Chapter 1 - The Sound of Wood
The wooden stick cracked against the mattress six inches from my pregnant belly.
"GET UP, MARIANA!"
I tried to lift my head. The room tilted. "Please," I whispered. "Call an ambulance."
Ruth Mercer hit the blanket again. She was my mother-in-law, sixty-three years old, dressed for a charity luncheon in pearls and a pressed lavender blouse. She looked like a woman who delivered casseroles to sick neighbors. Right now she was using a curtain rod to beat the bed around me.
"Daniel works himself sick while you lie here pretending you can't stand. This isn't a hotel."
I was thirty-one weeks pregnant. My nightgown was damp and cold against my legs. I hadn't felt my baby move since before dawn.
"I'm bleeding," I managed.
"You're always making everything dramatic."
She hooked the rod under my blanket and yanked. The quilt slid to the floor. A dark red stain spread across the sheets beneath me. Ruth's mouth opened. The stick fell out of her hand and struck the hardwood.
For the first time that morning, she looked at me instead of the chores I hadn't done.
"Mariana," she whispered. "How long?"
"Since two." My lips felt numb. "I called for you."
Her gaze went straight to the nightstand. I followed it. The charging cable lay there, its little white end swinging over empty wood. My phone had been beside my pillow when I fell asleep.
"Where's my phone?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I heard you come in last night. I thought you were bringing water."
She stepped backward, bumping the dresser. Something vibrated inside the pocket of her cardigan.
"Ruth." I could barely get the word out. "Why did you take my phone?"
May you like
Her hand closed over that pocket. She looked toward the hallway, then back at the blood.
"Because," she said, her voice shaking, "you weren't supposed to wake Daniel before noon."
