Mel hurried after him, pulling on boots on the run. “Should I, like, boil water or something?”

Halfway down the stairs, he stopped and kissed her. “For coffee. Thanks.”

“They always boil water,” she mumbled, trudging into the kitchen. By the time the coffee was scenting the room, she heard the sound of a car. “Three cups,” Mel decided, figuring it was useless to question how Anastasia had known to come.

She found both cousins in the stables. Ana was kneeling beside the mare, murmuring. Beside her were two leather pouches and a rolled cloth.

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” Mel asked. “I mean, she’s healthy?”

“Yes.” Ana stroked Psyche’s neck. “She’s fine. Just fine.” Her voice was as soothing as a cool breeze in the desert. The mare responded to it with a quiet whinny. “It won’t take long. Relax, Sebastian. It’s not the first foal to be born in the world.”

“It’s her first,” he shot back, feeling foolish. He knew it would be all right. He could have told them what sex the foal would be. But that didn’t make it any easier to wait while his beloved Psyche suffered through the pangs.

Mel offered him a mug. “Have some coffee, Papa. You could always go pace in the next stall with Eros.”

“You might keep him calm, Sebastian,” Ana tossed over her shoulder. “It’ll help.”

“All right.”

“Coffee?” Mel eased into the stall to offer Ana a mug.

“Yes, a little.” She sat back on her heels to sip.

“Sorry,” Mel said when she saw Ana’s eyes go wide. “I tend to make it strong.”

“It’s all right. It’ll last me for the next couple of weeks.” She opened a pouch and shook some dried leaves and petals into her hand.

“What’s that?”

“Just some herbs,” Ana said as she fed them to the mare. “To help her with the contractions.” She chose three crystals from the other pouch and placed them on the mare’s quivering side. She was murmuring now in Gaelic.

The crystals should slide off, Mel thought, staring at them. It was gravity, basic physics. But they remained steady, even as the laboring horse shuddered.

“You have good hands,” Ana said. “Stroke her head.”

Mel complied. “I really don’t know anything about birthing. Well, I had to learn the basics when I was a cop, but I never … Maybe I should …”

“Just stroke her head,” Ana repeated gently. “The rest is the most natural thing in the world.”

*  *  *

Perhaps it was natural, Mel thought later as she, Sebastian, Ana and the mare labored to bring the foal into the world. But it was also miraculous. She was slick with sweat, her own and the horse’s, wired from coffee, and giddy with the idea of helping life into the light.