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How has he deduced all that? He barely knows her and rarely ever leaves the temple.
He glances at me from the corner of his eyes. “Don’t look so befuddled. You don’t give me enough credit, Noah.”
“Apparently, I don’t,” I grumble. “So you’re keeping tabs on us then? Did he ask you to do that?”
“No, I’m not. I’m simply observing,” he explains.
“Right.”
Lies. President Lawrence sent him. I know he did.
They’re watching me to see how I react to her getting to the front of the line.
The president’s testing me, but why?
Does he know what I’m planning to do?
Or are these just safety measures to ensure I don’t harm his daughter?
Or maybe, just maybe, he’s planning something else entirely different. My eyes widen. What if he intends to make her lead instead?
No. That can’t be possible. A woman leading this community? It’s never been done before, and the current president isn’t the type to ever allow a woman to be in that position.
But he might consider it … if his son-in-law is a devil he wants to get rid of.
Fuck.
I might’ve worked myself into my own grave.
“Don’t start making stuff up in your head, Noah. It’s not good for you,” my father says, eyeing me down. “I can see those little cogs twisting in your mind right now.”
“God, you know me so well,” I say with a sarcastic undertone.
“I’m your father. I should,” he says.
Suddenly, he starts coughing, and he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and holds it in front of his mouth. He quickly bunches it up and tucks it back into his pants again but not quickly enough for me not to notice what just happened.
Blood.
A few droplets, but it’s enough to make me question everything.
“Ignore that. Just a virus,” he says.
“Get well soon,” I reply, but I don’t mean it.
I hope it’s more than just a virus. Maybe he’ll finally drop dead, and then it won’t even make me a murderer.
“Thanks. Well, good luck with her,” he says, turning around. “You’ll need it now that she’s pregnant.”
I frown and spin around too, watching him walk off. “Why?”
He briefly pauses and glances at me over his shoulder. “Because once the child is here, she will be out of your control.” And he walks off, still coughing, leaving me clutching the banister, wondering if what he said was a threat or a warning.
A warning of what’s to come.
A wife with a baby can either be the most powerful ally you can possibly have or the most powerful enemy set out to destroy you.
Guess my only choice is to wait and see.
Natalie
“One, two, push!”
All the women say at once.
Everyone blows out a breath together with the woman giving birth, who’s having trouble keeping it together. She’s screaming out loud and sweating all over the place. What once was a pristine white dress is now covered in mucus, blood, and sweat, clinging to her body in a feverish nightmare.
“Water!” the woman screams, and I immediately get up and pour some into a glass. With a shaky hand, I put it close to her mouth, and she gulps it up gleefully.
Her thirst is quenched, but she’s still angered by the pain in her abdomen.
I don’t blame her.
But seeing this woman in labor right now makes all the memories pop right back to the front of my mind. I cringe as her face twists in agony, and her legs spread wide. The women surrounding her all smile as though they’re happy she’s hurting, and I don’t understand.
This is the first time I’ve attended a labor like this in the community, but it’s only one of many that happen every month. When I first came here, I heard the screams, but I ignored them, figuring whatever was in those huts was not for me.
But today, as I walked around the Holy Ground looking for places to help, I heard this woman’s screams and just knew I needed to be there to help in whatever way I could.
Women are brought into special birthing huts. Men are not allowed inside.
Which means no husband can ever support his wife or witness the birth of his own child. How cruel is that?
But at the same time, I understand. The women need space and support, and it’s a grueling process. The men will never understand what the women go through or what kind of strength it takes to push out this baby.
The baby’s head is crowning, and the fiery pain is visible on the woman’s face.
I don’t know her name, but I know she needs help right now. The fear and panic could frighten anyone, but not me.
“I’m here,” I say as I sit down next to her and grab her face, forcing her to look at me. “You’re safe. You can do this.”
“I can’t!” she yells.
I’ve said the same thing before.
