Epilogue

“ P ush! Push! Yes, just like that…” the midwife, Miss Robinson, commanded gently as she stroked Hannah’s hair. “Push?—”

“I am pushing!” Hannah snapped.

“Keep pushing,” Miss Robinson continued gently, ignoring the rancor spewing from Hannah’s mouth. “We’re almost there.”

“Argh!” Hannah cried out through deep, strangled breaths. “Frederick!”

“I’m right here!” Frederick was indeed right beside her. Down on one knee, he held her hand—or rather, she clutched it and squeezed as if trying to break his fingers. “You’re doing so well.”

“Don’t patronize me!” she snarled in between breaths.

“Deep pushes,” Miss Robinson continued from between Hannah’s open legs. “Any second now…”

“See,” Frederick continued, “you’re almost?—”

“Argh!” Hannah cried out again, her body shaking, sweat dripping, inhuman sounds escaping her lips.

“Any second now…” Miss Robinson said again. “One more big push… there you are… and another…”

“I am so proud of you,” Frederick crooned. “So proud.”

“Quiet!” Hannah snarled at him again. “I don’t care how pr—argh!!!!” She threw back her head and screamed so loud that the walls of the room seemed to shake.

It was a scene that Frederick recognized only too well. One that he had seen in his nightmares more times than he could count. After the death of his first wife, he would wake up covered in sweat, his body shaking, his heart racing as his thoughts returned to that most dreadful night time and again. And once Hannah had learned of her pregnancy, again he would dream of this moment, again waking up in a cold sweat, for that dream always ended the exact same way…

Needless to say, it had been a difficult nine months. Oh, Hannah had tried to assure him that there was nothing to worry about. She had done what she could to ease his fear that something might go wrong. But there was only so much she could say, and ultimately Frederick knew that he would not feel remotely close to calm until it was all over. Assuming that everything went well.

So far, it was hard to say exactly how things were going.

Frederick ran over in his mind the differences between today and that same day six years ago now. Comparing them and marking off what he counted as positives, clear signs that things would not end in tragedy.

The weather, for one. It was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, God himself seeming to have produced it so that their child would be born into a perfect world with nothing to fear and only love to guide them.

There was no blood this time either, for with his last wife, it had gushed out of her as she had been sliced wide open. Miss Robinson was far calmer. There wasn’t a litany of maids rushing about with towels and buckets of water and panic on their faces. And even Hannah, for all her screaming and shouting, didn’t look to be nearly in as bad a state. Although…

“Push!” Miss Robinson commanded, her voice growing firm. “Push!”

“I am pushing!”

“One more,” Miss Robinson urged. “One—there! I can see the head! Another push!”

“I can’t! I can’t!”

“Hannah…” Frederick’s hand was numb, his body was shaking, but he reached up and stroked Hannah’s sweaty forehead, willing her to listen. “You are so close. Please, one more push.”

“I am tired…”

“One more…” He kissed her on the cheek. “You’re going to be a mother, Hannah. Any second now.”

That seemed to do it. A determination took over her face as she bit her lip, furrowed her brow, took a deep breath, and then gave one more push…

“Argh!” she cried out such that the walls did shake this time, the noise so violent and loud that it pierced Frederick’s ears.

He reeled away and nearly fell on his bum, only to be brought back into the moment and to sanity by a singular sound that was perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

It was the sound of a baby crying.

“There we are,” Miss Robinson crooned as she gently pulled the babe free, cutting the cord expertly and then wrapping it in a blanket. “Well done, Your Grace. You did it.”

“I… I did?” Hannah stammered, her voice weak and unsure.

“You did.” Miss Robinson rose, the baby cradled in her arms, a tear rolling down her cheek. “A beautiful baby boy.”

“A… a boy?” Frederick choked out. “You’re sure?”

“Very sure.”

He did not know what to do. A part of him wanted to fall onto his wife and hold her, to make sure she was all right, to confirm that nothing was the matter. But another part of him wanted to take the baby from Miss Robinson’s arms, to hold it, to see it for the first time. To let it know that from this day until its last, it would be loved.

“Frederick…” Hannah’s voice was weak. Her grip on his hand had loosened, and her skin was drenched with sweat and pale. “I want to see my child.”

Frederick smiled at her and then reached for the crying babe. Miss Robinson handed it to him, and he didn’t even try and stop himself from weeping as he looked upon his son for the first time. So small. So helpless. So damn beautiful that he could not stand it.

“Frederick…”

“Oh!” He dropped down quickly and handed the baby to Hannah.

Her arms shook from exhaustion, so he held the baby as she brought him to her chest.

“A boy…” Her eyes sparkled, and her smile split her face. “He is beautiful.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Frederick agreed as he sat down by his wife, one arm around her, his other stroking the baby lovingly.

What had Frederick been so worried about? It seemed absurd now that he had spent the last nine months living with such fear in his heart. Still convinced in some small way that this would be a repeat of last time and that once again his life would be torn asunder because of a decision he had made. But he need not have worried.

Hannah was not his last wife. She loved him as much today as she had nine months ago, and he knew that she would keep on loving him—maybe not as much as she did their son, but still more than enough for his satisfaction. And it was this love which gave her strength today, for Frederick should have known that there would have been no force on this earth great enough to separate her from her firstborn child.

Amelia and now a son… That day six years ago, as much as it had pained and wreaked havoc on Frederick’s life, now ought to be left where it had always been—in the past.

The future was what Frederick had to look forward to.

“Do we have a name picked out?” Miss Robinson asked.

“We do,” Hannah said. She looked up at Frederick and smiled, and he returned it. “James.”

“A beautiful name,” Miss Robinson crooned.

“A perfect name,” Frederick said. “For a perfect son.”

The End?