“I think… I think I can see it?” Casey says, and I glance down at Sierra, making sure she’s gone before I let go to move to his side.
“That’s it. Just carefully cut her womb open.” My heart is racing as I watch his hands carefully maneuver the knife. It’s incredible to see, and I’m relieved that the baby is still moving a little when Casey lifts it out.
I immediately reach over, taking my new son in my hands to gently pat him on the back, clearing his lungs, and his cry is the first one I’ve appreciated today.
He’s alive.
Something good has actually come out of this nightmare of betrayal.
Smiling, I nod at the cord. “Cut that, Casey.”
With a slice, my son is in my arms, and I pull him close to my chest, wiping his face clean of the mess. “It’s a boy,” I announce to everyone, but no one is smiling except for me and Casey. “Are any of you going to welcome your little brother?”
“Hello, brother.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Welcome to the family.”
None of their voices are filled with joy, and I look around at all of them as the little one in my arms squirms and cries.
“Each and every one of you need to make a decision right now about whether you want to be a part of this family or not. We’ve already got a few holes to dig, and if you want me to dig another… just ask.” The smile hasn’t left my face, and I’m sure it’s because I’m holding life in my hands instead of taking it. I don’t want to put any of my other children in the ground, but if Richter taught me anything today… it’s that you have to tear out betrayal by the root. As soon as it appears.
Otherwise who knows what can happen?
“I love you, Daddy,” Xoe says, her voice hushed as she bounces Embry on her hip, and it’s like my girl’s response unlocks the rest of them.
Each of my children repeat it, and I glance at Skylar, but she’s not moving. Her eyes are still glued to the bloody mess that used to be Cleo, and I decide to be gracious. I’ll let her think about it while I find something to wrap my new son in.
“I’ll be right back. Why don’t you kids work on cleaning this up while I take care of this little guy.” Nodding at Casey, I wait for him to nod back, confirming that he’ll watch them—and I know he will. He’s always been a good boy, and today just proved his commitment to this family.
My memories of Luke’s house are still as vibrant as ever, and my feet carry me upstairs and down the hall to his door. Opening it, I swear that for a moment I can almost smell him… but I’m sure I’m just imagining it.
The small bathroom off his room is exactly what I need to wash my son clean of his tainted mother’s blood, and while I make sure the water is the right temperature… it doesn’t take long for him to be perfectly clean.
And I know just what he should be wrapped in.
Stepping into the bedroom again, I open Luke’s closet and run my fingers over his shirts while I bounce the babe in one arm. This is perfect. Simple, black cotton, and although I know it’s unlikely, when I put it to my nose I’m convinced that I really can smell Luke again.
“This was your grandpa’s,” I tell the babe as I carefully wrap him in the shirt to keep him warm. “His name was Luke, and he started our family. He taught me what a family needs to stay together, and I promise I’ll teach you too so you can carry on the Greene family legacy.” My voice glides to a stop as I realize I haven’t named my son yet, but I don’t want to rush it.
So much has happened today, and I should wait until I can think more clearly. Usually I’d let his mother help make the decision, but that won’t be possible this time. It’ll just be me and him.
Looking over Luke’s clothes, I wonder if any of them could fit me. It would be a tiny way for me to feel closer to him one last time. In his home, our home. I’m about to shut the closet door when a small bag on the floor catches my eye and I lean down to drag it out. Moving over to the bed, I put it down and gently lay my son beside it.
“Let’s see what Luke was hiding,” I say to my son, smiling down at him.
When I unzip the bag, pulling the clothes out of it, I’m confused to find what looks like a nun costume. It’s high quality though, the fabric thick, even though it seems old.
Could this have belonged to one of his wives? A keepsake?
There are some photos in the bottom, but it’s no one I recognize, and the babe starts crying again before I get enough time to look at them. Shaking my head, I leave it all on the bed, my new bed, and pick up my son again, rocking him gently.
It’s so much quieter up here. More peaceful. The boy seems to feel the same way because he stops crying, only squirming a little in the crook of my arm as I walk around Luke’s bedroom.
Things have changed, been moved around, but much of it is familiar. It’s the same bed. The same furniture. I run my hand along the footboard, memories clattering inside my mind, but I push them away for now.
Turning around, a frame on top of the dresser pulls my attention and I sway as I walk closer to stare into the eyes of a woman. She’s smiling a little, absolutely beautiful, and I wonder if I’ll ever find out who
