by Emma James
The night before I’d been dreamin’ of evil ressurectin’ from the depths of hell. I felt it in dem bones of mine it be my time to pass so that I might be able to serve better elsewhere.
I be regrettin’ I couldn’t be warnin’ Edge and Whisper about the grief in their future, but I was not truly trustin’ in what I be dreamin’ because I didn’t want it to be so.
The night I gone and took my last breath, I was dreamin’ of red roses while a beautiful redheaded woman formed from rose petals as they be swirlin’ about in my dream distractin’ me from what was to come. She was somebody Stan Lee would’ve dreamed up and be immortalizin’ into one of his comics.
The petals formed a hand stretchin’ out to me as she softly called my name coaxin’ my spirit from my physical body, the scent of roses calmin’ me for my journey.
My heart gave out filled with the knowledge and grief of what be comin’ for my beloved family.
I may look old, but in spirit I ain’t got the aches and pains of my age.
I might look helpless, but I been granted some power.
Nobody wanna be messin’ with Miss Catherine’s family.
So help me, God.
Two Years
After Edge & Whisper’s
Engagement
“Oooow,” I moan in surprise as the sudden, unexpected tightening in my uterus forces me to uncomfortably curl onto my side on the daybed where I’m propped up against big European pillows enjoying a sexy scene in the book I’m reading.
When the tightening eases up, I readjust myself on the daybed and continue to read my book. It’s just one of those uneventful contractions, Braxton Hicks. I’ve still got four weeks to go until baby arrives.
Nothing to worry about, everything is okay.
“Oooow!” I drop the book a few minutes later and rub my belly, gently. It’s just a Braxton Hicks niggle—nothing to worry about. I repeat the mantra a few more times in my head.
I wait for the pain to ease up and readjust myself against the pillows before picking up the paranormal romance short-story. I locate the page I’m on and continue reading about Oberon, the sexy bear shifter rock star and the female he’s currently having his wicked way with.
I don’t get very far before my lower back is spearing with pain and I’m curling onto my side to cope with this awful pain that’s slicing into me, making it hard for me to catch my breath.
“Farking Braxton Hicks need to stop playing with my body,” I curse them softly. I only swear when I’m scared, and my gut feeling is I’m in trouble, but I can’t accept that conclusion with four weeks left to go. It has to be Braxton Hicks I’m experiencing.
It has to be!
Fear skyrockets when I am hit with more horrible pain.
I try my hardest not to morph into panic mode when my waters break flowing like a shaken up champagne bottle when the cork goes flying.
I shut my eyes tight, willing the memory that is fighting its way out of the box I sealed it up in as it tries hard to fill me up to the brim with fear and anxiety.
I refuse to go there.
Now is not the time.
There is no way anything terrible is going to happen to this baby.
The universe could not be so cruel.
I grab my cell phone and make the emergency call, finishing just as another contraction causes me to drop the device, moaning like a demon possesses me as I ride the hellish pain.
I have an urge to push, and I know that can’t be right this early.
Dammit! I’ve got four weeks left; I inwardly scream.
My cell phone rings. I connect and without hesitation I whisper-shout, “I think I’m in labor.” Thinking it is Edge.
I hear a muffled male voice through the phone, which is now somewhere on the ground where I flung it after nearly crushing the phone in my hand as I surfed another pain-filled wave.
“WHISPER!” Mathias? I hear the fear and urgency in my fiancé’s brother, who shouts from inside my house. “WHISPER!”
I’ve forgotten that Uncle Matty was coming to visit and play with his nephew and niece (read: watch over me) while their daddy is in an important meeting with Boxer and a few of the Soulless Bastards MC who are in San Diego to assist on an ‘assignment.’
All I can think is thank god an adult has arrived!
“Mathias…” I pant out while my hand is waving in the air. “I’m outside,” I moan deeply, hoping my voice carries to my phone.
Mathias bursts out into my garden like he is Usain Bolt, holding his phone to his ear, with eyes gone all manga-round, as they search for me.
With a look of alarm and a few not-so-quiet curse words, Mathias is by my side, crouching down with his phone forgotten. His face loses some color when he looks at my bent knees spread wide inside my navy-blue, long-sleeved dress, eyeing the water damaged daybed beneath me. ”Shit, Whisper, you’re in labor.” I don’t think Mathias quite believes it himself. “Oh… boy.” His Norwegian accent grows thicker as it really hits home the situation he sees me in.
I give Mathias a weak smile.
“Suuurprise.” Humor is the best weapon in a situation like this. “Our baby boy isn’t due for another four weeks!” I’m stating the obvious but it needs to be said out loud.
Mathias has blanked out, frowning and staring. I don’t think his brain has caught up to the surprise party he has walked in on.
The brothers by blood are of similar build and height. The resemblance to Edge when they both frown is uncanny, as I am only now noticing, although Mathias’s light brown hair is now longer than Edge’s. The Nordic tattoo beside his right eye—the diamond shape with two legs—crinkles while his mind takes the seconds it needs to get up to speed.
The next contraction hits me like an avalanche is trying to swallow me whole while at the same time I try not to push a watermelon through the snow. I so badly want to push.
Mathias watches on helplessly. I’m sure he’s trying to remember any TV show where the woman gives birth in a taxi.
I groan and grit my teeth, fisting the fabric of my dress while panting and trying not to sound like a demon possesses me and wait for the contraction to run out of steam.
Mathias snaps out of the headspace he has floated into. “Okay…um…right…fuck-shit-fuck”—he gently wipes my brow with a handkerchief from his pocket in an attempt to soothe my fears—”honey, I’ll call 911 and then Edge. Everything is under control. I’m here. You’re not alone. I’m with you until medical assistance can get here—”
I grip both of his wrists, halting the brow wiping and speech because I know it’s what he thinks he needs to be doing, right now, but it’s not. I’ve already given birth to three children and brow wiping is the last thing on the immediate agenda, because it is gonna get a hell of a lot messier and sweatier.
“911isdonetheparamedicsshouldbequickerthanyoudrivingmetothehospitalEdgecanmeetusthereIwillcallhimfromtheambulance.” And then I take a deep breath before pulling his hands away. With another contraction sure to hit I needed to get that all out.
“I think I got all that, honey. 911 is locked in; Edge isn’t, but I—”
“—Harper and Presley,” I whisper-shout, in a moment of motherly panic as I remember the twins.
Mathias’s head swings around the garden locating his nephew and niece. “They’re okay, honey,” he says, relief evident there is one less thing to worry about right now.
I can hear Harper and Presley laughing as they enjoy the spring weather, playing inside the fort that Edge and the men constructed for them oblivious to my situation.
I let out a mighty moan, grabbing Mathias’ shoulder, my teeth gnashing together, as another contraction hits. “Ooow... Mathias...” I pant out loud enough now to get the twins’ attention.
I try my hardest not to push. Mathias lends me his hand to crush while I ride out the contraction.
“Honey, I think we need to try and get Doc Evelyn on the line because…” Mathias tries to hide the worry etched into his eyes
by looking down at the daybed.
We both know this baby is coming, sooner than later. The contractions are getting closer together.
There is no room to feel embarrassment. I need to prepare myself. I desperately attempt hiking the skirt of my wet dress up and struggle to lift myself to peel my knickers off. “I want to push, Mathias,” I growl out in explanation of what I’m doing.
Mathias doesn’t hesitate. My knickers are torn on each side by the sheer strength of determination. He tugs them from under me as I raise my body enough to get the job done.
“Mom?” Presley calls out to me. “Uncle Matty?”
I tug on Mathias’ arm, so he moves enough for me to see the six and a half year old twins, over his shoulder. Presley has his sister, Harper, wrapped up in his arms, her head buried in his neck. My two brown-haired children have quietly moved nearer to us. Presley’s eyes bugging out of his head as he looks horrified at my bare vagina. His mouth twists as though he’s saying ‘ewww.’
“Mommy’s okay Presley and Harper,” I try to sound convincing, throwing in a smile that turns to a grimace as I grip the soft seating of the daybed and claw at Mathias’s shoulder as another persistent contraction burns through my body, alienating me from everybody.
I know Mathias is talking to me, but I can only concentrate on the pain and pushing.
Oh, God, I’m pushing.
My private hell keeps me captive until the contraction releases its agonizing hold on me for a brief reprieve.
I am trying not to be afraid for my baby, but the fear keeps creeping in, sending me into a mild panic, making it hard to concentrate on everything I should be doing to help my baby arrive safely.
“Oh, shi—oot! Mathias rumbles. There’s a look of shock on Mathias’s face. He’s spent the whole time being a gentleman, not looking down between my legs and now his eyes are glued there. “Oooh...fu—shoot!”
My hand goes between my legs, and I gently feel around. My baby boy has crowned, his head bulging between my legs, eliciting a panicked cry from me. It’s all happening too quickly.
“Whisper…honey, the baby... is coming!” Mathias talks slowly. I watch him physically swallow his fears, moving between my legs, getting down the business end of my va-jay-jay because baby Jagger has to come out—without the paramedics.
“We can do this, Whisper. It’s not your first rodeo. You can do this, honey”—Mathias nods at me, and I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw—”and I will do whatever it is instinct tells me to do,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you covered.”
The man is a soldier and a fighter, but he knows when he needs to call for backup. Mathias retrieves his phone from where he left it and has Doc Evelyn on speaker in seconds, giving an account of my predicament—with bullet point precision.
He’s rattling off answers to her rapid-fire questions at the same time as she’s getting in her car.
Another contraction hits me and all my body wants to do is pu—
“Is she pushing again, Mathias?” I can barely hear Evelyn through the noises I’m making as I bear down through the pain.
I’m trying not to scare the twins anymore than they probably already are, but I know I’ll be failing.
“Yes! The contraction hits, and she pushes.” His fears are rising. “Is she supposed to be doing that without you here?”
Evelyn replies, calmly, “Baby wants out, and you’re Whisper’s support team. I’ll be there in a few minutes; you need to hold down the fort until I can get there or the paramedics arrive. You both can do this. Remain calm for Whisper, and her body will do the rest. I’ve contacted Edge, and he’s doing his best to get there, safely.” Then she starts firing more questions at Mathias.
I throw out a silent prayer for medical intervention because I’m terrified for my baby.
I can’t lose this baby, too. Losing baby Cruz two months after losing Miss Catherine was earth-shattering, but now is for focusing on baby Jagger arriving safely; breathing and surviving. One step at a time. ”Mathias, we got this,” I say in a strained voice, trying to sound like we do when I’m not sure if I do.
I need Edge to calm me. I want a nice sterile area to give birth, but the daybed it is. I’m trying not to think of Edge recklessly speeding to get here because I know he will be. There’s a high possibility this baby is going to be born alive and well at home, in our garden with or without medical help.
Look at me being positive.
And then I’m grabbing Mathias without warning by the collar of his shirt and go all demonic woman on him when another contraction hits.
Mathias continues to report where I’m at with Evelyn without flinching at my assault.
“Puuush,” Mathias encourages me by dragging the word out, having received instruction from Evelyn. He leans forward making direct eye contact, anxiously encouraging me to bear-down and get the rest of my baby out.
I tuck my chin to my chest and grunt and groan as lady-like (read: not at all Blaire-like from the Exorcist) as I can in front of two sets of frightened little eyes.
“Sweetheart, you’re doing great. Doc Evelyn’s nearly here,” Mathias says looking back between my legs, a worried expression creeping onto his face before he looks back up at me wiping it clean and replacing it with encouragement.
I want to curse like a sailor, but two, nearly six and a half-year-olds are watching us, and I have to keep a lid on the language. Practice what you preach and all that jazz.
I need my denim jacket off. I am clawing at the sleeves because I feel hot and sweaty.
“Sweetheart, you want your jacket off?”
“Yes... too hot.”
“I got you.” Mathias alleviates me of the piece of clothing, and it feels so much better, and then he’s stripping his leather jacket off too, revealing a tight black T-shirt underneath. “How ‘bout the boots and socks go too?”
I laugh a little at his question. “Boots off, socks are good.”
Mathias manages to remove my calf-length brown boots before another contraction hits me.
And then I’m gripping his arm, my nails gouging his bare skin as another contraction steals the air from my lungs forcing out a bellowing moan that comes with a drugless natural birth.
“Puuush!” Mathias is getting with the pattern of contraction and push.
Rinse and repeat.
I’m bearing down with everything I’ve got.
I can hear Evelyn through the haze of pain, talking through the speaker, but I’m not taking in what she’s saying to him.
“Mathias…” I’m gasping through a Molotov cocktail of pain and fear.
“I know sweetheart, but you’ve got to get the little guy over the finish line. I’m ready to catch him.”
I’m beginning to feel very frightened for our baby when Presley brings Harper over, and she latches onto Mathias’ neck with her little hands, and then Presley is removing the large cushions and smooshing himself in behind me, rubbing my back.
“Mommy, I got you.” And all I want to do is bawl like a baby. He’s so like his daddy.
“Little man, brilliant idea,” Mathias says, adding, “Harper, honey, you hang onto me and help me to get your baby brother out.”
“WHISPER!” Evelyn hollers from the speaker, forcing me to focus on her voice. “I’m almost at your home, and I can see five motorbikes ahead of me. Edge is going to be there for you. Keep doing what Mathias tel—”
Another contraction hits me. I’m groaning loudly through it, giving my body what it needs to help get Jagger out.
“You’re doing great, Whisper, you’ve pushed a little bit more of him out,” Mathias says softly. I’m grateful I’m making progress, but it’s not quick enough progress.
Mathias turns his head to my daughter who is leaning back, clinging onto his back and holding his neck as though she needs the connection to anchor her, but is trying to be as far away as her little arms will allow. “Pumpkin, I need favor. I want you to go find me one of the baby blankets in the nursery.
Can you do that for me?”
Harper looks to her brother.
“You can do it, Harper, it’s an important job.” His six-year-old voice connects with her and gives her what she needs to unlatch herself and race inside.
Pain assaults my body again, and I want to scream and curse. There’s too much pain; my lower back hurts so much. I grunt and groan through another fire-fuelled contraction.
I rinse and repeat for God knows how long.
“WHISPER!” I hear Edge’s urgent holler as he races into the backyard, dropping down by my side. “Babe…” He kisses my forehead, wiping my sticky brow. He gives Mathias’s shoulder a quick squeeze in silent recognition. I catch the lump he’s swallowing. He’s trying not to show any fear in front of me.
“Is it a bad time to tell you how beautiful you look?” I let out a weak laugh. “Seriously, though, I love you with all my heart and you’re doing an incredible thing here.”
He ruffles his son’s hair. “Good job, buddy. I’ll hold Mommy’s hand, and you keep rubbing her back and neck.”
“Okay,” Presley whispers by my ear. I feel two wet fingers pat my cheek. “Kisses to you and the baby.”
I want to cry, but I hold it together. “Thank you, Presley,” I whisper back, my heart full of emotion.
“That’s my boy,” Edge murmurs proudly. “How are you holding up, babe?” Edge looks me in the eyes, knowing how scared I am.
“I’m better now you’re here.” Another contraction battles my body forcing me to noisily push as hard as I can, sweat coating my face. “I must look a treat.”
“Never more beautiful, babe.” Edge is doing a superb job of erasing the fear from his face and plastering a well-rehearsed gentle smile in its place.
A tear rolls down my cheek. I feel myself slipping into the dreaded panic zone.
I can’t lose it now.
Edge’s thumb caresses my cheek, wiping the evidence of the tear away. “You know you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I’m in awe of what you’re doing here for our family. I love you and wish I could make this painless for you, but you seem to have gotten a solid head start, which had me breaking some speed limits getting here. I’m so glad my brother was here for you.” He nods to Mathias who nods back.