Without a word, the young teen, sleep rumpled and rosy cheeked, withdrew into his room and closed the door. I hated that he felt the need to make sure I was still here, but after his parents had both died in a car accident, I would reassure him as long as he needed me to. I remembered all too well what it felt like to be left alone.
Sleep came easily for me, after a night of checking IDs and corralling drunks at the bar. It’d been ten years of this, and my body was trained for these late nights and early mornings, so after a quick shower, I faceplanted on the bed and was asleep within minutes.
No matter how well I slept, though, it never seemed like enough. I wished I could sleep in, but it was a school day, which meant getting Sam up and ready for school. My alarm went off at 7am, after just three hours of sleep. My finger hovered over the snooze button for a few seconds. Tempting… but no. That would mean not having enough time to make Sam breakfast, and he was a growing boy. I could always catch a nap after he got on the bus.
As if I needed a kick in the ass, I heard Rudy the Rooster let out his morning call from his perch in the yard. “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.”
Dragging a hand down my face, I groaned and threw back the blanket, like ripping off a band-aid, welcoming the chilly draft that snuck through the loose window frame. Not quite as good at waking me up as a cup of coffee, but it was close.
On the way downstairs, I knocked on Sam’s door. “You up?” I called and got a grunt in reply. “You’ve got five minutes before I come back up with the garden hose.” He’d never called me onmy bluff, but I imagined the day was coming. Teenagers weren’t known for early rising.
By the time Sam trudged down the stairs, I already had bacon frying, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma. There were bags under his eyes, and I felt the all-too-familiar guilt tug at my heart. It was my fault for having a job where I came home late. He slept fine on my nights off, trusting that I wasn’t going anywhere, but he needed to see me here, to have that security. I really wished I could get another job, but where else would I find a boss willing to put up with my sudden disappearances whenever Child Protective Services needed me with hardly any notice. That role was important to me, knowing I was there when someone needed me the most.
Sammy dragged the kitchen chair out, but before he could sit, I said, “Ah-ah, aren’t you forgetting something?” He looked at me from under his bangs, and I passed him the egg basket.
“Aw, c’mon,” he groaned, but he was already reaching for the basket, before he plodded over to the back door dramatically and slipped on his shoes.
“You know the rule. If you want to eat the eggs, then you have to collect them.”
“Yeah, fair,” he muttered. He was acting dramatic, but I knew he loved saying good morning to the hens. I’d never intended to have any animals out here on my parents’ old farm, but that darn kid ate so many eggs that it worked out to be cheaper to raise a few layers myself. We built them a pen attached to the old red barn so they could go inside whenever they wanted. They were living a pretty good life, with all the cuddles they could ever ask for.
Samson came back in ten minutes later looking more upbeat. Time with the girls always made him feel better. “Look at Stella’s egg!” he bragged about his favorite speckled hen. He held up an egg that looked far larger than the others.
“That one might feed you for a week!” I teased. “Shall we see what’s inside?”
I cracked it into a bowl, and there were two yolks, and Sammy gave a little gasp in awe. “Cool!”
With a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast, he scarfed down his breakfast while I watched on with my first cup of coffee in hand. This kid was seriously amazing. The road he was on wasn’t without its bumps, but I felt so privileged to be on the journey with him, wherever it brought him. I’d helped my share of kids pass through the system over the past 15 years, but the thought of letting him go now was unbearable. I’d already been looking into the adoption process. Sammy was my son in every way that mattered. Now I just had to make it official.
I glanced at the clock. “You’d better hurry. Bus’ll be here in five minutes.”
Sam hopped up from the table, put his plate in the dishwasher, then rushed off to pack his bag. By the time the bus had pulled up at the end of the driveway, he was ready to go. “Bye, Jerry!” he called back to me, nothing more than a blur and a rush of air on the way by. I stood on the porch and waited, knowing he would turn back at the last second for a final goodbye. My heart ached for this kid, and I wanted to show him that I would always be here.
Jacob, the teenager from next door, paused before he got on the bus, saying something to Sam that made him laugh. And then, just like always, Sam turned and waved, and I waved back. I saw him glance off to the side, toward the barn, his smile fading for a second, but when I looked to see what had drawn his attention, there was nothing there. Probably a bunny or something.
The bus took off with a roar, gravel and dust kicked up by the wheels. Soon, it had passed out of sight behind the trees, and I finally let the full weight of my fatigue hit me. Three hours ofsleep wasn’t anywhere near enough to function, not when it was the third time this week I’d had to pull it off. The screen door closed with a smack behind me, and I headed straight for the living room. My body felt too heavy to manage the stairs, and the couch would do the trick, too short for my frame though it was. I just needed to be horizontal.
Sammy wouldn’t be home until after 4, so I had every intention of sleeping another six hours. I grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and pulled it over myself, letting my lids drift shut.
It might’ve been five minutes or an hour when I thought I heard someone knock on the door. It was probably the mailman with a parcel. Well, he could just leave it on the porch. I wasn’t getting up for anything.
But then I heard a sound, so familiar but entirely out of place that my eyes flew open. Was that a crying baby?
3
August
“Comeon,pickup,pick up,” I whispered desperately, one hand clutching the phone’s cheap plastic handset to my ear, the other wrapped protectively around my cramping belly. “Please, Mom… I need you,” I choked out, praying to whatever higher power might’ve been listening.
But instead of my mom’s voice, light and melodic like sunshine reflecting off crystal-clear water, there was only the automated voice repeating the words I’d heard every time I’d tried her number. “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service.”
A sob tried to sneak out as I replaced the handset gently, and I blew out a shuddering breath. Well, it looked like I was doing this alone. I’d known it would come down to this the second I snuck out that door. And as ready as I’d told myself I was, it had all been a lie. Nobody could ever be prepared for this.
As another contraction wracked my body, just minutes after the one before, the pain was nearly enough to bring me to myknees right there in the dark hallway. I pinched my lips shut, then my eyes, and prayed for it to be over.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew there was only one way out, and that was through. So as soon as the contraction eased, I crept down the hall, looking for somewhere to have this baby.
The bathroom stalls at A New Day omega shelter were private, with doors that went all the way to the floor and locked for our safety, but I had no doubt that if the staff knew I was about to give birth in here, they would scrounge up a master key so fast. It wasn’t against their policies, exactly. They were actually pretty amazing, offering food and shelter, a daycare, job skills classes, and eventual job placement. I wished I could stay longer. But they would want me to go to a hospital, and that meant giving my name, being in the system, leaving a trackable path for Victor to follow. I knew what he would do to me if he got me back, how cruel and vicious he could be when he felt betrayed, but what would he do to my sweet child?
