The Vines by Shelley Nolden (ebook and pdf reader .TXT) 📕

at the waist and clutched the balcony railing. Everything but the metal in her grip blurred away, yet still she could feel Ulrich watching her.

The cramping subsided, and her body slackened. Behind her, she could hear the tapping of his finger against his Eberhard watch, followed by the scraping of pencil on paper.

“Three minutes and thirteen seconds. Excellent.”

Without losing her hold, she lowered her head between her arms and rocked to comfort the baby, who, she imagined, was terrified of these tremors. She hadn’t felt her—or him—move since before the labor pains began.

 Despite his kindness during the pregnancy, she couldn’t admit to Ulrich that she was concerned. All those affectionate phrases and creature comforts: she knew better than to believe they’d been for her.

It had taken him six miserable months to impregnate her. Following his first attempt, she’d decided to flee before he could drag her back to the male dormitory—to hell with her greater purpose and whatever spiritual force had ordained it. She’d even constructed a makeshift raft. He must have guessed that she would try to escape; two days before she planned to push off, he arrived alone in a small motorboat and instructed her to climb in. They’d just cleared the eddies that clung to North Brother’s shallows when she felt the onset of a fever. A minute later, pustules competed for space on her skin. With a smug smile, his eyes twinkling, he returned her to her prison.

By the time she missed her period, all she’d been able to feel was relief. Upon his next arrival, he’d promised that she would never have to enter the male dormitory again, provided she gave him a healthy baby. During the months that followed, his visits weren’t any longer than an appointment she would have had with an obstetrician in the city. Although he never mentioned it, she knew he understood that the stress caused by his presence was felt by the baby, too.

A month ago, despite the bitter winter weather, he’d taken up full residence in the doctor’s cottage. In case she went into labor early, he’d explained. Cora had a different theory: he’d finally told Angela about his research and this latest “experiment,” and she’d been furious. Though if asked of her, she would presumably come around to raising the baby. While the Gettlers had been living at Riverside, she’d never seen the woman act anything but compliant.

Undoubtedly, all he’d invested—and sacrificed—had made him even more committed to ensuring the endeavor’s success. But also, Cora knew he’d fallen in love with her baby. At the end of each exam, he placed his gloved hand on her belly and waited to feel a kick, no matter how long it took. “I think it’s a boy, no, a girl.” Surprisingly, he seemed equally excited by the prospect of a daughter. When the baby did move, the smile in Ulrich’s eyes, visible through his mask, made Cora forget for a second who he really was.

Another contraction squeezed her midsection, and she went through her motions. The desolate campus, gray in the late afternoon light, blurred away.

At last, it passed, and she exhaled again.

“Three minutes, seven seconds.”

To get away from Ulrich, she waddled farther down the balcony. The nip of early spring felt good against her flushed skin, partially exposed by the hospital gown.

He isn’t the only one in love with this baby, she thought, cradling her belly. Over the past eight months, the days he’d been absent had been the happiest of her life. Then it was just her and “Peach.” Night and day, she prattled to her little one, filling her tiny ears with all the good that Cora knew of in the world and none of the bad. Always, at the back of her mind, a voice that sounded a lot like Mary’s warned her that Ulrich’s seed might have contained his cruelty.

But even that hazard couldn’t dampen the exhilaration of experiencing firsthand the miracle of life. Despite the perils of it, Cora dreamed of raising her child.

Now the muscles in her pelvis and abdomen ignited, and she clenched her jaw. Long ago she’d decided to deny him the pleasure of hearing her agony, though at times the pain had been greater than her willpower.

The moment he deemed Peach sturdy enough to attempt the river passage, Cora was sure that he would take her away. Unless the baby’s immune system had the same dependence on the island as hers. Then, he might decide that it would be safer—for the public and Peach—to keep her on North Brother Island.

If Ulrich’s hypothesis was wrong, and the baby had no special qualities, Cora feared he would allow the newborn, no longer worthy of a place in his lineage, to die. As an atheist, he had no qualms about breaking the Ten Commandments. Conversely, Cora had already begun planning the repentance that murdering Ulrich would require.

The contraction ended, and she sank to her knees and sobbed. Once she gave birth, this child would no longer be hers.

“Did your water break?” Lurching to compensate for his bad knee, he ran to her. “Are you okay?”

“No, yes.”

“Which is it?” He checked the ground, presumably for her fluids, and then placed his stethoscope on her abdomen and listened. “The heartbeat’s faint. We’re losing her! We must get to the OR.”

Horrified, she let him help her up.

On her feet, she felt even less steady.

A fall could cause more trauma than the baby could sustain. She swallowed her pride, and disgust, and hooked her arm through Ulrich’s, protected by the slick sleeve of his hazmat suit.

“This way,” he said, pointing with his other hand. “I shouldn’t have agreed to you laboring up here.” He stooped to pick up his doctor’s kit and glanced at her. “I suppose we should bring your satchel, too.”

Surprised and genuinely grateful, she nodded and tightened her hold on him. They crossed the balcony to her bag, and he slung it over his shoulder.

Together they made for the stairwell, pausing whenever a contraction