Chapter 3 - Born in the Dust
By the time Daniel reached the bridal suite, I was slipping out of consciousness.
The pain had reached a peak where my mind was disconnecting from my body. I could hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance, screaming through the Tennessee countryside toward Willow Creek, but they felt miles away.
“Avery! Avery, look at me!”
Strong, familiar hands wrapped around my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see Daniel kneeling over me in his tuxedo, his face pale with horror, tears spilling over his eyelashes.
“Daniel...” I breathed, my voice barely a sound. “The baby... she’s coming now...”
“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.” He pulled me into his lap, ignoring the blood and fluid soaking his trousers. “Paige called 911! The paramedics are five minutes away!”
“It’s too late,” I wept, holding his hand with every ounce of strength I had left. “She’s here, Daniel. I can feel her.”
Claire burst into the room, trailing lace and silk, followed by Marcus. Claire dropped to her knees beside us, taking my hand while Marcus immediately dropped down to evaluate the situation. As a trained firefighter and first responder, Marcus’s professional instincts kicked in instantly.
“Daniel, hold her shoulders,” Marcus said calmly, though his eyes were fierce with focus. “Claire, grab those clean white towels from the vanity! Avery, look at me. My name is Marcus. I’ve delivered three babies in the field. You are safe. Your daughter is safe. I need you to push on my count, okay?”
I nodded, sob bursting from my chest. “Please... save her.”
“On three,” Marcus said, positioning the towels. “One... two... three!”
I screamed, squeezing Daniel’s hand so hard I heard the seams of his glove pop. Pain tore through me, white-hot and blinding, as if my entire body was breaking apart.
“I see the head!” Marcus yelled. “One more big push, Avery! Come on!”
“You can do this, sweetie,” Daniel sobbed into my hair, kissing my wet forehead over and over. “You’re the strongest person I know. Bring our girl home.”
With a final, desperate cry that echoed off the broken walls of the bathroom, I pushed with everything I had left.
The world went silent for one terrifying, agonizing second.
Then, a tiny, high-pitched cry pierced the air.
Waaaaah! Waaaaah!
Marcus swept the tiny, fragile body into a clean white towel, immediately clear-suctioning her nose with his fingers. “She’s breathing! She’s small, but she’s breathing!”
Daniel let out a ragged, choking sob, collapsing his forehead against mine. “We have a daughter, Avery. We have a daughter.”
Marcus carefully placed the tiny, dark-haired infant onto my chest. She was so small—barely four pounds—and her skin was translucent, but her tiny heart was beating against my skin like a hummingbird’s wings.
I wrapped my shaking arms around her, weeping uncontrollably. “Hi, Lily. Hi, my sweet girl...”
In the doorway of the suite, Nora Hartwell stood watching. She held her designer clutch to her chest, her eyes cold, her mouth set in a thin, bitter line.
She didn't ask if the baby was breathing. She didn't ask if I was okay.
Instead, she looked at the ruined towels, the blood on the white tile, and said loudly, “Well, I hope everyone is happy. The caterers are packing up, and the photographer just left.”
Daniel stood up slowly.
He didn't look like the patient, gentle husband I had known for four years. His hands were covered in his daughter’s blood, his tuxedo ruined, his eyes burning with an icy, dangerous rage that made even Nora step back an inch.
“Get out,” Daniel said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register.
“Daniel, I am your mother—”
“Get out of my sight before I do something that puts me in prison,” Daniel growled, taking a slow step toward her. “You are dead to me, Nora. You, your money, and your name. Don't ever look at my wife or my daughter again.”
Nora opened her mouth to argue, but Claire stepped between them, her bridal veil torn, pointing a finger at the door.
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“Leave, Mom,” Claire spat, tears of pure fury in her eyes. “Get off my venue property before Marcus calls the sheriff to arrest you for endangerment.”
Nora looked around the room—at her son who despised her, her daughter who disowned her, and her new son-in-law who looked ready to handcuff her. With a huff of icy indignation, she turned on her heel and walked away, the click of her high heels fading down the hall as the red lights of the ambulance finally illuminated the driveway.
