Page 19 of Save You
“No, no!” I shake her words off, not wanting them to be said out loud. It’s too awful to say or to think, yet, it could have so easily happened if it weren’t for Doctor Sawyer and Bodhi. I feel Xander squeeze me a little tighter, cursing under his breath as he does so.
“He was going to, but then Bodhi caused an explosion, and his attention was taken elsewhere.”
“Oh, thank God!” she says, blowing out a long-held breath of relief. There’s a muffled exchange of whispered words from her end, but I cannot make out what is being said. “Listen, Beth, your father would really like to talk to you. Please? For me?”
Xander looks at me, having heard every word my mother just said, but he offers me nothing but support for whatever I decide to do. He’s my father and it’s my decision as to whether I let him back inside my heart or not. I cup his cheek, silently thanking him for being so unlike the men back at Mayfield; I love him all the more for it. As for Dad, I knew he’d get mum back on side again, however, part of me is slowly beginning to forgive him. The part that knows that this was all beyond his control anyway, so perhaps it’s time for me to finally let him back in again.
“Ok,” I murmur, still not being entirely sure about how I feel about it.
“Beth, oh, thank God, Beth!” This is perhaps only the third time I’ve heard my father cry, and it cuts straight through my heart to bear witness to it now. There’s something deeply unsettling about your father breaking down in front of you. I guess I’ve always seen mine as the strong protector of the family, the man who would run through oncoming traffic to save me.
“Hi, Dad,” I respond, “it’s been a while since we last talked.”
“I know,” he sobs, “and it’s all my fault!”
“Not so much, apparently,” I laugh softly, but it’s fake and only there to cover my own whimpering. “You can’t help who you’re related to. Turns out you’re the son of some evil, old, cult leader!”
“I didn’t know, Beth, I swear I never knew!” he begs me to believe him, and I do. “You think I would have moved us to the States if I had known? Your grandmother had already lost her mind to her disease by the time we had moved out there. Every time I came back to see her, I talked about the States, but she said nothing back. She would just go silent.”
“I believe you, Dad,” I reply because I do. Nanny never mentioned America to me other than to say she was originally from Texas and had a large family tree.
“Listen,” he says, suddenly sounding more serious, as though he’s getting ready to give me information instead of dwelling on the past few months we’ve spent apart, “you have to get going, keep moving until Xander gets you to your safe place. He hasn’t even told your mother, or me, where it is, so trust him, he knows what he’s doing!”
“I will, I do!” I nod as I reply, even though I’m beginning to tear up again because I know, deep down, that this is goodbye for a while. “Dad?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I forgive you, for everything, and I love you, all of you!” I listen to him break over my words before he tells me he loves me too, that he’s proud of me and couldn’t wish for a better daughter. Eventually, he hangs up in such a way that suggests he could no longer bear the tension, the sadness, nor the fear over when we will ever see each other again. When the line goes dead, I clutch the phone tightly in my fist, making my knuckles blanch white from the tightening of my grip.
“Come on, baby, we’ve gotta go,” Xander whispers against my temple, delivering soothing kisses in between his words, right before I pull back and kiss him properly. I try to give him passion, love, and my desperation all in one heart-felt moment. I straddle his lap, with him accepting my kiss greedily, both of us wanting so much more than what can be done in the back of the car on a public highway, in the middle of nowhere. We both know it’s stupid to remain here for too long in the open when my name and face have been all over the news, but there is too much of a desperation to let one another know that we’re here for each other, no matter what.
Our tongues clash together messily, and my hands grip his face with so much force, it wouldn’t surprise me if I left marks.
“Don’t ever leave me!” he demands as he pulls back, looking into my eyes with so much fear it threatens to undo me again.
“Never,” I reply.
We keep driving and don’t stop until we get to where we’re heading, the whole way bracing ourselves as we ready ourselves to begin our new, hidden lives.
Chapter 8
Southampton, England, 1972
Rosalie
I gave birth to my baby at half three in the morning, after ten long hours of labor which had me frequently doubting my own abilities to survive the ordeal. And now, my pain is diminished to barely anything, and I am holding this tiny, pink, fragile, mini-human being. It will forever be the most surreal and most awesome experience of my life, one that has proven love at first sight truly does exist.
I wasn’t a screamer or a curser, instead, I curled into myself. I remember panting a lot, growling through the peaks of a contraction, and squeezing hold of Sadie’s hand with a strength I wouldn’t otherwise believe possible from someone like me. I also recall telling the midwife that I couldn’t go on any longer, that I was done and ready to give up. She had smiled and rubbed my shin affectionately while reassuring me that this meant my baby was ready to come into the world. She then promised me that he or she would be with us very soon. I could have cried with exhaustion, but it weirdly gave me the encouragement to dig down for the final ounce of strength I had left to carry on.
Sadie was with me the entire time; a rock of epic proportions who in the height of my pain and fear, had proven herself to be my mother figure, my birthing partner, and my friend. Though I couldn’t bear anyone touching me and had practically snarled when she tried to rub my back, her words of support and unfailing belief in me had kept me sane and focused. She truly will make a great nurse one day.
“When you feel like you can’t go on anymore, Rose, you know your baby will soon be here,” Sadie had said to me as I went through the last, painful contractions of labor. The sensation to push was the weirdest and most inexplicable thing I have ever gone through. During the whole process of trying to evict my stubborn little lodger, I had made low, growling noises from the back of my throat, which I swear made me sound like an elephant in distress. The midwife told me not to, warning that it would cause my throat to hurt, which almost earned her a cacophony of expletives. Like I gave a damn about my throat while a human being was being pushed out of my vagina!
When my baby’s head popped out, stretching me beyond belief, my vagina felt like they were literally on fire. It took all I had not to move away as they turned the baby’s head, telling me to hold off pushing until they were finished. Sadie was right down the business end, studying it all like the hungry nurse I know she’s desperate to be. She kept telling me how amazing it all was and how exciting it was to be watching the beginning of someone’s life. Though her words were meant to be inspiring, all I could think was, ‘Get it the hell out of me!’
Eventually, with pain, sweat, tears, and a ton of other less savory bodily fluids, my little person was born. My hellish journey finally ending at a beautiful destination where everyone was smiles and laughter, and me singing my thanks when my bundle of joy began to cry. Relief hit me before I managed to glance over to see his little bits and pieces to know that I had had a baby boy. I then looked at the rest of him and marveled at how perfect he was, with everything in its rightful place. Seconds later, he screamed the place down, prompting the residents from downstairs to all cheer through the floorboards.
The midwife handled him with such skill and speed, it was hard to believe she was holding something so fragile within her arms. She wiped him clean before I even recognized what she was doing to him, then finally, handed him over to me. I giggled nervously, realizing that I had never held a baby before.