But the swirl of romance instantly dissipated when she went to breakfast and saw the light-colored children with blue eyes that showed the depravity of his life. Again, her emotions chilled as she began to build a wall around her heart, to keep from being hurt again—which worked, until he helped and his smile made it crumble.
She realized he was staring at her and she refocused as he opened his mouth to say something when the sound of pounding hooves grew louder and louder.
“Doc Ada! Doc Ada!” the rider yelled as the horse skidded to a halt.
“Whoa, whoa!” Francois grabbed the reins, leaning on the cane as he fought to stop the horses. “Isaac, is Mama sick again?”
The boy jumped off the horse, yanking the hat off his head as he went to Ada. “Miss Cerisa is bellowin’!”
Ada frowned then she opened her eyes wide. “The baby is coming.”
“Now?” Francois asked.
“Yessum,” Isaac sputtered out. “Aunt Fanny sent me, sayin’ its time. Miss Cerisa is callin’ for ya.” The kid wrangled the hat in his hands. “She’s in pain, bad.”
Ada nodded. “Tell her I’m on my way.”
Isaac gave a bob of his head and jumped back on the horse, riding away.
Ada turned to Francois. “Time to go.”
Francois went to get the carriage as Ada inhaled. She’d been avoiding any conversation on marriage and children with him, considering their argument. And while the arrival of a baby was exciting, it also brought her back to her engagement. What if he brought up the subject of marriage again?
And worse. She was late. What if she carried his baby now? She swallowed hard.
Chapter 44
“When Grant arrived, we began to see things move. We felt that everything came from a plan.”
—Union Officer with the Army of the Cumberland, after the battle of Chickamauga, 1863
Pierce paced, his speed increasing on every moan he heard coming from the bed where his wife lay. She was in labor and with every contraction, she withered in painful bouts, contorting in positions he didn’t think possible, considering the bulge of her pregnancy.
“Where’s Mama?” she spat out. “Get me Mama!”
“Miss Cerisa, your mama is still sick with fever. She can’t come,” Fanny told her, wiping Cerisa’s brows with a damp rag.
Cerisa didn’t seem to hear her. Drowning in her own perspiration, she shook her head. “No, no! Pierce!”
Fear snaked down his side. “Yes, my love.”
“Push on me, help this child come!”
He frowned. “You know I won’t do that.” He shot a questioning glance at the servant, who replied with a small but sharp negative shake.
“I thought we sent for Francois’s doc.” If the woman really was a doctor, she could fix this, he swore.
“I sent Isaac. Miss Marie knows this too well, better than me, but she’s still weak from the fever.”
“I’m not blaming you or anyone,” he snarled before he realized his tone was laced with anger.
“Miss Cerisa, Doc Ada be here real soon. She’ll help you.”
Cerisa laughed. “That abolitionist will probably love to see me in pain, being a planter and all.”
Pierce took her hand. It was clammy, but he ignored that. “No doctor would deny helping you. Wait.”
That made her laugh harder. “Oh, yes, I can wait.” She crumpled in pain, her fingers wrapping around his so badly, he feared they break as her grip was so strong. “Can’t you see? I can wait.”
Pierce prayed to God this child came. He was beginning to inwardly swear they’d be no more babies when he heard the noise of boots in the hallway and sighed.
“We’re here!”
Pierce nodded. “Great. You brought the doc, right?”
“Yankee humor escapes me,” Francois muttered right as his intended barged into the room.
Ada stormed into the room, ignoring both men and reached the bed within seconds. She touched Cerisa’s head and then took her hand, feeling for her pulse. “Hi, Mrs. Duval. Here you’ve got a child wishing to come into the world right now.”
The woman looked relieved. “Yes. Wanting to come pretty bad. Or maybe I want her to.”
Ada grinned, heading to wash her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the girl until she’d washed the dirt and grime from the road and helping fever patients. With a glance at Fanny, she said, “Did you bring any cloths?”
“Oh, yes ma’am. Right over here, next to the bucket of water Eisha brought.”
“Good. You helped with these before?”
Fanny shook her head. “No. Sorry. The sight of blood makes me sick.”
That made Ada smile. “Yes, it does take some getting used to. But I may need your help. How is Mrs. Fontaine doing?”
“Last I saw, she was sleeping.”
“Best thing for her.” She wiped her hands and looked at the two men standing to the side, both looking a little befuddled. She’d help them on that. “Gentlemen, I need you to leave.”
“No! I will not leave my wife—” Duval started when she cut him off.
“General Duval, yes you will. She is in good hands.” She nodded to Francois. “He’ll fill you in on how that is. Now, scoot!”
Duval growled, but kissed his wife’s forehead and left, his boots clipping down the hall in quick time, a sound she hadn’t heard in a while, with Francois’s quick, gaited step not far behind.
“Ouch!”
She inhaled deep. “Fanny, how long has this been going on?”
“Water broke about mid-morning, I reckon.”
Too long ago, as far as Ada could tell. Cerisa’s energy was waning and that could be dangerous in this heat and with fever too close. She racked her brains, trying to recall something that might help this child come when the memory gushed into her sigh. She smiled. “Fanny, go put some blankets out on the floor. And fetch that water and cloth closer.”
“Yessum.”
She went to the bedside and maneuvered her arms underneath Cerisa’s back. The girl had drifted to sleep after the last contraction but the next would wake her. Ada nudged her upright, instantly startling Cerisa.
“What are you doing?” she grumbled, before her face contorted again, hit with another labor pain.
“Come on, push!”
“Push into
