Midnight Bayou

the ranks in the law firm, buying a house close by and within easy access to the country club. Jessica would have suited my requirements as daughter-in-law quite well in that scenario. A good, challenging tennis partner who plays a decent hand of bridge and has the skill to chair the right committees.”
    “Maybe you should adopt Jessica.”
    “Be quiet, Declan.” Colleen’s voice was mild—and steel. Lena would have recognized the tone instantly. “I’m not finished. Jessica, however well suited for me, was very obviously not suited for you. You weren’t happy, and I’d begun to see, and to worry about that just before you broke it off. I tried to convince myself it was just pre-wedding jitters, but I knew better.”
    “It wouldn’t have hurt for you to clue me in on that one.”
    “Maybe not, but I was annoyed with you.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Don’t sass, young man, especially when I’m about to be sentimental. You were always a happy child. Bright, clever, a smart tongue, but I respect that. You had, I’d call it, a bounce in your heart. And you lost it. I see you’ve gotten that back today. I saw it in your eyes again when you looked at Lena.”
    He took Colleen’s hand, rubbed it against his cheek. “You called her Lena.”
    “Temporarily. I haven’t made up my mind about her. And believe me, boy, she hasn’t made hers up about your father and me, either. So, I’d advise you to stay out of it and let us get on with the job of doing so.”
    She stretched out her legs. “Patrick? Did you have to hunt down the pig for those ham sandwiches?”
    Declan grinned, gave the hand he held a big, noisy kiss. “I love you guys.”
    “We love you, too.” She squeezed his fingers, hard, then let them go. “God knows why.”
    H e dreamed of storms and pain. Of fear and joys.
    Rain and wind lashed the windows, and the pain that whipped through him erupted in a sobbing scream.
    Sweat and tears poured down his face—her face. Her face, her body. His pain.
    The room was gold with gaslight and the snap and simmer of the fire in the grate. And as that storm raged outside, another spun through her. Through him.
    Agony vised her belly with the next contraction. She was blind with it. Her cry against it was primal, and burned his throat with its passion.
    Push, Abby! You have to push! You’re almost there.
    Tired, she was so tired, so weak. How could she live through such pain? But she grit her teeth. Almost mad. Everything she was, everything she had, focused on this one task, this one miracle.
    Her child. Her child, Lucian’s child, was fighting to come into the world. She bore down with all the strength she had left. Life depended on it.
    There’s the head! Et là! Such hair! One more, Abby. One more, chère.
    She was laughing now. Better than screaming, even if the laugh was tinged with hysteria. She braced herself onher elbows, threw her head back as fresh, unspeakable pain rolled through her.
    This one moment, this one act, was the greatest gift a woman could give. This gift, this child, would be held safe, would be cherished. Would be loved for all of her days.
    And on the pain, with lightning flashing, on the roar of thunder, she pushed, pushed, pushed wailing life into the world.
    A girl! You have a beautiful girl.
    Pain was forgotten. The hours of sweat and blood and agony were nothing now in the brilliant flash of joy. Weeping from it, she held out her arms for the small wriggling baby who cried out in what sounded like triumph.
    My rose. My beautiful Marie Rose. Tell Lucian. Oh, please bring Lucian to see our daughter.
    They cleaned both mother and baby first, smiling at the mother’s impatience and the child’s irritable cries.
    There were tears in Lucian’s eyes when he came into the room. When he clasped her hand, his fingers trembled. When he looked at the child they’d created, his face filled with wonder.
    She told him what she had vowed on the instant Marie Rose had been placed in her arms.
    We’ll keep her safe, Lucian. No matter what, we’ll keep her safe and happy. She’s ours. Promise me you’ll love and care for her, always.
    Of course. She’s so beautiful, Abby. My beautiful girls. I love you.
    Say the words. I need to hear you say the words.
    Still holding Abigail’s hand, Lucian laid a tender finger on his daughter’s cheek. I’ll love and I’ll care for her, always. I swear it.

19
    P atrick Fitzgerald took his wife’s hand as they strolled through the Quarter. He