Where the Blame Lies(43)

Josie sighed. “I was estranged from her for a long time. When I was abducted, I hadn’t spoken to my mother in over a year. And before that, only because it was unavoidable since I lived with her. She drank a lot when I was younger, was a mean drunk, took it out on me. I saw college as my escape and I worked my butt off to get into UC and never looked back.” She trailed a finger along the doorframe as she paused. “When I escaped, she came to the hospital. She told me she’d gotten sober, wanted a relationship. I didn’t leave my apartment much until recently. She stopped by every now and again, not often.” She sighed again. “Then last year she called and told me she had cancer. I was living in Oxford by then, and thought, how could I visit my ill aunt but ignore my own mother?” She looked over at Zach. “She needed help, couldn’t get out of bed some days. I started going to the grocery store for her, doing some cleaning. I’d hire someone if I could, but for now, every penny is going into the farmhouse.”

Josie paused again and Zach didn’t think she’d speak anymore. But then she looked at him. “She’s my mother,” she said again softly.

Yeah, she was. She was also a mean-hearted shrew who had treated her daughter like trash most of her life, and still did from what he’d witnessed. He’d seen family dynamics like theirs before. Sadly, too many times. You still looking for your kid? He thought of that bulletin board in Josie’s room, how she’d never given up on her child, not in eight long years where she struggled in ways he probably couldn’t imagine. Josie was twice the mother that woman was, and she’d only known her son for such a tragically short time.

Josie’s loyalty humbled him, even if she was loyal to a fault.





CHAPTER TWENTY


Before



The contractions woke her from a deep sleep, a painful tightening in her abdomen that radiated around her back before loosening once more. She groaned, pulling herself into a sitting position and taking a deep breath as she waited to see what would happen.

She’d been having contractions off and on for weeks, though the one that had just woken her was the strongest she’d experienced yet. The pain faded and she started drifting to sleep again, head lolling, when another sharp contraction hit her, a groan rising to her throat. She lay down again, bringing her knees to her belly. Oh God, this is it. With every feminine instinct she possessed, she knew it was.

It was early, she thought. Two or three weeks maybe, though she’d been sleeping a lot lately again, too much probably, and she’d lost track of the days. It was the depression—the fear, the hopelessness—but there wasn’t much she could do about that except turn inward where life was flourishing, somehow, impossibly, blooming under a sunless sky.

She’d taken control of her food intake, and there had been plenty of water lately as the weather had turned cold, melting snow running down the crack in the wall and providing her hydration. She’d done all she could to help her malnourished body support her pregnancy and bring her baby to full term, give him or her life. And now, here they were. She’d done it—or very close, close enough that he or she would be healthy, or so she prayed. She had nothing. No one. But she couldn’t stop this from happening.

Her baby was coming.

She ran a hand over her belly, feeling the tiny beloved being move within. “We’re going to be okay,” she said. “We’re going to do this together, you and me, all right? We’ve come this far, we just need to go a little bit fur—”

She groaned, curling into herself as the pain stole her words, her breath.

She labored through that day and into the night, alone and terrified, the pains coming faster and stronger, crushing. Josie panted and groaned, dripping with the sweat of exertion as she reached blindly for anything to hold on to. But there was nothing, just the empty air. So she dug deep and held on to herself, gripped fast to her control, her courage, the baby within her who was depending on her to bring it safely into the world. She would not—could not—think beyond that.

As the stars appeared in the slip of lavender sky she could see outside the small window, her water broke in a gush of warm fluid, soaking into her mattress, the next contraction gripping her so hard she screamed with the intensity. She floated between contractions, drawing inward, existing in a space that was both half-conscious and razor focused.

When the burning of her body stretching began, Josie hauled herself into a sitting position so she could reach between her legs with her unshackled hand. Her other hand gripped the mattress behind her, pressing into the foam as she suddenly curled forward, her muscles contracting as her body began pushing of its own avail. She’d watched shows before where people around the laboring woman instructed her when to start and stop pushing, but that must have been inaccurate, or maybe that’s what pain medication allowed for, because Josie experienced nothing of the sort. Her body simply took over, bearing down with each contraction, working to push her baby out, whether she was ready or not.

She panted and wailed through the pain, feeling herself tear as her baby’s head emerged. She reached down with her shaking fingers, running a hand over her baby’s wet head as another contraction gripped her and she curled forward, the rest of the infant sliding out and landing gently on the mattress beneath her.

Only Josie’s sobs filled the space, her heart slamming against her ribs. She picked up her baby from between her trembling thighs, bringing him—him, it was a him, she had a son—to her chest and rubbing him dry with the pile of napkins she’d saved. He was so slippery, and she was exhausted, but she managed to get him to her and lean back so he didn’t slip down her shirt. She patted his back gently, fear rising when he didn’t make a sound. She turned him over and ran a finger inside his mouth. His little chest rose suddenly as he inhaled a big breath, his eyes opening as he gazed at her.