Victor paced anxiously waiting in the hallway. He was a nervous wreck. This wasn't anything particularly new, but the cause was inexplicably nerve-racking. Then again, it would be to any man.
As he was pacing his mother tried to slow him down, "Calm your self down son or you'll wear my carpet thin."
This comment, as was most of his mother's, only seemed to make Victor feel worse. Mrs. Van Dort shook her head. "I said calm down!"
This little outburst caused Victor to jump in surprise, knocking over a nearby vase. "Oh dear," he sighed.
As he was trying to clean up the mess he had made, he took up one flower in particular. It was a withering forget-me-not. It's faded blue color reminded him of something… someone.
Nell Van Dort sighed, again shaking her head at her son. "Oh Victor! Just sit down and stop pacing. I swear, the racket you're making could wake the dead."
Victor gasped, eyes widening. 'Wake the dead? Emily!' His eyes began to tear up as he looked at the flower once more. A forget-me-not. Of course that was who it reminded him of.
He heard one last scream from the birthing room. Victor looked toward the source of the scream. "Victoria!"
He immediately lept to go see his wife, but his father grabbed him before he could barge in. "Trust me Victor. You wouldn't want to go in there."
"What? Why not?"
William shook his head. Victor noticed his parents did this a lot. It wasn't his fault he was very sheltered.
"Just trust me, Victor."
Victor thought about all the times his father had told him something and the times he didn't listen. Granted, there weren't many of these incidences, but the ones that were, were because he didn't listen to his dad. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Victor decided not to take the chance. He sat back down.
He didn't have too long to sit down however. The nurse shortly emerged from the room, her apron soiled in blood. Victor would have fainted had his father no held him up. "Would you like to see your baby?" she asked in her feeble little voice.
Victor began stuttering. "M-m-my b-baby?"
The nurse nodded. "Yes, yes. You did know she was having a baby didn't you?"
He nodded emphatically. "Of course!"
The nurse just smiled. "Just checking. Now, if you'd like, we can go see your wife and daughter."
Victor couldn't help but smile. "My daughter? My daughter! My daughter. I'm a father of a girl. My daughter! My-"
"I believe you've established that she's your daughter, Victor," quipped his mother, "Now go check on your wife!"
he nodded in reply, and went into the room. Victoria lay sleeping soundly on the bed. Victor smiled at her. He gazed intently at his wife, the mother of his child.
"Would you like to hold her deary?" asked the nurse from behind him. He turned and gasped. In her arms was a little baby.
Victor looked back at Victoria, then to the baby once more. "Yes. I would."
Once the child was handed to him, he was amazed how tiny she not only looked, but felt. He felt as if one wrong move and he would break her, she seemed so fragile. It was really quite amazing.
Hours later, both he and Victoria sat on the bed together, holding there little girl. They both gazed intently at the child, who already had a small tuft of brown hair on top of her little head.
They were each picturing how they were going to raise her, and their future children (though not too many more if Victoria could help it. The pain of childbirth is not one she'd like to take part in on a regular basis). They were going to be neither too strict, nor too overbearing. They were going to make their children feel like they mean something, whether they become Lords and Ladies, or Fishmongers and Housewives. One thing was for sure they would love them unconditionally.
"I'll always love you," Victor said looking down at his daughter, "I'll always love you, Emily."