Eighth Grave After Dark
I grabbed a protruding root and straightened as much as I could. A blistering hot pain shot through me. Every part of my body hurt, but she was able to get a hand between my parted legs. “Okay, you are at about a seven with ninety percent effacement.”
“Should I push? I don’t want to push too early. I’ve heard stories.”
Reyes’s heat felt good. I could feel it from where I sat.
“How long was she out?” she asked Cookie.
“About an hour.”
“An hour?” I asked, surprised. “It felt like minutes.” I fell onto my palms again, my head resting in her lap as a spasm of pain clawed at me and squeezed my midsection like I was a bottle of ketchup. I gritted my teeth and sucked air in and out through them. My hands curled around handfuls of the sheet until the pain began to subside.
“Charley,” Cookie said from overhead. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me neither.”
“Do you remember that time we went to the movie and that woman went into labor but she wouldn’t leave because she didn’t want to miss the ending and then, bam, it was too late?”
“Oh yeah. That was crazy. That ending sucked.”
“Right?”
“Do you want to tell me what you were doing out here?” Reyes asked.
“I was following you.”
“Why?”
“You snuck out of the house and—” Anther spasm ripped through me and all I could wonder was why in the world had women been doing this for thousands of years? This was barbaric. This was torture. Never again. Never again as long as I lived would I have another baby, so Beep had better be pretty awesome.
“And what?” he asked me. I realized, of course, they were trying to take my mind off the pain. Off the situation.
“And you met with Angel again.”
“Don’t bring me into this,” Angel said.
“Angel!” I said, happy to see him. Or hear him, since my face was planted in Denise’s crotch. “Why were you meeting with Reyes?”
“I can’t tell you. He’s meaner than you are.”
I lifted just to glare up at him. “Clearly you don’t know me very well.”
“I would go down there to be with you, but I draw the line at childbirth.”
“Chickenshit.”
“And proud of it.”
“I would have told you,” Reyes said. “You’re holding my underwear hostage. I would’ve had no choice.”
“Does that mean you aren’t wearing any?”
“Your blood pressure is too high,” Denise said. She’d checked me with one of those wrist models that fascinated me. She looked up. “We need that rope.”
“Got it!” Amber called out. “He didn’t want to lend it to us. He didn’t believe we had a pregnant woman stuck in a hole. So he came to help.”
“Hey, there,” a man called down to me. A Native American, judging by his accent. “I’m thinking we might need to get some professionals out here.”
“So, yeah, I’m not wearing pants,” I said to him. “Sorry.”
“I’m okay with it if your husband is.”
Another spasm, this one harder than any of its predecessors, tried to tear me in half. I cried out between locked teeth and tried to breathe in a pattern. It didn’t work.
“We need the rope,” Denise called.
“I’m getting it ready,” Reyes said.
“Got the board,” Osh said as he ran up.
He put a wide board across the opening. “What’s that for?” I asked. “It will just break like the ones before.”
“Not this one,” he said. “It’s from your kitchen table.”
“Oh, okay, that might work.” I doubled over and clenched my fists so hard, my fingernails pierced the flesh on my palms. “There’s so much pressure,” I told Denise. “I feel like I have to push.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” She eased me back and reached between my legs to check again. “You’re ready. If you have to push, push.”
“But they can pull us out now.”
She shook her head. “It’s too late. We are going to have to do this here.”
I glared at her. “I don’t want my baby born in a well,” I gritted out.
“I know,” she said as I pushed with all my might. I couldn’t not.
She instructed me on how to do it. Push to the count of ten, then rest. Push to the count of ten, then rest. It occurred to me that she hadn’t done this in a very long time. They might have changed things since her day. Maybe babies were born differently now. Maybe ten was no longer the magic number. But I couldn’t argue with her. I could barely speak through the labor.
She rubbed my back until it was over and I could take a breath; then she listened for Beep’s heartbeat again.
“I need the rope!” she screamed; then she shoved me back against the wall, wedged her palms against my lower abdomen, and pushed up.
I cried out in pain and tried to get her off me.
She said something I didn’t comprehend; then she did it. Again. For the third time in my life, she slapped me.
My temper flared and the ground shook beneath us, causing dirt to fall on our heads. It didn’t faze her.
“Look at me,” she said, her face inches from mine. “Beep is in trouble. If you push, she could suffocate.”
Alarm sobered me instantly.
“I lost her heartbeat for a few seconds. The cord could be wrapped around her throat. You may have to have a C-section.”
“We can’t leave the grounds,” I said, my agony ripping a sob from the deepest core of my being. “She’ll be in danger.”
“Charley, she already is. I don’t understand.”
“There are—” I stopped as another sob shook through me, my horror was so great. “There are beings who want her dead. Huge supernatural beings with large razor-sharp teeth and claws the size of Pittsburgh. They’ll kill her the minute we step off this ground.”
She gaped at me as though I were a child telling a tall tale. In her eyes, I could see the instinctive desire to chastise me for being ridiculous—then understanding dawned. “Charley, are you serious?”
“Trust me, I wish I weren’t.”
For a long while, she sat stunned, at an utter loss for what to do. My muscles seized again. She coached me through it again, pushed my abdomen to keep the umbilical cord from strangling my daughter. As painful as that felt, I could only be grateful. Then it hit her as I tried to catch my breath and get comfortable, both of which were impossible.
She nodded and straightened. “Lean back,” she said, all business.
I sat on my heels, my knees spread as far as they could be in the cramped quarters.
She squatted down and perched elbows between my knees. “I’m going to reach in and loop the cord over her head. I’ll have to push her back a little to do it. This is going to hurt, Charley.”
“I’ve been hurt before,” I said, determined to do anything it took.
Then Reyes was there, his incorporeal form scalding, the sensation welcome until he reached around me from behind and held me to the prickly wall of the well, forcing me back so Denise could do what was needed. She reached inside me and ripped me in two from the inside out.
I screamed, long and loud and guttural, as Reyes pinned my shoulders against the well wall. I clawed at his arms, but he was the only thing keeping me from doubling over as my stepmother pushed Beep back up and then searched for the cord. The sheet beneath us was covered in blood, as were my legs. And my shirt. And pretty much everything around me.
Another spasm hit just as she said, “I think I got it. I think she’s in the clear.” She listened for the heartbeat again with the stethoscope as Reyes kept his hold tight, this time monitoring the entire time I pushed. I grabbed a handful of his hair and gave it my all.
She sighed in relief. “I think she’s okay. We can do this, Charley.”
I heard the Native American man argue with Osh and Garrett. He was going to call an ambulance, bu
t they insisted one was already on the way. They’d lied, but they had to hold him off.
“You’re tearing, but I can’t do anything about it down here.”
“It’s okay,” I said, my entire body slick with sweat. “It’s coming again.”
“You can do this, sweetheart,” she said.
I nodded and pushed when the spasm hit. I felt myself splitting as Beep’s head passed through.
“Okay, stop pushing!” she said, taking one of the sheets and working on Beep. Then she took a sucky thing out of the bag. Though I couldn’t see what she was doing, I heard a soft wail of annoyance waft up to me, and I let my head loll back against Reyes’s shoulder. But Beep was still halfway in me, though, and I really needed to push. I fought the urge with all my strength.
“Okay, I’m going to pull her out one shoulder at a time. Don’t push.”
“What?” But with one final jolt of pain, Beep was out. And pissed as hell.
I covered my mouth with my hands. “Reyes,” I said, unable to take my eyes off her.
“She’s perfect,” he said into my ear. Thank God he continued to hold me. I doubted I had the strength to hold myself upright anymore.
Denise worked to get our daughter cleaned up. I could relax and focus on the broken rib and the nigh-fractured hips and the blood still running out of my head.
I smiled at Reyes. “What a day, huh?”
He shook his head.
“So, do you still need the rope?” Osh asked.
“Yes, but not for a few minutes,” Denise said. She cut the cord, clipped it with a clothespin from the looks of it, and wrapped our bundle in a clean-ish sheet. Then she handed her to me.
All I could see was a little round face still covered in spots of muck, but she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. Dark lashes. Full mouth. Stubborn chin. She was Reyes incarnate, and my heart swelled with pride. “She’s so perfect,” I said.
“Yes, she is, but we need to get you both out of here as soon as possible.”
“Katherine the Midwife is here,” Amber said. “Can I hold her?” she asked me.
“You’ll have to ask Katherine, hon.”
She laughed. “I meant Beep.”
“You absolutely can, just as soon as we get out of here.”
“One more thing,” Denise said.
“What?”
“We have to get the rest out of you.”
“What rest?”
I shouldn’t have asked.
* * *
They lifted Denise out first while she carried Beep. Then the guys lowered Reyes to get me. He lifted me into his arms and they hoisted us both up at the same time using some kind of pulley system Garrett had jerry-rigged. I lost consciousness about halfway up, exhausted and broken, but as long as Beep was okay, I was okay. I knew she’d be well taken care of. She had a large family.
I awoke hours later in bed beside Reyes with a tiny bundle between us. One lamp fended off the darkness in the small room, and I could see Katherine the Midwife snoring in a chair close by. Though I didn’t much care what time it was, I did wonder how long I’d been out. How many hours of Beep’s existence I’d missed.
They’d dressed her in the first outfit Cookie had bought her. When I first saw it, I’d remarked that it looked too small. Babies couldn’t possibly be that tiny. Now that she was wearing it, however, it looked too big. Beep didn’t seem real. She was like a doll with thick lashes, a perfect nose, and a widow’s peak. She was surreal and angelic and mesmerizing.
I rolled onto my side and loosened the blanket. Her tiny fingers splayed in reaction to my touch, and I marveled at her fingernails—exact replicas of Reyes’s—as I counted them. An even ten. Just what the doctor ordered. I felt as though my eyes were glued to her. I couldn’t stop gazing at this little person we’d been waiting so long to see. I fought back tears as I looked at her, ignoring the fact that I felt like I’d been run over by a train. I’d been run over by trains before. The tenderness between my legs, however, was novel. And nature wasn’t calling. She was screaming, ranting and raving like a lunatic.
Unable to ignore my bladder any longer, I kissed Beep’s head, then her cheek, then her hand, before rolling out of bed. I glanced at my husband, wondering if he was really asleep at last. He lay on his side with his head propped on one arm, the dips between his biceps forming deep, alluring shadows. His long lashes fanned across his cheeks, just like Beep’s, and I stilled to watch them just a few seconds more, until I heard Denise.
“She’s perfect,” she said softly.
I turned to see her sitting in another chair they’d brought in. “She is, isn’t she? She’s so tiny. It’s like she’s not real. She’s like a pink flower floating on a big blue sea.”
“They’re always smaller than you think they will be.”
She and my dad had never had more children, and I always wondered why. Not enough to ask, but … “How long have I been out?”
“Since yesterday morning. About eighteen hours.”
“Eighteen hours?” I asked, scanning the room for the clock. “She had to face the world without me for eighteen whole hours?”
“They said you were in stasis or something. That you had to rest to heal.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think it worked this time.” I tried to stretch. It was just too painful.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked, stepping forward. “We finally wrangled her away from your husband long enough to let Katherine check her out. A pediatrician is coming tomorrow, though, just to make sure.”
“Oh, good. Let me go pee, then she’s all mine.”
I grabbed my phone, then walked to the bathroom, my pace that of a snail in its late nineties. The soreness I felt was beyond anything I’d experienced before. My hips hurt the worst, then Virginia. Poor Virginia. She’d never be the same again. Then my ribs, et cetera. It hurt to brush my teeth and wash my face, too. I had a nasty bruise on the side of my head with a lovely gash in the middle and a black eye.
I checked messages while sitting on the toilet. Multitasking had always been a specialty of mine. And I peed forever, so I had a lot of time. I had a text from Mr. Alaniz, my PI, asking me if there was any progress on the home front. Meaning, had I told Reyes yet? I was going to have to tell him. The Loehrs had given me until tomorrow. Maybe now that we had Beep, he would understand what I did. Either way, I dreaded that conversation.
By the time I got back, Reyes was up with Beep. Shirtless, he held her in his arms as he turned to me, and my breath caught in my chest. Here was a man so powerful, he could make the earth quake beneath us, holding something as fragile as fine china. It was charming and endearing and sexy and exquisite.
I walked to stand beside him. He grinned down at me, pride evident in his every move.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked, placing a hand on his arm.
“Sure,” he said, lying through his teeth. His sleepy eyes and unshaven face awed me for a moment.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Denise said, barely audible above Katherine the Midwife’s snoring. Then she turned back to me. “You have some pretty great friends.”
Reyes had just set Beep in my arms when I walked over to Denise. “You saved her life,” I said, my gratitude limitless. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there today.”
“Yesterday.”
“Yesterday,” I corrected.
She bowed her head. “I’m just glad I could help.” She turned and left.
“And you,” I said to the ball of perfection in my arms, “I have to show you something. Coming?” I asked Reyes as Beep and I left the room.
He followed us downstairs and outside, where we sat on two lawn chairs to gaze at the stars. I told her all about the constellations, pointing out each one and reciting its name, at which point, Reyes corrected me.
Naturally, I ignored him. “And see that star?” I asked her even though she had yet to wake up. “I’m claiming that one for
you. It’s all yours. Its name henceforth shall be known to all the lands as Beep.”
“I’m pretty sure that one’s already named.”
I turned to Reyes as he lay beside us. Still shirtless despite the crisp night that didn’t seem to faze him.
“And I’m pretty sure it’s a planet, not a star,” he continued, a playful grin lifting one corner of his mouth.
“Really?” I looked at Beep. “Did you hear that? Daddy is dissing your star. And he’s wearing duct tape. Duct tape is so last June.”
“Venus,” he said.
“Beep,” I volleyed with a stern brow.
He laughed softly. “Beep it is. I found something about her very interesting.”
“Just one thing?”
His grin widened. “This is interesting in a different way.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued.
“Seven pounds, thirteen ounces.”
I gasped and gazed at her wide-eyed, making everything I said and did into a Broadway production. Not sure why. “Did you weigh seven whole pounds and thirteen ounces? No wonder Virginia is under the weather.” Then realization dawned, his point sinking in at last. I glanced at Reyes. “Seven original gods, thirteen altogether.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Just found that interesting.”
“I do too. Like, bizarrely interesting.”
“You seriously need to hydrate and eat something. What do you want?”
“Dude, you can make eggs into a gourmet three-course dinner. Surprise me.”
“Oh, I didn’t say I was going to cook. I was just offering to hold our daughter while you cooked. I’m kind of hungry, too.”
I laughed.
“Eggs it is. I have some red chile potatoes made up, too.”
“My mouth is watering just thinking about it.” Then I bolted upright. “Coffee,” I whispered, the word like a delicate snowflake on my mouth. “I can have coffee now.”
It was like the heavens had opened up and God smiled down on me.
“Aren’t you going to breast-feed?”
And they closed again. “Yes.”
He shook his head and went to scrounge us up some grub. I sat back in despair until I really examined the situation. Maybe it would be best for Beep if she built up a tolerance to caffeine now. Start her off young.