by Becky Durfee
Kayla hung her head; Jenny managed to stay strong enough to speak. “I know he did, but he paid for it. Somebody else killed him shortly after the train fire.”
Devon turned back around, his focus once again on the grave. After several moments he stood up, walking toward his mother. He looked up at her and said, “I can go now.”
Jenny wasn’t sure who had just spoken: Devon or Matthew. “What do you mean you can go now?”
“I mean, I can leave this place. I don’t have to be here anymore.”
Jenny was desperate to know who was talking, but she was still unsure. “Where do you want to go?”
“The good place,” he replied, turning to look Jenny in the eye. “Where Julia is.”
Devon walked slowly over to Jenny, who knelt down to look at him at his level. “But first, I want to thank you,” he said sincerely.
Jenny smiled, taking hold of his hand. “No need to thank me. I’m just glad you got your answers.”
Without another word, he wrapped his little arms around her neck in a tight hug, which Jenny returned. Eventually, he whispered into her ear, “Tell Mary I love her.”
Closing her eyes to battle her tears, Jenny replied, “I will.”
After holding the embrace for a few moments, Devon let go and turned to his mother. “Mom?” he began, “can I have my tablet?”
Two months later
“Oh my God, I can’t do this anymore,” Jenny exclaimed.
The labor nurse spoke reassuringly. “You’re making good progress.”
“Making good progress,” Jenny mumbled, unconcerned with being rude. “You’ve been telling me I’ve been making good progress for two hours now. If that was really true, I’d have had this baby an hour and a half ago.”
“It takes time,” the nurse replied patiently. “The baby has to get past your tailbone, which isn’t easy to do…especially when it’s your first baby.”
“Can’t you just take it?” Jenny asked. “It’s clearly not working this way.”
“A caesarean is not something we take lightly. We only do that in extreme circumstances.”
“I think this is extreme. I’ve been pushing for two hours.” Another contraction hit Jenny like a ton of bricks. “Shit,” she said as she began to push again. Zack held one of her feet as the nurse held the other, giving her some leverage as she strained with all of her might to the doctor’s count. After three exhausting pushes, the contraction subsided.
“I’m so done with this.”
“You’ve had a long labor, I’ll give you that,” the nurse said, “but you’re in the homestretch now.”
Jenny glanced at the clock—she was on hour number twenty-three. She’d had neither food nor sleep in a very long time, the epidural was wearing off, and she was about as grumpy and tired as she could be.
“Homestretch. You really can’t just take it? Then I’d be done.”
“You’re very close,” Doctor Patil assured her. “It won’t be long now.”
Jenny was not amused by the statement; they had said it too many times before. “Give me a time frame.”
“Within twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes is too long. Oh, dammit!” Another contraction ravaged her body. She managed three more pushes before the pain went away.
“That was a good one,” the doctor said. “Give me a few more like that and we’ll have ourselves a baby.”
…To be continued in Haunted.