Free The Fall of Ossard by Colin Tabor

been aloof prior to the birth, but the change was stark.
    The maid and midwife wiped her over and checked her. They cleaned me, and then brought up the covers, while giving me a damp towel to refresh myself with. They were quick at it, getting us ready to receive my husband, parents, and in-laws. The midwife took the babe, wrapped her in fresh linen, and then sent the maid to fetch them.
    I looked to the open doorway, apprehensive. How would he react to his daughter, to the very thing that had imprisoned him? I tensed, trying to lean forward and get the midwife’s attention; perhaps she should just let him see our babe, but not hold her.
    He stepped through the doorway, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, ready to receive the ultimate reminder of his shame. Not a trace of interest or care marked his sallow face, he just wanted this over, not just the day, or the matter of his daughter’s birth, but I think his entire existence.
    He stumbled forward, pushed by two sets of grandparents trying but failing to hold themselves in reserve. Three more steps brought him to the midwife.
    I opened my mouth to warn her, yet my voice faltered.
    She offered him our babe.
    I tensed, reaching out a hand.
    He finally looked up.
    Her eyes remained closed, but her mouth occasionally opened. She didn’t make a sound.
    His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, but he didn’t move to take her.
    The midwife held her out to him afresh.
    He raised his hands, his shoulders squaring.
    The midwife asked, “My Lord and Lady, what will you call her?”
    We hadn’t even spoken of it.
    My father looked over Pedro’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful.”
    The baby then yawned, leaning a little back as she opened her mouth. Her arms appeared, rising out of the linen wrap.
    My mother giggled. “She’s gorgeous!”
    And Pedro smiled.
    Lord and Lady Liberigo crowded past my father to also look upon their grandchild. My father-in-law said, “Beautiful indeed, and red hair - that’s not quite a Heletian trait!”
    His wife laughed.
    I found my voice, “Perhaps she needs a good Heletian name?”
    Pedro looked to me. “Yes?”
    I smiled, trying to offer something of a peace between us. “How about Maria?”
    His mother smiled. “A good name, your late grandmother’s name.”
    My mother added, “And the middle name of your grandmother, Juvela.”
    Pedro straightened his back, raised his head, and grinned as he drew his daughter to his chest. “She is beautiful.” He chuckled and then looked to me. “ Our little Maria.”
    I nodded as both sets of grandparents gave a cheer.
    He said, “It’s a good name for such a beautiful little girl.” And with each word his voice grew stronger, finding some of its old depth.
    He stood there stroking her, marvelling at what had been made. I saw love in his eyes. My own heart softened at the sight.
    He had changed.

    In time Pedro and I built a better relationship.
    I think he came to respect me; my strength and determination, but there was certainly no love. Maria had bonded us together. Sometimes I wondered if he loved her more than I did - and that would have been a marvel!
    In her first season of life, she lost her red hair to have it replaced with something closer to Pedro’s dark locks, and that better matched her olive skin. From me she carried a Flet’s blue eyes and a petite nose. A child of two cultures, a bridge, she bound us together.
    My parents forgot their shame, and their household thrived with its close association to Lord Liberigo as did the family business. In so many ways I’d achieved everything I should have. All that was missing was love and its peace.
    I came to trust Pedro with Maria, anyone watching them could see the love there. He and I were another matter. Sometimes we sat and talked a little, managing to be company for each other, but more often we didn’t. I could never forget his part in the boy’s murder and the way he’d treated me, but I realised that I could live with