Justified (19 page)

A preposterous idea swept through my mind, illuminating the truth like a spotlight. “You love Clyde.”

Her head shook back and forth once, almost imperceptibly. “Then. Not now.”

I sighed, finally understanding her motivation for the way she had been treating me since I had gotten pregnant. “You didn't marry the man you wanted, so you're trying to figure out the man I want.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

“JohnScott makes me happy.”

She rolled her eyes and glanced out the window, finally seeing the storm. “Oh, good Lord.”

As she stared at the thick wall of dust, I stared at her, seeing her for the first time. I wondered who she really was, beneath all the makeup and lies. I might never know.

“So, I'm assuming you married Dad for his money? And turned your back on the love of your life because you were too good for an ex-con—”
But wait.
Twenty-one years ago, Clyde hadn't even been to prison yet. My stomach tightened in disbelief, and nausea swept over me. “You? You were the statutory rape victim.”

She picked at something beneath her thumbnail.

“You accused him of rape because you were too embarrassed to be with him?”

“No!” She glared at me then, her timidity shoved aside. “I loved him, and I gladly would have left my family to be with him, but my father wouldn't hear of it. He had Clyde arrested before I had even been to the doctor for a test.”

“You could have fought it.”

“I was
sixteen
, Fawn, and ashamed and alone and terrified.”

Her adjectives knocked the wind out of me, and I nodded in understanding. I knew what that felt like. “You married Dad so he could take care of you.”

A bitter puff slipped through her lips, far from a laugh. “Did I marry him for his money? No, Fawn. The Blaylocks didn't have two dimes to rub together. Mr. Blaylock ruled the church, and my father ruled everything else, and when the two of them got together, they worked out a plan that would be …
best for all concerned
.”

A constant ache had settled above my thighs. “Explain.”

“My daddy gave Neil the ranch.” She tapped the table with two fingernails. “He gave him the ranch and married me off to a man so Christian, nobody would doubt us.”

I covered my face with my hands, not wanting to believe her crazy tale, even as the jagged pieces of my life finally fell into place. It all made sense now. Almost. “Why did no one ever mention this to me? Half the town must know the truth.”

“Nobody knew. Clyde and I kept our relationship a secret because of my parents. Then my father used his political connections to have Clyde jailed away from town, and nobody asked what happened to him.” She shrugged.

Injustice flamed through my veins, and I snapped at her. “Surely the news would have gotten around Trapp. There would have been police involved, and judges, and jurors.”

“My father bought them all.”

“But someone in Trapp must have known. You could have been seen together.”

She sighed and nodded. “Before I got pregnant, Clyde and I double-dated with Lynda and Neil. They were practically engaged. I remember them telling us to wait. Clyde and Neil were good friends.” She shook her head. “Even after my father ruined all of us, Lynda promised not to tell. Probably more for Clyde's sake than mine.”

My eyes finally filled with tears as I saw myself in my mother. A vain, spoiled rich girl, so insecure she couldn't see the good in herself.

She fumbled with her necklace. “You've changed, Fawn. I don't even know what to think of you, but I know you're going to be all right.”

“We're both going to be all right.” A strong contraction overtook me without warning, and I gripped the table as the pain radiated around my midsection and settled in my back. Just when I wanted to cry out, a balloon burst inside me, and water ran down my legs, splashing to the tile floor.

Chapter Forty

I settled back into the chair, more out of fear than pain. The novelty of childbirth intimidated me, but starting it in a coffee shop during a dust storm brought me close to terror. After my water broke, the contractions came closer together, and I leaned against the window, where sand scratched as though etching the glass.

Mother sat across the table, wringing her hands. “Are you all right until the storm blows over? Labor usually takes hours.”

“I don't know. I'm scared, Mom.”

I slid my cell phone out of my purse. JohnScott had made me swear I would call him, so I tapped the screen, chastening myself for not adding him to my Frequently Called list. It hadn't seemed important.

He picked up and started talking without saying hello. “I hope you're indoors somewhere. This is a bad one.”

The sound of his voice prompted a juvenile reflex inside me, and I yearned to be coddled—lifted out of this harsh, unpredictable situation and transported to safety and shelter.

Another spasm hit, and I held my breath.

“Fawn? Can you hear me?”

“I'm here.” The phone slipped in my sweaty palm, and I gripped it tighter. “We're at Starbucks.”

“Oh, that's right, the shopping expedition.” He chuckled. “Well, at least you're somewhere with food. Believe it or not, I'm stuck in Cliff Worlow's barn on the far side of Slaton, and we can't even get to our trucks. They're a mile up the road.” His voice drawled lazily. “I can't complain, though, I'm lying in a bed of hay.”

When I didn't reply, he repeated, “Can you hear me? I don't think we have a good connection.”

An agonizing wave cinched the nerves in my lower back, causing me to squirm in the chair, and I whimpered involuntarily. “JohnScott? I'm in labor.”

Disbelieving silence filled the phone for three seconds. “Are you sure it's real labor?”

A break in intensity allowed me to take a much-needed breath. “My water broke.”

“How far apart are the contractions?”

“A few minutes, I guess.”

“Can you get to the hospital?”

“We can't even see the car.”

“Tell your mom to call 911.”

“Someone already did.” The pitch of my voice embarrassed me yet, at the same time, felt like a cleansing release of fear and tension. “JohnScott, I'm scared.”

“You got this.” He sounded as though he were deliberately calming his voice. “Women have babies all the time.”

Fine-grain dust crept through the crack between the doors of the café, blowing across the tile floor to pile against the counter. “Not like this, they don't.”

“Aw, you're a West Texas girl. What's a little sand gonna hurt?”

Another contraction began its slow anguish across my body, and my muscles tensed as I anticipated another crush to my spine. My abdomen tightened, and amniotic fluid trickled between my thighs and onto the floor. A man across the room craned his neck, and humiliation suffocated me as the pain intensified.

My mind shut out everything except the contraction and the sound of JohnScott's voice reaching through the phone to comfort and strengthen me. “It's another one, isn't it? Keep breathing, Fawn. You can do this.”

Obeying him, I tried to inhale, but a moan hijacked my lungs, and I blurted, “Can you come?” Even in my panicked state, I knew the request sounded absurd, but my fear wouldn't deny my voice the hope of deliverance. I sobbed openly. “JohnScott, I'm so scared.”

“You're doing fine.”

A siren wailed through the roar of the wind, and soon a male and female paramedic came through the door with a gurney.

“How far apart are the contractions?”

“Hardly any breaks.” I spoke through clenched teeth.

“Is that your husband on the phone?” Another pain swelled, and the paramedic laid a palm on my abdomen. “Maybe you should tell him to meet you at the hospital. I think you're going to need both hands for this.”

Mother took the phone. “I'll talk to him.”

“Alrighty.” The man lightly gripped my forearm. “Time to lie down on the stretcher. What's your name?”

“Fawn.” I stood, but my legs refused to cooperate, so I leaned against the gurney, letting the paramedics lift me onto it.

“Relax now, Fawn.”

The woman motioned to my mother. “You better ride with us. I wouldn't want you driving in this weather. Cover yourself with this sheet.”

They worked another sheet over me, tucking it in around my legs. “Fawn, we'll have you loaded in a few seconds.”

I held the sheet over my face, but when they pushed me out onto the sidewalk, the wind yanked a loose piece of fabric, exposing my legs to the elements as tiny needles hurled at my skin. The gurney jolted and bumped, and then the tempest whistled past the closed doors of the ambulance.

I straightened my legs, feeling powdery dust matted to my moist skin, and the female technician wiped it away as another cramp inched through my core. The sharpness rose faster this time, and I pushed her hand away, irritation accumulating inside me until I nearly cried out. The tissue around my spine burned and then heightened into blue flame, and I moaned loudly.

“I'm sorry.” I sobbed, embarrassed by my outburst, yet terrified of what would soon happen to my body. “Is this normal? Is it supposed to be like this? Mom?”

The paramedic patted my arm. “So far, your labor has all the signs of being perfectly normal. We'll know more when we get to the hospital. Fawn, I'm going to start an IV so you'll be all set when we get there. All right?”

I nodded, relaxing as the pain ebbed.

She wiped my arm with a sanitary cloth and then opened another. “Got to find a clean spot first. Too much dirt.”

The needle pricked as the ambulance shifted, turning a corner. It felt like we were crawling down the street. “Can't he drive faster?”

“Not in this storm, he can't. But we'll be there in plenty of time, don't you worry.”

Of course she was right. Besides, getting to the hospital sooner wouldn't necessarily ease my pain. “Can I get an epidural?”

“Depends on how quickly your labor is progressing.” The ambulance came to a stop. “Fasten your seat belt, Fawn. We've got to get out in the dust again, but only for a second.” She tucked the fabric far under my legs and torso. “We're not losing this sheet again, though.”

By the time the door opened, I felt like a caterpillar in a cocoon, and dust only smattered my hand, which held the sheet over my face. But then I didn't notice the dust anymore. I didn't notice anything. Pain took over my thoughts, my vision, my awareness of everything around me. I arched my back and groaned as we bumped over the threshold into the emergency room. I had the overwhelming urge to bear down, and I held my breath and tensed.

“Not yet, Fawn.” The man yanked the sheet off me. “Keep breathing and don't push. Give us a chance to get you into a delivery room, maybe even cleaned up a little.”

“No,” I wailed, struggling to breathe as he had said, but the need to bear down challenged the limits of my control. They lifted me onto a bed, and nurses scurried around me, pulling my clothes off, washing my skin, rolling me to my side, slipping my arms into a gown. “I need to push.”

“Not yet, you don't.” An older nurse lowered the end of the bed, propped my legs in stirrups, and covered my knees with a sheet. “You wait five more minutes. Now breathe.” Her commanding voice compelled me to comply. I focused on the black dots of the ceiling's acoustic tile, trying to find a picture among them, but all I could envision were tiny grains of sand. Then misery wracked through me again, and I breathed fast and deep and clenched my fists.

The drill-sergeant nurse laid a strong hand on my shoulder. “Breathe slower, or you'll hyperventilate.” When I obeyed, she patted my thigh. “Here comes the doctor. You made it.”

“Well, hello, Miss Blaylock.” Dr. Tubbs strolled in as though he had all the time in the world. “You're right on time.”

My mother materialized from the corner of the room. “Is everything all right?”

“Sure, it is. This little guy wants to meet all of us.” He studied a computer screen, then moved to the foot of the bed. “Okay, Fawn. You're clear to push now.”

The relief of those words took control of my body, and I pushed with every bit of my strength.

“Well, he's practically here already,” the doctor said. “One more push should do it.”

My face burned from the exertion, as though I struggled against a brick wall, and I almost cried out in frustration, but the nurse abruptly moved away from my side to stand at the foot of the bed.

For a long second, I didn't realize the baby had whooshed out, because the agonizing pain in my abdomen continued. The doctor was busy, but I couldn't see what he was doing. Lifting my head, I strained to see my baby as another contraction, lighter this time, fell over me. My breathing came easier, and I sucked in air as though I had sprinted a hundred-yard dash, wiping sweat out of my eyes. I collapsed against the pillow.

“There we go,” the doctor said. “Healthy boy. Looking around like he's in charge.”

I heard a tiny cry, and the nurse laid my son across my stomach, right back where he started from, only now I could hold him in my arms. Curls matted against his head with whiteness that covered his scalp and trembling limbs, and his wail melted my heart.

Flat on my back, I shifted him closer to my chin. “Don't cry, baby.” At the sound of my voice, he fell quiet and squinted as though startled to discover the face that went with my voice. “So you're the one who's been kicking me.”

The drill sergeant bustled around the end of my bed, doing Lord knows what, and I realized Dr. Tubbs had gone. She barked at my mother. “Granny, can you raise her bed for her?”

My mother jerked to attention, following orders, and soon I found myself sitting up and peering into the most beautiful face I had ever seen. The baby blinked at me, and for a moment we did nothing but worship each other.

“He's precious, Fawn.” My mother laughed and cried at the same time, and I reached for her hand for the first time in years.

“He's perfect.”

The nurse clanked the stirrups back under the bed. “If you're breastfeeding, go ahead and do it. This is your bonding time. After that, he'll go for a bath.”

The woman lacked a decent bedside manner, but at least she let me know what I should do. I pulled his teeny body to my chest, feeling his skin against mine. Velma had said sometimes babies know what to do, and sometimes they don't have any idea. It looked as though my son had things figured out, and relief trickled across my worries like healing ointment.
Thank You, God.

“Five minutes each side,” the nurse said.

I nodded and inspected the baby's toes and fingers, his ears, his eyelashes, his hair. My mother straightened from where she had been leaning over the two of us. “I need to make a few calls.”

“Thanks for everything, Mom.” With those four words, I tried to convey the feelings I held for her. Compassion at the discovery of her past. Understanding for the decisions she had made. Gratitude for raising me as best she could. In the past hour, she had become a different mother than I'd had that morning. Or maybe I had become a different daughter.

Her lips curved into a sad smile before she slipped from the room.

I turned the baby to the other breast and pulled the sheet over him, afraid he would get cold in the air-conditioning, then hugged him closer to my warmth and thought I would never let him go. He was beautiful. I fingered a wisp of thick, black hair near his forehead and let tears fall down my cheeks as I watched him nurse. His dark eyes, alert and attentive, studied me, and we spent the next five minutes memorizing each other's faces.

My heart had never loved, never dreamed of loving, so thoroughly as this. I'd only been a mother fifteen minutes, but already I knew I would do anything—anything at all—for this child.

His mouth formed a tiny
O
as I pulled him away, laying him across my lap while I tied my gown back in place. And then he filled my arms again, and I kissed his forehead and rubbed his small fist against my cheek.

“He about ready for his bath?” the nurse asked.

Before I could answer, the door flew open with a loud metallic clunk, and we both startled.

A man panted in the doorway with hazy, red powder crusting his hair, and his skin and clothing were reddish brown from grit. He stared at me, holding my gaze with a fierce intensity that exposed savage fears and raw tenderness. Affection pulled a fresh sob from my throat, and my heart fluttered higher in my chest until I thought I might float off the hospital bed.

JohnScott.