“Yes, Eric’s got him. Madeline, Francis, and Shannon are with Nichol. Everything’s fine. You worry about you.”

“I wish Taylor were there.”

“She’s due back tomorrow. You’re a few days early. Besides the estate is secure. Everyone there is safe.”

Claire nodded. She knew he was right. There hadn’t been any mailings for a long time. When Taylor had asked for the time off to go to a wedding, Claire didn’t hesitate. Her staff deserved personal time as much as she and Tony. Although, if Claire said she wasn’t relieved when Phil said he wasn’t going with Taylor, she’d be lying. Even though Claire tried to assure Phil it would be all right, he refused to go. Now watching his leather gloves stretch as he gripped the steering wheel, she knew she was glad he’d stayed.

The tightness subsided as they pulled up to the emergency room. Perhaps that wasn’t the only thing that gave Claire the strength to move from the SUV to the waiting wheel chair: it was the dark eyes that immediately met hers.

The next few hours ebbed and flowed in tempo. Some sped by in a blur, while others moved at a snail’s pace. People came and went. Phil brought Shannon and Nichol to the hospital to assure Nichol that her momma was all right. Nichol wanted to stay to meet her baby brother, but as evening came, Tony and Claire promised her she could return in the morning. Emily and Courtney stayed in the delivery room as things progressed. There were others waiting outside of her room. John and Brent came in from time to time to squeeze her hand and give their support. The epidural dulled the pain, but more importantly, it didn’t reduce her understanding. Unlike with Nichol, Claire was conscious of everything around her. It wasn’t until the doctor announced that it was time to have only two people in the room that Claire sighed with relief. For the first time in her life, she was about to experience the joy of childbirth.

“Honey,” Emily said as she hugged her sister, “Courtney and I have talked about this. We’re both leaving.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “One of you can stay.”

Emily shook her head. “We love you and we’re right outside.” She looked past Claire to Tony. “This is something the two of you should share. Just please, let us know as soon as you can.”

Tony nodded to Emily and hugged Courtney. “I will,” he said. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

As Tony moved to his place by Claire’s shoulder and held tightly to her hand, she watched the mirror near the end of the bed. Each time the nurse told her to push, she did. Each time the doctor said to breathe, she did. Following instructions had never been a problem, especially when the payoff was on the horizon.

How long did labor last? Claire couldn’t recall. Later she’d remember pressure and some commotion. She’d recall reassuring touches from the dark-eyed man at her side and words from her doctor. She’d also remember that Tony was never asked to decide who would survive. There was never a need. Early in the morning on February seventh, Nathaniel Sherman Rawlings officially entered their lives.

Claire didn’t know if Nichol had entered with as loud of a cry, but the one she heard from her son warmed her heart and soul.

“Yes, Claire and Anthony, your son is announcing his presence,” the doctor proclaimed, lifting their son in the air.

As Claire looked up at her husband, she saw the moisture on his cheeks that she felt in her own eyes. He leaned down and whispered, “I love you.”

She couldn’t form words until the nurse laid Nathaniel on her chest and covered them both with a blanket. “Hi, Nathaniel,” she cooed. “I’m your momma.”

Tony stroked the small head covered in dark hair. “Hello, son, I’m your daddy.”

It was then their son’s eyes opened and Claire and Tony were lost in the sea of emerald. Warmth enveloped their bubble as Tony embraced his family. “He has your eyes.”

They stayed like that for a while, not ready to share the moment with those outside the door. It was one of those rare occasions that can be looked back upon as lasting both a second and forever, a life-changing eternity that cemented the past with the future.

To the world you may be just one person, but to the one person you may be the world.

—Mother Theresa

CLOSING HER EYES Claire listened to the sound of her husband’s voice. The cadence reminded her of a lullaby, yet his words were not that of a song or a fairytale. His words were those of a father talking to his son: words of love and encouragement, as well as promises that only time could substantiate. Just as it had been when Nichol was a baby, the middle of the night feeding was among Claire’s most cherished time of day. Tony would wake to their son’s cries and change Nate’s diaper, bringing a fresh, sweetly scented baby to Claire’s arms. For a two-week-old baby, Nate was a fervent eater. Undoubtedly eating was his favorite activity. Once he started, he’d use all of his energy to devour everything that Claire had to offer. When he was satisfied, his little eyes would blink until the emerald disappeared and long lashes rested peacefully upon his growing cheeks.

It was then that Tony would take him into the nursery, sit with him, and rock him. Claire didn’t always know how long they spent together. Most nights she’d fall back asleep listening to the deep baritone voice waft through the quiet night air. This was Tony and Nate’s special time, and she didn’t want to interrupt. When she and Tony talked about another child, Tony confessed that those hours spent with Nichol in paradise, in the middle of the night, were instrumental in keeping his sanity while at Yankton. He said that he’d lie in his bunk, night after night, and relive those hours in his head. The softness of her tiny hands and the scent of baby powder would tease his senses until he fell asleep. He knew it wasn’t real, but the illusion was better than what his real life offered at the time. He couldn’t stop his mind from going to that small nursery when his eyes closed.