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They’d been arguing for weeks on the sex of the baby. Adam saying they were going to have a daughter, Liz insisting the baby was a boy. Neither had found out during her ultrasounds and had asked the radiologist to edit any clips that revealed the sex as they truly didn’t want to know until delivery.
“Luther Jacob Cline—” named after Gramps “—will be very upset when he learns his father kept insisting he was a girl. Poor kid might develop a complex.”
“I’m telling you Elizabeth Ann—” named after Liz, as well as Adam’s mother “—is who’s arriving today.”
Another contraction hit Liz, tightening her stomach into a hard knot. “Whoever is in here, I wish they’d hurry.”
An hour later, Liz gave birth to a round-faced little boy. She’d never seen Adam look happier, more proud, more loving, and she knew he’d keep the vows they’d made to one another the very week Dr Bell had OK’d her to put weight on her ankle to hobble down the aisle sans crutches.
No matter what their future held, she and Adam would face it together.
“He’s gorgeous, Liz. The most precious baby,” Adam cooed, cuddling their son in his arms from where he sat next to her on the hospital bed.
Liz glanced into her son’s face, watched him attempt to suck on his fist. “Our baby. If only Gramps were here…”
Adam took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and placed a kiss. “He’s watching from heaven, Liz. You know he is and that he’s proud of you.”
Yes, she did know that and from somewhere above she’d swear she heard Gramps say, “Good job, Liza girl. Good job.”
