She grabbed a tissue from the box beside her and sat upright. “Dan, did Kari have the babies? It’s four weeks early. Tell me all about it.”
“Resting well and more beautiful than you can imagine. They were born about two hours ago. Two babies without anesthetic. Six hours of labor. Isn’t my wife amazing?”
Bonny smiled. Kieran sat and slipped his arm around her shoulders, swallowing hard at the unexpected joy in her voice. “How big are they? And what are those names you’ve kept such a secret?”
“Apparently twins often come early because they run out of room. William Wallace MacDowell weighed in at five pounds. His younger sister, by two minutes, Annie Laurie, weighs four pounds and eight ounces. She’s on oxygen, but they don’t expect she’ll need it for long.” Dan’s happiness reached across the miles.
“They’re big for twins.” Bonny squeezed Kieran’s hand. Her smile belied envy or pain. His heart ached to watch her share the happiness of her friends, ignoring her own loss. “I love the names.”
“We’ll call them Willie and Annie.” Dan’s buoyant mood carried across the miles. “I emailed photos. Gosh, I wish you were here, Bon.”
Kieran remembered his exaltation, a sense of pride, in Bonny’s pregnancy. He held her closer, prepared for the breakdown.
“Honey, Kieran told us what happened. I’m so sorry.” The love behind Kari’s words created the expected flood of emotion. “Airlifted. Are you all right?”
Bonny wiped her face and gripped Kieran’s hand. “I lost such a large amount of blood. It will take a while to regain my strength. He experiences cruel headaches, and his parents are running the farm. But we’re excited for you. A boy and girl both. The perfect family. I’m proud of you.”
Kari sighed. “I’m grateful. What the delivery lacked in length it made up for in intensity. I couldn’t have managed much longer. They’re beautiful. But I hate to talk about our happiness after what you’ve been through.”
“Aunt Bonny and Uncle Kieran are excited, in spite of our loss.” She quivered and laid her head against Kieran’s shoulder.
Her tiny frame hid a heart of iron. He rested his forehead against hers. To realize he might have lost this incredible woman sent a current of ice through his veins. He’d lost one wife. How could he survive a second time? She twisted her hair when nervous, and the firm set of her lips indicated a thinning of her cheerful veneer. “Kari, we need to go. We’ll talk again soon.”
Bonny nodded her thanks. “I’ll get into my email and look at the pictures right away. I love you.”
“Bye, we love you,” Kari and Dan answered together, then hung up.
She wept to the accompaniment of the old clock. Kieran joined in, heart aching, speechless. Time and God’s strength would dull the hurt and perhaps fill the emptiness with new purpose. Words alone lacked the power to ease pain, and scars never completely healed.
***
Stifled sobs shook the bed and roused Kieran from sleep. He scooted across the cold sheets and wrapped his arms around Bonny. The bathroom night light didn’t provide sufficient light to see her face.
“Why did God give us a baby only to take it away? I don’t understand.”
“There are no answers, love.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. What an incredible yet powerless feeling to have her seek comfort in his arms. “All I can do is mourn with you.”
“I’m a terrible person to feel jealous over Kari’s two babies. We’ll never experience the birth of a child created from our love.” Angry words spewed forth the way steam escapes a boiling kettle. “When Dan said she went through the entire labor without drugs, I wanted to scream. I sound ungrateful. You're home safe. I’m alive. Niall Moncrieffe offered to help us adopt.”
“You’re not terrible, just human, but it’s too soon to discuss adoption. Concentrate on healing first.” The best friends had lost their dream of children born close together. How could he comfort her and not reveal his own confusion?
“I want children, Kieran.” Bonny nestled underneath his chin, a warm, sweet weight. “I felt so sick but I knew a part of you grew inside me. For years, I believed my family would be formed through adoption, now it’s true, and it hurts.”
“Wheesht, God will reveal his plan. For now, we’ll leave it with him.” She began to relax in his arms, but he remembered his shock and anger the day she told him children weren’t possible. “I have all I need.” Was he being completely honest with her … and with himself?
“To work on the farm and share your life means everything. We’re blessed, but …” Her words drifted off and her breathing slowed.
Kieran closed his eyes, running his fingers through the thick mass of her curls, imagining their silken, red beauty, the emerald of her magnificent eyes. “Da used to share a verse with me from Deuteronomy. ‘Your castles and strongholds shall have bars of iron and bronze, and as your day, so shall your strength, your rest, and security be.’ Go to sleep, love. We will survive.”
She stiffened. “Where were those bars of protection when our baby died and you were attacked?”
“I don’t know, except that we’re both alive, and I trust God’s love. Our marriage proves God’s faithfulness in a world where nothing makes sense. I almost lost you, to the car accident, and to another man. When I struggled with depression, you gave me strength. Let me be yours now.” He stroked her brow with his fingers, something his mother did when he was a child. She drifted off to sleep while he stared into the darkness, her head heavy against his chest. Rain pelted the window, a fit accompaniment for the ache in his heart.
Rumbles of thunder echoed with memories of the day another red-haired beauty, his first wife, Bronwyn, bled to death on the kitchen floor from a premature separation of the placenta. Their full-term son Liam, stillborn. Neither of his children ever saw the light of day. The loss went deeper than Bonny would ever know.
His parents and grandparents passed down great pride through their clan history and the growth of Stonehaven Farm into a nationally renowned producer of prime wool and mutton. Could he or his parents accept and love a child not of their blood?
Father God, I always believed I would hand the family lands down to a son. To know I’ll never have an heir, never feel the tug of little arms around my neck, or see Bonny hold a baby to her breast, stings like a horde of angry bees.
Bonny sighed and rolled over in her sleep. His heart yearned for her from the moment she walked into the faculty meeting so long ago. Small, delicate, with eyes and a smile capable of driving a man mad. Their similar thinking and ease of conversation made him love her before the end of their first evening together.
Lord, help me relinquish the dream and show Bonny she’s all I need. No matter how soon after their loss, she could already consider adoption. Head throbbing, he reached to the nightstand for pain medication. If only it could ease a broken heart. When they grew strong enough, the farm and chapel would take their minds off strange attackers and irreplaceable losses. Adoption was an option he wasn’t ready for. He’d deal with Bonny’s certainty when an aching head didn’t scramble his brains.
***