Julia cuddled the baby as the men left. She wasn’t really as confident in Rosalind’s recovery as she had sounded, but she thought it important, for Vidal’s sake, to act as though she were.
She glanced around the bedroom. The doctor dozed in the chair. There was nothing left for him to do except wait for Rosalind to wake and monitor her for infection. Señora Velázquez bustled around the room, tidying up, bundling the afterbirth in a mess of b****y rags so they could all be taken away, checking frequently on the patient’s breathing and pulse.
Julia looked at the baby again.
“Hola, mi amor,” she told the little boy. “I don’t have a name to call you yet. You’re a very lucky boy to have parents who love you and love each other so much. Things are a little hard right now, but you’re a good bo
