Read Online Timepiece by Richard Paul Evans - Free Book Online

rubbed her hand to warm it. “You can do this, Mary. It will be all right. Everything will be all right.”
    â€œI am so cold.”
    David bit back his fear. “It will be all right, my love.”
    Just then, the midwife walked to the side of the bed and bent over MaryAnne.Her forehead was beaded in perspiration and her face bore a solemn, dark expression. There was no more time to shield MaryAnne from the truth of the crisis. “MaryAnne, the baby needs to come now.” Her words came slowly, each weighted with emphasis. “You need to give birth now.”
    â€œI don’t know how to!” she cried.
    â€œYou can do it, MaryAnne,” she replied firmly. “Go ahead and push. The baby must come.”
    â€œIs my baby alive?”
    The midwife said nothing. Catherine began to cry and turned away.
    â€œIs my baby alive?!” she screamed.
    â€œI don’t know. It is the baby’s sack which is bleeding, so the baby is in the gravest danger. But it is still your blood, and if it does not stop soon . . .”
    A chill ran up David’s spine. “Can’t you just take the baby?!”
    â€œNo,” MaryAnne said. David turned to her pensively. Her face was pallid and though her eyes were dim they did not veil her determination. “No, David.”
    David clasped her hand in both of his.
    â€œOh, MaryAnne.”
    â€œI don’t want to leave you.”
    â€œYou’re not leaving me, MaryAnne. I won’t let you leave me.”
    Eliza walked back down between MaryAnne’s legs as she started into another contraction. Just then, a cuckoo clock erupted in festive announcement of the second hour, followed by a gay, German melody accompanying tiny, brightly colored figurines waltzing in small circles on a wooden track.
    â€œI feel the baby!” Eliza was certain that she would first feel the afterbirth, nearly assuring the infant’s demise. “MaryAnne, push again!”
    â€œI feel as if all my insides are coming out.”
    â€œYou are doing wonderfully.”
    â€œYes, you are doing wonderfully.” David was seeing a whole new side of his wife, and of life, and it filled him equally with awe and terror.
    â€œPush again, darlin’.”
    MaryAnne closed her eyes tightly and pushed.
    â€œI have its head!” she exclaimed. “The baby is alive!”
    MaryAnne cried out in pain and joy.
    â€œOne more push, Mary. Just one more.”
    MaryAnne obeyed and the child emerged, coated in blood and fluid. When she had taken the baby in her arms, the midwife looked up at David and MaryAnne, still breathing heavily. “You have a daughter.” She severed and tied the umbilical cord, oiled off the baby, then laid her on MaryAnne’s chest. MaryAnne took the infant in her arms and wept with joy. Eliza’s stern, hazel eyes rested on David. “Now leave the room.”
    David beamed. “A daughter,” he repeated. As he left the room, he paused at the threshold to smile at MaryAnne, who, with tears streaming down her cheeks, smiled back at him, proud of the tiny daughter she held.

    In the dark hallway outside the parlor, David sat alone on a padded fruitwood bench, a wall separated from the muffled cry of the newborn infant. His heart and mind still raced—much as one who, narrowly avoiding an accident, finds his heart pounding and his breath stolen.
    On a walnut whatnot at the far end of the hall, an antique French clock chimed delicately, denoting the half hour. He glanced down the hallway. His eyes were unable to discern the piece in the darkness. At one time, the clock had been the most valuable of his collection—an elaborate,gilded Louis XV mantel clock, signed by its long-dead creator. The clock’s waist opened to expose a pendulum bob in the form of sun rays, and on its crown were two golden cherubs. In its base was set a musical box.
    David had acquired the clock in the crowded Alfred H.