The Severn Valley Railway carried Julia and Andrew and Aleda eastward on the sixth of May, nine months after Philip and Loretta had moved back to London. Julia carried in her trunk several gifts from others, including a soft white blanket Elizabeth had knit in the rare quiet times between nursing little Noelle and tending the rest of her family. Having a busy household had taught Elizabeth to plan ahead.
Julia and Andrew’s gift was shipped ahead last month; a cradle fashioned of cherrywood by the Crofts. Loretta had written to say how beautiful it was, how she hoped it would cradle many children through the years.
Philip threw his arms around them in the waiting room at Saint George’s Hospital. “You’re here! Thank you for coming.”
“As if we would miss it,” Andrew said, pounding his back.
The soft hums of conversation floated around family and friends. Doctor and Mrs. Trask. Loretta’s sister, Irene. Gabriel.
And Philip. Pacing with hands in pockets, not able to sit, clearly with his mind in the delivery room.
“Have you chosen any names?” Aleda asked him.
He gave her a blank look. “Hmm?”
Finally, an older man entered, wearing a doctor’s coat. “She came through fine, Doctor Hollis. You have a healthy eight-pound boy.”
Julia’s eyes teared at the sight of her son, gulping down a huge sigh of relief, lifting up a silent prayer before following the doctor.
“Are you all right?” Andrew whispered.
Julia smiled through her tears. “Yes.”
An hour later, a nurse entered to announce that Mrs. Hollis was awake and that visitors were limited to two at a time. Naturally, Doctor and Mrs. Trask went first. When they returned, all smiles, Julia took her husband’s hand and followed the nurse up the long hallway.
They passed several beds in the ward. Loretta, flushed and smiling, sat up on her pillows with a swaddled bundle in her arms. Philip sat at her side, radiating pride. He stood and took his son from his wife.
“Here, Mother. Sit. Get acquainted with your grandson.”
Julia sat and took him. With fresh tears and Andrew leaning at her side, she smiled at the blue eyes staring up at her. Love welled through her.
Philip leaned to push the blanket back, revealing baby-fine strands of auburn hair.
“Was mine that color, Mother?”
She smiled up at him. “It was.”
“What will you name him?” Andrew asked.
Philip and Loretta exchanged smiles.
“We’ve already named him,” Philip replied. He nodded to his wife.
“His name is Andrew,” she said.