Dandelion Dreams (31 page)

“I was out.”

“You didn’t answer your cell, either.”

“I didn’t take it with me.”

Her brow furrowed. “I was worried. We were all worried.”

Celia’s tone made me instantly defensive. Jules had moved out, leaving me to myself. I was a grown woman, a widow, and a soon to be a mother. I didn’t have to check in with anyone. “I’m not a teenager, you know? You can’t just barge in here and demand to know where I’ve been or what I was doing and why I didn’t answer my phone.”

She stood up slowly, her eyes blazing with something I didn’t understand. “I didn’t know if you were dead or alive.”

“You’re not my mother.” My voice was soft, but she flinched like I’d hit her. “It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay.”

“Then whose job is it?” she demanded. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “Or have you forgotten I was the one who sat you in a tub and washed your hair for you because you couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it?”

I dropped my eyes, shame flooding my cheeks. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to apologize, to tell her I’d needed her then. I knew I wouldn’t have gotten through those first few weeks after Kai died without her.

I was slowly regaining my strength and I didn’t need to be reminded of my fragility. I needed courage; I needed fortitude. Falling apart had not changed the fact that Kai was gone and I was alone. And in the end, it was up to me to put the broken pieces back together.

No one could do it for me.

“Fine, Sage. I’ll stop hovering.”

“Good. I don’t need a keeper.”

Her eyes bore into mine, glittering with tears and pain. Her hand dropped down by her side and she turned and walked out of my home. Guilt gnawed at me, but I shoved it down, burying it as deep as it would go.

I had other things to worry about.

•••

Shifting my position on the couch, I pressed a hand to my back, trying to ease the cramp that had taken up residence. Unable to get relief, I stood, massaging my lower spine. I was walking around the living room when the front door burst open.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve!” Luc yelled.

“What is it with you people? Ever hear of knocking?” I snarled.

He held up his key.

“Give it back! It’s given you far too much power. It’s given
all
of you too much power.”

Disregarding what I’d said, Luc shoved the key into his pocket. I was tired of people not listening to me.

“I mean it, Sage.” Luc stalked towards me, looking like he wanted to do me bodily harm. “My mother hasn’t stopped crying.”

I saw
Chat
leap onto the couch. He swished his tail, watching Luc with predatory eyes. I wouldn’t put it past him to go for the jugular.

“Why are you pushing people away?” he asked, his voice softer.

“I’m not trying to push people away.”

“Like hell you’re not.”

“I went for a drive, Luc. And I didn’t check in or answer my phone. I’m an adult, or have all of you forgotten?”

“We haven’t forgotten,” he said. “We just care about you. We’re still worried. Can’t you cut us a little slack? Do you hear me, at all?”

“I hear you,” I murmured. “But maybe you need to listen to
me.
I’m doing this the only way I know how, and ultimately, it’s up to me to find a way to… live… without Kai.” Was I finding a way to live without Kai? Sometimes, I felt like I was nothing more than a delusional mess. Where were my moments of clarity?

He gaze softened in understanding. “I’m sorry I barged in here.”

“Does that mean you’ll give me back my key?”

He smiled. “No.”

The cramp in my lower back intensified, and I groaned in pain. There was a gush between my legs. “And I think my water just broke.”

“You’re not due for another month.”

“Baby has other plans.”

“Blood,” Luc whispered.

“What?”

“It’s blood.”

It was all so familiar. My first child—the one I had lost in a haze of blood and pain.

It was happening again.

Terror seized me.

Luc rushed me to the car.

And as he sped towards the hospital, I waited, wondering if the last piece I had of Kai would be taken from me, too.

•••

Faces swam in and out of my vision. I attempted to speak but couldn’t. There was the sound of rushing water in my ears, crashing waves inside my head. My back was on fire; so was my arm. Someone’s voice. Deep, resonant. I looked towards it. Saw nothing but blackness.

Eventually, I came to, feeling like a burlap sack of bones. A middle-aged nurse changed my IV bag. She had a warm smile, but tired eyes.

“What happened?” I asked. My lips were dry, chapped, and my throat parched, like I’d drunk a glass of sand.

“Your placenta ruptured.”

I tried to sit up, but the nurse put a gentle hand on my shoulder and forced me back. “My—my daughter—is she—”

“She’s healthy. The doctor did a caesarean and she came out screaming.”

Tears gurgled from deep within. They were tears of feeling everything I had ever felt all at once.

“Would you like to hold her?”

I nodded and sniffed, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. I expected the nurse to leave my room, but I was surprised when she went to a bassinet on wheels in the corner. She came back with a swaddled little package. I reached out, and she set the baby into the cradle of my arms.

My daughter was pink—ethereal—with ears the color of coral. I counted her fingers and toes, and I brought my lips to her head, which was covered in light blonde fuzz. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks in soft fans. She was asleep and the corner of her mouth curled upward.

I finally knew what my mother had been trying to tell me. My daughter was my greatest masterpiece, and I loved her instantly. It was swift and constant, like a river bursting through a dam. All the gray leaked out of me; my heart grew, swelling to make room for the tiny thing who had become my light.

“Have you thought of a name?” the nurse, whose presence I’d momentarily forgotten, asked.

Unable to tear my eyes away from my daughter, Kai’s daughter, I nodded. Her name came to me like a whispered dream. And it was perfect. Just like she was.

There was a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head and looked into Celia’s eyes.

“She’s okay. You both are,” Celia whispered.

I swallowed, emotion clogging my throat. I stared into my child’s face—the face of unique perfection.

The nurse left us alone and we sat in silence, two women, two mothers, who understood this moment without the need for words.

•••

Thank you for reading!
Season of the Sun
is available for preorder on Amazon and releases March 22, 2016.