Choices of the Heart (44 page)

Momma and Phoebe laughed.

“We know your tricks, child,” Phoebe said. “Be a watering pot all you like. It won’t change our minds.”

“Besides,” Momma added, examining Esther herself, “there isn’t time.”

“There must be. I’ve scarcely been in labor—”

But of course Momma was right. For the next several minutes, Esther didn’t have time to think about Griff or anything but pain, impossible discomfort, and her determination not to so much as whimper through it all. She failed at the latter. Somewhere in the haze of it all, the door banged open and hands stronger than Momma’s gripped hers. That beautiful voice told her to hang on to him and she would be all right.

And she was all right because he was there beside her, holding on tightly, the two of them strong together. Momma was there too, scolding Griff for interfering, urging Esther to push just a bit more and more—

And there it was, her baby’s first cry. Their baby’s first cry. She gazed up at Griff’s face, so beautiful to her, and managed a smile. “I love you.”

“You must.” He huffed out a breath. “To go through that.”

“This once anyway.” Esther closed her eyes, aching for rest.

“They always say that.” Momma laid a bundle in Esther’s arms. “This will change her mind. Your daughter.”

“Daughter?” A surge of energy raced through her, and she accepted the bundle, surely too light to be made of flesh and blood, and drew down the folds of the linen wrappings. “She’s quite hideous, isn’t she?” she cried with delight.

“She’s beautiful,” Momma, Phoebe, and Griff exclaimed together.

“Because she’s ours.” Griff touched just his fingertip to the baby’s cheek, then kissed Esther. “And you’re even more beautiful than ever.” He gazed down at them both, his eyes soft and shining with a suspicious brightness.

“She looks just like you did when you were born,” Momma said.

“What are you going to name her?” Phoebe asked.

“Felicity,” Griff said. “Esther tells me it means
happiness
, and that’s right fine to me.”

“Perfect.” Momma took Griff’s arm. “You can see her all you like later, but right now we’ve got to make her pretty.”

Griff flashed her a smile. “She already is.”

He left with a lingering look over his shoulder, one Esther returned with a weary but satisfied smile.

“I admit I wasn’t sure about you marrying someone from the mountains,” Momma said as she gave Phoebe the baby and began to help Esther clean up, “but he won us over.”

Esther yawned. “I knew he would. He’s as charming as Papa.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t spoil little Felicity.” Momma began to brush Esther’s hair. “But probably not since you didn’t have to wait for her.”

“Unlike your mother and I had to wait for our daughters.” Phoebe sighed. “And now neither Melvina nor Janet wants anything to do with being a midwife. It’s up to you to pass the tradition on to your daughter or daughters, Esther.”

“Midwife?” Esther struggled to sit up straighter, though she ached in places she hadn’t known could hurt before then. “My daughter’s not going to be a midwife. She’s going to be a doctor.”

Acknowledgments

The idea for this story goes back so far in my brain, I don’t even know how many people helped me along the way. I think of Pat, who told me the fastest way to get a man from Appalachia to do something was to tell him he couldn’t do it—and she should know, being married to one. Then I can thank Shelia, Pam, Kelly, Susie . . . The list goes on and on of all the wonderful women from the mountains who made me laugh until I cried with their commonsense wisdom and down-to-earth attitudes about life. Pam especially reminded me that God loves me, even in a spiritually dark time in my life. Rest in peace in Jesus’s arms, my dear.

Closer to the present, I thank the Montgomery Museum and Lewis Miller Art Center for their valuable information, and the University of Kentucky Press for publishing
Days of Darkness: The Feuds
of Eastern Kentucky
by John Ed Pearce, which showed me that those feuds aren’t just stuff of legends. They were violently, tragically real, and many of the perpetrators were educated and financially successful men.

To the usual suspects I owe a great deal, as always—Patty, Debbie Lynne, Louise, Marylu, and Ramona. Gina helped keep me so sane with her midnight emails and marathon phone calls that she gets her own line. As does my husband, who makes my writing possible by keeping my temperamental computer and DSL running, not complaining about my weird hours—much—and making me have fun along the way.

A huge thanks to my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, for taking care of business so I can take care of being creative. Last but not least, I don’t have enough space to express my gratitude to my editor Vicki Crumpton for being understanding about the insanity of this past year, with my two cross-country moves, family emergencies, writing in hotel rooms while seeking housing, and something new each month.

Above all, I thank the Lord for bringing all these people into my life.

Laurie Alice Eakes
used to lie in bed as a child telling herself stories so she didn’t wake anyone else up. Sometimes she shared her stories with others, so when she decided to be a writer, she surprised no one.
Family Guardian
, her first book, won the National Readers Choice Award for Best Regency in 2007.

In the past three years, she has sold six books to Revell, five of which are set during the Regency time period; five books to Barbour Publishing; and two novellas to Barbour Publishing and one to Revell. Seven of her books have been picked up by Thorndike Press for large-print publication, and
Lady in the Mist
, her first book with Revell, was chosen for hardcover publication by Crossings Book Club.

Laurie Alice teaches online writing courses and enjoys a speaking ministry that takes her from the Gulf Coast to the East Coast. She lives in Texas with her husband, two dogs, and two cats and is learning how to make tamales.

Books by Laurie Alice Eakes

THE MIDWIVES

Lady in the Mist

Heart’s Safe Passage

Choices of the Heart

THE DAUGHTERS OF BAINBRIDGE HOUSE

A Necessary Deception

A Flight of Fancy

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