Chapter 22

Savannah filed away the court order announcing the finality of her parents’ divorce. The checks she’d mailed out to Caroline had cleared the bank the week after the papers she’d signed left the mailbox. The final order arrived just before Thanksgiving.

Jack Caleman had gone missing just after that, reported by Savannah and Molly, who tearfully declined state welfare intervention, but used the advice and state services to arrange an order deeming Savannah as Molly’s legal guardian. After their parents’ divorce order was reviewed by the state office, rumors abounded about Jack Caleman’s suicide. Savannah let it happen, seeing the nasty hemming and hawing of the locals as nothing but a tool to cement her grip on the Witcher Place. The estate and property was settled in Savannah’s name, with trusts set up for Molly and Chaz. Molly had turned sixteen and decided to forgo public school for the year.

Savannah ran the books with shrewd precision. The family money grew interest at a sufficient rate to put her at ease, and what was left of the Caleman cattle business was sold off, for good. The estate received a full facelift, with stables designed to incorporate the old barn. Father and Sons built all the requested additions and maintained the grounds impeccably. That peace of mind was worth every penny, especially since Savannah used her freedom to spend time with her sister, helping her prepare while the trees lost their leaves and frost coated the mornings.

Molly was the cutest pregnant girl ever. They worked together to transform the extra bedroom upstairs into a bright, sunny nursery with new curtains that Molly made herself. Being the guardian of her sister, Savannah called the school on Molly’s behalf. She’d finish her remaining credits the next year. Molly’s belly grew and so did Savannah’s apprehension about the health of the baby. Molly saw the life she carried as a product of incest and guilt. Savannah saw it as just that, but much more, considering. Witcher had told her the way it had gone between Molly and Jack. She hated to admit it, but that explained the way Molly wasn’t open to giving the baby up.

She worried away a path between the desk and the doorway pacing inside the study, trying to prepare and expect the worst from all angles. The Book of Genesis dictated the offspring of an angel and a human was a “giant” and that made sense, explaining the way Great Aunt Stella towered over her that day at the mental hospital. Savannah found no relief, knowing she could expect a monstrosity, a deformity, or one destined to be locked up with the deranged.

The nights were long as she lie awake with her mind drifting. Witcher’s face hung just beyond recognition, and she quickly flushed it away by counting sheep or thinking about something— anything else. She couldn’t risk expelling any energy on him. He—it fed off her thoughts, so she kept her mind and imagination reined in tightly. As far as she knew it was bound back down in Hell, and she intended to forget about it one day.

A month and about a week was all that remained until the baby was full term, by their math and estimations of date of conception. They sat on the sofa in the den, watching television and talking it over. A big bowl of popcorn rested in Molly’s lap. She giggled, watching the outline of a little foot stretch beneath her skin, nudging the side of the bowl so hard it nearly toppled to the floor.

“There’s always a lot more action at night,” she said, looking up to see if Savannah was watching.

Savannah grinned, focused on the spot where the baby kept kicking out. “So much energy.”

“I can’t believe it’s almost time.”

“You know, after the baby’s here, you really can go back to school. I’ll watch the baby. You’ll pick up where you left off last summer.”

“I’ll think about it,” Molly said.

Molly didn’t elaborate, so Savannah changed the subject. “Are you scared?”

“A little. I really can’t wait to get it over with, though. I miss sleeping on my belly.” She grabbed the remote and silenced the squawking television. “I’ve been thinking about when the baby comes.” She looked over at Savannah. “I don’t want to go to the hospital for the birth. We should do it here.”

“Hell no,” Savannah said, getting to her feet. She shook her head. “I want you at the hospital with a gajillion doctors running around. I want you to have pain medication and for the baby to be safe, Molly.”

“You said we could keep it a secret,” she pointed out.

“We’ll go to the ‘Springs. No one knows us up there.”

“That’s not keeping it secret, Savannah. Please? You said we could.”

“I didn’t mean no hospital or doctors for the birth!” she said, wide eyed.

“You can do it. You’ve pulled lots of calves and helped the mares and the barn cats.”

“You’re not a horse or a damned cat! Oh my God!”

Molly set the bowl on the couch cushion and got up. She walked straight up to Savannah. “This is my baby, not yours. I am having him or her here at our house and that’s the way it’s going to be. I am not going to a hospital.” She turned toward the staircase.

“I’ll call Doctor Jamieson,” Savannah threatened.

“It’s final, Savannah. You’ll either be there to help me when it’s time or you won’t. I think you’ll be there.”

“I will not,” Savannah called after her.

“Yes, you will.”

“Shit.” Savannah dropped onto the couch and put her head in her hands. Molly had to change her mind. There was no way she trusted herself to bring her little niece or nephew, or sibling, as it were, into the world. It said a lot that Molly trusted her so much. Or was it that Molly was so bent on keeping her pregnancy secret that she’d risk her own health, plus the baby’s, along with Savannah’s newly found sanity? She rose and began to pace before the couch. What if there really was something wrong with the baby when it was born? What if some defect prevented it from breathing or something and they couldn’t do anything for it and the worst happened? Or even worse than the worst, what if something happened to Molly?

“Aw God.” She dropped into the new, fluffy arm chair that replaced Jack’s recliner. “I can’t do this.”

* * *

“Yes!” Molly waddled into the kitchen holding up a letter in one mittened hand. She’d been walking to the mailbox a few times a day for exercise. She knocked snow off her stocking hat, shaking it over the sink. The snow was so deep it caked over the top of her boots, soaking a ring into the sweats on each leg.

“What is it?” Savannah looked up from the book she was reading.

“Alistair Couture likes my designs!”

“Really?” Savannah asked, excited for her sister.

“Yep. Look.” Molly held out the letter.

“I’m so happy for you, Molly.” Savannah grinned, taking the letter.

Molly beamed, slowly taking an awkward seat at the table.

Savannah skimmed the letter and handed it back. “This is wonderful. I’m going to check out a business attorney for you, to make sure your stuff is protected and you get paid for it the way you should.”

“Good idea,” Molly said with a grunt. She crunched up, trying to get her snow boot off. “This storm is socked in good. It’s coming down hard out there. Is the wood bin full?”

“It’s full if we want a fire, but the furnace is cookin’ right along. Let it snow,” Savannah replied, marking her book. “Hold on so I can help you.” Savannah got up and took a knee at Molly’s feet. A slow circle of water spread down the leg of Molly’s sweats. “Oh, Molly,” she said, still holding onto her boot. “I think your water just broke.” Shit ….

“Oh no,” Molly said. She wrapped her arms around her belly. “It’s not time yet. What do we do?” Her face paled.

“We take you to the hospital. That’s what.” Savannah turned to the table, reaching over the chair where she’d been sitting to grab her purse, fully intending on fishing out the keys.

“No, no way,” Molly said, shaking her head. “No hospital and no strangers. It’s only a couple weeks early.” She breathed deeply, visibly trying to calm herself. “And look out there!” she yelled, pointing out the window at the snowstorm.

“Please, think about this. What if something goes wrong? I’m just … me,” Savannah reasoned, gesturing at herself.

“Uh uh.” Molly shook her head fast, then got really still. Her eyes grew big and she moved a hand to the bottom of her swollen belly. “It just got really tight right here, or … something.”

“What do you mean? Like a contraction?”

She nodded, enthusiastically.

“Molly, please, please get in the truck.”

Molly scrunched up her face and held her breath. Seconds ticked by and Savannah wondered about trying to drag her sister out and toss her in the Toyota. She eyed the rotary phone hanging on the wall. Beside it, the clock said 2:37. Outside, the sky was dark with the storm and snow was piling up fast.

“No, Savannah.” Molly gritted her teeth. “This is his baby, and I just can’t do it!” The spot of water grew into a flow that ran all the way to Molly’s sock. Savannah went to her knees and pulled the other boot off.

“Promise me you won’t tell anybody.” Molly stared without blinking. Little beads of sweat built where her bangs parted away from her forehead.

Savannah nodded. “I won’t. I promise.”

“I want to go to my room,” Molly said. Savannah helped her from the chair. The hysterics had passed from Molly’s voice, and it was time for her to get a grip, as well. She followed behind, watching her sister take one toddling step after another.

Once they were in Molly’s room, Savannah handed her a night shirt. Molly sat on the bed and started to change.

“I’m going to go get some towels and anything else I can think that we might need.” Molly nodded and Savannah took off down the hall to the linen closet. Reaching inside for a clean stack of towels and washcloths, she just concentrated on finding calm.

“She’s right. We can do this,” she said, then repeated it. Not that they had a real choice. Savannah ran to Molly’s room and put the stack on Molly’s dresser. Molly was changed into her long sleep shirt and had put her hair up in a twisted bun. The sweats were at her feet and apparently she’d planned to use them to catch fluids, standing over them. Savannah went around the bed and pulled the blankets off the mattress, leaving the sheet, which she covered with a double-layer of towels. She arranged the pillows against the headboard. Molly sat back against them.

“It’s going to be okay, Savannah,” Molly said. She made the face she had before, shutting her eyes tight and holding her breath. Once the contraction lightened, she exhaled and let her head fall back on the pillows.

Savannah covered Molly’s bare legs with the top sheet. “You’re the one who needs comforting, not me.”

“Thanks.” Molly raised up with her hands, settling in better.

“I’m going to go get a chair, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Savannah forced herself to walk instead of run. First-time mothers didn’t deliver quickly, in the animal world, at least. She scooted a chair from the kitchen to the base of the stairs, grabbed her book, and went back up. She sat with Molly for a brief time, then went to the nursery to retrieve a package of receiving blankets. She grabbed her Walkman and helped Molly get set up listening to Prince, hoping it would help her somehow. Savannah sat down again, watching the clock to see how long it was between Molly’s contractions. She jumped up and went for a pad and pencil to keep track.

The night had the possibility of stretching out long so she went to the kitchen to get something to eat. She had to keep her energy level up to be strong for Molly. Darkness fell a little early because of the foggy storm. Snow continued to fall, and everything was covered in a thickening blanket outside. The forecast called for at least another foot by morning, but by the way it stacked up, she figured there would be more by then. As it was, they had already been snowed in. She slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and went to check on Molly, but her eyes caught on the telephone beside the doorway again.

Calling for an ambulance would betray her sister. On the other hand, it might save her life. She dropped the sandwich on the counter and grabbed the phone. She placed the receiver to her ear and reached to dial, but stopped. There was no dial tone. She put the phone back carefully so Molly wouldn’t hear and know she tried to call out. Somewhere between their house and town, the weight of the snow had likely broken another tree branch and downed the lines. Having electricity at that point was a serious blessing. She retrieved her sandwich and went back upstairs.

“That’s a lot of snow,” Molly said, looking out her window.

“How are you feeling?” Savannah asked, scooting the kitchen chair up to the bedside.

“Not great.” Molly settled back and closed her eyes. A contraction came on, steadily cramping, and all she did was cover her face with shaking hands. Savannah hated how she was trying to appear calm so she didn’t get scared. None of it was fair. Other sixteen-year-olds were worried about getting their driver’s licenses and prom, but not Molly. Their dad had ruined her life, with a little urging from beyond. But the blame was shared. Savannah should have done something, should have read in to the shifts in her sister’s demeanor. The very day Molly had withdrawn, she should have been there, asking questions until Molly broke and told her what had happened.

Molly’s eyes closed for seven minutes, and Savannah diligently scribed it down on her notepad. The amount of time continued to lessen from ten minutes, which was the previous time spanning between the contractions, going from nine, and practically skipping eight. During the wee hours she woke, scrunched up her face for about twenty seconds, and then dozed again. Savannah shifted in the hard dining table chair, wondering if the timing was normal.

Hours went by. The contractions didn’t come any faster than seven minutes. Twenty or so seconds of white knuckles wringing a small fistful of the bed sheet, and her sister closed her eyes again. The night droned on the same, and snow stacked up outside.

Savannah sat, paced, and ran to the kitchen for tea, her anxiety for Molly growing as the sky turned lavender and finally the grey clouds peeked through icy window panes. Little winces accompanied each bout of tensing. Molly didn’t rest in between any longer. After the pain lessened each time, she finally broke down, tears trailing to her chin as her emotions surged.

“What’s wrong?” Savannah asked, alarmed at the sight of tears. “Does it hurt worse?”

“I think I’m just tired of this. I want to get it over with and I’m scared and I hate it!” She tensed, bracing for pain. “Ow,” she moaned, barely audibly.

“You’ve got to be exhausted.” Savannah scooted her chair up by Molly’s side. “Good thing you’re so tough.” She smiled, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze.

“Ow,” Molly said again. She pulled her hand away, pushing up against the headboard so she sat up at an angle that looked entirely too straight to be comfortable. “Something’s happening. It moved down lower. I feel it in my back.” She panted, sucking air between her teeth. She took a deep breath, visibly trying to remain calm and under control.

“Maybe that means the baby’s coming soon. That’s a good thing.” Savannah came to her feet, which was a contrast to the way she told herself to be calm. “You need to scoot down so you’re laying back, Molly. Try to get more comfortable.” She offered a hand and held tight so her sister could move lower on the bed. A contraction came, and it must have been a doozy because Molly threw her head back, crying out and grasping at the towels covering the mattress at her sides.

“Breathe really deep, Molly. Your muscles need lots of oxygen to work hard. I think that will get it over with faster.” That’s what she’d learned during track practice, anyway. When she worked out on the weight machines the coach told her when to inhale and exhale during exercise so her blood carried lots of oxygen to her working muscles. Molly nodded, watching her and breathing in and out fast. Savannah grew lightheaded, trying to keep up in support.

Thankfully, nature took course, and fast. Savannah cried with Molly and replaced towels as the baby pushed its way to life. Once the head was exposed, and the kid had a giant skull from both their perspectives, the shoulders finally came and the rest of the little blue body sort of squirted out after the wider parts. Savannah wiped at all the fluids and the rough texture of the towel shocked the baby, who responded by sucking in a huge breath and wailing. Savannah looked from the huge pile of black and blue umbilical cord to Molly’s body.

“Is it a girl?” Molly asked, letting her soaked head fall onto the pillow.

“Of course it is,” Savannah responded. Somehow she’d known it would be all along. The baby raised her little fists, eyes slammed shut. Savannah grabbed two soft receiving blankets and wrapped her up tight, being careful not to pull on the cord.

Molly winced as an enormous bulb of placenta and blood oozed out. “Is she … okay?” The baby cried, and Savannah quickly moved to hand her over to her mom.

“She’s perfect, Molly.” Savannah couldn’t help but cry. Between exhaustion, relief, and awe at seeing her niece born, there wasn’t any stopping.

“Oh God, she’s beautiful,” Molly whispered around a sob. She used the corner of the blanket to wipe at a streak of fluid on a tiny, soft cheek.

Savannah’s eyes were drawn to the growing pool of blood at the foot of the bed. She grabbed the kitchen scissors and took to the job of hacking through the tough cord where it protruded from the receiving blankets. It took a little while, but she finally was able to fold over the deflated, raw end, which she secured with one of Molly’s pink hairclips.

“There we go,” Savannah said, looking up at Molly. Her sister’s eyes were closed but her arms held the little baby tight. “Hey,” she said, softly rocking Molly’s arm. She didn’t respond. “Molly?” Savannah bit back, trying not to call out too loudly so she didn’t scare anyone. Instead, she pulled on Molly’s arm. The sheets and towels continued to soak up blood, far, far too much.

“Oh God,” Savannah whispered. “Molly!” She shook her so hard it jostled the baby who began to cry with alarm, shaking her tiny fists. Savannah snatched her up and knelt, placing the bundle on the floor.

“Molly, wake up,” she wailed, pulling her sister up by limp shoulders. Molly fell forward. Savannah’s heart hit against her rib cage to the point of pain in her chest. She needed help.

Her legs shook to the point of numbness as she sprinted downstairs into the kitchen where she grabbed the telephone and dialed in nine, one, one.

There was still no sound from the other end. She jammed the hook button down and let it up again, listening for a dial tone, but empty silence was all there was. She tried again, looking out the window at piles of thick, wet snow. She slammed the phone back in its cradle and sprinted back upstairs.

Deep red soaked the sheets and towels nearly up past Molly’s hips. Checking for a pulse was almost impossible with trembling hands, and the poor lighting in the snow-grey tinted room, but after forever of holding her own breath, she saw a tiny beat beneath Molly’s ear.

“Thank God,” she said, grabbing one of Molly’s chilled hands. “Stay with me, please. You’re all that’s left.” A sob cramped her throat. The baby sniffled from beside the door. “And you’re little girl’s here now. She needs you, too.” Savannah left the bedside just long enough to retrieve the tiny bundle from the floor and tucked them both together beneath a dry blanket from Molly’s waist up. It was hard to look below that.

She rolled up the soaked towels and replaced them with dry ones atop the bloody mattress. Molly continued to hemorrhage from inside and all too soon another pool formed. Frantically, and hating it, Savannah checked for the source of the bleeding so she could put pressure there but there was no visible tear or cut. Her hands came away with a thick coat of angry blood.

“I don’t know what to do.” Her hands shook harder. Savannah ran to the head of the bed. “Molly?” The only response was a cat-like wail from the baby.

“Dear God, please!” Savannah screamed at the ceiling. “It’s not fair. Please don’t let her die,” she yelled, both pleading and full of rage. The baby quieted, and the only sound was her own uncontrollable helpless sobbing. The room remained darkened as the storm blocked out any hope of sunshine, continuing to douse the mountain top with more heavy, spring snow. Savannah slid onto the chair, taking a leaden seat with her face in her hands.

There was nothing she could do against fate’s plan. Being the oldest, Savannah should have got the family doctor involved from the start, despite whether Molly wanted it or not. Even if Molly had agreed to go to the hospital, labor came early and the storm wouldn’t let them past the driveway. She shouldn’t have listened to Molly, anyway. She should have called for an ambulance the very second her water broke. The medical team might have been able to get a snow plow to carve a path through to the house, but even then, they’d be late and she had to wonder if there would have been anything they could have done, if the phone was working when she tried to call the day before.

Molly’s baby began to cry again, a pitiful, helpless plea. Savannah crumbled, wrapping her head in her arms.

“Witcher.” His face formed in her mind, his dark eyes glimmering to life. “Please help me.” She picked up her head, looking past the bloody mess on the bed, straight up to the ceiling. “I need you.”

The baby quieted. Savannah listened hard but cold silence was all she found as she waited. Minutes passed. The wind kicked up and snow built in the corners of each window pane. The baby slept. Savannah stood and quietly left the room.

The air in the hallway was cold. Half way down the flight leading to the den, the wind howled, the breeze coming hard enough to puff a strand of hair from her shoulder. The front door hung wide, snow drifting in from outside.

Savannah slammed the door and leaned there for a moment, looking past the shallow mudroom into the den. “I should have burned this place to the ground.” She slid to the floor, sitting down in melting snow. If she’d succeeded, Molly would have been spared the ordeal. She would have been with someone more competent who would have got her into the doctor’s office for help during her pregnancy.

She opened her eyes. From that angle a dotted trail of wet animal tracks gleamed, leading away into the house. She scrambled to her feet and hit the closest light switch, then grabbed Jack’s shotgun from the corner beside the door, where it had stood at the ready during the larger part of the last year.

Huge, drying paw prints led her back up the stairs to her own bedroom door where she stood panting with her heart in her throat, thankful whatever animal hadn’t gone for Molly’s room. The door swung open, but the room was dark because of her drawn curtains. She inhaled steadily, stepping inside. Her eyes refused to adjust to the dim light fast enough. Gun leveled, she kept watch on the room, fishing against the wall with an elbow for the light switch. The scent of rotten meat hit her senses like a truck. That changed things. She held back a flood of escaping bile, fear mounting and butting heads with resolution.

Savannah lowered the shotgun and closed the door.

“Savannah.” Witcher came away from shadow. “I’ve missed you.” He remained in silhouette, framed by bleak grey light from a covered window. She turned on the light.

Something was different about him. He seemed slightly taller, or just altogether a bigger man, his presence claiming the room. The same dark eyes watched her, brimming with feeling and emotion she didn’t want to hear about. Black pants and a dark burgundy shirt were just as familiar. He stepped forward and she followed him into Molly’s room.

“This is God's will. You would go against His plan?” He looked up from Molly, watching Savannah closely.

“Yes,” she answered. “I want her to live.”

“Then you are no different than I.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“Leave us.”

Savannah looked up at him, torn between trust and fear for her sister.

“If you want me to save her, you’re not helping.” He nodded toward the door.

She brushed past him and placed a kiss against the cold skin of Molly’s cheek. “I love you, Molly.”

Savannah left them and slid down the wall to the floor outside in the hall. She cradled her head, not daring to pray. Moments later, Witcher came to stand before her.

“Her soul clung by a strand.”

Everything inside Savannah twisted. She cried with gratitude, but wept with loathing.

“My patience is at an end. Deny me one time and I’ll take her.”

Savannah nodded and ran to Molly’s room. He could work out the details on his own.

***