Chapter Twenty-Nine

Forrest's POV

I never would have thought that I could be so wrong, but the past couple of months had showed me that there weren't many ways that I had been right since that sneaking son of a bitch, Whit Boitnott, had broken my body to pieces. I had been so sure that my bones would never heal properly, as a matter of fact, I'd been willing to swear that I was going to die, yet here I was, with some bones that were almost completely whole once more, with the others not far behind. Doc Worrell said that I was a "wonder", a "medical miracle", but I knew that there wasn't anything that was all that wonderful or miraculous about me, unless it was that I had a tendency to be wonderfully dense and miraculously stupid, that is.

It sent a cold chill of fear racing along my spine to think of how close I'd come to losing Emma. Thank God that she loved me as much as she did, because I'd certainly given her plenty of reasons to wash her hands of me. I had seen with my own eyes what came from being prideful, and now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that my Ma had been right when she told me that having too much pride was a sin. I'd been so stupid, and blind, and because of that, I'd almost turned loose of the one thing in my life that made me complete, but I'd seen the light, I'd atoned, and I'd been forgiven, and I would never, ever, make that mistake again.

"Well, Forrest, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, you are a marvel, sir. Your will to survive was legend before I ever made your acquaintance, but I always reckoned the tales that were told about you were a bit tall in nature. Of course, I know better now, don't I? As a matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you're all healed up and ready to head home in another couple of months….."

"But our little one will be getting here any day now," I interrupted, imagining Emma rocking a tiny bundle without me by her side. "Are you telling me that I'm not going to be able to hold my child until they're a couple of months old?"

How in hell was my son or daughter supposed to know that I was their Papa if I couldn't hold them in my arms? I don't know why I was making such a fuss about it, because I knew that I was going to be in my stinking plaster for another couple of months, no matter how much hell I raised, but I suppose that I'd never actually acknowledged the fact that my confinement would physically keep me from my child. It was bad enough, to think of all of the time that would pass before I could hold my wife in my arms, but the notion that I wouldn't be able to cuddle the little one close after they were born was painful, to say the very least.

"It takes time for a body to heal, Forrest," Doc Worrell reminded me, as if I could forget something like that. "It takes months for broken bones to knit themselves back together, and your progress has been remarkable, but you're going to have to accept the fact that you aren't going to be back on your feet as quickly as you would like to be. These things aren't run on our timetable, they are beyond our control, and we just have to be patient….."

"Don't tell me to be patient, Doc," I growled, wishing that I had the ability to curl my hands into fists, so Worrell would know, without a doubt, that I was seconds away from losing my temper. "I've been in this damned cast for almost two months, I itch in places that I never even knew existed, I stink to high heaven, and my wife and child need me, and there ain't a damned thing that I can do to help them, and your solution to all of that is that I ought to be patient?"

I reckoned that losing my temper and raising my voice at my doctor wasn't the smartest thing for a man in my position to do, given that I was all wrapped up like a mummy, but my nerves were a little frayed, and having someone who had full use of his body tell me to take it easy made me forget my manners. What in hell did he know about what I was going through? He might have known how to set bones, and care for a man's health, but when had he ever been in my place?

"I can't say that I understand what you're feeling, Forrest, because I've never been in your place, but I'm pretty good at putting myself in the shoes of others and wandering around a bit, so I can imagine how fed-up I'd be if I was enduring what you are. It ain't too much of a stretch on my imagination to think of how crotchety I'd be, and I imagine that my fuse would be pretty short as well, but I hope that I'd also try to keep all of that irritation in check and remember that the people who seemed to be torturing me were really just trying to help me, and didn't need me acting like a horse's patoot every time they came in to have a gander at me."

Damn, it was like the old codger could see the thoughts that were in my mind, but that wasn't possible…was it? "Hmm…I try to keep that side of my temperament at bay, Doc, but I ain't so good at being mannerly when I'm feeling poorly. Emma usually helps me to remember how I ought to act, but she went home to make me breakfast, even though I told her that I didn't want her going to do anything that wasn't an emergency, given her condition. I swear that woman's bound and determined to turn all my hair gray afore I'm forty years old, Doc….."

The door to my room burst open before I could finish what I was saying, and one of the nurses, a heavyset old biddy named Doris Hazlitt rushed inside and flew to the doctor's side, well, that is, she waddled over to him as fast as she could, and started whispering in his ear. It was my good fortune that she was out of breath, because that made her gasp out her words a mite bit louder than she meant to, and that was why I caught Mrs. Bondurant and water broke on the way here, and I knew that my Emma was somewhere in the hospital, laboring with the birth of our little one.

"Take her to the delivery room, and get her into a bed," Dr. Worrell told her, not bothering to whisper as she had, and I appreciated the fact that he wasn't treating me like I wasn't in the room. "I'll be along in just a moment to check on her."

He turned his attention back to me, once Doris had left the room, but he looked a mite bit shifty around his eyes, like he was thinking up a plan, and searching for the words that would set me at ease, so that he could go see to my wife, but I wasn't about to let him go that easily. This was a moment that I'd been looking forward to for a good, long while, and I'd be damned if I was going to let him leave me behind.

"Now, Forrest," he said, holding up his hands in front of his body, as if a little mollifying waving of his palms was going to make me listen to what he considered to be reason. "I want you to get some rest while I go and tend to your wife. It seems that her water broke while she was on her way out to the station, and she turned right around and made her way back. There's nothing that's happening right now that you ought to worry about, so I want you to take it easy and I'll have Doris bring you some breakfast just as soon as we get Emma settled….."

"I don't want any breakfast, dammit!" I said, cutting him off before he could make me any madder than I already was. I hadn't meant to shout, I'd only meant to be forceful, but it seemed that I was a little too preoccupied with getting to my wife at that moment to control the force of my voice. "I ain't gonna rest, and I ain't gonna take it easy neither, Doc, so you might as well get those notions out of your head right now."

It probably wasn't the wisest thing for a man in my position to do, to start mouthing off to the man who could easily slip him a mickey, or, if he wasn't in the mood for tact, could simply slide a needle into said ill-mannered man's vein and put him to sleep, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind for doing what was wise. I was already nervy, and on edge, and as such, I couldn't be expected to do or say anything that wasn't demanding and fractious in nature.

"Well, then, what do you intend to do, Forrest?" Dr. Worrell asked, in a tone that said that he was quickly growing tired of my cantankerous attitude. "You haven't left yourself many options, you know, unless you're intending on having your brothers smuggle you in a little celebratory corn, and I'd frown upon that, to be sure, so….."

I wasn't all that partial to drunkenness at any time, and especially not when my wife needed me, and he ought to know that, but I was willing to overlook his insinuation for the time being, because I knew I'd blow my top completely if I allowed myself to think about what he meant to accuse me of. I suppose that it was the easiest thing for everyone, to assume that the Bondurant name always meant that the man who bore it was a drunk, but it still rankled me, to have the Doc assume that I was that sort of man.

"I don't intend to do anything, Doc," I growled, putting every last bit of menacing bluff that I had inside of me into my words, in the hope that I would be able to intimidate him. "What I am going to do is be by Emma's side while she labors to birth our baby, so, if'n I was you, I'd step aside, so that Howard and Jack can carry my bed into that delivery room, because I've made up my mind, and I will not be swayed, and I have nothing but sorrow in my heart for the poor son of a bitch who tries to stand in my way."

"Are you threatening me?" he thundered, taking a step closer to my bed, eyes ablaze, clearly unfazed and not effected at all, by my attempt to coerce him 'round to my way of thinking. "Are you trying to bully me, Forrest Bondurant? I hope that you're not, because if you are, I guaran-goldamn-tee you that you'll regret it if you do!"

Who would have thought that a man who looked like a young St. Nick could be so daunting when he was riled? His bright blue eyes were blazing, his mouth was set in a firm line, and he was literally shaking from head-to-toe, and I reckoned that he might have pulled me up out of my bed and beat the ever-loving hell right out of me, had I not been wrapped up in plaster.

"Hmm…I ain't aiming to threaten or bully you, Doc," I said, then waited for the strike of lightning that would seek out my hind end as punishment for daring to utter such a bold lie out loud. "I'm just a man who wants to be there for his wife when she gives birth to their child. I can't go home with her afterward, to help her to care for our little one, but I want to be there for her while she's laboring, so that I can support her as much as possible, and I'm determined that I won't take no for an answer."

He sighed, the sort that a man who was longsuffering would utter, and shook his head at me. "The delivery room is no place for a man, unless he's the one who's delivering the baby," he said, the fire in his eyes growing dim as his muscles relaxed and his mouth softened. "Fathers do their waiting on the outside, they smoke cigars and shoot the breeze with whomever's near, some of 'em wear a path into the floor by pacing back and forth, but they do not support their wife while she's laboring. It's been my experience that a man couldn't handle the, hmm, indelicacies, associated with childbirth, and it seems to me that a woman wouldn't be too happy to see them there anyways, given that they're the ones who are responsible for all of the pain that she's been made to endure. Now, Forrest, surely you see that you've got no place in that delivery room, don't you, hmm?"

I wasn't looking forward to witnessing Emma's pain, as a matter of fact, it was going to be hellish, to say the very least, but I wasn't going to abandon her in her time of need, no matter how hard it was going to be for me hear her suffering. She had stayed by my side throughout all of my ordeals, she'd comforted me and assured me that everything would be fine, even when I'd made an ass of myself and tried to chase her away, and, as such, she deserved the same support from me.

"I reckon that it ain't gonna be easy, Doc, but I was in the room with her when that baby was made, and I'm gonna be there when that little one gets a gander at the world, if it's all the same to you."

He sighed again, and shook his head at me in a way that was a little pitying in nature, and I wondered why he would feel sorry for me. "I'm not going to argue with you any further, Forrest, because I can see that your mind is made up, but I will pray for you, 'cause Lord knows that you're going to need His help."

Emma's POV

I'd never known that pain like the sort that I was feeling was possible. It was a little ironic, I suppose, that I'd always wanted a tight tummy, because that was what accompanied each and every agonizing spasm in my abdomen, but I'd never wanted one so badly that I was willing to be in overwhelming misery to obtain it. I reminded myself that this was part of the process of bringing a new life into the world, and I could endure it, until my baby was born…I just hoped that I wasn't overestimating my ability to be strong.

I'd never imagined that I would labor to bring my first child into the world with my husband lying in a bed beside the one that I was in, but then my hopes for a baby were dashed when I learned of Walton's secret. Then he'd died, and left me a widow, and the lonely years had passed by, one after another, until all of my hopes had dwindled away, and I had been so certain that I would spend all of my days alone, until I was old and bitter, and then I would die, but then the most wonderful thing had happened, and now all of my dreams had come true…though it was still a little odd for me, to have Forrest lying beside me while I labored.

I had never even considered that a man would want to be in the room when his wife was giving birth, I had been raised with the notion that men didn't want anything at all to do with the mess and the bother, but Forrest had definitely opened my eyes to new possibilities. I didn't know everything that had happened, but from the impression that I got, my husband had thrown a wall-eyed fit and demanded that he was in the room while our baby was born, and that was how I came to be in his room, reclined in a bed that had been moved to rest beside his.

"You need to breathe, darlin'," he called to me, in a soft tone that soothed me, or, that is, it did, until it dawned on me that he was bossing me about, like he was my father, instead of my husband. "I know that it must hurt something fierce, Emma, and I'm sorry for that, but if you don't breathe you're going to be in a whole mess of trouble and so will….."

"Great balls of fire, I am breathing!" I hissed loudly, digging my fingertips into the blankets, hard, until the pain that had taken hold of me began to subside. "I'd be dead if I wasn't breathing, Forrest Bondurant, and, if that was the case, I reckon I wouldn't be in the sort of agony that I'm in right now, misery that you know nothing about, so maybe you ought to just keep your damned mouth shut and leave me be, so that I can get this baby born!"

I didn't mean to be so harsh to him, I really didn't, but I had been in labor for three hours, and my pain was getting worse with each moment that passed. My tummy felt like a rock when it contracted, my back felt like it was splitting in two, and I didn't even want to think about the pain and the pressure between my legs, so, yes, I was a little short on patience, and a little long on cantankerousness, and I hoped that Forrest knew that I wasn't being short and snippy because I was angry with him, but because I was hurting so badly.

It sounded like Dr. Worrell whispered something to Forrest, something that sound suspiciously like, "I told you so," and then he moved to stand beside my bed, reaching down, to take my hand out of the twisted blankets. "There's no need for you to suffer like this," he said quietly, in a kind tone that I ought to have responded favorably to, but which set my teeth on edge instead. "There are plenty of women who have elected to take other paths, and it makes things much easier for them. All that I have to do is give you a mixture of morphine and scopolamine, and you'll be given a big measure of relief….."

"I'll not be drugged, and see pink elephants turning cartwheels around the room, Dr. Worrell," I said sharply, remembering the horror stories that I'd heard from the women who'd been advised, and, in some cases, forced, to give themselves over to the twilight sleep. "Nor will I be trussed up like an animal, so that I won't harm myself when I scream and thrash about like a madwoman."

"Now, now, Emma, that sort of thing doesn't happen every time, the odds of you having a bad reaction are very low, and you'll feel much better….."

"Hmm…I believe that I heard my wife say no to your drugs, Doc, and I ain't gonna have you arguing with her and getting her all bent out of shape."

God bless Forrest. I reached over toward his bed, and laid my hand on his plaster covered arm, stroking it gently, as thanks for his support, and Dr. Worrell shook his head at me, but then he shrugged and told me that he wasn't going to force the issue, not if I'd made up my mind so definitively.

"Your comfort is my secondary concern, Emma. The thing that I'm thinking of the most is your safety, along with that of your child, and if you say that you want to continue on the way that we have, well, that's fine by me."

I nodded at him and affirmed that I was content to stay on the path that I was on…and then another pain hit me, and made me bite back a cry, and I wondered whether or not I'd made the right choice.


I had three pillows piled up behind me, so that I could sit up on the bed. My knees were bent, and drawn up close to my chest, and the soles of my feet were resting flat against the mattress. I was soaked with sweat, my hair was plastered to my head, and my lips were raw and bloody and swollen from me biting them with each pain. I had been in labor for twelve hours altogether, and the last four had been what the nurses called "hard" labor, but it was finally time for me to push.

Dr. Worrell was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching intently, while I strained and pushed with each pain that wracked me. I thought that I heard Forrest grumble his displeasure over the doctor's position, which was absolutely ludicrous to me, but then he started murmuring to me, comforting, encouraging words that I would have sworn I felt, like a caress. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, but he reminded me to be strong, he helped me to remember my purpose, and I soldiered on, in spite of my pain.

"I can see the head crowning, Emma," Dr. Worrell said, smiling first at me, then at the nurse, a kindly woman named Kay, who was standing beside my bed and holding tightly to my hand. "You only have a few more pushes to go, and then your baby will be here."

I was so tired, I felt like I couldn't go on without a little rest, even though I was so close, but then Forrest started to speak to me, and his words renewed my resolve. "Just a few more pushes, darlin', and our little one will be here. You can do this, Emma, you're the strongest person that I know, and I love you more than words can say. Keep going, honey, keep fighting…you're almost there, and you'll be holding that sweet baby before you know it."

He hadn't said that I was the strongest woman, he'd said the strongest person, and that meant that I trumped everyone else. I took a deep breath, and I braced my feet against the mattress and I pushed with everything that I had, bound and determined that I would hold on for as long as it would take, that I would see my baby, and there was nothing that was going to stop me.

Forrest's POV

James Forrest Bondurant, Jr. was the most beautiful baby that I'd ever seen in my whole life. I reckon that was an odd descriptive for a man to use when he was describing his son, but that was the first one that came to my mind when I laid eyes upon him. I hope that I wasn't in danger of sounding vain by thinking that he was beautiful, because I could see glimpses of myself in his face, and while I sure as hell didn't think that they were features that made me pretty to look at, there was no denying that they did just that for him.

The nurse, Kay Willis, carried the little fellow over to my bed and lowered him, so that I could get a good, long look at him, and I went to biting on my lip and blinking my eyes, in a bid to keep my tears at bay, but they gathered, and then fell, of their own accord just the same. I never imagined that I would have a wife, much less a child, but here I was, with both of those things, and I wondered how on earth I could have ever imagined throwing them away. It was a good thing for me that Emma loved me enough to put up with my prideful bullshit, and I vowed that I would make it up to her, even if it took me the rest of my life to do so.

"He's a right handsome little boy, isn't he?" Kay crooned, smiling at me, and then at my son. "Just like his daddy."

I could feel my cheeks turning red, and I heard Emma and Doc Worrell snickering beside me, and I was all set to tell them what for, but then Emma let loose with a cry that curdled my blood and got little James to singing in harmony. Miss Kay laid him in his bassinet and rushed to help the Doc, who sounded like he was perched in the chair that was resting at the foot of Emma's bed.

"Well, I'll be a pink cheeked monkey's uncle," he breathed excitedly. "I never would have guessed it, but it looks like you and Forrest are going to have two young'uns to care for, Emma, not just the one."

My heart clenched, then leapfrogged up and down in my chest. We were having twins? How was that possible? "This little imp must have been hiding behind the other one, masking its little heartbeat the whole time," Worrell said wonderingly. "Now, Emma, you can do this just fine. You already brought little James out into the world, and this one is going to go a lot quicker, I reckon, so take a deep breath and push as soon as you have your next pain….."

"I know what to do!" she hollered, sounding mad as hell, but completely determined as well. "So if you'll kindly shut up, Doctor, I'll see about getting this little one born!"


Eleanor Rose Bondurant was a vision; she was everything beautiful and perfect in a tiny little package. She looked just like her mama, only more so, if that made a lick of sense at all, and all that it took was one look at her to make me fall head-over-heels in love. I thought that she would be wrinkly and red, as most newborns seemed to be, but she, like her brother, was smooth and pink. Little James had his eyes closed when Kay brought him to me, showing that he was a loafer like his Uncle Jack, but my sweet little girl was looking right at me, and the tears that fell from my eyes made the ones that had fallen before seem downright paltry in comparison.

It was odd that a man who'd thought that his life was over had been blessed so thoroughly, I suppose that meant that the Lord was indeed good and kind, whether we deserved it or not. I had my little boy, and I would teach him to shoot, and to fish and play ball, and I would probably spoil him rotten as well, and I'd treat my little girl like a princess. I would teach her to dance, and show her how to throw a punch, so that none of the snotty nosed boys would try anything funny with her…..

Aw, hell's bells.

"How am I going to do this, Emma?" I whispered, once the Doc and Miss Kay had left the room, to tend to the little ones. "I know what to do with James, I can do just fine where he's concerned, and I reckon that I can help to raise Ellie just fine as well, but how in tarnation am I ever going to be able to keep myself from wringing the neck of every useless boy who comes around trying to court her?"

I heard her snickering at me, but I didn't think that it was a damned bit funny. "Now, I'm serious, darlin'," I said huffily. "You're laughing now, but what are you going to do when you have to help me hide the bodies of all of those that I've killed? I reckon that you won't be giggling then, will you, hmm?"

She whooped that time, and started to laugh in earnest and I rolled my eyes and growled. She would change her mind, once she saw how I could be, and then she wouldn't think I was funny, would she? She just thought that she'd seen my temper, but that was nothing compared to what it would be, once those slimy little peckerwoods started sniffing around my daughter.

"Oh, Forrest, I love you…please don't ever change," she gasped, once she'd regained her ability to speak.

"I'm happy to hear that," I said, and I was, but I wouldn't be placated. "I just hope that you remember that love once they send me up the river for murdering those sons of bitches."

I don't know why I even bothered to tell her anything, if all that she was going to do was chuckle at me like she'd lost her damned mind. I decided, then and there, that I had to get out of that bed as soon as possible. It seemed that the world was going right to hell all around me, and I sure as shooting wasn't going to face it lying on my back, wrapped up in plaster, not if I had anything to say about it.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me their opinion on the gender of Forrest and Emma's little one. I couldn't make up my mind whether to give them a boy or a girl, even after all of the input, and decided that one of each was the only way that I could possibly be happy. The next chapter will be the final installment of this story, an epilogue of sorts, to tie everything up all neat and tidy…and make me cry like a baby as I write it.