And then she is gone.
I let out a grunt, finally able to push myself upward. But the trickle of blood down my legs has accelerated into a stream. The loss of blood has my head spinning, and I collapse back onto the floor, barely avoiding hitting my head against the boulder.
On my elbows and knees, I crawl toward the cave tunnel, but again, my vision begins to spot.
My instincts have me crawling toward my child. I would bleed out if it meant getting him back to his father. But somewhere within me, reason takes over.
I cannot chase him down if I am dead.
So I use what little energy I have left—what little consciousness—to crawl over to the satchel.
Inside it, I fish out a vial.
My eyes are crossing, so it takes me a moment to find the one that says “for hemorrhages.”
I’m not sure what this is, or the dosage, so I swig the entire bottle, gulping down the foul liquid.
CHAPTER 40
ASTOR
“It’s a girl.”
“What?” Darling knits her brow, staring up at me from the cottage bed.
“It’s a girl,” I say, my voice breaking as I weep over the wriggling baby in my arms.
“But the Seer said…”
“Darling, the Seer was wrong.”
“The Seer was wrong.” Darling’s eyes are glazed over as she stares at me. She’s locked eyes with mine, refusing to glance downward, as if she fears this is all a dream.
The midwife clears her throat. “Perhaps you should let her hold her daughter.”
“Daughter…” whispers Darling, like the word is one in a foreign language she’s only begun to learn.
I do as I’m told, lowering the tiny little baby—my baby—onto her mother’s chest. The child kicks and writhes, opening her mouth as if to let loose a scream, but as soon as her bare skin touches her mother’s, a lovely calm overcomes her previously trembling little body.
Darling shudders at the child’s touch, but she keeps her gaze fixed on me. “A girl?” she says again, her voice only just shy of begging. As if she’s terrified it’s a lie, or that she’s misheard me.
“Look, Darling,” I say, nodding my head.
Slowly, Darling peels her eyes away from my face, her eyelashes fluttering as she peers down at the baby in her arms.
“Oh.” The word is a sob escaping from Darling’s lips. “A girl. You’re…you’re…” Tears stream from Darling’s face as she caresses our daughter’s cheeks, almost frantically. Then my wife glances up at me, her face red and contorting, forehead scrunched as she weeps. “She’s a girl.”
I wipe a strand of sweat-soaked hair from my wife’s forehead and plant a kiss there. “Our girl,” I whisper.
As all lovely dreams do,this one escapes from my grasp, unable as I am to keep it from slipping through the cracks between my fingers.
I stay in bed for a long while, eyes still slammed closed. I’m too old to be trying to force myself back to sleep, just to continue a dream I know I’ll never have again.
I try anyway.
And when I finally give up and roll over in bed, seeking comfort in my wife’s arms, I find that my dream is not the only thing that is gone.
CHAPTER 41
