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Authors: Debbie Macomber

BOOK: Dakota Home
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“Oh, no,” she whispered, unsure what to do. She phoned Jeb and just as she feared, a disembodied voice informed her that unfortunately her call could not be connected.

Margaret arrived almost immediately afterward, and Maddy was so grateful she nearly hugged her.

“Not to worry,” her neighbor told her with the utmost confidence. “I've delivered more calves than you can count. A baby can't be that different.”

“But, Margaret…”

“First thing we're gonna need is a good sturdy rope.” At Maddy's frightened look, she added, “Just kidding. Let me get you into bed and then I'll phone the doctor and he can tell us the best way to proceed.”

Maddy appreciated Margaret's calm acceptance of the situation. Her pains had increased in intensity and the contractions were now less than five minutes apart. They'd gone from about fifteen minutes to five pretty quickly, she thought.

A long time passed before Margaret returned to the bedroom. “What did the doctor say?” Maddy asked.

“He wants you to leave for the hospital right away.”

“I can't,” she protested. “It's an hour and a half away—it's too late.” She clenched her teeth as the next contraction hit and tried to breathe through it. “I…won't go…without Jeb.”

“Did you try to phone him?” Margaret picked up the bedside phone and Maddy called out the number. Each attempt was met with the same recorded message.

“Doesn't he know better than to go out of range?” Margaret muttered impatiently.

“Jeb isn't out of range, the buffalo are. He won't be long, I'm sure of it.”

But her husband seemed to take forever. By the time Jeb walked into the bedroom, Maddy was clutching the headboard in an effort to get through the contractions.

“Maddy…”

“Jeb, oh, Jeb,” she cried, reaching for him, needing his strength.

He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. The alarm on his face intensified. “Why aren't you at the hospital?” He glared accusingly at Margaret.

Maddy would have defended her friend, but another contraction came just then, claiming all her energy.

“You're her birthing partner. She refused to go without you,” Margaret told him, leaning against the door. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past the elbows. “Now listen, I can't say I have a lot of expertise in delivering babies, but I talked to the doctor again and he says we shouldn't be moving Maddy now. The contractions are too close.”

Jeb's face was panicked.

“Don't worry—the doctor gave me some instructions. Also, I phoned Hassie and she's on her way, along with Leta Betts. They both have lots of experience with this, so you're going to be in good hands.”

Jeb stared helplessly at Maddy, but she smiled reassuringly.

“Jeb, what better way for our child to enter this world than surrounded by people who'll love him?”

Jeb closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. “I should never have left you this morning. My gut told me to stay put. I should've listened.”

“It's going to be all right,” Maddy told him, then braced herself for the next contraction.

Julianne Marjorie McKenna arrived at 4:32 in the afternoon, screeching at the top of her lungs. She was pink-skinned and dainty, weighing in at only six pounds three ounces, according to the bathroom scale. But what she lacked in weight she made up for in spirit. Her wails echoed through the house.

With tears in his eyes, Jeb McKenna held his daughter protectively in his arms. The infant released one last quivering cry, her lower lip trembling, then abruptly closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Exhausted but unspeakably happy, Maddy watched her husband and daughter.

Jeb's gaze found hers. “She's so beautiful…just like you,” he whispered. Maddy knew it was his love of her speaking.

Hassie, too, had grown tearful. She and Leta, with Jeb's whole-hearted assistance, had coached her through each stage of labor. Margaret had stood by her side, as well, offering encouragement.

The phone rang and it was Lindsay, disappointed to have missed all the excitement. She'd been in Grand Forks for her doctor's appointment and stopped to have lunch with Lily Quantrill.

Soon the bedroom had emptied as Maddy nursed Julianne for the first time. Jeb sat silently beside her, watching his wife and child.

“This seems incredible to me,” he said.

She glanced from the tiny bundle in her arms to her husband. “You mean the baby?”

“Everything. That you should be with me here…that we could have created this beautiful, perfect child. I swear to you, Maddy, I didn't know it was possible to love anyone this much.”

She reached out her hand to her husband, and Jeb clasped her fingers in his, then raised them to his lips.

“Welcome home,” he said softly. Maddy knew he was speaking to his daughter but the words were full of meaning for her, too.

In Buffalo Valley, with Jeb, she'd found home.

Epilogue

From: Lindsay Snyder

To: Angela Kirkpatrick

Date: September 7th

Subject: Buffalo Valley Update

 

Dearest,

The house is quiet for the moment—a rarity since Joy was born—so I thought I'd answer your last e-mail. Both Gage and I are adjusting to parenthood, including those midnight feedings. Gage is a wonderful father. I found him standing over Joy's crib this morning just watching her sleep. When I asked what he was doing, he told me he still couldn't quite grasp how it was possible to love this tiny being with such intensity. I married a wonderful man and feel more blessed every day.

I'm thrilled that my daughter is just three weeks younger than Maddy and Jeb's Julianne. Maddy's been my best friend nearly all my life and I'm so happy to think that our daughters will grow up being friends, too. Maddy loves being a mom, just like me. I'm taking an extended maternity leave, which was a difficult decision. But I wanted to spend more time with Joy before I went back to teaching school. Leta is eager to look after the baby any time we let her. Joy is fortunate to have such a loving grandmother close by.

Thanks for asking about Sarah and Dennis. Yes, they're married, which infuriates Calla. She's decided to live with her father again. I can't help feeling Calla's doing this to upset her mother—and if that's her plan, it worked. Sarah and Dennis drove to the runaways' shelter and she refused to even talk to them. Then, apparently, Sarah's ex showed up and there was a bit of a scene. Calla left with her father—no goodbye, even. Sarah is miserable and wants her daughter with her, but for now, this is Calla's choice. That's the bad news. The good news is how wonderfully well Buffalo Valley Quilts is doing. Last week there was a couple in town who'd driven all the way to Buffalo Valley to meet Sarah. They bought one of her quilts in Fargo while on vacation and were so impressed they wanted to see the company for themselves. It turns out they have a chain of gift shops in Oregon and wanted to know if she could supply them with a hundred quilts.
A hundred!
Sarah's never had such a large order. She's hired three women and is currently training them. It looks like she's going to need to expand into the shop next door. Everyone in town is pleased for her. Now, if only Calla would come to her senses…I'd like to shake that girl sometimes.

Buffalo Bob and Merrily are doing well, too. Business is booming and he's got that karaoke machine cranked up nearly every night. That little boy of theirs is just a darling. A few people have had questions about Axel, though. I gather there was one of these missing child flyers being circulated, and it had a child around the same age and with the same first name. But I'm convinced it's not
this
Axel. Anyway, there was some talk earlier, but it seems to have passed, which is a relief.

Three weddings and two births. This has been an incredible year for Buffalo Valley. I can hardly wait to see what's in store for this town next.

I'll wait to hear from you.

Hugs,

Lindsay

ISBN: 978-1-4268-0940-8

DAKOTA HOME

Copyright © 2000 by Debbie Macomber.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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