Page 8 of The Final Storm
This moment is wonderful and everything I’ve ever wanted. I have a healthy child and a man that loves me. I push the fear away from my mind, let myself bask in this, and feel the gifts life has granted me, despite everything. I’ve had confusing visions before, and I will have them again. I lack the mental strength for a quick recovery is all. I have pushed my brain and body to the point of exhaustion, and I only need a moment to gain my composure.
The room full of smiles looks down on me, and Sam helps lift me and Morgan to the couch covered in towels. I rest my head on his lap, and he beams down at us with pride. “I can see that you’re worried, Row. Everything is just fine. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”
I smile back at him and close my eyes. “Did you tell the boys?” I ask.
“They already know,” Lori groans. “When I took them to the house, they didn’t seem shocked, and when I asked why, they told me they knew it would be tonight. I’m so fucking mad. I get they’re kids, but fucking hell.”
“Maybe they were just really excited about that slingshot,” Luke guesses.
“If that’s the case, I’ll lose my shit. BeLew will be on fish scaling duty for the week. By themselves!”
I laugh, ignoring the pain from the movement. Sam runs his hand down my arm. “They also saw that she would be just fine, so I doubt they thought not telling us was such a big deal,” he says.
Lori huffs out a breath. “Rowan, we’re going to sit them down and have a conversation about any and all premonitions. I don’t care if it’s what they’ll have for dinner next week. I’m not going through a shock like this again.” She drops to her knees and runs a soapy towel across the floor. “I mean it. I almost had a fucking heart attack. Fucking apocalypse and fucking clairvoyant children. Gah.” She pushes the towel across the floor in her frustration.
“Okay, our patient needs to rest,” Luke says. He rests a hand on Lori’s shoulder. “Let me do that.”
“You ca-” she stops short, not wanting to tell Luke he can’t.
That’s it then. She knows he’s getting sicker, and that’s what she’s upset about. She wants to talk to the boys about him, about what they might have seen for Luke.
“Let’s talk to the boys,” I say, breaking the silence. “There’re a lot of things to talk about. With everyone.”
Sam bends down and kisses my forehead. “Rest, baby,” he says. “I’m here. I’ll stay awake every minute you’re asleep.”
I close my eyes, my body heavy from exhaustion, begging for rest. I close my eyes as my baby wiggles her mouth over my breast, learning to nurse, but the relief of a calm, dreamless sleep escapes me.
Instead, the dark-haired woman dressed in white finds her way back into my mind.
Her face flashes from a stranger to my sister.
Back and forth as she stares at me from a shoreline.
A storm raging all around.
Chapter 4
What's coming
Lukewaversabitstanding over Morgan, listening to her chest, and using what medical supplies we have to assess her. Sam drags a chair over to him and places a hand on his shoulder, urging him to sit.
I watch from the couch as Sam picks her up, her little body curled in a ball, and places her on a small table in front of Luke. My restless night weighs heavily on my thoughts this morning. Not only did my visions wake me so many times I lost count, but I saw Luke again. Same room, the same floor filled with blood.
Luke’s getting worse each day, and with Morgan being early, my worries compound.
What will become of us?
Not wanting to scare the boys, I mull over how to talk to them about what they may have seen. We were so happy for so many months, and it’s crashing around me in a pile of blood and dread.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask Luke.
He smiles and runs a finger along the underside of her foot. She curls it and brings her hands to her face, gnawing at her fists. “She’s early, and I’m not able to get a good look at her lungs with what I have here.” He takes in a deep breath and I don’t know if it’s because he’s struggling to breathe or if he’s going to tell me something I won’t like. “We need to see how this little one eats. It’s harder when they’re early for them to latch on. It’ll take practice.”
I nod and reach my arms out to her.
“Gemma has some alternatives to breastmilk,” Luke adds. “Just in case.”
Sam brings her over, and I hold her in my arms for a moment, waiting for some kind of spark to tell me what to do.
