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Daddy was standing in front of the fire. In the yellow-red firelight, they could see the trembling in his hands, but other than that, he was as still as stone. His quick breathing sliced through the darkness.
Mama walked to the back door. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, call 911."
"What?" Daddy yelled.
Mama ignored him and went outside. There was a minute of breath-laden silence, then Daddy swiveled away from the fireplace and started pacing. The loud thudding of his heels and the quickened tenor of his breathing filled the room, giving everything a dangerous edge.
"Damn you," he hissed into the darkness, "damn you."
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Spinning toward the wall, he drew his arm back and slammed his fist into the wooden wall.
Savannah flinched. Katie melted against her sister, making tiny mewling sounds of fear. Savannah clutched her midsection. The need to go to him, to touch him and tell him she loved him, was like a burning ache in her heart. She took a hesitant step forward, then froze. He wouldn't want her comfort. He never did.
"Damn you," he yelled again.
Savannah fought the sting of tears. In the quavering firelight, she saw the smear of blood on the wall, and the sight made her sick to her stomach.
Don't hurt yourself, Daddy, she prayed. She ain 't worth it.
Silently Savannah and Katie went back into their bedroom and shut the door. Crawling into bed together, they huddled close, drawing strength from each other. They didn't speak; there was nothing to say. It was a long time before either one of them stopped thinking about their daddy. And longer still before they fell into a fitful, troubled sleep.
The next morning Tess was wakened by a gurgling, mewling sound. Blinking tiredly, she pushed to a sit.
"I'm coming, Caleb," she said. Shoving the quilt back, she hobbled over to the cradle and cautiously picked him up.
"Morning, Caleb," she cooed, staring down into his pink, unbelievably cute face.
He blinked up at her and started crying. Tess felt a tremor of anxiety. Suddenly he didn't look so cute. He looked ... intimidating.
All at once, the magnitude of her responsibility hit Tess like a shot between the eyes. She was a mother now. A mommy. That was more than picking out clothes and reading-
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stories and kissing downy cheeks. It was everything. His tiny, innocent life was in her hands.
A vague, formless fear bit into her self-confidence as she made her way back to the bed and crawled under the quilt. She swallowed thickly. Nothing in her solitary, isolated life had prepared her to take care of this baby. She was a doctor of microbiology, for God's sake, not a caretaker. She didn't know how to stop a baby from crying, and she had no time to learn. The responsibility of Caleb's life was hers. Now.
She wished to hell he'd come with an instruction book.
Timidly, Tess stroked the velvet-soft side of his face with fingers that were suddenly shaking and cold. "Shh, baby, shh ..." The words tumbled from her lips over and over again in a hypnotic, tranquil roll.
Except that Caleb was not hypnotized or tranquilized. His cry strengthened, took on an ear-shattering quality. His face turned an unattractive shade of red.
Her breasts started to tingle. Moisture gushed across the front of her nightgown, dampening the fabric. She unbuttoned her gown. The wet fabric fell open to reveal her naked breasts.
Tess took one look and screamed.
Startled by her outburst, Caleb sucked in his breath and stared up at her for a heartbeat. Then he squeezed his puffy eyelids shut and let out a banshee wail that set Tess's ears ringing.
The door flew open and cracked against the other wall. Jack barreled into the room. "What is it?" he panted.
Too horrified to be embarrassed, Tess pointed sickly at her chest. These couldn't be my breasts, she wanted to say. They couldn't be anyone's.
Jack stared at the Hall-of-Famer set of mammaries. "Y-You ready to be wrapped?"
"Wrapped?"
