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The room erupted in cheers, and Brock and I both stood to embrace our youngest brother in our arms, in what ended up being an awkwardly awesome, three-man hug.
“Bronagh good?” I asked when I pulled away.
“She’s amazing,” Brendan gushed. “You should have seen her.”
“Nah, that’s okay,” I said jokingly.
“Can we go back?” Brock asked.
“What’s her name?” someone called from behind us, and Ming sidled up next to me and asked, “Can I go see Nonie?”
“Her Da’s in there now, but you three can come on back with me,” Bren replied to us, then he looked at his friends in the room and shouted, “Carmen Ida O’Malley.”
“You named her after mom,” Brock said, his voice rough with emotion.
Brendan nodded.
“Yeah, after our mom, and Bronagh’s.”
“That’s beautiful,” Ming said, her eyes beginning to tear up.
I put my arm around her and hugged her sideways, pleasure suffusing me when she tucked her face into my neck and cried a little with joy.
We followed Brendan back to the hospital room where Bronagh and the baby had been moved after delivery.
Mr. Callaghan was cradling the baby in his arms, crooning to her softly in what I assumed was Gaelic, and Bronagh was watching them from the bed, her face exploding with love.
“Nonie,” Ming said, crossing to her friend and crying again. She leaned over the bed, careful not to hurt Bronagh, but needing to give her a hug.
“You’ve gotta see her, Ming, she’s gorgeous.”
Brock and I moved to see baby Carmen. She was swaddled in the receiving blanket, but one little hand had gotten loose and you could see her long fingers wiggling and stretching. Her complexion was light, but she had a shock of dark hair, just like her cousins, Dec and Rose, had been born with. The O’Malley trait was strong. Her tiny nose was perfect, and her eyes were closed as she dozed in her Grandpa’s arms.
“You want to hold her?” he asked Brock and me.
Brock looked to me and said, “You go first.”
I wasn’t going to deny that I wanted to hold her, so I held out my arms for Mr. Callaghan to lay her in them. Once I had her, I tucked her in close to my chest and moved to the chair to sit down.
She was perfect.
Having to see for myself that everything was fine, I pulled back the blanket to check her arms, legs, fingers, and toes. When she squeaked in protest at the sudden cool air hitting her delicate skin, I cooed at her and swaddled her back up.
“You’re worse than a stereotypical grandmother,” Brock joked once I’d put her back to rights.
“Shut up,” I said in a sweet voice, careful to keep my tone pleasing.
“My turn,” Brock said, holding out his arms.
I just glared at her and he scowled, “Give her over.”
I reluctantly handed Carmen to Brock, with the promise that I’d hold her again soon, then got up and went to the bed to give Bronagh a kiss on the cheek.
“You did good, Mama.”
“Thanks, Brady,” she replied, and when I turned and caught Ming watching me. There was no mistaking the love in her eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Eight ~ Ming
