The wind whips around us a few more times before a shower of leaves tumbles from above. We’re showered in ambers, golds and browns.
“She’s throwing her rice at us,” Alannah whispers against my mouth.
I smile over at the sun. I still hurt. Every day I feel the pain of my loss, but I’m learning to cherish the good with Alannah’s help. The bearers help too. All of their memories are back, and we’ve had to help each other through the tortured moments that have returned. This hasn’t been a happy time in our lives. It’s been filled with anguish and agony, loss and heartache. But we’re together, finding our way through.
When the leaves stop, I kiss Alannah again. I tangle my tongue with hers in a slow, sensual dance, trying to show her the depth of my love. She’s the match to my soul. It must work because she releases a massive gasp before pulling away from me.
“Shit,” she hisses.
Not what I expected to hear.
“My water just broke,” she explains when my brow furrows.
“Shit.”
I hurriedly untie our hands, breaking all kinds of handfasting rules that I could give two shits about. I swoop Alannah up into my arms and run. We decided to walk out to the squash field this morning. We wanted to spend the time together, slowly making our way to the sunrise altar. Fucking stupid only a few days before the due date.
“Oh, wow,” Alannah exclaims.
“Does it hurt? Contractions? Am I bouncing you too much?” I pepper her with questions as I keep up my frantic pace.
“I can feel…pressure. I know it’s a contraction because my belly’s hard, but there’s no pain. This is weird.”
“I’m sure it’ll hurt when he comes out.” Not my brightest response based on my woman’s scowl. “How much liquid is supposed to come outta you? I’m drenched.”
“I’m not doin’ the weird questions, Kane. And if you think you’re drenched, imagine how I’m feeling.”
“I like it when you’re wet,” I purr, gifting me another pointed scowl.
I decide to shut my mouth and concentrate on my feet. When we round the edge of the tree line, I spot all the bearers outside of their place along with Alannah’s family and Chann. Dermot and Reagan made the trip down from Chicago. They all have mimosas in their hands ready to celebrate until they see me. Glasses hit the ground and everyone races toward me.
“What’s wrong?” Alex shouts, getting to us first.
“Water broke,” I heave out in labored breaths.
“Shit.”
That seems to be the reaction.
“Fill the pool,” Alex hollers.
The bearers running at us skid to a stop, knowing what that means. The dragons keep racing toward us while everyone else goes back in their place to set up the kiddie pool Alannah’s going to have our baby in. Caelan and Cait follow the bearers while Chann waits with Rory by the door for me.
“Pain?” Braden asks, in firefighter mode.
Between the dragons and Alannah, we’re confident we can deliver the baby without a hospital. If there are problems, we’ll call an ambulance. There won’t be any problems.
“No. Just pressure,” Alannah answers.
“Pushing pressure?” Emmett questions.
“I think they’re contractions.”
We step onto the porch, and Rory looks whiter than normal.
“She’s fine, bud. Just needed to get back here fast,” I assure him as we walk into the open space of the living area.
“Rory, I’m fine. We’re just havin’ a baby. Don’t worry,” Alannah adds on, and he sags in relief. He hasn’t been right since his memory came back. That light, kind smile hasn’t been on his face once, and his black eyes shine a bit darker now.
I held him all throughout the torturous experience when his past came back to haunt him, silently vowing to help him heal. I will. It’s just going to take us a long time.
Alannah groans as we walk up to the half-filled pool, bearers racing in and out of the earth-toned room with buckets.
“I need to push,” she grates out.
“What?”
“Now, Kane. Right now.”
I slip off my shoes and jump in the water with her, her wedding dress floating around us. Alex jumps in too, just as we planned. He settles himself behind Alannah as I push her dress out of the way, yank her panties off and look for my son.
“I don’t see anything,” I announce.
All the bearers are now kneeling around the pool, Caelan and Cait on either side of Alannah, whispering encouraging words. Chann and Rory are right behind her, looking at me.
“I have to push,” Alannah growls and then bears down, knocking her and Alex hard against the inflated pool side. Chann and Rory lean into them, offering more support.
My woman is completely silent as the water turns murky, bloody in a way that doesn’t seem normal. I shove my hand down. Nothing.
“Braden,” I rasp.
“I’ll call nine one one,” he announces.
“No,” Alannah grunts. “It’s fine. Sit down.”
Braden drops to his knees at the possessed voice of my woman. She keeps pushing, barely taking breaths in between, but nothing happens. I’m freaking out. I look at all the bearers, one by one, needing their strength. When I end on Rory, my heart drops. He has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.
But then his deep voice whispers, “Tashanu Nokrelah Grulmah.” Safety. Love. Peace.
And so it begins. As Alannah fights to bring my son into the world, we all begin to chant. It’s a low steady hum around the room. I keep my hands where they’re supposed to be, chanting with my eyes closed while I beg Sorcha to help us.
I know my mother. She will fight the gods if they try to take my son. There’s no way she would allow harm to come to me like this. I believe that. Crazy and all.
I put my hand on the swell of Alannah’s belly and will my son to enter the world. He’s fought so hard already. He can’t give up now.
Alannah digs her heels into the bottom of the pool and pushes back on Alex who winces from the contact, but remains solid in his support. His eyes are on mine, encouraging me to be strong.
Then it happens. There’s a head in my palm. I can’t see him through the dark water, but he’s coming.
“One more, Alannah,” I encourage my amazing wife.
She gives me one more, and I have my son. I swiftly pull him from beneath the water, ready to start CPR or something. When he breaks the surface, I look down and find the most serene face with big, blinking electric blues eyes.
His gaze locks on mine and I’m lost and found all at the same time.
My son.
Safe. Loved. Peaceful.
Writing Misunderstood Miracles has been a wild ride and I owe a lot of people thanks for getting me here to the finish line.
My husband is always at the top of my list because without him, I couldn’t do this. He supports me at every turn and loves me with every breath. I’m one of the lucky few to have found the match to my soul.
My children give me sanctuary in life. It’s through their eyes that I can still find peace and wonder in the world. I love you dearly, boys.
My mother is such an amazing foundation in my life. She’s always there at my back when I’m afraid I’ll fall. Thank you for being unconditionally devoted to me.
Chris, you give me everything and expect nothing in return. A friend like that is one to be cherished and I beyond cherish you.
Amanda, thank you for pushing me to write this and having the confidence in my abilities to get it done when I didn’t. This one’s for you.
Ruth, thank you for listening to me ramble about ideas and books. You’re such a fantastic addition to my life.
To the bloggers and reviewers who take chance after chance on me, thank you so much. I wouldn’t be where I am without you all.
Finally, to the readers. I can’t tell you how much you all mean to me. The idea that people from all ends of the world tak
e their time and their money to read my work is humbling in a way I’m not skilled enough to describe. Thank you for that and so much more. Please continue to reach out to me. There’s nothing better than chatting with readers!
Escaping the Blackness
A Cooper Brothers Novel
Valentine’s Day 2015
Gears of Love
Jordan Monroe’s story following Mugs of Love
Spring 2015
Blackness Takes Over
Blackness Awaits
Shrouded in Blackness
Into the Blackness
Blackness Within
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Originally from Kansas City, Missouri, Norma Jeanne recently found herself relocating to the United Kingdom. Now living in Belfast, she took hold of the opportunity to kick the 9-5 job for a chance to become an author. The best part: working from her home office, she gets to spend more time with her cast of crazy characters (written and real).
In her free time Norma Jeanne is a voracious reader and consumes books as readily as meals. She is a people watcher by nature and uses her experiences in life, observed or otherwise, to build the worlds and characters that thrive in her books. A believer in the strength of the human spirit, Norma Jeanne writes the stories of people that persevere when all appears to be lost.
Misunderstood Miracles Page 27