It happened then, and Riley's eyes flew open. The baby kicked, and he'd felt it as strongly as if Hannah herself had poked him. An involuntary grin grew and grew.
"Riley," she whispered, "did you feel him?"
"Yes."
"I told you he was going to be a soccer player."
"He's so strong."
Her smile was evident even in the dark. "Tell me about it." She yawned, holding her hand in front of her mouth. "What time is it?"
Riley read the illuminated dial of his wristwatch. "A little after two."
"Did Junior wake you?"
"No. I was lying here thinking."
"About what?" she quizzed.
She sounded worried, and he sought to reassure her. "About what we should name Junior. I was thinking… that if you wanted, we could name him after Jerry."
Her silence confused him. He turned his head toward her, hoping there'd be enough moonlight in the bedroom to judge her expression.
"That's the most beautiful thing you've ever said to me," she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. She pressed her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Actually, I've been giving some thought to a name myself."
"And?" he pressed.
She hesitated, as though she expected him to disapprove of her choice. "There's a Hannah in the Bible. I didn't know if you were aware of that or not."
Riley wasn't, but that shouldn't come as any shock. Now that he thought it over, it made sense that a godly man like George Raymond would give his only daughter a scriptural name.
"She was married and desperately wanted children. She tried for years and years to become pregnant, but was barren."
"So far I don't see any similarities between the two of you," he teased, and was rewarded with an elbow in his ribs.
"Might I continue?"
"By all means."
"Hannah went to the temple to pray, asking God for a child, and soon afterward she found herself pregnant. When her son was born, she named him Samuel."
"Samuel," Riley repeated slowly, testing the name. It had a nice solid sound to it. Samuel Murdock. "I like it, but aren't you taking a lot for granted? We could very well be having a daughter."
"Samantha, then."
"All right," Riley said, gathering her close in his arms, pressing his chin against the crown of her head. "Samuel or Samantha it is."
"Samuel Riley Murdock."
Riley felt his throat thicken. "Or Samantha Hannah Murdock."
"But Riley, that's too awkward a name for a little girl. Samantha Lynn or Samantha Anne would be better."
"It's Samantha Hannah, so don't argue with me."
"In that case I certainly hope we have a son," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. She tugged the blankets more securely around her shoulders and continued to use his chest for a pillow. It wasn't the most comfortable position, with her breasts brushing against him and her thighs rubbing his own, but Riley hadn't the strength to ask her to move.
Good night, Hannah, he said, closing his eyes, content for the first time in hours. "Good night, Sam," he added, and nearly laughed out loud when a tiny foot or arm jabbed him in the side.
"Oh, Riley!" Hannah cried as she pried open the lid to the large rectangular box he'd squirreled away beneath the tree. "Oh, Riley," she repeated, tears brimming in her eyes as her gaze shot over to him. With infinite care, she removed a soft pink maternity dress from the tissue wrapping and held it against her waist. "How'd you know?"
"You mean other than the fact you went back to the clothes rack four times to look at it?"
"But it's much too expensive…. I could probably sew one like it for half the price. But I'm so pleased I don't have to! I've only got a couple of things I can wear to work as it is. Oh, Riley, I love it so much. Thank you." She rushed to his side, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
"Tears, Hannah," her father teased.
"Don't worry, I get emotional so easily now. Dr. Underwood said it was to be expected."
"Your mother was the same way. She'd start to weep over television commercials when she was carrying your brother and you." His eyes grew warm at the memory as he leaned back in his chair and smiled down on his daughter.
"Riley, open my gift next," she said, breaking away long enough to pull a purple and blue gift-wrapped box from beneath the tree. "I made it myself while you were away."
Riley examined the box, shaking it.
"Careful, it might break." The blue wool sweater, complete with matching hat and scarf would do no such thing, but she enjoyed baiting him.
Riley took his time unwrapping the gift, and it was all Hannah could do not to rush to his side and help him tear away the paper. She watched closely as he lifted the lid. No emotion registered in his eyes as he carefully unfolded the garments one by one and brought them out of the box.
"I hope it fits," Hannah said in a rush, her words blending together.