and brought the baby to her, passing him carefully into her arms. He’d been wrapped snugly in a blanket and his crying had ceased. He blinked slowly as he was passed from his father to his mother, evidently perplexed about the strange things that were happening around him.
“You’re wrong,” she told Zach.
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t look like me. He looks like you,” she said. “Look at his eyes.”
They were the same brilliant green as Zach’s, and just as captivating.
“But look at everything else about him,” Zach said. “That strawberry blond hair, the shape of his face—look, he even has a freckle in the same place as you have one.”
He was right. Rhea stared in frank fascination as the baby’s eyes blinked open again. It was shocking—in the best possible way—to see Zach’s eyes in the middle of her own face. Their child was a perfect blend of elements of both of them.
Rhea was wheeled back into her hospital room. The doctor insisted on taking her son away for a few minutes to check his vitals and make sure everything was all right.
It killed Rhea to let go of him, to let him out of her sight, even though she knew it was necessary. He was the most precious thing she had ever held, and if she had had her way, she would never have let him go.
She clung to Zach’s hands until a nurse brought the baby back to them. The moment he was returned to her, she set about examining him, checking to make sure his perfect features were the same ones she remembered. Nothing had changed, of course. He was still their perfect son.
“Do we have a name?” the nurse asked, pulling out a pen and a clipboard. “It’s okay if you don’t yet. I can fill these papers out later.”
But Rhea was ready. She hadn’t expected that she would be. Because she and Zach hadn’t learned the sex of their child, they hadn’t bothered to pick out a name yet. But the moment she had seen her son’s face, the name had come to her.
“Lincoln,” she told the nurse. “His name is Lincoln.”
She glanced at Zach to make sure he approved. His face was a picture of shock.
“Are you sure?” he asked her. “You want to name him after my father? After what he did to your family?”
Rhea shook her head. “We’ve all spent far too much time talking about the one bad thing your father did in his life,” she said. “But he did many good things as well. He raised you. He provided you with a family member you could love and rely on. He worked hard all his life to ensure that food was kept on your table, and clothes on your back.”
“That’s true,” Zach said. “I remind myself of those things frequently. I don’t want to forget the best parts of my father’s life.”
“And I think we should honor him,” Rhea said. “Instead of remember him for one mistake that he made, I think we should remember the good man that he was. I couldn’t think of a better name for our child. But only if you approve, of course.”
Zach rested one hand on Rhea’s head and the other on the baby’s. “I approve,” he said. “Thank you, Rhea. It really means the world to me that you’d want to do something like this.”
Rhea smiled down happily at the baby in her arms. “Welcome to the world, little Lincoln,” she said. “We’re so happy you’re finally here.”
They were able to leave the hospital the following morning, and though Rhea still felt a little weak and worn out, she could tell that her body was beginning to recover. Zach helped her ease herself into the car, then fastened baby Lincoln into the car seat they’d bought and installed.
“Check the straps,” Rhea said anxiously. “Are you sure he’s buckled in the right way?”
“He’s fine,” Zach assured her. “I get it. It freaks me out to drive him home too. But we don’t have far to go, remember. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”
“Okay, but don’t feel like you have to hurry,” Rhea said. “Drive slowly. I’d rather take a little longer and get there safely.”
Zach laughed. “I’ve never seen you so nervous.”
But he must have been feeling the same way, because he drove more cautiously than he ever had before, slowing to a gradual stop before each traffic light so that he coasted to a halt without jolting the car’s passengers. Lincoln,