Hungry Independents (Book 2) (9 page)

Margaret covered her yawn and stretched.
“Hello, Catherine. You’re smaller than I remember.”

“How’s the head?”

Margaret sat up from where she’d been resting
on the big yellow sofa in the waiting area of Luis’s clinic. She
felt fantastic, like she had slept for years and her body was
reborn in the spirit. She patted her chest and became worried when
she couldn’t locate her cross.

Catherine reached into the pocket of her
jeans and pulled out the golden chain with the cross dangling at
the end. She twirled it on her finger. “I had Scout pick this up
for you. I knew you’d want one as soon as you came around.”

Margaret reached out and took it from her in
mid-swing. “You shouldn’t treat it like that.”

“Molly, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Margaret gazed at her twin brother, Mark. She
felt a pang of regret, knowing this was all going to sound very
confusing to him. Mark believed only what he could see, and what
she had to explain was so much more than visual.

“I’m fine.” She rubbed the back of her head
and found nothing. Catherine was just coming up with an excuse as
to why Margaret was unconscious. Mark’s eyes were filled with
concern, so Margaret shrugged. “Just a little bump.”

“Why was she calling you Margaret? I thought
you hated your full name.”

Molly did hate the name, but Margaret didn’t
have the same issues. Molly hated the old fashioned stuffiness of
Margaret. Old fashion suited Margaret just fine. All this thinking
in two different mindsets felt weird. Molly had a separate life of
seventeen years, but now that Margaret had returned, Molly would
have to acclimate.

“Oh, it’s not so bad when Catherine uses
it.”

The door that separated the actual clinic
side to Luis’s swung open. Vanessa held the knob, looking very much
in control, but worry filled her eyes. She wore a blue sterile
gown, a matching cap, and a mask covering her mouth. She’d been
through a pregnancy before and knew the large amount of risk
associated with bringing a life into the world for both the child
and the mother. Vanessa would have bled to death when she delivered
David if it hadn’t been for Catherine’s timely arrival. Margaret
knew timing had nothing to do with it. Everything was related and
timed to the second according to His plan.

Vanessa pulled the mask down. “Catherine, you
better get in here and tell us what’s going on. Luis is concerned
because Ginger’s having contractions but her cervix is not
dilating.”

Margaret reached for Catherine’s hand. “What
is it?”

“He’s tangled in the umbilical cord.”

Margaret sighed, stood up, and brushed off
her jeans. She looked down at the print of a naked baby swimming
after a dollar bill on her shirt. She smiled when she remembered
Samuel’s reaction to seeing her wearing it. Now she thought the
shirt was very appropriate, even though she didn’t understand the
part about the dollar bill.

“Wrapped umbilical,” she said, walking toward
the door. “Is that all?”

“Um, Molly,” Vanessa said, blocking her way.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think Catherine is the one we need
right now.”

Catherine stepped up beside Margaret. “No,
this is all Molly. She has a knack for this sort of stuff. Trust
me.”

There was little trust in Vanessa’s hardened,
worried expression.

Catherine reached out and patted Vanessa’s
hand. “Trust me,” she said again with a smile. “I’ll be in there
too if that will help your confidence.” Catherine took Vanessa
inside and Margaret followed, leaving Mark standing by the yellow
sofa.

Ginger lay on the narrow hospital bed in
discomfort. Lines from the struggle of childbirth were drawn on her
face. Her hair hung in sweaty strands, pasted against her cheeks.
But that was not the thing that stopped Margaret dead in her
tracks.

The transparent form of Jimmy hovering next
to Ginger’s side nearly keeled her over.

Catherine nudged Margaret in the ribs.
“What’s wrong?”

Margaret gave Catherine a slow look.

“Oh, you mean him. Yeah, he crossed back over
with Samuel. Nice timing, right?”

Margaret held up her cross and kissed it,
then tucked it down the front of her shirt, letting its comfort
rest against her skin. She stepped closer to the group around
Ginger and avoided looking at Jimmy as long as she could. Finally
the compulsion overwhelmed her. She glanced straight into his eyes
just in time to see Vanessa walk through his chest and make a
comment about how chilly the air felt. Jimmy’s ethereal form
swirled with Vanessa’s passage then reinstated itself. He smiled at
Margaret.

His face held that same concern and worry
that often accompanied it in life. Would it always mark him or was
there peace with death? Margaret thought she should remember, but
had she ever truly died?

Jimmy’s hand fell through Ginger’s wrist as
his attention drifted back to the only girl he’d ever loved.
Margaret, or rather Molly, had wished for Jimmy’s affections. She
smiled when she realized it was a year ago. Time worked in slow,
meandering cycles, especially if you lived multiple life spans in
the service of God. Jimmy had made the right choice.

Ginger groaned and twisted in bed. She
reached out and gripped Margaret’s hand. Margaret squeezed it
reassuringly and prayed. The Lord granted her a steady dose of His
power and light to ease Ginger’s pain.

Ginger’s eyes opened wide. “Molly?”

“How do you feel?” Margaret asked.

“Better, but how? Are you doing this?”

Vanessa and Luis stood on either side of
Jimmy. The two living people glanced at one another and then, along
with Jimmy, turned curious eyes on Margaret.

Catherine beamed one of her brightest smiles.
“They always seem so shocked.”

Margaret shrugged at the group who believed
she was still just Molly. “There’s been a small change. Let me help
Ginger deliver her baby then I will tell you what I can.”

Incomprehensible expressions remained and, in
Vanessa’s case, it might have worsened. Margaret avoided further
delay and gave Ginger her undivided attention.

Ginger’s belly quivered with life. Her breath
came in rapid pants as she fought through another wave of labor
pains. Margaret supplied more light to help her cope with the
contractions. Vanessa gasped. A soft pink light pulsed in
Margaret’s hand as she held Ginger’s.

Catherine circled the bed. “Excuse me,” she
said to Jimmy’s spirit, and stepped through him next to Vanessa.
She patted Vanessa’s hand. “Why don’t you have a seat? It’s about
to get a lot brighter and I’m going to be helping out. I don’t want
you to fall and hit your head.”

Vanessa nodded and found the chair next to
the wall. Margaret guessed it wasn’t everyday you found out your
sister-in-law had a brand new bag of tricks.

Luis rustled in his blue gown. “Do I take a
seat too?”

Catherine shook her head at him. “Don’t be a
silly. We need you to catch the baby.”

“Catch?” Luis wavered in his stance.

Catherine rushed over and supported him.
Jimmy’s ghost swirled in her passing.

“It might be best if you keep the jokes to a
minimum,” Margaret said.

Catherine stuck her tongue out at her. “Party
pooper.” She hugged Luis. “I was only teasing. It will be a normal
delivery. We need you to do your normal part. Okay?”

Luis sighed. “Okay, no problem.”

“Thank you,” Catherine said and winked at
Margaret. She moved to her original position past Jimmy, where
Ginger’s sweaty head rested on the pillow. She settled her hands
lovingly on her housemate’s pale forehead.

Margaret laid her hands on Ginger’s stomach
and closed her eyes. She spoke calm soothing words inside her mind
to the child struggling to be born. She felt his agitated thoughts
return quickly. He was ready to enter the world but the umbilical
cord, which had sustained him these many months, held him tight and
he couldn’t proceed. Margaret knew from experience how deadly this
predicament could become to the child. In earlier centuries, she
had saved many children from this type of fate. Medical advances
had solved the problem over the last century, but those advances
were gone again with the coming of the plague. Margaret prayed for
guidance and help. His answer rushed over her like a jolt of
confidence and holy energy.

Margaret concentrated, speaking calmly to the
child, guiding him through the tangles of umbilical. The cord had
wrapped around his neck. Margaret used the child to lift the cord
and unwrap himself, moving the baby closer to the placenta to give
him the slack he needed to work free. The child grew excited as the
tangles loosened and fell away.

Margaret kept her eyes closed and her hands
in contact with Ginger’s belly as she maintained a mental
connection with the child. “Luis?”

“Yeah?”

“Get ready to receive the delivery.”

Margaret told the baby that it was time and
he kicked with pleasure and excitement, causing a smile to creep
across Margaret’s face. She missed the simple joy of being inside a
baby’s mind. They didn’t require much—just warmth, food, sleep, and
a clean bottom.

Ginger squirmed under her hands as the
contractions ramped up their frequency. “Oh my goodness!”

“You’re doing great, Ginger,” Catherine said.
“It won’t be long now. How are you doing back there, Vanessa?”

“Her hands… her hands are glowing…” Vanessa
said. “Her hands are glowing pink.”

Margaret fought off another smile at her
sister-in-law’s confusion. She knew a long conversation with Mark
and Vanessa was coming in the near future, and did not look forward
to all the explanations she would circle around. Hopefully
Catherine would be there for support.

“Yes, yes, Vanessa,” Catherine said. “Don’t
worry. Molly’s got everything under control. Don’t you?”

“Like riding a bike,” Margaret said, focusing
on the task at hand. She instructed the baby to turn so he could go
out headfirst. The baby squirmed in the embryonic sack as he did a
tuck and roll.

Ginger’s legs kicked out.

“Ouch!” Luis said.

“Sorry,” Ginger said between pants.

“You know how to ride a bike. Lucky.”

“Not now, Catherine,” Margaret said.

Now in the right position, the baby set
himself up for the final push. His glee roared in Margaret’s mind
like a merry-go-round loaded with four-year-olds. She relayed
instructions for him to keep moving forward; he was doing great.
The baby was thrilled by her praise.

“Good job, Ginger. Keep breathing,” Vanessa
said.

Margaret peeked and saw her sister-in-law
standing across from her, holding Ginger’s hand. Vanessa gave her a
nervous smile before transferring her full attention to Ginger.

“Control your breathing like we practiced,”
Vanessa said. “Work through each contraction as they come.” Ginger
worked in rhythm, like she was moving coal along a railroad.
“That’s it. Just like that. Very good.”

Before closing her eyes, Margaret noticed
Jimmy pacing frantically behind the living crowd. There was nothing
for him to do that wouldn’t freak out everybody else in the room,
so Margaret just let it go and closed her eyes.

“Everything’s fine, silly,” Catherine said.
“You’ll evaporate if you keep that up.”

“Who are you talking to?” Vanessa asked.

“Nobody,” she told Vanessa. Then she added,
“I was just teasing about evaporating. You don’t have to worry
about that. Unbelievable!”

“The head is crowning,” Luis said. “Get ready
to push on the next contraction, Ginger.”

Margaret spoke to the baby silently. “Are you
ready?”

The baby gave a cry of enthusiasm in her mind
that created a mini-migraine. He kicked out as the final
contraction began.

Ginger grunted with all her might. Her belly
tensed along with every other nerve and muscle in her young body.
Vanessa cried encouragement.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Margaret
said.

Luis pulled away with the small red bundle of
life. The umbilical cord connecting mother and child, that caused
so much trouble earlier, no longer posed a threat.

Luis quickly unplugged the child’s nose and
mouth and gave the baby a pat to kick start his life on the
outside. The baby wailed, but Margaret interpreted his cry of
joy.

“It’s a boy!” Luis said.

“Told you,” Catherine announced proudly.

Jimmy’s spirit smiled brightly over Luis’s
shoulder as he looked down upon the child he brought into this
world before his death. Margaret wanted to weep for his life that
had been cut short, but was overjoyed that he was able to
experience this moment.

Luis walked over with the child and laid him
in his mother’s arms.

Ginger beamed as her baby boy opened his eyes
and gazed straight into her soul. “Hello, James. I’m your
mother.”

Scout gunned the throttle on his motorbike,
pushing the speed, hoping the wind would blow away his anguish. So
far he swallowed three grasshoppers and was pelted in the face by
another six, but the anguish hadn’t budged. Even with the noontime
sun and the white puffy clouds hovering here and there, nothing
cheered him out of his dismal mood because someone claimed that his
actions had gotten his friend killed.

He bounded over bumps, soaring above the
ground. He landed and rolled the throttle harder, looking for more
jumps. Finally the ride consumed him the way he wanted.
Concentration became critical, blocking out everything else. One
mistake and he’d flip through the prairie like a flung action
figure; only plastic didn’t snap and bruise like bone and
flesh.

His yellow Suzuki tore through the dirt
trail. Patches of wildflowers dotted the prairie where tall
Nebraska corn once grew in abundance. Every few miles, a windbreak
would mark an abandoned farmhouse gutted of valuables this close to
Independents. Scout knew them all for twenty-miles around, having
personally walked through every door.