Keeping them would be selfish. She’d suffered years with her husband. The babies’ only chance for survival and happiness was away from their father.
She got out of the car and stood for a moment, her heart breaking into a million pieces.
Which one did she abandon first?
Dear Lord.
She pressed her knuckles to her lips, tears drenching her face. It might as well be her husband asking her to choose a favorite so he could kill the other.
How could she abandon either one?
She had to remind herself, yet again, that he’d find her. When he did, if she still had them, he’d kill her babies and then her.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she yanked open the back door, dumped the contents of the diaper bag, unbuckled the nearest baby from the car seat, wrapped it in a blanket, kissed its cheek, then carefully fitted the baby into the bag.
Then she shut the door, locked the car with the other baby inside and started the walk of fear and heartache. Quicky crossing to the side of the building, she kept to the shadows and made her way to the emergency room entrance. In the shade of a big tree, she stopped to study the door, watching the EMTs unload a stretcher. Hospital staff rushed out to help.
As they all moved into the hospital, working over the patient, she made her move toward the ambulance. The driver stood with a security guard at the entrance, talking, their gazes on the people working the patient.
With their attention diverted, she ran around the far side of the ambulance and eased the driver’s side door open.
The baby in the diaper bag stirred. She lifted it out of the bag, stared down at its beautiful face and pressed a kiss to each cheek. “I’ll love you forever,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. “You’ll have a better life without me or your father. Goodbye, my darling.”
Giving the baby one more kiss, she laid it on the driver’s seat.
Before she lost her nerve and decided to keep her baby, she fished the little box out of her pocket, found the necklace with an A etched into the silver disk and looped it over the baby’s head. Again, she kissed her baby’s sweet cheek.
Tears filled her eyes as she softly closed the door. After a quick glance toward the ER entrance, she darted across to the parking lot where she’d left the car and the other twin.
She dove behind the driver’s seat. For a moment, she leaned her head against the steering wheel and let the tears fall.
“Dear God, what have I done?” she sobbed as she waited, unwilling to leave until she was certain someone found the baby and took it inside the hospital.
Keeping her head low, she peered over the top of the steering wheel.
Moments later, the paramedic emerged from the hospital and strode for the ambulance. The driver fell instep. Together, they rounded the end of the vehicle, secured the door and continued to the front on either side.
Her heart in her throat, she waited.
The driver opened the doorstepped up on the running board, paused and leaned in. Seconds later, he leaned out and looked around, his lips moving as if talking to the other first responder. Then he leaned into the cab and brought out the blanket-wrapped bundle.
The man stepped down, cradling the infant in his arms. He walked around the vehicle, was met by his partner and took the baby into the hospital.
A sob escaped her lips as she started the engine. When another car pulled out of the parking lot, she followed, tears streaming down her face.
The remaining baby whimpered in the back seat, reminding her she wasn’t finished. The second twin wouldn’t be safe until she was similarly deposited as an abandoned baby. But she couldn’t leave her in the same town, or state, for that matter.
With very little of the cover of night remaining, she headed north to Omaha, Nebraska, picking up speed.
Two hours later, she breathed a small sigh of relief as she crossed the border from Missouri into Iowa. A different state. A different child welfare organization.
She didn’t have enough time to make it to Des Moines before the sun came up. Omaha was closer. Just another forty minutes, and she’d be there.
Exhaustion made her eyelids droop. She slapped her face several times. If it weren’t so cool outside the car, she would have rolled down the window. But with the baby in the backseat, she couldn’t.
Her eyelids slipped closed, only for a second. Her chin dipped toward her chest.
A loud horn sounded, jerking her awake to the headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer rig.
