Before She Dies (Slaughter Creek) (3 page)

Ben tried to comfort Amelia, but she screamed so hard that her little round face turned beet red, and her legs kicked and thrashed working their way out of the blanket.

Sadie snuggled into Norma’s arms though and nursed, content and peaceful.

Maybe it was him. He’d heard that babies picked up on their parents’ nerves. Maybe that was the reason Amelia couldn’t quiet down.

“Shh, little one,” he murmured as he walked her back and forth. “Don’t cry. Daddy’s here. I love you, baby.”

But instead of calming, her screams intensified.

“Maybe you should try feeding her,” Ben said, feeling totally inept. He’d failed as a husband. He couldn’t pay his bills.

He’d missed his children’s births.

Now he couldn’t even comfort his own daughter.

But when he handed the baby to Norma, she continued to fuss.

Fear paralyzed him. Was something wrong with Amelia?

He should tell the doctors right now to test her.

But he looked at the joy on his wife’s face, and he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the moment.

Chapter Three

Two years later

The screams woke Norma again, a shrill sound that reeked of terror and fear and monsters in the dark.

A sound that made the walls of the old wood house vibrate as it echoed in the night.

A sound that tore at her heart.

She leapt from bed and raced to her twin daughters’ room. This was the third time this week Amelia had woken up screaming, crying, terrified, inconsolable, although God knows Norma tried her best to comfort her and find out what was causing the nightmares.

She rocked and sang and patted and danced and did everything in her power to soothe her, but lately nothing worked.

Rain and wind beat at the windows, rattling the windowpanes and sending a tree branch scratching at the foggy glass.

She wrapped her robe around her, shivering as a chill enveloped her. She felt like such a failure, like God was punishing her for some wrong she’d done. If only she knew what it was, she’d change it and beg for forgiveness.

Anything to help her little girl.

Because something was wrong with her daughter. She just didn’t know what it was.

Her husband couldn’t handle the endless sleepless nights and screaming and had walked out three weeks ago.

The truth was, he’d been distant and strange ever since the girls’ birth as if something was eating away at him, but he refused to discuss what was on his mind or attend counseling.

She’d begged him to confide in her, but the more she pressed, the more he brooded. And Amelia’s cries exacerbated the situation.

The scream resounded again, louder, making her shudder with worry as she opened the nursery door.

Two-year-old Sadie was sound asleep, but Amelia thrashed at the covers, her eyes wide, her body shaking.

Another ear-piercing scream split the air, and Norma dashed to the bed and scooped her baby into her arms. But instead of snuggling up to her and calming, Amelia fought and scratched, pulling her hair and screaming at the top of her lungs as if her body was on fire.

Tears blurred Norma’s vision as she spoke softly to Amelia, trying to calm her. “Shh, baby girl, Mama’s here, it’s all right.”

But Amelia kicked and wailed and yanked her hair again, pulling so hard that several strands came out in her small, thin hand.

A helpless feeling overwhelmed Norma, but she steeled herself to make it through the night. She wrapped her baby in her arms, struggling to hold onto her sanity as her daughter beat at her and cried.

Finally too exhausted to stand, Norma carried Amelia to her room, dropped down into the rocking chair, and began to sing a lullaby, stroking Amelia’s baby fine hair and inhaling the scent of baby powder, lotion and all the sweet things little girls were made of.

But frustration knotted her shoulders and neck when Amelia didn’t quiet.

She had to do something.

Tomorrow she’d carry Amelia to the doctor and insist he run tests.

She’d do anything she could to make sure Amelia received the help she needed to be healthy and have a happy life.

Guilt ate at Ben as he finished his shift at the construction site. The foreman handed him a paycheck, and he headed to the bank. He needed to deposit some money in Norma’s account for the girls.

Coward.

Money didn’t compensate for him not being there, and he knew it.

But Amelia’s cries and nightmares had intensified to the point that he hadn’t been able to sleep or think about anything but the fact that he’d passed on some horrible disease to his daughter.

That if it wasn’t for him, she’d be happy and healthy. That maybe Norma and Sadie were better off without him.

But the hurt on Norma’s face when he’d packed his bag tormented him. She was exhausted and just as worried as he was, but she hadn’t walked away from their child.

Mentally berating himself wasn’t helping her though.

He had to get his shit together and find a way to tell Norma the truth.

Confessing might tear them even further apart, but Norma deserved to know that he hadn’t left because he didn’t love her and the girls.

He did love them. With all his heart.

Sweating, he climbed in his truck and drove to the graveyard where his sister was buried, then knelt by her grave. Her illness had taken its toll on his parents, had driven his father to drink and his mother to seek love in any bed she could find.

He traced a finger over Geneva’s headstone, then the date she’d died. She’d only been eleven. The chromosome disorder had caused a multitude of health problems and had eventually eaten away at her body and brain until she hadn’t even known her name.

Was that going to happen to Amelia?

No, dammit.

He stood and paced past the grave to the river, then picked up a stone and hurled it across the water. The rock skimmed the surface, skipping along the waves and splashing to the bottom below.

The winter wind picked up and tossed leaves across the embankment, whirling others into the river. The dead leaves floated on the surface, brittle and crumbling as they floated downstream and were swallowed by the current.

Just like he’d felt for the last two years.

But it was time he stepped up and forgot about his own pain. His girls deserved better.

He shouldn’t have left Norma and the twins. What kind of man deserted his family when they needed him?

A bastard, that’s the kind.

He tossed another rock in the river and watched it disappear, then turned and strode back to his car.

He had to confess the truth to Norma. If she hated him, he’d have to live with it.

Maybe doctors had made progress in treating the disorder in the last few years. Maybe they’d found a cure or a treatment that he didn’t know about.

Feeling better now he’d decided to take action, he started the engine and headed to the apartment he’d rented on the other side of the mountain. He’d look up the specialists in Nashville and make an appointment for Amelia before he saw Norma. Maybe he’d even have hope to offer her when he saw them.

He’d do whatever he had to do in order to take care of his family.

Norma rocked Amelia in her arms as she sat in the waiting room at the free clinic. The room was packed with mothers and children who needed vaccinations, well baby checks and medicine.

A little girl named Grace Granger was perched in the corner, her small body jerking and spasming as if she was having a seizure. Another boy named Joe Swoony grunted as he banged his head against the wall.

An uneasy feeling slivered through her. When she’d first moved to Slaughter Creek, she’d envisioned a perfect life with Ben in this small town.

And Sadie
was
thriving, talking and laughing.

But Amelia was doing none of those things.

The nurse, a plump woman named Myrna, stepped from the back. “Miss Nettleton, the doctor will see you now.”

Norma shifted Amelia in her arms, but Amelia shook her head violently. “No, no, no…Bessie no go.”

Norma patted her back. “It’s okay, honey. You’re not getting a shot today.”

“Bessie no go, no go!” Amelia hit her with her fists.

The nurse scowled at Amelia and led her into an exam room.

One of the doctors who volunteered at the clinic entered the room, a stuffed toy attached to his stethoscope. “Hello there, Norma.” He leaned toward Amelia, but Amelia ducked her head into Norma’s shoulder and clawed her arm.
“How is our precious little Amelia today?” Dr. Sanderson asked.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Norma said.

“Is she sick? Running a fever?”

Norma shook her head. “No, it’s the night terrors, the screaming. Her …behavior. I’d like for you to run some tests.”

He narrowed his eyes. “She’s two, Norma. Two-year-olds have temper fits.
We discussed this before -- children develop at different rates.”

“I know that,” Norma said. But her motherly instinct warned her there was more. “But I’ve been reading about autism, about genetic disorders that cause developmental delays, about psychological problems that start at an early age. Maybe she has a chemical imbalance.”

“Those tests are expensive and not covered by your insurance,” he said with a condescending smile. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting, maybe being paranoid?”
Sometimes, yes. But she didn’t want to risk her daughter’s health.

“Maybe I am just a worrying mother. And if my insurance doesn’t cover it, I’ll find a way to pay. But I still want you to recommend a specialist who can run a battery of tests.”

Dr. Sanderson released an irritated sigh. “All right, let me make some phone calls.”
She nodded, the nurse stepped in and whispered something low in his ear. A frown marred his face when he looked back up at her. “Excuse me just a moment.”
He followed the nurse out of the room, and Amelia lifted her head slightly. “Bessie home.”

Norma rubbed Amelia’s back. Bessie was Amelia’s imaginary friend. But sometimes Amelia talked as if she
was
Bessie.

Amelia’s chart was lying on the table by the wall, and Norma inched over and opened the file. There were notations about Amelia’s vaccines, a patient number three, which she didn’t quite understand, then another section where the doctor had scribbled notes about Amelia’s development.

So he
had
noticed something abnormal.

“Potty,” Amelia said, kicking her legs. “Bessie potty.”

Norma headed to the door knowing timing was crucial.

But still she wanted to study Amelia’s file.

“Potty, potty, potty, potty!” Amelia wailed.

Norma opened the door. The bathroom was on the other side of the office space, but as she stepped into the hallway, she saw the doctor talking on the phone in a hushed voice, his back to her.

“Listen to me,” he said, “Norma Nettleton is asking questions about one of the twins. We have to do something before she finds out what’s we’re doing at the clinic.”

Norma’s chest clenched. What was he talking about?

“Yes, but her daughter Amelia is exhibiting adverse signs.” His voice grew lower, almost ominous. “All right, just take care of it. My reputation is on the line.”

The doctor pivoted, and Norma darted back into the exam room and closed the door.

Amelia had always balked at coming to the clinic, but she’d assumed it was typical childhood fears.

The image of Grace Granger and Joe Swoony in the waiting room taunted her. They had been treated by the same doctors, and all three of them obviously had developmental problems.

Amelia grunted, making odd noises in her throat.

“We’re going home, baby,” Norma whispered, rocking Amelia in her arms.

She grabbed Amelia’s file and tucked it in her purse.

The door opened, and the doctor strode in, his brows furrowed. “Now, where were we?”

“I …I’m sorry, something came up. I have to leave.” She threw her purse over her shoulder, then rushed past him out the door.

In the waiting room, children were building with blocks in the corner. But Joe Swoony was rolling on the floor making guttural sounds. Grace Granger was beating her face as she rocked back and forth, her gaze latched on the wall.

Norma ran outside, cradling Amelia close to her. “Shh, darling,” she whispered as she strapped her in her car seat.

A minute later, she drove toward home. Sadie was napping at her mother’s, so she dashed back to her house and tucked Amelia in her crib to rest.

Amelia fussed and cried, screaming as if there were monsters in the room. But finally after patting her for half an hour, she fell asleep.

Her nerves on edge, Norma made herself a cup of tea, took the medical file to the table and began to read.