"She's crying—come quick!" Joy's voice sliced through the morning like a bell. "Where?" Eldon shouted, boots thudded on the kitchen boards. "Here, here. Maud, the cord's tight." The midwife's hands moved without pause. "Don't you go faint on me," Eldon barked, sliding the curtain back with a hand that shook. "Joy, look at me. Breathe for me." "Count," Joy hissed between pushes. "One. Two. Three." "One. Two. Three," Eldon echoed, voice rough with something that was not fear. "Push!" Maud ordered. "Now!" "She's coming," Joy said, and then the room changed. Sound narrowed to one small wet cry. Gustaf stood with his jaw open. Gunnar's fingers dug into the table. Eliot's notebook fell to the floor and rolled to a stop. "It's a girl," Maud announced, voice quick and pleased. "Healthy." "She's ours." Eldon slapped the rough pine table so hard plates jumped. "She's ours and she's fine." "Don't you shout too loud," Joy warned, laughing despite herself. "We wanted quiet, Eldon." "Quiet?" Eldon grinned like a man showing off a prize. "I've waited forty years for this quiet to be broken." "What's her name?" Gustaf asked before anyone had time to think. "I'll name her," Eldon said. He stood straighter than he'd stood in ten years. "She'll be Faye Harper. Lucky as any hand I'll lay on her." "Faye," Joy tried the name and it fit around the first