“Make it a good one, baby,” Paul heard himself say. “Ready, push. Push. Push. Push.”

Mel handed Paul a blanket. “Spread this over Vanni’s tummy, Paul. When the baby is delivered, that’s where he’s going. We’re going to dry him off and then rewrap him in a clean, warm blanket. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, mesmerized.

Vanni reared up again, pushing. Paul did his job, just as he’d been instructed.

“All right!” Mel said. “We’re almost there! I think the next push is going to do it, Vanni. Here we go now.”

“Okay honey, here we go,” Paul said. In spite of himself, he was leaning forward, watching, wanting to see this baby being born, wanting to be in on this all the way now. He heard the baby cry, heard Mel exclaim happily. He grabbed the blanket, did his job and out of the womb came this mucky, squalling infant. Oh, man, he looked unhappy. “Whoa,” Paul said with a laugh. “He’s pissed!”

Vanni laughed emotionally.

Paul stared in wonder at the new life, astonished by what she’d done. Astonished that he’d been there. Then he remembered—he was supposed to do things. Together, he and Mel dried the baby, and while he was helping with that, he couldn’t help counting fingers and toes. He watched Mel clamp and cut, then he wrapped the baby in a new, dry blanket and carefully lifted him. Vanni was struggling to pull herself up a little bit, trying to get the pillows behind her back. Paul held the baby in one arm, assisted her with the other. Then he knelt beside the bed and watched as Vanni snuggled the baby close, gently kissed his head. And, Paul, not completely conscious, rested his lips against Vanni’s shoulder.

She turned her head and looked into his eyes. Vanni reached up a hand to his face and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Tears he had absolutely no idea were there.

“We’re in business,” Mel said. “Good job. Good, good job.”

Paul was exhausted. He lowered his head to Vanni’s shoulder and just lay there for a moment, trying to imagine what she’d just been through. He felt her fingers in his hair. “Oh, Vanni,” he whispered. He lifted his head. “What you did.”

She started to smile, but then her face seemed to melt into a frown as the tears rose to her eyes and began to run down her cheeks. She looked up at Paul and whispered, “I wish he could see his son.”

Paul brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “He sees him, baby. He’s got the best seat in the house.”

“Yeah,” she said, the tears flowing. “Yeah, I guess.”

Paul slipped his arm under her shoulders and held her to him while she softly cried, and he unconsciously dropped his own tears onto her hair.

“Let’s get that baby on the breast, Vanessa. Redheads are such bleeders.”

“Yeah,” she said, tremulously. “Yeah, got it.” She was pulling at her gown, but it seemed a little stuck and her hands were shaking. Paul gave the gown a tug and up it came, exposing one breast, but he wasn’t noticing it as if it was a breast. It was as if it was just another part of delivering the baby. He helped her position the baby, who was screaming madly. And then suddenly he stopped and started rooting. And bang—he found it. “Ohhh,” Vanni said. “That’s it. Wow.” Then she looked up at Paul and smiled. And the baby suckled, making precious little noises.

He hadn’t noticed that Mel was gone until she returned with a basin of water and set it up on the changing table. She examined Vanni quickly, covered her up again and said, “Okay, let me get this guy cleaned up for a viewing. How you doing, Vanni?”

“Okay,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I’m okay.”

Paul kissed her forehead. “You’re amazing, Vanessa.”

“You, too,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

He stayed on his knees beside her bed while Mel took the baby, and for the entire time she washed him, Paul watched Vanni’s face as she slowly drifted into exhausted sleep. He gently kissed the tears from her cheeks. A few minutes later Mel touched his shoulder. She was holding a bundled baby and said, “Here you go. Take him to his grandfather and uncle. I’ll put this room and Mom right.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she said, handing him over. “You earned the right.”

Walt and Tommy were most impressed with their new addition, as was the entire gathering. The camera came out and pictures were taken, the blanket pulled back to watch him kick his little legs, to exclaim on the size of his feet.

“Bet you could use a shot,” Preacher said to Paul.

“Whew, partner, you’ll never know,” he said, scrubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

“What you got on your pants there, bud?”

Paul looked down. “I believe that’s amniotic fluid. The carpet’s going to have to be shampooed in there.”

“No doubt.” Preacher tipped a bottle over a few glasses. “I’m going to do that, you know. I’m going to be with Paige when the baby comes. I’m dying to do that.”

“Well, I hope you’re more prepared than I was. It really took me by surprise.”

“But you don’t regret it, do you?”

“Nah. It was awesome,” he said.

“That’s all I hear,” Preacher said. “These guys, they don’t want to do it, but then afterward they think it was their idea. Zeke, you know—he’s done it four times. He says he’d do it four more, but I think his wife is going to shoot him before that can happen.”

“Zeke is a paramedic,” Paul said. “That might give him an edge.”

“Yeah,” Preacher said, sipping. “Also a sex maniac, I guess. A sex maniac who loves kids.”

Jack joined them. “So—you made it.”

“Jack, you are my hero. It was such a challenge to just be there, I don’t know how you delivered David. Honest to God, I don’t.”

“I had directions,” he said, lifting his glass. “I’m not doing it again, however. I’m going to keep a really close eye on her next time. I want to watch, that’s all.”

It was a celebration, albeit quiet and controlled so as not to get the baby wailing or wake Vanessa, who had earned a little rest. Christopher was out like a light on the couch, and David was asleep on Walt’s bed with pillows stacked around him. Pretty soon Mel emerged and she was congratulated on a job well done. Everyone had their turn to hold the baby and then finally he was taken back to his room, his mother’s room.

They all gathered in the dining room with their celebratory drinks, remnants of snacks still on the table. Paul stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Brie sat on Mike’s lap, Paige leaned up against Preacher, his big arm around her shoulders. Jack stood behind Mel, massaging her shoulders. Walt had given Tom a beer, which he appeared to be handling like a pro.

“So when are the Valenzuelas stepping up to the plate?” Walt asked.

“We’re working on it,” Mike said with a grin. Then he kissed Brie’s cheek. “Aren’t we, baby?”

“Mike is working very hard.” She laughed.

“Oh, you wanna look out for that,” Preacher said. “Ask Mel. Crazy as it seems, having sex every day isn’t a good way to get pregnant.”

“John!” Paige scolded.

Before she could get her scold out, at least three people echoed, “Every day?”

“Well, Jesus, it’s not against the law, is it?” Preacher asked, making everyone laugh the harder.

“Preacher, you are my hero, man,” Tommy said. “I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

Walt ruffled his hair. “My son is a damn liar. He wants to be just like you yesterday!”

“It’s true,” Tom said. “I’m not all that keen on babies, but the rest of it sounds pretty cool.”

It wasn’t long before people started to make noises about leaving, looking around for Paul. It seemed he had slipped away. Jack went down the hall and peeked into Vanessa’s room, to find her sleeping peacefully.

Jack told the birthing party to sit tight while he looked to see if Paul had stepped outside for air. He put on his jacket and walked out around the house and down past the stable and corral. He didn’t have to be psychic to figure this out. It had been a long and emotional day for Paul. He was standing up on that little hill not far from the house. The one from which you could see a whole lot of the general’s land.

Paul glanced over his shoulder as he heard the frozen ground crunching beneath Jack’s boots. Then he looked back at the gorgeous headstone. It read “Matt Rutledge, beloved husband, father, son, brother, friend.” Jack put his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “He’d be glad you were there, standing in for him.”

“I was just telling him about it and I thought, shit, I don’t even know how much of him is in there.”

“None,” Jack said. “He’s moved on.”

Paul hit his chest with a fist. “I still have him here.”

“Of course. Everyone who loved him has him there. I think that’s the point.”

“I shouldn’t have been the one tonight. It should’ve been him. She misses him so much.”

“Look, we all have different paths, Paul. His led him there, yours led you here.”

Paul sniffed and wiped at his face. “The house is about done,” he said. “Vanni will be up and around in no time and I can’t hang around here anymore. I have to get back. To Grants Pass.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “But you’ll be back pretty soon. You have strong ties here.”

“I don’t know about that….”

“Give her time, Paul. It’s still a little raw, but that’s going to change.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking at him in the dark.

“Oh, Jesus, I wondered. You don’t remember. You got a little drunk and— No, you got a lot drunk and kind of let it slip about how you saw her first.”

“No. I couldn’t have.”

“Take it easy. Just to me. You had the discretion to pass out before you told anyone else. So listen to me for once, okay? Because this is important. You already know this, but right now you think you’re the only man who’s ever been in this position. I married a widow. Remember? It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t quick—getting over that long, ugly hump of wondering where I fit in. It was goddamn humbling, if you want the truth. But, Paul, it was worth every sleepless night I invested. It’s just that it takes whatever time it takes.”

Paul thought a minute. He fixed his lips tight, as if he were struggling. “I have to get back to Grants Pass.”

“But you come back here before long,” Jack said. “Come back regular. I’m telling you, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

“But I can’t stay much longer, Jack. It’s eating me up. I gotta get out of here. He was my best friend, and he’s dead, and I helped his baby into the world, and—”

“And you want his woman. I know this is a rough patch, Paul, but if you’re the kind of guy who cuts and runs, oh man, you’re going to hate yourself.” Paul hung his head. “Come on,” Jack said. “People want to say good-night. They want to pat you on the back one more time.”

“Can’t you just leave me out here?”

“Nah,” he said, turning Paul away from the grave with a hand behind his neck. “The general wants to tell you—Matt picked a name. They’ve made a few adjustments on account of his death—adjustments that were Vanessa’s idea. Matt wanted to name him Paul. But they’ve settled on Matthew Paul. I think you should drink to it. And think to it.”