Henry leaned over to get a better look at the baby and gasped at his tiny, red face—amazingly adorable even for being wrinkled and puffy. He couldn’t see anything of himself in the face, but he felt the immediate connection of fatherhood surge through him as he carefully lifted the infant into his hands, marveling at how tiny he looked and how little he weighed. He considered a ten-pound sack of flour and knew his son was definitely smaller than that. He chuckled and adjusted the baby into the crook of one arm, cradling it against his chest while he used his other hand to touch the baby’s face and wispy blond hair, and those amazingly tiny hands.

“Ten perfect fingers and toes,” Kat said. “I already counted them.”

“He is perfect,” Henry said, looking at Kat. “I never imagined such a miracle.”

Henry saw a deep solemnity in her eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing. For all her positive attitude and his cautious skepticism, neither of them had known if this day would come, if she would be able to safely deliver a baby under the circumstances. But it had happened, and it was a miracle. No words were needed for both of them to acknowledge that fact, but Kat smiled and said lightly, “O ye of little faith.”

Henry smiled in return, saying simply, “Point taken.” He couldn’t deny that Kat’s faith was an inspiration to him, and her determination to give this child life—no matter what cancer might be doing to her body—made him agree completely with the doctor: his wife was a brave, strong woman.

Henry sat next to Kat on the bed and leaned against the pillows at her side so he could continue to hold the baby and they could admire him together. They had rarely discussed possible names for the baby, but now that he had arrived—a new living and breathing human being—they agreed it didn’t seem right for him not to have a name. It was Kat’s strong opinion that he should be named after his father, who had been given his father’s name.

“It’s a fine name,” Kat said. “Henry George Beckenridge . . . and he shall be the third.”

“It’s a big name for such a tiny baby,” Henry said.

“You do realize you were a baby when you received the name,” Kat said with a little laugh. He could tell she was completely worn out and sleepy, but she was determined to get acquainted with her son before she rested.

“I do realize that,” Henry admitted with a chuckle. “But how do we distinguish him from me? My father went by George, so it was easy, but this little man doesn’t look like a George to me.”

“I should like to call him Harry, a respectable form of the name Henry. And I think it suits him well.”