Page 156 of Shame the Devil

Jennifer, sitting nearly upright on the bed with Dyma supporting her, her hands behind her knees, calling out with pain that sounded like agony.

He got there fast.

Dyma said, “Thank … god.”

He agreed. He said, “I’ve got this,” got behind Jennifer on the bed, took her shoulders in his hands, kept her upright, and said, “Doing great, baby. You’re doing great. Push.”

Ten more agonizing seconds, and she was lying back against him, panting, shaking. Saying, “H-Harlan?”

He kissed her hair, which was damp with sweat. “Yeah. I’m still in my pads.” He could feel her laugh, and he smiled, too. “Got here just as fast as I could. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, the words coming out in jerks. “Hurting. He’s two weeks … early. How can his head be this big?”

He smiled again, and kissed her again, too, then asked the doctor, “We close?”

“We sure are,” she said. “Another push, Jennifer, and we’ll have a head. I can see hair. He’s ready to come. Another push, and you’ve got him.”

She was tensing again, her belly rigid, and he could feel the contraction building in her with every second. She said, “Good … catch.” And then she pushed. And wailed. And cried.

Nicholas Layne Kristiansen came into the world kicking. Seven pounds, fourteen ounces of baby boy. The doctor laid him on Jennifer’s belly, and her hands came out to cradle him. His eyes opened, and he blinked and curled into her. And Harlan put his hand over both of them and thought,My son.His hand was shaking as much as Jennifer’s, and he was laughing, and he was crying, too. And he didn’t care.

He said, “He’s beautiful, baby. He’s perfect. And I love you. I’m going to do this right, I promise. I’ve got this.”

She smiled, absolutely shakily. Lying back now, all of her cold and shaking and hurting. She opened her gold eyes, moved her hand so it held his, and said, “I know. You’re going to be … such a good father. Your mom would be … so proud. She sees. She knows. And she’s so proud.”

“So is yours,” he said, “because you’re amazing.” Wishing for better words. Wishing he could tell her everything he felt inside.

Never mind. You have your whole life to show her. And you’re going to do it.

The doctor said, “Want to come cut the cord, Dad?”

He did.