Page 79 of Hold Fast

CHAPTER32

As a general rule, Fenella had a “nae dogs in the kitchens” policy. It made sense to Una, especially when the dogs in question were as big as Mathan and his familiars—deerhounds so tall that their heads could easily rest atop the table and steal food from it. But from the moment Una had encountered Greer in the bailey earlier that day, the dog would not be parted from her. Fenella had begrudgingly allowed Greer entrance into the kitchen but had chased Mathan away when he tried to follow.

“The expectant ladies may stay in the kitchen, but you have nae business here, you hairy brute,” she had scolded good-naturedly, herding him away. “Go and fetch your master!”

Mathan hung his head and trotted off to do just that.

Now, Una sat at the large worktable with a cup of tea, helping Fenella to peel apples for the apple muse Catriona had requested. Greer was turning in restless circles, pacing around the table but never letting Una out of her sight.

“She’s right fashed, aye?” Fenella asked as a long peel of apple dropped from her knife onto the wooden table.

“Aye,” Una answered, chewing on a bit of peel. “A lady gets restless before she drops pups, I suppose.”

“Today?”

“I believe so,” Una replied with a small smile.

It had been a few weeks since learning about her own pregnancy, but, to be truthful, she hadn’t had much time to consider it. The MacDonalds had outdone themselves with their need for a healer, and the past three weeks had been filled with setting more broken bones, stitching more wounds, and assisting in more births than had ever clustered together before, if Fenella was to be believed.

Una liked to be busy. She liked to feel useful. What was more, she liked feeling like she belonged among the MacDonalds. She was making friends and building a life for herself. She could hardly believe how happy she had been.

“I should take Greer out to the barn, I suppose. To get ready.”

“You mean for her to whelp those pups in a stall? Withhorses?”

Una laughed at Fenella’s horror. “Aye, in the usual way. Where else does a dog drop pups?”

“Our beauty isnae going to have those wee pups in a filthy stall. She’ll have them right here in the kitchen where it’s warm and we can keep an eye on them.”

“Fenella, that isnae—”

But Fenella was already hastening to the doorway, where she called out for help. A half breath later, a young man was in the doorway.

“Aye, Fenella?” he asked.

“We’ll be needing a box,” Fenella commanded. “A big one.”

He blinked at her.

“A box. A big box,” Fenella repeated.

“Like a chest?”

“Nay. I dinnae want a chest. I want a box. A birthing box.”

“You mean for someone to give birth in a box?” he asked, horrified.

“Aye,” Fenella said matter-of-factly.

“But…how will they breathe? How will the bairn get out?”

Una swallowed her laugh as Fenella looked skyward.

“It isnae for a bairn,” she said, with exaggerated patience and gritted teeth. “’Tis for a dog.”

The lad looked doubly confused now. “So you want to put the dog in the box while someone gives birth? Cannae you just send it outside?”

“God’s bones, lad! Get David for me,” Fenella shouted, moving to stir something in a pot. When she looked over her shoulder and saw the young man still standing in the doorway, looking at Una for clarification, she barked, “Get you gone! Go fetch David!”