The warm water gently washes against my ankles as I splash through the shallow surf. I've become that classic pregnant woman with swollen ankles and feet. I still have three weeks to go, but I'm so done with being pregnant. I'm emotionally and physically done. I'm trying, I'm really trying, but I'd be lying if I said it isn't hard without Jude. I feel as though he's the other half of me, and the separation from him is slowly killing me. Maybe he was right? Maybe I should let him go, but how can I when I have his child inside me? It's impossible.
I make my way back along the beach. Marney and I have developed somewhat of a routine living here. We eat lunch on the back deck together every day. Ever since Jude rescued me, Marney and I have been close, but these last few months have surpassed that. He looks after me, and although it's not his forte, he tries to make me feel better about Jude not being here. I appreciate his efforts, even if they are fruitless. The main thing though, is that I know he will love Jude's daughter like a grandchild, because Jude is like a son to him. I think he secretly likes our settled lifestyle. Much like Jude, he's always lived a criminal life, looking over his shoulder every two seconds. He's not young anymore, and being here, we don't have to watch our backs.
I walk up the steps that lead to the back deck, and open the French doors leading into the kitchen. Marney isn't here, which is odd. He's always in the kitchen at this time. I go in search of him, and move towards the living room. The TV is on. As soon as I hear what's coming from it, I pause in the doorway. Marney is sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, and listening intently to what's being said.
On the screen is a woman with a microphone standing in front of what appears to be an over-turned prison vehicle.
"At three-thirty this afternoon, this detentions service vehicle veered off the road and crashed into the ditch. It is unclear at this point what caused the accident, although another vehicle was involved. The vehicle was transporting three high security criminals, Marcus Banes, Romero Gonzales, and Jude Pearson, who were being transferred to a maximum security prison."
My heart instantly starts to beat furiously against my ribs.
"Banes, Pearson and two prison officers were killed, their families have been informed. It's believed that the third prisoner, Gonzales escaped. A police search is now taking place. I'm Jennifer..."
I slide down the edge of the doorframe. He's dead. It feels like someone has grabbed my heart in their hand and is squeezing. He's dead. I will never see him again, never hear his voice. That's when I lose it and break down crying. I didn't have much with him, the occasional phone call, distant memories, but those moments when he would tell me he loved me... the words were said from what felt like a million miles away, but they still touched me, they still gave me a reason to keep going, to be strong.
When Caleb died, the pain was unfathomable, but I could block it out, make myself numb. This... I can't block this out. It feels like someone is ramming a knife in my chest and twisting it back and forth.
I'm aware of Marney next to me, but I can't respond to his concerned words.
"You'll be okay, sweetheart," he says. There are only so many times that a person can keep being okay.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling fan. Hands are pushing against my stomach, feeling around. I grit my teeth as another wave of pain locks around my torso.
"This could be a false labour," the woman says in a heavy island accent.
"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Marney sounds panicked.
"It means she might go into labour, or it could be a false alarm. Her water hasn't broken yet," she explains.
"Is the baby okay? Shit. Why is she going into labour? She's supposed to have another couple of weeks." Marney paces in the corner.
"It could be caused by any number of things, but in this case I'm going to say it's stress."
I can feel her eyes on me. She came by last week to check on me, and Marney turned her away, explaining why.
"The baby will be fine either way."
There's a moment of silence, and I know they are both looking at me, but my gaze remains fixed on the swirling blades of the ceiling fan. I know I should be worried or something, but I just... can't. All I can think about is him, and I can't seem to climb out of this black hole I'm in, the more I try, the more pointless everything seems. Another contraction comes, and it has me hunching forward slightly, gritting my teeth through the pain. God, I'm not ready for this. I can't do this. I need... I need Jude. And it's every time I have a thought like that, I have to remind myself he's gone, and my chest feels like it's being ripped apart all over again. So, no, I'm not ready. My daughter deserves more than what I can give her right now, but it looks like I may not have a choice.
There's a brief break in the pain, and the tension in my muscles releases, allowing me to breathe. I'm about to tell the midwife to leave, when my stomach tightens in a vice grip, knocking the breath out of me. I can barely move, all I can do is focus on the ceiling as I attempt to breathe through the pain.
The midwife looks at me. "Another contraction?" she asks as she glances at her watch. "Let me check to see how far you've dilated."
She goes to flip the blanket off my legs and Marney bolts toward the door. "I'll just be out here for a bit." He's wants to help me, but really, there's nothing he can do, and he knows it.
I close my eyes. And all I feel is pressure as she checks me.
"Four centimeters. Your cervix has thinned out. You're ninety-percent effaced." She pulls the sheets back over me and pats my legs. "I don't think the baby wants to wait any longer."
No sooner has she said that than another contraction racks my body. It's all I can do to breathe. My entire body breaks out into a cold sweat and a wave of nausea comes over me. My fingers dig into my palms and I clench my jaw.
The midwife comes to stand next to me, blotting my forehead with a cool, damp cloth. "Try not to tense up, it will just make the labour last longer."
Hours pass, and with each passing minute the pain grows more unbearable. It feels like this baby is going to kill me before she comes out. The sun sets, and the pain continues into the night. When will it end?
All I can feel is pressure between my hips, as my entire stomach has tightened. I can't think of anything but getting this baby out of me. My skin burns as it tears, the pressure almost unbearable. I scream as my pelvis feels like it's being pulled apart, and then... nothing. I throw my head back against the pillow and try to catch my breath. I close my eyes, but they flash open when I hear a tiny garbled cry. I glance down and the midwife has the baby in her arms, suctioning out her mouth. She rubs the towel over her tiny back, wiping off the blood as she lays her on my chest.
I stare down at her pink face as she cries, at her tiny little fingers made into tight fists, and I cry. I cry because my heart feels like it's ready to explode, and I cry because I wish more than anything that her daddy was here to meet her. I gently brush my finger over her soft cheek and smile through my tears. I never wanted to be a mother, and the path that brought me here was like walking through hell itself, but I have known this little person for two minutes, and already the love I have for her is all consuming. I would do anything for her, die for her. She just became my everything.
I loved Jude with all my heart, but now I have to focus on our child. I need to let him go, for the sake of the little piece of him that he left behind, his daughter.
"What is her name?" the midwife asks.
I stare down at her wide eyes, not the green of Jude's or my steel blue, but the exact same shade of brown as Caleb's. "Cayla," I whisper.
Over the next few weeks, I feel happiness for the first time in months. There is always a lingering sadness that I'm not sure will ever truly leave me. Jude left a hole in me that cannot be filled completely, but every time I glance at Cayla, I feel like I just might be okay, eventually.
I stand on the balcony, holding her tiny body to my chest as I rock her to sleep. The setting sun paints the ocean in orange and gold. That view never gets old.
Her steady breaths resonate in my ear, her little fingers grasping at a stray strand of hair. I walk back inside and put her down in her Moses Basket, leaning over her and prying her from my hair. I smile and place a kiss on her forehead as she sleeps soundly.
I love her, but I feel like I might never know what it is to sleep properly ever again. I lay down on the bed for a moment and close my eyes.
Hands move up my thighs, slowly spreading them apart. Hot breaths touch my stomach as his lips drift downward, kissing and caressing me. My breathing becomes shallow, my pulse racing in anticipation. I tremble and moan as his lips brush against me, never quite giving me the pressure I need. My fingers fist in his hair, trying to bring him closer. A low throaty chuckle leaves his lips.
"You want me to kiss you here, Tor?" His warm breath blows across my clit, and my hips roll of their own accord, seeking him.
"Yes," I breathe.
His teeth nip at the inside of my thigh. "You know what you need to do, doll." I can hear the smile in his voice, and I want to slap him, but not as much as I want his mouth on me.
"Please, Jude." And then his tongue is caressing me, his strong hands pinning me to the bed as he tortures me in ways that only he can.
I yank on his hair until he hisses, and skims his teeth across my clit, making me whimper. He teases my entrance with one finger, before pushing it inside me.
I throw my head back against the pillow as my body tightens. Pleasure explodes, igniting my entire being. I scream and my head spins.
I come so hard, I wake myself up.
I lay there, panting and shaking, and then as always the tears follow. It's a blessing and a curse, to see him, to feel him, but to wake up and realise that he's not real, that he's gone.
I glance to my left, to where Cayla is. She's gone. I sit bolt upright, blind panic consuming me.
"I hope that dream was about me."
I frown as I thrust my hand under my pillow and pull out my nine millimetre, pointing it at the shadowy figure in the corner. Familiarity pulls at the corners of my mind, but I'm so blinded by fear for Cayla, that I can't acknowledge it.
"Where's my baby?" I say, my heart is racing with adrenaline. This is the worst feeling in the world, to fear for your child.
"Our baby is right here, Tor. She's so fucking perfect.”
I falter, my mind coming back into focus.
“Jude?” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs. This can’t be real. He’s dead. I’m still dreaming. I watch him rise and step into the moonlight drifting through the open doors. He places Cayla down in her bed, and sits on the edge of the bed next to me. I reach out, tracing my shaking fingers down his cheek. The rough stubble of his jaw brushes against my fingertips. He turns his face, pressing his lips to my wrist. I choke on a sob and press my face into the space between his neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of him that my mind hasn’t been able to replicate no matter how many times I try.
He winds his fingers into my hair, and touches his forehead to mine.
“I miss you so much,” I breathe, clinging to him, terrified that if I let go, he’ll vanish. He gently pulls my hair, yanking my head back so he can look down at me.
"Hey, doll," he breathes. He brushes his lips over mine, his lips soft yet desperate. He tears away from me, cupping my face in his large hands. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave you. Nothing can fucking keep me away from you. Not a damn thing!”
If this is a dream, then I hope I never wake up.