***Hey y'all! I just wanted to say thank you for your responses to my desperate plea for help at the end of that last chapter! Just a couple notes thereabouts-- First, of course Brent is coming back, lol. He's gonna mess stuff up pretty good, as he does. You know how I love angst and despair, and Brent will be a nice source of both. Second, this book is meant to be the first in a four-part series. Melissa will get her own book, as will Gabe and Katherine. So those threads won't have a conclusion by the end of this book, but hopefully your interest will be piqued enough that you'll want to read the next? Maybe. Anyway, here's another chapter. As ever, thank you for your patience.***

Josh

"Oh..."

His heart stopped beating and plummeted into his stomach. His ears rang. His fists clenched. It wasn't the word, but the way she'd said it. Pain... surprise...

"Ames?"

He dropped the shovel as he called her name, sprinting out of the barn to where he'd left her with the horses, hand-feeding the spoiled creatures apples while he mucked their stalls. She still stood by the fence, but she was bent over, one hand gripping the railing, the other pressed to her back.

"Amelia," he snapped, his voice too harsh and sharp as he skidded to a stop beside her. He wanted to touch her, but her face was twisted in pain and he didn't want to hurt her. His mind screamed through the math. Melissa had said it was coming. Any day now, she'd said with a smile, a few nights back. 

Amelia shook her head hard, lips pressed together, eyes squeezed shut. He lingered beside her, shifting restlessly on his feet, wishing he knew anything at all about birthing. If she was a horse he'd be cool, calm, and collected, ready to bring her foal into the world. But she wasn't a goddamned horse, she was his wife! A human woman! Jesus, they needed the doctor.

"Amelia..."

"Shut up," she said through her teeth. And then, like a cloud parting to reveal the sun, the pain moved off her face. She breathed out a shaky breath and stood up straight, grinning shakily at him. "I think we should go back to the house."

"We should go to town."

"I'm not really in the mood for a two hour wagon ride, Josh," she said with a roll of her eyes. How was she so calm?

"Fine," he breathed. "I'll take you to the house, but I'm going to get the doctor."

"We talked about this," she sighed as he took her elbow and they began moving slowly toward the house. "I just want Melissa."

"You need a doctor. What if something--"

"I trust Melissa more than I trust that old drunk. You do too. In the months I've been here, you've brought her seven men. Broken arms, bonked heads, festering cuts... I've never once seen you load one of your man into a wagon and taken him to-- oh, God..." she trailed off, and he caught her weight as she leaned against him. Her hand gripped his arm so tight he felt nails biting his skin.

"Amelia--"

"Josh, shut up," she begged, trailing off on a whimper. "It's just... ah!" Her grip tightened even further as she cried out in pain. "It's normal... just birthing pains." Sweat was beading on her forehead and she pressed her face to his chest. Weren't birthing pains supposed to start out a little further apart?

When the pain released her, he bent and hooked her legs, lifting her into his arms. She made a small noise of protest but looped her own arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder.

"They're supposed to be farther apart," he said, already knowing the answer, frustration brewing. "When did they start?"

"Yesterday evening," she said, her voice small and timid. She spoke the words into his shirt, and he couldn't be mad at her. Not really mad. "I didn't want to worry you, and I felt better moving around."

He laughed bitterly, hefting her higher in his arms as he mounted the porch steps. "Get the door."

Amelia reached out and pulled the door open, and he edged inside. He leaned back against the wall and toed off his boots, arms burning from Amelia's weight.

"I can stand, Josh," she protested, wiggling in his grip. He held her tighter.

"Amelia, that baby could fall out of you any damned minute. Stay still." Turning his face away from her choked out laugh, he yelled into the house. "Melissa!"

Running footsteps, and his sister appeared, wiping her hands on an apron. Her eyes went wide and then her face broke into a grin when she saw them. A grin. He could barely breathe for the fear and frustration, and she looked two seconds from clapping her hands together in glee.

"It's time?" she asked excitedly, directing her question to Amelia.

"Not yet," his wife protested. "Josh is just being... oh, no..." She squeezed his neck so hard he saw spots, and the weakness in his arms disappeared. He charged up the stairs, absorbing her stifled moans of pain into his soul. Their bedroom door was ajar and he kicked it open with one foot and stomped inside, bending to place her on the bed. "No," she gasped, clinging to him as he made to straighten. He sat on the edge of the bed, bent awkwardly over her, stroking her hair like she was some kind of wounded animal.

"How long since the last one?" Melissa asked.

"Three minutes, maybe," he answered over his shoulder, and she made a sound that mirrored his frustration. Good. At least she was on his side.

At last, Amelia relaxed, and she let him go, collapsing into the pillows Melissa placed behind her. A strand of hair had escaped her braid and clung to her sweaty forehead, and her chest heaved with pain.

"You were supposed to tell me when they were ten minutes apart," Melissa scolded, bustling about the room, removing items from drawers and setting them on the empty spot on the bed.

"I know," Amelia said quietly, raising a shaky hand to her forehead. "It happened fast."

"You knew they had started?" Josh demanded of his sister, glaring at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Labor can go on for days, Josh," she said. "Do me a favor and go boil some water."

"I'm going to town for the doctor."

"The hell you are," Amelia snapped, sitting up. Melissa pushed her back against the pillows and she relaxed, but her scowl didn't ease. "I told you I just want Melissa."

A thousand worst-case scenarios flashed before his eyes, just like they did every night when he went to sleep, every morning when he awoke, and a dozen times throughout every day. What if the baby was breach? That happened with horses and cattle, it could happen to women couldn't it? What if the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's neck? Melissa had come out like that and if the doctor hadn't been there she'd have died. What if Amelia bled too much? What if she developed a fever? What if...

"Josh, go get the water," Melissa said gently, edging between him and the bed, nudging him toward the door. "We need some privacy. She'll be alright."

Josh didn't love the way his little sister was talking to him-- like he was an anxious child who needed soothing. But he also couldn't argue that she wasn't exactly a little girl anymore. Amelia was right-- he trusted his sister with any injuries his men sustained. He'd seen the way she cooled in the face of blood or illness, how she seemed almost to grow taller and stronger, and older. She was a born healer, she read medical texts with religious fervor, and Amelia was right about the doctor, too. He was probably drunk. Melissa was sober.

"I'll be back soon," he said to Amelia, offering his sister a grateful smile before he ducked out of the room and jogged down the stairs. A strangled cry of pain followed him, and his blood felt like ice in his veins. Of all things, his mind went to his brother as he reached the kitchen and set about boiling water. Brent, out there in the world, probably drinking and playing cards. Charming women into his arms. How often did he think about Amelia? Josh couldn't decide if he hoped it was often or hoped Brent never thought of her at all. Surely he had done the math in his head. He'd see the signs of spring and know his baby would be born any day.

Would he drink away that realization? Would he be struck by a need to meet his child?

Would he return?

Amelia

"Just relax," Melissa said, from somewhere near her feet, and Amelia wanted to die from embarrassment as cool air brushed her body, followed by a few firm, business-like touches to her heated, sensitive flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands over her face. Then another rolling, shuddering wave of pain seized her and she didn't care much about her dignity. She bit her lip, slamming her hands down on the mattress and digging her fingers into the sheets.

"It hurts," she whimpered, and Melissa hummed in sympathy.

"I know. I know, but it'll be over soon. You're pretty far along."

Amelia felt the sheets shift to cover her and shifted painfully onto her side, tears slipping loose from her eyes. Of all the places her mind could go, she thought of Brent. If he was here right now she would punch him in the nose, but the only man around was Josh and she couldn't punch him in the nose. Damn it, but she wanted Brent. She wanted to punch someone in the nose.

She gasped in relief as the pain eased. Melissa urged her onto her back and then blotted her forehead with a cool, damp cloth. "Do you want to sit up and have some water?" she asked, and Amelia nodded. She felt weak, but her friend did most of the work, easing her up and slipping more pillows behind her. She relaxed into them and accepted the cup Melissa pressed into her hands. The girl was stronger than she looked. While Amelia had writhed and sweated and moaned, Melissa had slipped padding beneath her, changed her into a thin nightgown, removed the bedspread, and covered her with a thin sheet. A pile of clean white cloths had materialized on Amelia's bedside table, along with a basin and a pitcher of water.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Amelia found herself relaxing a bit more into the bed as three quiet knocks echoed through the room.

Josh.

"Come in," she called, trying to make her voice sound strong. She didn't want to frighten him. He'd been so worried about her the past couple of months, and she didn't want to give him reason to doubt that she could endure what was happening.

"I've got the water," Josh said, slipping into the room and easing the door shut behind him. He held a large pot in his hand and Melissa nodded to a spot she'd cleared on Amelia's vanity. He set the pot down and stood, arms hanging by his side, fists clenching and unclenching. He looked so uncertain, like the fear and pain in Amelia's heart was staring back at her from his eyes.

"We'll be okay," Melissa said, smiling at him. "You can go wait downstairs."

What? No! But Amelia bit back the words. It was selfish of her to want him to stay. She had friends who had given birth, and their husbands never stayed in the room. It was indecent, and what man wanted to see his wife so distorted and messy?

"I..." Josh hesitated, eyes darting from her to Melissa. Back to her. She lowered her gaze to the cup in her hands. "Amelia, I--"

"You can go," she said, willing the tears from her eyes and the fear from her voice. He had given so much to her. The least she could do was spare him the experience that was coming. "I'll be alright."

He didn't say anything, and she glanced up to see him nodding solemnly. "I'll be right outside," he said, his words directed at Melissa but Amelia guessed they were probably more for her. "If you need anything, just call."

"We'll be fine, Josh," Melissa urged, tipping her chin toward the door. He lowered his head and left, his steps unusually quiet.

I'll be alright, Amelia repeated to herself, closing her eyes. Melissa removed the cup from her hands and she turned back onto her side. I'll be alright. I'll be alright. I'll be alright.

But then another wave of agony hit her. Each felt stronger than the last. She wanted to scream, but Josh was right outside. She sank her teeth into her closed fist and bit down, her body shuddering and shaking. She felt like she was drowning in the pain. It was over her head. She couldn't breath. Somewhere, Melissa was rubbing her back, wiping at her sweaty face, but she barely felt it. All she felt was the pain, the pain, the...

She groaned as her body relaxed once more.

"Is it supposed to be like this?" she panted, and Melissa laughed lightly.

"I'm afraid so. I've helped deliver eleven healthy babies, and it was always like this. It'll be okay, Amelia. I know it hurts, but you're doing really well. Everything looks right. You'll have your son in your arms before the sun sets."

"It's not even lunchtime!" Amelia exclaimed, half-sitting before her strength left. She collapsed back into the pillows, dread rolling through her. She wanted to vomit. "How much longer will this last?"

"Every women is different," Melissa said sympathetically, but Amelia wanted to strangle her. "It could be minutes and it could be hours."

"Hours?"

"It'll be okay, Amelia."

"That's easy for you to say! You just have to watch! I feel like he's trying to tear his way out. He's going to kill me." She said the last in a whisper so Josh wouldn't hear, and tears broke loose and began streaming down her face.

"Oh, Amelia," Melissa said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping her arms gently around Amelia's shoulders. She was softer than the comfort Amelia wanted, but it was better than nothing. She rested her cheek on Melissa's shoulder and let the tears fall. "I promise you're going to be okay," her friend murmured, small hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. "I know what I'm doing. I've seen these things go wrong, and I've seen them go right. Everything looks right for you, okay? It hurts more than anything you've ever felt, but it's supposed to feel like that. I promise, you and your baby are going to be okay."

Amelia trusted her. Trusted her right up until the next clenching, burning, gust of pain. Then she trusted nobody. She clenched her teeth until she felt her jaw would crack, pounding her fist into the mattress by her side.

"You need to breathe," Melissa said, her words drifting from somewhere up above. "Try to take a breath, Amelia." But didn't Melissa know that if she breathed she'd scream? And if she screamed Josh would worry? For some reason, her thoughts had narrowed until that was all she could think.

Don't scare Josh. Don't scream. Don't make him worry.

She made it through two more rounds of pain. On the third, her jaw unhinged and she heard herself cry out. It echoed through her mind, through her body, through the house. It bounced off the sky and returned to her, and she realized what she'd done just as the door to the bedroom slammed open and the pain faded.

"I told you to wait," Melissa snapped, but Josh didn't so much as glance at her. His eyes, wide and crazed, fell on Amelia and all she could do was weep as he crossed the room in three long strides and sank onto the edge of the bed.

Amelia felt like a monster. A weak, pitiful, selfish monster. She'd called his name. Screamed his name. She needed him far more than she deserved. She waited for him to start rambling about the doctor or to ask if she was okay. She readied herself to lie. He deserved the lie.

I'll be alright. I'll be alright.

"It's okay, honey," he said, his fingers nimbly tucking strands of disgusting, sweaty hair behind her ear. "You're gonna be okay."

She mustered her strength and flung herself forward, banding her arms around him and squeezing as the fear seized her bones and turned them brittle. If he didn't hold her together, she would shatter. She'd tear into a thousand bloody pieces. She knew it.

The next pain hit her harder than the last, but she breathed when Melissa told her to breathe and screamed when Josh told her to scream. She gripped her husband's hand so tight she felt his knuckles crack, and when the pain released her she sobbed her apology.

He laughed and told her not to worry. Eased her back into the pillows. Took over with the cool cloth, wiping away her sweat and tears. Josh brought her comfort, but truth be told she wanted Brent to be there. She still wanted to punch him in the nose. Perhaps he'd come back someday to meet his son and she'd be able to do it then. The thought made her smile.

The day crept by, and time became a fluid, inconsistent mess. The minutes she spent in pain lasted for years. The minutes of respite flew by in seconds. Melissa was a constant, steady presence, her voice soothing and professional. Just a little while longer. You're almost ready. Hang in there. Josh never budged from his spot by her side. He fed her sips of water and cleaned her face and neck with the cool cloth. He helped her ease from one position to another as she desperately chased relief. He held her body when she writhed, and let her cling to his hand, his arm, his shirt... whatever she could reach. She figured he'd have let her wrap her hands around his neck and strangle him if she said she needed to. He'd have let her punch him in the nose, but no... no, she would save that for his brother.

The light faded, and Amelia faded with it. She drifted in an exhausted, pain-wracked haze. The voices around her lost meaning as they hung like wisps of cloud over her head. She no longer had the strength to sit or shift, relying on Josh and Melissa to help her move, lift her head, pour water down her aching throat. She felt as if giant hands, God's hands, had twisted her up like a used dishrag, wringing out the essence of who she was until all that remained was skin and bone and agony.

She barely heard the words-- Melissa's urgent, it's time. Barely felt Josh lifting her, guiding her own hands to her thighs, holding them back. She was sweaty and disgusting, and he was touching her more intimately than he ever had. She thought dazedly that she should be mortified, but she only felt relief that he was with her. What if he was still outside and she was still choking down her screams? What if she was alone with all this pain?/ 

"Amelia, look at me." Melissa's stern voice brooked no argument, and Amelia peeled her eyes open and saw her friend smiling encouragingly from between her legs. She had her hair tied up in a kerchief and her sleeves pushed up to her elbows. "You're almost done," she said, grinning. "I can see his head. When the next big pain comes, you need to push with it, okay? Imagine that you're trying to use the toilet."

Amelia made a wobbly, scribbled mental note to throttle her friend when she was feeling better, for saying something so humiliating. Then the realization hit her.

"It's time?" she asked, her words weak and raspy.

"It's time," Melissa confirmed with a nod and a smile. "You ready?"

"No," she answered honestly, and felt Josh's chest rumble with laughter behind her. Maybe she would punch him in the nose. Before she plot how to accomplish that effort, the pain slammed into her. She howled and attempted to throw herself backward, away from the pain, but Josh's body held her in place. Damn him.

"Push, Amelia," Melissa urged. "You have to push."

She pushed. The pain tore at her. Ripped her open. Bled her dry.

"Okay, relax," Melissa ordered, and she choked on air as she sagged in Josh's hold. He was mumbling words in her ear, but they were meaningless. All she cared about was his voice and his presence. He could not leave her. She would die if he let her go. She would die if she had to push again.

But when Melissa gave her the command, she tightened her body and pushed. Her vision faded. The pain was relentless. She was climbing an invisible ladder, pushed from below by pain, pulled from above by the steady presence that held her. And each rung was made of words.

"His head is out."

...

"There's his shoulders."

...

"Give me one more push and he'll be here."

...

"He's beautiful, Amelia." 

"He's a girl," came from behind her, and Amelia peeled her eyes open as a piercing cry tore through the room. Melissa held up a squawling, flailing, slimy, perfect creature, her grin wide and bright. Amelia had thought she had no strength left, but her arms lifted and she reached for her baby.

Her daughter.

Her fierce, furious little girl. Melissa placed Amelia's world on her chest, and it stained her nightgown pink with bloody slime and weighed barely enough for the weight to register. At some point, Josh had eased out from behind her and she rested against the pillows, holding her daughter with shaking hands. Seizing pain still wracked her body, but she no longer cared.

Melissa was working, her hands moving from one task to the other-- tying string around the cord, placing more padding beneath Amelia's hips, rubbing briskly at her belly, bustling away with soiled linens, returning with clean ones. All around her was frantic activity, but Amelia couldn't tear her eyes from her daughter.

Her daughter.

"Ames..." Josh's voice tore her from her blissful fog, and she finally looked up to see her husband sitting on one side of the bed, Melissa perched on the other.

"It's time to get you both cleaned up," Melissa said. "I'll give her right back, but she needs a quick bath and you need fresh clothes and sheets. Okay?"

Amelia looked at Josh. He smiled, and she realized his sleeves were pushed up like Melissa's, his hands scrubbed raw. His fingers tightened into fists, and his smile turned apologetic. "I'll be careful with her," he promised. "You'll have her back in a couple minutes. Just a little cleaner, that's all."

Amelia didn't think she had any tears left to cry, but they broke loose and rolled down her face as Josh carefully lifted her daughter from her chest and carried her across the room. She struggled to see past his broad back, listening to the baby's cry and the sound of splashing water as he bathed her. In minutes, Amelia lay against fresh pillows, snug between clean sheets, her aching body clean and wrapped in a clean nightgown.

"What time is it?" she asked, her eyes drifting in and out of focus as she forced down the water Melissa had handed her.

"Almost nine o'clock," her friend answered, and she mustered a glare.

"You said it'd be over by dusk."

"Well, I lied."

Before she could muster any real annoyance, Josh was back. Her daughter was no longer naked, but clumsily swaddled, her cries having faded to sleepy sounds of distress. Amelia held out her arms and took the weight of the universe into them.

Melissa propped the window open, and a cool spring breeze drifted inside as Amelia stared down at her daughter. The child's face was red and splotchy, scrunched and wrinkled. She wiggled in her blanket, and every so often her tiny lips would part and a squawking noise would eek out of her throat. What sparse hair she had stood in tufts away from her head, fluttering in the breeze.

She was perfect. Utterly flawless. Awed, Amelia reached out and ran a finger over her daughter's soft cheek, marveling at what she had created.

What she and Brent had created.

The thought of him dulled her joy, and it finally sank in what she had done. She'd brought a child into a cruel and treacherous world. Worse, she'd brought a daughter into a world that wouldn't cherish her the way she deserved. A beautiful, perfect little girl for life to burn and tarnish. Amelia imagined all the horrors and heartbreak her daughter would face and the joy was abruptly pushed away and replaced by dread and sorrow.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, running the back of her fingers over the scrunched up face. "I'm so sorry." Footsteps retreated as weak, shuddering sobs wracked her aching body. She held her daughter against her chest, curling over as if she could somehow protect her from the future. Like she could stop the march of time.

The mattress dipped, and a hand rested on her shoulder. Amelia looked up to see that Melissa had quietly slipped away and Josh sat on the bed beside her, his face twisted in a frown.

"What's the matter?" he asked, brushing a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You did so good."

"She's a girl," Amelia said emptily, knowing he'd understand. The worry lines eased from his face and the concerned frown shifted into a gentle smile as he sat back.

"So I heard," he said, switching his attention to the baby and brushing two fingers over her downy hair. "She's beautiful, Ames."

"She is," Amelia agreed, gazing in heartbroken adoration at her daughter's wrinkled face. "She's perfect. But she's a girl, Josh."

"I know she is, Ames," he said, his tone gentle and teasing. The haphazard swaddling came loose and one pudgy arm punched out, testing its strength and grasping at the air. Josh touched his finger to the palm, and a tiny fist closed over it. He shook it gently, and Amelia's heart cracked open at the soft noise her daughter made in response. She was real. No longer a strange, faceless life form existing within her. She was a real person, tiny but undeniable, interacting with the world, learning and changing and growing with every passing second.

"What's her name?" Josh asked, raising his gaze to Amelia's without pulling free of the baby's grasp.

Amelia lifted her shoulders in a shrug and blinked the last of the tears out of her eyes.

"I don't know. I really thought she'd be a boy."

He chuckled. "Guess you have to think fast. Or we could just call her 'baby' or 'girl' until you figure it out."

Amelia laughed as well, her body twanging with pain at even that slight disturbance. She hurt, but she'd never felt so whole.

"She needs a name," she said thoughtfully.

"You could name her for her mother," he offered with a one-shouldered shrug.

Amelia wrinkled her nose at him. "That'd be weird."

"You said yourself you were going to name him for his father if it was a boy."

"Well, that's different."

"How?"

"It just is."

"You're making up rules."

"Maybe I am. Are you going to tell me I can't, Josh?"

He rolled his eyes at that, but lapsed back into a few breaths of thoughtful silence. "Well, are there any other women you want to honor? What was your mother's name?"

Her mother. She hadn't thought of that. She remembered her parents, but they had died so long ago they didn't pass into her mind very often, except in moments of pain and fear. She didn't want to pass that on to her daughter. There was too much distant, lonely sorrow, there.

"I don't want to name her after my mother," she said quietly. "What about yours? What was your mother's name?"

He grimaced and shook his head. "That's not a good legacy for a child to carry, Ames."

"Everything you and Melissa have told me about her disagrees. She sounds brave and strong and kind."

"She was." The words came out sharp, and he pulled his finger free, face falling into contrition. "Sorry," he mumbled, tucking the blanket back around her daughter. "But her character isn't her legacy, Ames, much as I wish it was."

"What was her name?"

He sighed, rasped a hand over his jaw, and grimaced at her in defeat. He sighed. "Rebecca."

"Rebecca," she repeated, staring down at her daughter's face. Two wide, blue eyes opened, staring at her in the flickering light of the lantern. Rebecca. "She'll be brave," she said. "And strong, and kind. She can make her own legacy."

He didn't answer, and when she ripped her gaze from her daughter, from Rebecca, she saw that his eyes had gone distant and shadowed with sadness. He lifted his hand and brushed it over the wispy hair, his touch so gentle it hurt her to see. For all that her faith in him had expanded out into the far reaches of her heart, she had always harbored a quiet, dark corner of fear when she thought of her child. Brent's child. She knew Josh loved her. She wasn't stupid. He hadn't said it, but she saw it in his eyes when he looked at her and felt it in his touch when he held her. But could he love a child he hadn't sired? A child who had forced him into a celibate marriage? She sometimes doubted that he could. That anyone could.

"Rebecca," he said finally, with a note of resolve. Then, with a few quiet words, he lit a fire that swept away the last of the darkness that lingered in her heart. "I know you're scared," he said, raising his eyes to Amelia's. "But I give you my word, I'll keep her safe. I'll keep you both safe. Nothing will change that."

"I know," she said, offering him a feeble smile, and it occurred to her that she might very well love him back. Her feelings for Brent had flared to life the moment he met her eye, a roaring cataclysm of passion and fantasy. She didn't feel anything like that for Josh, but she was coming to see that the absence of that screaming devotion didn't mean she didn't love him. Her feelings for him were a whisper, not a roar. They tickled at her insides and swept her into pleasant dreams, speaking to her without drowning out her thoughts. And Rebecca... oh, Rebecca. Amelia's love for her daughter didn't need to speak to her, in either a whisper or a roar. The instant she'd come into the world, it had woven itself into Amelia's bones. She could be blind, deaf, and dumb and she'd know it was there. She could be dead and still feel it. 

"I can't believe I wanted a boy," she marveled, her tears gone, her heart bursting with joy. "She's perfect, Josh. I think maybe I wanted a girl the whole time."

He laughed lightly at that, scrubbing a hand through his disheveled hair and casting a dramatic gaze to the ceiling.

"I know I did," he confessed with a wry smile, reaching out to let Rebecca grasp his finger once more. "Honestly, Ames, I don't think I have the energy to raise another Brent."

Oh.

That whisper of love wrapped a coil around her heart and squeezed, and she had to swallow the lump of guilt and affection so her false levity could sneak by the emotion. She swiped a finger over the tip of Rebecca's nose, smiling at her daughter's dramatic grimace.

"We'll, even if she'd been a boy you wouldn't have had to raise a Brent," she said with a casual shrug.

"Nah?"

"Nope," she said, glancing up at him and smiling as love whispered a lullaby of hope and comfort into her tired body. "You'd have had to raise a Josh."