Chapter 18
Mother stood shaking, her body and nerves strung out. Denise lay on the cot that was used as a hospital bed, panting and impossibly pale. In stark contrast, the blood she'd been losing for hours soaked through yet another set of sheets and left dark red hand prints on her milk-white legs. She'd gone into labor early, and though Mother was trying to keep her calm, things weren't looking good.
Mother took a swig of water, trying to buy herself some time. Denise was whimpering softly between contractions and Mother knew she had only a second to compose herself. She put the bottle down and crossed back to the bed, then ran the wet cloth over Denise's face.
"I think we need to take the baby," she said to the woman.
Denise's face crumpled. "No."
Mother hushed her and smoothed the cloth over her face again. "You're getting very weak." She didn't mention the blood. So far, Denise was too far gone to notice, and she and Cora had done their best to keep up with clean sheets and block Denise's view. Denise was tired, in pain, and scared, but so far they'd managed to keep her calm. She couldn't lose it. None of them could lose it.
Cora had mentioned they should attempt a cesarean over an hour before, and though Mother hoped for more time, there simply wasn't any. She had followed Cora's instructions and stuck her hand up inside Denise, trying to feel for a head. She felt nothing. There was no progress. Denise's body had opened, but no baby was coming out. The problem was deep inside, and Mother wondered if they'd be able to save either of them.
She swallowed hard. Denise probably wouldn't make it. The blood loss was too great, and the woman was alarmingly cool to the touch. "I'm going to let Steve come in for a minute," Mother said.
Denise whispered, "No."
Mother hushed her and signaled for Wolf to get Steve. "Yes," she said, joining Denise at the bed again. "Let him come in and give you a kiss and a pep talk, then you'll feel like you can do this."
The door opened and a pale Steve entered. He crossed to Denise and picked up her hand. "You can do this, baby."
Mother turned away and tuned it out. Cora sniffed, and Mother leaned over her chair. "Go."
Cora didn't argue. She couldn't. If she stayed, she'd lose it. If she stayed, she'd just be another one that Mother had to take care of, and Mother had her hands full enough.
"Go with Cora, Steve," Mother said with more authority than she felt.
Steve let out a small little sob and followed Cora out of the room.
Wolf shut the door and silently gathered the supplies Mother would need as Mother prepared a sedative for Denise. Denise tensed and screamed, another useless contraction wrenching through her body. Mother's hand shook, but she clenched her jaw and concentrated on the task at hand. She filled the syringe, then returned to Denise's side. "I'm going to give you something for the pain."
"No," said Denise, her voice thin and wispy.
Mother inserted the needle and pressed the plunger. "When you wake up, you'll be able to hold your beautiful baby."
Denise whimpered and squeezed her eyes closed. "Do you promise?"
"Yes," Mother said, feeling the metallic, bitter taste of the lie close up her throat. She pulled the needle out and sat by Denise, holding her hand and waiting for the medication to kick in. "Now, you just trust me. I kept Cora alive, didn't I?"
"Yes," Denise breathed.
"And that was a whole leg! This is just one little baby, that's all." The words were inane to her ears, just random things to try and get Denise to settle and calm.
"I love this baby," Denise said, almost too quiet to be heard, and her eyelids began to droop. "Love her for me."
Mother felt the scream well up inside. Wolf placed his hand on her shoulder to bring her back to earth. She looked up at him.
"You got this," he said, as he always did.
Mother nodded and swallowed the scream, then stood and scrubbed up in the sink Mack installed in their hopelessly inadequate clinic. She dried her hands off, then stuck them in gloves. Wolf handed her a bottle of rubbing alcohol, then stepped back to let her work. She'd let him know when she needed something.
Mother pulled back the covers and dumped the alcohol over Denise's belly. She picked up a scalpel and took a deep breath, struggling to remember the instructions Cora had read to her out of the physician's manual.
"Do you want me to get the book?" Wolf asked.
Mother closed her eyes and shook her head. Breathe. She just had to breathe. Place the scalpel on the skin, just below the navel, her mind told her. She opened her eyes and began to mechanically follow the list of instructions in her head. At some point, her mind registered the fact that Denise's chest went still. Denise slipped away, and a new determination to save the baby ripped through, fueled Mother on. Her hands stopped shaking and her movements became swift and sure. Cut, pull away, cut some more being careful not to cut the baby. Once through the abdominal wall, she felt a wriggling under her hand.
"It's moving!" Mother shouted, her voice loud and high and close to terror. She cut open the amniotic sac and threw the scalpel onto the tray. She put her hands in the cavity, trying to get a firm hold on the wriggly mass, and then held her breath and pulled.
Wolf rarely knew true terror. He had long since figured out how to keep that part of his psyche shut down. There was no room in life for fear, and whatever was going to happen happened. Accept and move on. But when Mother stood stock still, simply staring at the squirming, malformed mass, the look on her face shot a bolt of fear straight through him. He opened the door quickly, ignoring Steve and Cora and Eve and bellowed for Stealth. He needed back up. She needed back up.
Mother looked at the baby. It wasn't right. It was misshapen to the point of almost being inhuman, with stubs for limbs, a large, bulbous head, and slits instead of eyes. But it wasn't those things that made her freeze. It was the noise. The thing made a high pitched wheezing cry that sent a shiver down her spine. It had to be a thing. It certainly wasn't a baby.
Stealth came running to the door and skidded to a stop as he took in the scene before him. "Holy fuck."
"Help her," Wolf demanded. But Stealth stood frozen, a fist to his mouth and his eyes just as panicked. "Do something!"
"What the hell is that thing?"
Some help he was! Wolf shoved Stealth back out the door, knowing the man was useless. There would be no help, not even from the great and mighty Stealth. "Break the news," Wolf barked, pointing to Steve who paced in the den. If Stealth couldn't help with Mother and the baby, he could at least tell the anxious father and buy them some time. "Tell them it was tragic but there's nothing that could be done."
Stealth stood and stared at Mother holding the horrible thing. Wolf thumped his chest, and he started, turning toward the agent.
"Did you hear me?"
Stealth swallowed and nodded. "I'm on it."
Wolf closed the door, almost slamming it in Stealth's face. He'd deal with the man later. For now, he had a far more important problem to deal with. He took a breath and turned back to Mother.
"We need to decide what to do," he said quietly, taking a careful step forward.
The thing squirmed and wailed in Mother's hands. "No," she whispered. "This isn't right. It's supposed to be a baby. It's not a baby, Wolf." Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. She felt the scream right at the top of her chest, right there, pressing, pushing, begging to finally come out. She let out a hard, painful sob and her whole body began to shake. The baby she held stopped wheezing and started to gasp, finding it hard to pull in air.
"We can't. We can't save it." She turned her panicked eyes to Wolf. "We can't save it." Even if they could, even if it lived, then what? What kind of a life would it have? What would it do to the rest of the people if they saw it? How could anyone try for a baby again once they saw what this after world produced?
Mother choked on another sob and brought the thing to her chest. It was rasping very slowly, it's wriggling becoming weaker. She crad
led it to her and, with shaky breath, hushed it. "Shh, shh, shh. It's okay," she said, more to herself than the pitiful creature. She pulled it close and held on, rocking back and forth and slowly pressing it more firmly to her breast until finally the wheezing rasp stopped and the baby hung as limp as its mother.
Her whole body shook as she pulled the baby from her and studied its face. What face? There's not even a face.
Mother heard Wolf make a noise. "Go find Steve," she instructed in a detached voice. "Tell him that he can come in and say goodbye when we're ready..." her voice cracked and she was sure the scream was about to come out. She closed her eyes tight until she felt it was buried again. "Tell him he can say goodbye and then we'll have the funeral at the pile tonight."
Wolf didn't know if Mother could handle being alone for even a few minutes. He didn't want to leave. He wished Stealth actually had some balls and stuck around. Someone needed to stay. Someone needed to see her through this, but he didn't think it was wise to argue. She was closer to the edge than he'd ever seen and he planned to do whatever she wanted. He slipped out and ran to find the rest.
Mother placed the baby back inside Denise's belly. She looked at her hands and marveled at the odd sensations. It was like she was watching a movie, like it was all happening to someone else. She got the baby back in place and put a few large stitches in the belly to hold it closed. As if in a dream, she moved around the room, cleaning up the bloody sheets and getting a fresh gown to dress Denise. She washed the woman's face lovingly, and made sure Denise looked perfect before tucking a blanket up over her. She washed her own hands and took a deep breath, then opened the door to let Steve come say his good-byes.
Mother stayed in the dream-like state while Steve cried over Denise. She let Eve and Cora provide Steve with comfort while she herself stood in the back of the room with Wolf, numb. After Steve had stopped his wailing, she told him they'd have to say their goodbyes tonight and offered him a funeral beside the burn pit. Steve said he couldn't handle being there for the funeral, and in no time, Eve was ushering him home and assuring him she'd stay until he felt like he'd be okay.
Wolf helped Stealth wrap the body and load it into the jeep. Mother noticed it was full dark and idly wondered just how long they'd been in there, in that room of terror, as they drove up to the burn pit. Stealth helped Wolf lay Denise out. He asked if Mother wanted to say a few words but she just stared at the lump in the middle of the sheet.
I couldn't save it.
Stealth looked to Wolf, who shook his head. There was nothing either of them could do to help Mother, no matter how badly they wished they could. They poured the gas on the body and lit the sheet on fire. Wolf walked to Mother and stood by her side as always, staring into the night and wishing there was something he could do to take away her pain.
Stealth knew he dropped the ball. In clutch time, he ran like a coward. He made a vow to himself that he'd spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her, and silently watched as Denise and the baby left the earth.
When it was time to leave, Mother still felt like she was in a haze. She looked at the pile of smoldering ash and wanted to hurt. She wanted to ache. She wanted to feel anguish or pain or...something. She walked numbly to the jeep and let Wolf start home. They came off the hill and turned onto the road just as the sun broke over the far fields. The light stabbed her tired eyes and she looked down to shield them. It was then that Mother finally noticed that her shirt was covered in blood. It was covered in blood where the baby was, where the baby died.
Where I killed it.
The scream would not be stopped. It burst from her as she stared in horror at the evidence of the brutal night. Wolf swore and pulled the jeep to the side of the road.
"What do we do?" Stealth asked over Mother's shouting.
Wolf didn't know. "Mother," he said firmly, taking her arms in his hands. He gave her a little shake. "Come on. Come back to us."
Mother looked up from her shirt and stopped screaming. "What did I do, Wolf?"
Wolf's heart broke for her. It felt like a thousand shards of glass shattered in his chest. "You didn't do anything."
"I...I didn't save it..."
Wolf gave her another small shake. "There was nothing you could do," he insisted. "I was there. There was nothing you could do."
"I killed it," she whispered, the admission ripping from her.
Stealth clenched his jaw and looked away, his chest tight. "Jesus," he whispered.
"No!" Wolf said firmly.
Mother pulled away. She had to go. She had to get out. She had to run and she had to leave and...she struggled with the door handle and flung it open, heedless of Wolf's words. She stumbled out and began walking through the field. She had to go. She had to get away.
Stealth jumped to run after her. "Careful," Wolf warned, knowing she needed some space.
"You're just going to let her go?"
Wolf frowned at him and shook his head. Idiot. "Of course not. But let her have a little space." They waited a minute before following. She was still in their sight, and even if she got too far ahead, she left a clear track in the grass through the early morning frost.
Mother pushed through the cold grass, blindly pressing forward until she stumbled and fell. She sobbed, then dragged herself up again and continued. She didn't know where she was going. She just had to go. She entered the stand of trees on the far side of the field and heard a little brook. Looking down at her shaky hands, she knew she had to get the blood off and dropped to her knees. The water was freezing, but she put her hands in and began to scrub with the sand from the bottom. She just needed to get the blood off, then she could think.
Wolf and Stealth neared the brook and slowed. She was sobbing, her body heaving with the pain they couldn't even imagine. "What happened in there?" Stealth whispered.
"She did what she had to do." Wolf left Stealth and slowly walked forward. "You okay?" he said softly.
Mother stopped scrubbing. Her hands were raw and purple from the cold and still she could see and feel the blood there. "It won't come off," she said, trying to explain, before she just couldn't take it anymore and collapsed in a heap on the ground, wishing the cold dirt would just open up and take her.
Without a word, Wolf stepped forward and scooped her up. She was sobbing and her body was shaking, her clothes soaking wet from her self-imposed penance in the icy river. He strode passed Stealth and climbed in the back seat, holding her on his lap and waiting for Stealth to take them home.
When they got back to the house, Wolf left Stealth to explain to Eve and Cora, and brought Mother downstairs. He set her down on the toilet, then turned the shower water on. She no longer cried. Instead, she sat like a zombie, her eyes distant and dead, and Wolf almost wished for the screaming again. He undressed her, and held her under the warm water until her skin no longer had that frightening bluish tint. He dried her carefully, as if she would break, which he thought was a distinct possibility just then, and put her in a clean tee shirt. He placed her in her bed, pulled the covers up, and sat on the floor next to her bed in case she needed him, terrified that she may have been pushed too far.
At some point, his vigil was interrupted by a soft knock on the bedroom door. Wolf jumped up and pulled the door open quickly, not wanting to wake Mother. Stealth stood on the other side. "What?" Wolf hissed.
"She okay?"
Wolf scoffed. "Now you care?"
Stealth felt the embarrassment burn his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, the unfamiliar words tasting like lead in his mouth.
"You're dammed right you are."
Stealth looked away and cleared his throat. He knew it would be a very long time before either of them forgot the fact that he choked in crunch time. "Yeah, well. She need anything?"
Wolf's jaw clenched tight as he forced his anger down. "I'll let Eve know if she does," he said pointedly before closing the door in Stealth's face.
"Don't be mad at him," Mother said quietly.
Wolf spun around. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"I wasn't sleeping." Mother swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears back. "I don't think I'll ever get that crying out of my head."
Wolf wasn't really sure what to say or do. He stood awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets and wishing he was better at giving comfort. He had the fleeting thought to call Stealth back in. He knew the man would be able to offer Mother strong arms and a shoulder to cry on. No. Wolf took a deep breath. "No, I don't suppose you will."
"It hurts so bad, Wolf," she whispered. Wolf wished he could pull her up to him and never let go. She turned her head and looked at him. "Was there anything I could do?"
"No," Wolf said firmly. "I was there. That thing was dying."
"It was a baby." She felt a fresh wave of tears build. "That thing was a baby. Our first here. And I failed."
"No."
Wolf could say whatever he wanted. In Mother's mind, she knew the truth. She failed. She failed to keep Denise alive. She failed to keep the baby, such as it was, alive. Hell, she didn't know if she actually killed it or if she just felt like she did because she didn't know what to do for the poor thing. Her failure went beyond that night, though. It was deeper. Their first baby, and she failed to make sure it grew right. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was nature. Maybe it was the result of the plague, what it did to the survivors. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was questionable nutrition. Maybe it was the lack of vitamins that Cora mentioned. Maybe it was the work and the long hours and the life. Maybe it just wasn't good enough. Maybe the life she could provide people simply wasn't good enough.
That crying.
Mother squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the press of the scream to bubble up inside. It didn't, and that unnerved her further. She opened her eyes and sat up, needing to move, to run away from the ghosts. "What time is it?"
Wolf looked at his watch. "About four."
Mother got up and took some clean clothes out of her dresser. "I need to make a statement at dinner."
Wolf didn't know if she could handle it, but he agreed she had to try. How many times had he seen those he protected have to do the same thing in a crisis? Shit happened, they picked themselves up and faked it in front of the crowd, because if they didn't the fear and confusion would turn to anger and they'd have a mob on their hands. So Wolf understood. He knew she had to try. He would just make sure he was there in case she needed him. He left the room and got her boots. They were still wet and he offered to find Eve to hunt up some dry ones.
Mother took the wet boots and put them on. Her mind was made up and she didn't want to sit and wait, didn't want to give the dark room time to let the ghosts back in or the scream come out again. She laced the boots, grabbed a jacket, and headed upstairs to face her people. They'd have questions, and she'd have to give answers. That was all there was to it. She took one deep breath before entering the kitchen, then another.
Eve and Striker stood at the stoves making some sort of stew whose smell turned Mother's stomach, and Cora sat at the table opening jars of pickled green onions they'd just put up a couple weeks before. Everyone was talking quietly, but friendly. Striker and Eve were not sniping at each other, and Mother said a silent thanks for that. She could not have handled bickering. Not right then. She crossed to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup as the chatter in the room petered out.
Mother sat at the table and sipped her coffee, waiting for someone to break the ice. When everyone looked uncomfortably away, she sighed heavily. "For god's sake, just ask already."
Cora gave her a kind smile, and Mother felt a tug of emotion. She would not cry again. She wouldn't. "We don't need to ask," Cora said gently. "We know what happened."
No they don't, Mother's mind thought bitterly. They left me alone. None of them know. None but Wolf. She placed her coffee cup down and reached over to pop open a jar and help Cora arrange the pickled green onions on the platter.
"How is Steve holding up?" she asked, hating the silence in the room.
"He's okay," Eve said.
Mother snorted. Yeah, right. Sure he is. "And the rest of the town? How did they take the news?"
"Don't worry about them," Cora rushed to say. "They'll be just fine. It was a shock, of course, but if there's one thing we all know how to deal with, it's death."
The truth of the words hit Mother like a punch to the gut. Of course they dealt with death. That's all their lives had been focused on for a year! But they shouldn't have to. She promised them that they wouldn't have to. Feeling the anger and bitterness bubbling inside, Mother shoved the jar of onions at Cora and had to get out. She wasn't mad at them, and she didn't want to bite their heads off. They were just as frazzled and scared as she was.
On the porch, she leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the cold, autumn air. It was raining, and she was glad. It matched her mood. She took another deep breath and willed her demons to calm. The feeling of the cold wood of the porch railing pressing firmly into her hip started to ground her, made her feet feel solid. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. The swirling anger was ebbing and she opened her eyes to watch the raindrops fall on her farm.
"Mother?"
The voice scared the wits out of Mother and she jumped and whirled, her hand automatically going to the knife on her belt. Steve had been sitting on a chair at the other end of the porch. He stood crumpling the hunting cap he was fond of wearing between his hands, but let it go when he saw her reach for her weapon. Mother quickly pulled her hand away, and after a tense second, Steve bent and picked the hat back up.
"Steve," Mother said, her mind trying to figure out what to say. "I..."
"I hope it's okay to come up here before dinner," he said in a rush. The pain and misery were clear on his face and in his eyes as he stepped forward. He swallowed hard. "I was...I was hoping to talk to you for a minute, if that's okay."
Mother felt the lump form in her throat. Of course it was okay. He could ask anything of her right then and she'd do it. She nodded. "Yes. That's fine."
The door opened and Wolf stepped out. He was going to give Mother time to cool off, so he watched her out the kitchen window. And then Steve came into view and Wolf knew he had to be out there. Steve seemed like the level-headed sort, but grief did weird things to people. He stepped out and moved to stand right behind Mother. Steve looked nervous and swallowed hard again.
"I'm so sorry," Mother began.
"She was sick," Steve blurted out at the same time.
Mother blinked, surprised at his words. "What?"
Steve took a deep breath and continued in a ragged voice. "She wasn't having an easy go of it and didn't want anyone to worry. The morning sickness never went away and she had a hard time eating anything. I shoulda told you, but she kept telling me it wasn't my business." His voice trailed off and Mother almost couldn't stand to look at the fresh tears forming in his eyes. "If I just said something..."
Denise was sick. Was that what happened to the baby? Was that why it grew to be a monster? Mother instantly felt guilt slice through her with that thought. "Steve, it wasn't your fault," she said, stepping forward. She felt Wolf tense at her back and knew he wanted her to keep some distance. Let him stew. She knew what Steve needed, and it was the same thing she did. "The baby didn't grow right," she said quietly.
Steve's eyes widened and he searched her face. "But...they said it didn't even get born."
Mother took a deep breath. He deserved to know, and she deserved the penance of telling him. "I know. I didn't want to worry people."
Steve frowned. "So you lied?" He shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "Then my kid was born."
Wolf stepped forward, so close to Mother that she could feel the heat of his body. She knew he did it in case Steve went nuts and snapped, but Mother was glad for the strength it gave her. "The baby was malformed, Steve. It had no arms or legs and the head was misshapen so badly that it couldn't have lived."
A
tear slipped out of Steve's stunned eyes. His brain struggled to process what he was hearing. "Was it...was it a boy?" he asked on a broken rasp of a voice.
Mother shook her head slowly. "There was no way to tell."
Steve made a little noise, a sad, gulping, desperate little noise before turning and leaning his head against the porch pillar for support. No one said anything for a few minutes, Steve absorbing and mourning, and Mother knowing she had to wait it out, knowing she deserved the torture of watching the man completely break down because of her, because of her failures and shortcomings.
Steve sniffled loudly and ran the back of his hand across his eyes. "Did she see...the baby?"
Mother shook her head. "No. She was already gone."
"Good," he said firmly. "At least she died thinking her baby wasn't..." He swore and sobbed once again, then took a deep breath. "What do you think happened? You think it was her being sick?" He turned his eyes to Mother, looking for answers she wished she could give them both.
"I don't know," she had to admit. "I just don't know."
Steve stared at her for a moment, then startled her by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. Mother was stunned, and stood immobile for a moment before her own arms curled around his back. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"It's not your fault, Mother," Steve said. "It's not my fault, it's not your fault. It wasn't her fault or God's fault." He sniffled and squeezed Mother tighter. "It just happened, didn't it?"
Mother felt her own sob rise and kept it in check. "I guess it did," she said, in awe of the strength the man had. He should hate her. He should be furious and blame her. And instead, he pardoned them all. She didn't feel like she deserved it. She didn't feel like she'd ever be able to do enough or say enough or work enough or be enough to deserve his pardon. But she let his words soothe for the moment, let his shared pain bond with hers and help them both.
Steve pulled back and wiped his face on his sleeve. He took a deep, shuddery breath and placed the hat that had fallen at some point in the hug back on his head. He sniffled and withdrew a piece of cloth from his pocket. He wiped his nose, then let out a little laugh. "God I'm a mess."
"It's okay. Everyone will understand."
Steve took another breath of the cold air to compose himself. "Striker was saying something about a long run that might take a day or two. I used to drive trailers. Long hauls." He tucked the cloth back into his coat. "If you don't mind, I'd like to volunteer to drive one of the semis. I think maybe getting out for awhile and clearing my head sounds good right now."
Mother nodded. "Absolutely. I'll let him know."
Steve nodded and looked across the barnyard, not really seeing anything but haze. "I think you were right to tell people it never got born," he said quietly. "I don't want..." He swallowed and took a second to make sure the lump in his throat was gone, not wanting to break down again. "I'd like it if they didn't think it was her fault."
His piece said, the man had to get out of there. Mother watched Steve push off the railing, give a nod in her direction, and all but run down the stairs into the pouring rain. She understood. She wanted to run right alongside him. She took a deep breath, wondering why the bands of pain in her chest were suddenly lessened.
"Come on," she said to Wolf after she could no longer see Steve's form in the rain. "We better get ready for dinner."
Wolf followed her to the barn, feeling his own demons relax. Mother would be okay. He doubted she'd hum for awhile, and it would take several weeks for her to stop crying at night. He knew this because he knew her, knew how she operated, knew what made her tick. No matter what front she put on, no matter what words she said, she would always blame herself for the loss of Denise and the baby. The man in Wolf wanted to take her hand and figure out how in the hell to get them to Tahiti. But that's not what she wanted, and she'd hate him if he actually did it. For all the pain and anguish and work and toil, the life they had was exactly what she wanted. They probably wouldn't get through their first coconut drink on the white sand beach before she demanded he take her back to the hell and misery.
Wolf wondered what new policies she'd make, what new procedures she'd have for pregnant women in the future. There would be a whole new set of rules, he knew. That was simply how Mother worked. She'd take the pain of guilt over some perceived inadequacy she found in herself, and set her jaw in sheer determination to do her level best to make sure it would never happen again. For a moment that morning, when she lay shaken and beaten in the cold creek, he truly wondered if she'd pushed herself too far. He had actually wondered for a split second if she was finally defeated, if he'd ever see that spark of determination again. And then she woke up, put on her wet boots, and trudged ahead.
She would be okay. It would take time, and she would probably be a bear to deal with until then, but she would be okay. She would come out stronger, bigger, and better for it. New people would arrive within the next few weeks. She'd put her energy into settling them into town. Autumn would shift to winter and she'd drive herself hard, trying to outrun the ghosts of the night. He knew he'd have a hell of a time trying to keep up, but he would. No matter how hard it got, or how exhausted his body became, he'd keep watch with her late at night when she forced herself to balance books to keep her mind clear. No matter how badly he craved sleep, he'd follow her from task to task while she struggled to ignore the crying she heard echo inside.
And one day, the crying would stop. One day, her smile would return. One day, she'd feel like Mother again. She'd hold a baby, a real one. Or counsel Eve on her latest boyfriend. Or have the patience to give Blaze a kiss on an imaginary boo boo because she knew he needed it. One day, she would be able to see her good instead of imagining her bad, and her eyes would twinkle and the world would fall at her feet.
"No one mucked out the stalls," Mother snapped, snatching up a pitchfork and heading straight for Phil's stall. "Start setting up tables," she called over her shoulder, entering the bull's pen.
Wolf took a deep breath and started rolling out the tables they kept stacked in the corner. Yes, it would be a difficult couple weeks. But damned if he wasn't looking forward to the smile at the end.