move.

Awed by what he’d just seen, he was also caught up in admiration for thewoman who’d bravely fought pain and fear to bring her newborn daughter into the world, a woman who now bore a maternal glow and a mesmerizing beauty he couldn’t explain.

Connie, who cuddled her infant daughter in her arms, looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Greg. I don’t know what I would have done without you here.”

“It was no big deal,” he said.

But it had been bigger than big. It had been huge.

He didn’t think he’d ever forget this moment. He’d witnessed a miracle, and what had once seemed like the worst night of his life had somehow become one of the best.

The kind of night that made a musician want to grab his guitar and sit up until dawn, trying to re-create a memory in song.

Chapter Three

The telephone rang shortly before daybreak, and Greg snatched it from its cradle so the noise wouldn’t wake Connie or the baby.

They were both resting now, and he wanted to keep it that way. Connie had been through hell the past couple of hours and a peaceful rest had been well earned.

“Hello?” he whispered into the receiver.

The age-worn voice boomed over the line. “It’s Doc Graham. How’s our patient doing?”

“Okay. She and the baby are both asleep.”

Of course, that in itself didn’t mean that everything was fine, which was why Greg kept checking in on them every few minutes. He wanted to make sure they were still breathing and that their coloring was good.

“But I’ll sure feel better when you get here,” he told the doctor. “Then you can validate my diagnosis.”

“Itwon’t be long,” Doc said. “I’ve just driven past that lowspot in the road and should be at the ranch in about five or ten minutes.”

“Good.” Knowing Doc the way he did, Greg figured he’d been parked near the flooded area and had driven through the moment he believed it was safe.

“By the way,” Doc added, “you did a great job.”

Greg didn’t know about that. Connie and the baby had done all the work, so he didn’t feel right taking credit for the minor role he played. “I didn’t do all that much. I’m just thankful there weren’t any complications.”

“Me, too. How are you holding up, son?”

“All right.” Especially now that it was all over.

“I’m sure it’s been a long night, so you’ve got to be tired. As soon as I get there, you can go to bed.”

Actually, Greg didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. Ever since the baby’s birth, he’d had a head-in-the-clouds buzz, one that didn’t appear to be fading in the least.

“Well,” Doc said over the slightly static telephone line, “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“All right.” Greg hung up, but his hand remained on the receiver. For the first time since Connie’s water had broken, he finally felt a sense of relief, and it dogged him into the kitchen, where he put on a pot of coffee.

Yet instead of taking a seat or watching out the window for Doc to arrive, he returned to Connie’s bedroom and took another peek at her and the baby—just to make sure they were still breathing, that they were resting easy.

And they were.

Connie, her expression softened by something soft and maternal, continued to doze, her head on a fluffy pillow, her brown curls splayed on the white cotton case. She wore no makeup, no sexy clothing, yet Greg was still struck by her beauty.

He’d found her attractive the first day he’d met her, yet there was something even more appealing now.

Maybe it was the strength and bravery she’d shown during the terrible pain she’d endured last night. Or maybe it was something altogether different.

All he knew was that he was inexplicably drawn to her.

She still held the baby next to her, under her arm and close to her heart. They’d called the child Isabella for a while, but for some reason the name didn’t seem to fit, and Connie had decided to stick with Amanda, which seemed perfect now.

With tufts of downy black hair, Amanda was a precious little thing. Her head was a bit pointed and misshapen, though.

Greg had asked Doc about it—privately, of course. And he’d been told that it was normal, that it would even out in a few days. He sure hoped so. If it did, he suspected Amanda was going to be the prettiest little girl this side of cherubville.

He leaned against the doorjamb, watching them longer than was necessary. Finally, convinced that an unexpected complication hadn’t arisen, he headed to the living room to unlock the door for Doc Graham and to wait on the front porch for his arrival.

Moments later, as he leaned against the wooden railing, watching the pink and orange fingers of dawn stretch across the horizon, he relished the sights and smells of the raindrenched ranch. At times he missed this place, missed the people who’d become important to him. Yet whenever he came home, he missed the guys in his band, too. The rush of standing onstage. The thrill when he announced a new song he’d written, a song that was met with a roar of approval from the fans.

As Doc Graham’s pickup, a red Chevy S-10, pulled into the yard, the front tire struck one of the many puddles that speckled the yard and sent a splatter of dirty water flying.

Greg watched as the old man shut off the ignition, slid out of the driver’s seat then reached back for his medical bag.

“Good morning,” Greg said.

“It certainly is.”

As Greg opened the screen door, Doc wiped his feet on the welcome mat. Once inside the warmth of the house, he shucked off his damp raincoat and left it on the hat tree in the entry.

“So, tell me something,” Doc said. “Are you going to turn in your guitar for a stethoscope?”

“No way. But delivering a baby was definitely an experience I won’t ever forget.” Greg wasn’t sure if Doc would understand what he was feeling. After all, in the last half century, Dr. Graham had undoubtedly delivered thousands of babies. So the whole birthing miracle had probably become routine to him.

As Greg led Doc down the hall, he walked lightly so he wouldn’t wake Connie or the newborn.

“Well, look who couldn’t wait to have her first turkey dinner,” Doc said from the doorway of Connie’s room.

The new mother’s eyes fluttered open, and she blessed the doctor with a pretty smile. Then she gazed at the baby sleeping in the crook of her arm.

“You know,” Doc said, easing closer, “I do believe that’s just about the most beautiful newborn I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Greg watched from the doorway as the doctor examined Connie first. For a moment, Greg wondered whether he should slip out into the living room to allow them some privacy, but he just couldn’t seem to turn and walk away.

What if he’d messed up or had forgotten to do something he’d been told to do?