Page 13 of The Final Storm
“It’ll take time,” Sam whispers in my ear.
“But leaving the boys here with… that.” I point in the direction she left.
“We don’t have to-”
“Hello.” Gemma cuts off his plea. Sam’s looking for a reason to change the plan, even with the evidence mounting against him. I smile and greet her, grateful to change the subject.
Gemma strides forward with her mismatched outfit, and grey hair piled on top of her head. She can’t help but smile at the sight of the baby, and I wink at Sam. Bringing Morgan was my idea, and he rolls his eyes. No one can be rude to someone holding a baby.
“May I?” Gemma reaches out.
“Of course,” I say, and hand her to Gemma. She’s asleep, as usual. Every time she should eat, I have to rouse her awake. We aren’t having much luck with feedings, and my chest feels like two rocks full of milk.
Gemma beams down at her. “Lethargic, isn’t she?”
I nod. This woman has something insightful to say every time I see her. I’ve often thought she has an intuitive nature more attuned than most.
“Do you have anyone that may have some… experience with premature babies?” I ask.
“I was a midwife once upon a time,” Gemma responds. “I’ve seen hundreds of babies come into this world.” She rubs her thumb across Morgan’s forehead and her eyes widen. She takes in a sharp breath of air and smiles up at me. “This one’s special.”
Gemma turns and walks toward her house, Sam and I trailing behind her.
“Did that seem a little odd to you?” Sam asks.
I nod in agreement, but Gemma is a little odd. She’s eclectic and sputters musings about the universe’s teachings every chance she gets, but her presence always calms me, and I trust her. “At least she’s not telling us to get out,” I say.
“Are you hungry?” Gemma asks over her shoulder.
I say no while Sam says yes. Gemma laughs and lets us inside, waving us to sit down. The homes here are one room, built with a fireplace of sorts in the center where the smoke escapes from the peaked roof. There are two small couches the islanders refurbished with a variety of clothing, making them almost as mismatched and creative as Gemma’s wardrobe.
Fresh bread sits on a butcher table by the fire. Sam hops over and grabs a piece for us and then finds a seat on the couch with me. My stomach growls, and I inhale the scent.
“I was so very sorry to hear about your…” I’m unsure how to end the statement. Are they villagers or residents? My stomach growls again, and I shove a piece of bread into my mouth in the awkward silence. Gemma looks to be consumed with the baby and doesn’t notice. “Your friend,” I mumble, covering my hand with my mouth as I chew.
“Souls come and go,” Gemma sighs. “Like this little one. So very little.”
“That’s part of the reason we’re here. I-”
A man barges in, interrupting our conversation, and I almost drop my bread. “You,” he says, pointing to Sam.
Sam touches his chest. “Sam,” he says. I’m startled, but Sam remains unbothered, ripping off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. “Have we met?” Sam asks.
“Sam, the engineer?” The man raises his voice with the question. He’s gruff looking in a handsome way. Covered in dirt that he just left on Gemma’s doorknob, he doesn’t seem like the type for niceties… or even a hello.
Sam chews and steps over, offering his hand to shake. “I take it I’m being summoned.”
The man creases his brow at Sam’s hand and looks at Gemma.
Gemma clears her throat. “This is Milo. He handles the repairs of most things. Works around the clock, so I suppose he doesn’t have time to knock or properly introduce himself.”
“I’m Milo,” he grumbles. “And you’re an engineer.”
Sam tilts his head in my direction. “Go,” I tell him.
“That’s kind of you,” Gemma says to us.
“We need something from you, so this is purely to get in your good graces,” Sam jokes. “I’ll see what I can do for Milo. If I can help with anything here, you know where I am.”
