Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
"The kind of man who would lock his doors in the face of something like this?” I explode, unable to hold back my frustration any longer. Boone’s face darkens. I can tell he doesn’t appreciate the comparison, but if he’s got a problem with it, he can tell me when I get back. But he doesn’t move a muscle, not even gesturing to the door to let me past. Woodward lets out a whine at my feet, clearly not sure who’s side to take here.
I draw in a deep breath. I don’t want to have to whip out the big guns, but I will not let him keep me here. All I can think of are the cries of pain of the woman I failed, and how I will never let that happen to anyone, not ever again, not as long as I live.
"Is this what Anna would have wanted?"
There it is. His jaw clenches at the mention of her name. And because he knows I am right. I might not know a lot about his wife, but I know that she lost her life senselessly – and that to condemn another woman to the same fate would be tantamount to rendering it pointless.
I push past him, not waiting for a response, guiding Woodward by his collar to the door. He sniffs the air, and then takes off – I go to follow him, but before I can, I feel a grip on my arm. I turn to face him, and find his eyes nearly black as he glowers at me.
"Don’t bother comin’ back, girl."
"Don’t worry," I spit to him. "The kind of man who’d leave a woman to suffer isn’t the kind I’d want to come back to, anyway."
And, with that, I turn to follow Woodward into the forest, and pray that I haven’t wasted too much time out here.
CHAPTER 10
Cora
"Okay, June, I want you to move up on to your haunches now," I direct the woman in front of me, as she lets out another haunting cry that fills the room around us.
"I can’t!” June screams back, her hair matted to her face, her voice shattered from hours of exhausting labor. "There’s something wrong, I just know it, I-"
"Elias, get more towels," I shoot over my shoulder towards her husband, who is pacing, teary-eyed and panicked, in the corner of the room. He stands there for a moment, frozen, until he realizes that I am serious, and he takes off to run some more rags through boiling water so we can clean away the mess of blood and various fluids that have pooled beneath her.
When I got here, she’d already been laboring for at least a day – her waters had broken the night before, and she had been trying to force this baby out of her ever since. I managed to convince her that I knew what I was doing, promised her I was trained in bringing babies into the world, and she seemed, at least, to have some faith in me. Hell, I get the feeling that she would have taken anything she could get at that moment, if it meant she could take the pressure off herself.
Her skin is pale, her face smeared with sweat and tears, as I reach up to try and guide her upright.
"Come on, if you sit like this, you can left gravity do most of the work," I murmur to her, bringing my hand to the small of her back and rubbing gently. She is breathing raggedly, leaning on me heavily as she tries another push. She just wants this torture to be over, and I can’t blame her.
She’s doing all of this without an inch of pain relief beside my well wishes and her husband’s help, and the fact that she hasn’t given up already is a testament to her tenacity.
"I just don’t know if I can..."
But then, all at once, I see movement between her haunches, where she has dropped into a squat on the floor. Dropping down, I see the backside of her baby poking out – shit, it’s breech! Not feet-first, which is something, but this is still bad fucking news...
"What’s happening?” June gasps out. "Is it...is it...?”
"I need you to lie on your back," I tell her, guiding her to the ground. "Lift your hips. Like this..."
I guide her into a bridge position, and the child vanishes once more – it's hard to flip this late in the game, but if we can, there’s still a chance both mother and child will survive. No wonder she’s been struggling so badly, anyone would, but there’s still time.
There has to still be time.
I bring my hand to her lower back and she lets out another cry – reaching between her legs, I massage her perineum, trying to release some of the pressure and make this a little less brutal on her.