A middle-aged nurse in crisp white greeted Leah. “I’m Nurse Simmons. Please follow me.” She came out from behind the desk and gestured to a row of chairs. “When your husband arrives, he can wait out here.”

“My husband—he’s in England, in the Army.”

“Well, never you mind.” She led the way down the hall. “Will your parents be coming?”

“No, ma’am. I’m an orphan.”

“Oh.” Nurse Simmons snapped her gaze over her shoulder to Leah. “I’m sorry.”

Time to focus on the good, and Leah smiled. “My friend Mrs. Bellamy will visit. And I’ll telegraph my husband’s parents in Texas. My baby will never be alone.”

Neither would Leah. Never again.

Pain ripped through Leah’s body, searing all the places the wolf had hurt. But this was a good pain, a productive pain, a life-giving pain. Leah pushed into it and embraced it.

Wet, warm, tumbling release.

“Here we are,” Dr. Adams said.

Panting, Leah strained to see between her knees. Where was she? Where was her baby?

A tiny cry rose, as old as time and as new as spring.

“Helen.” Leah laughed and flopped flat on her back, sweat tickling her hairline. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you.”

“Congratulations, Mrs. Paxton,” Dr. Adams said. “It’s a girl.”

“I know.” Leah grinned and laughed.

The nurses and doctor moved in choreographed motion. So much activity for such a wee person.

“I want to see her.” Leah glimpsed a tiny red foot, toes splayed wide. “I want to see my baby.”

“All in due time,” Nurse Simmons said, her back to Leah.

A young redheaded nurse came over and massaged Leah’s belly. “She’s a good size for being two weeks early.”

Dr. Adams’s gray-eyed gaze darted to Leah. In this room, only he knew Leah’s story and knew she was actually two weeks late. “I’m not surprised. Mrs. Paxton followed my instructions and took good care of herself.”

Why wouldn’t they turn around so she could see Helen? The baby’s cries spoke to a part of Leah’s soul she didn’t know existed, now awakened and alert and attuned to this young person. “Please. I want to see her.”

“Do you have a name picked out?” The redhead kneaded Leah’s belly like bread dough. Freckles dotted her round cheeks.

“Her name is Helen Margarita Paxton.” Leah smiled at the lovely, appropriate name. Helen, a Greek name that meant light. Margarita, after Clay’s grandmother on the Ramirez side, and it also honored Rita Sue. And Paxton, a precious gift from Clay.

“We’ll help you send telegrams to your husband and in-laws.” Nurse Simmons flapped open a little blanket.

“Thank you.” But they were trying to distract her from her dearest and only desire. Helen’s cries were gentling but still called to her. “How much longer?”