Chapter 3
Calliope James
For almost five minutes I cough my lungs out. If I’m dead, God didn’t think so highly of me. Dying alone in a black void is my worst nightmare. Hey, up there. I wasn’t such a bad person. If I had lived, I’m sure I would’ve done something meaningful, eventually. I was working on it.
God? Anyone? Buehler?
A little life kicks inside my belly and hope gushes into my being. I’m betting pregnant women don’t happen in heaven or hell. Fortified by this strange reasoning, I struggle to move fingers and toes. Once I’m certain they work, I test my wrists and ankles. Still good, I put my hand in front of my face.
Holy shit. I can’t see. It’s either very dark or I lost my sight. Heart thumping and hyperventilating, I inhale to scream but stop when my head bumps the ceiling. Seeing stars, I stop worrying about being blind. With fingers forward and aft, I crawl until I can sit upright, albeit cross-legged. Then, I put my hand to my hair.
Jesus, that hurts.Sorry God.I turn the curse into a prayer.Please help me.
A favorite saying of Sister Mary comes to mind.God gives every bird his food but doesn’t throw it in the nest.
If I’m going to get out, I need to do is focus. The last thing I remember was getting dressed for brunch. The Patten wives, as we like to call ourselves, were all getting together because our husbands were in town.
What the hell happened after? In my small confines, there’s sharp edges everywhere so I decide not to feel around anymore.
What if I got buried alive and I’m in some kind of underground prison?
My chest pounds, my ears ring, and I claw at wood, dirt, and stone. “Please! Someone, help me!”
“Callie?” Blake’s high muffled voice breaks through the silence.
Oh my God.I’m so glad to hear her voice, I burst into tears.
Gulping, I squint in her direction. “What happened? Where are we?”
“There was an explosion.” Blake moves a little closer. “Are you hurt?”
“I can’t see. Is it really dark in here?” I hold my breath imagining the rest of my life blinded. How could I possibly take care of a child?
When a tiny sliver of light shines behind a wall of debris, I smile.Thank you, thank you, God.Moments ago, I was opening shower gifts and worried about having a baby.
Now, I hardly dare ask,“Did everyone make it okay? Are they with you?”
“Mel, me, Izzy, Suds, and Lilac. We’re all here.”
The image of a white shirt stained with blood comes to mind. “Is Suds hurt bad?”
“Yes, but Lilac stopped the bleeding and says he’s stable. She’s asking me if you’re injured.”
Blake moves the light closer and I wish she hadn’t because now I can see the blood. I touch the top of my head, it hurts like the blazes, and my fingers come back sticky. I need to bandage up the wound but covered in dirt, I’ll only make things worse.
“I got a nasty cut on my head.” I pull off my boot, grab a sock, and press it to the wound.
“Ow. Holy shit, that hurts.”
Melanie shouts out, “Is the baby okay, hun?”
“I think so. I felt her kick.” Despite the screwed-up situation, I smile at the muffled cheers on the other side of the wall. Then, closing my eyes, I rest, assured Lucky will find me.
Half-awake, half-asleep, I relive our first kiss in my building’s elevator. His costume consisted of high leather boots, cape, and tight leggings. He was the perfect sixteenth century pirate, every woman’s wet dream.
My fingers slide under his silk shirt until they find the ridges of his abs and I caress him until he moans. With molten eyes, he leans over, dark roasted coffee on his breath. His lips stop inches from my mouth, I shiver, and reach one shaking hand to the back of his neck. I pull him to me and hold on for my dear life as he takes the kiss deeper. My nails bite into his flesh, he growls, and I open my eyes. Large black centers almost block the brown and his nostrils flare. He pulls his hard, lower-half to mine, grinding until liquid pools between my legs.
Hungry for more, I press my hardened nipples into his chest. We’re both heated, and ready for the bedroom. I’ve never done anything so reckless before. Yet, at this moment, I can’t think of one good reason why I shouldn’t make love with this perfectly perfect stranger.
