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Chapter 2

A dream of falling jerked her awake, leaving her heart pounding as she clutched the bed covers with the one hand that was free to move. It dawned on her after a few seconds that the pounding was not only her heart. It seemed that her whole body pulsed with pain, especially her head. She groaned and tried to raise her hand to her head only to find she could not move her right arm, and her left seemed too heavy to lift more than an inch or two. It took every ounce of energy she could muster, but she raised it to lay across her swollen middle. It was still there, she had not lost it. Or, had she? She held very still praying for some sign of life. What seemed like an interminable amount of time passed before her breath caught on a sob of relief as she felt a tiny thump against her ribs.

She forced her eyes open a bit more-it hurt too much and she gave up and closed them against the painful light. A masculine voice she did not recognize spoke softly, assuring her that everything was all right, and something cool and refreshing touched her forehead. A straw was pressed against her lips and she was encouraged to drink, after which she sank, gratefully, back into oblivion.

The next time she woke the pounding had lessened and she was able to open her eyes, cautiously, and take in her surroundings. The bed upon which she lay was near a window with frilly white and pink print curtains that were stirred by a light, fresh breeze that blew across her nostrils bringing with it scents she could not identify, but which were not at all unpleasant. She took a deep breath and tried to remember where she was as she looked around at the unfamiliar room. It was bright and sunny with fresh, white walls and warm wooden furniture that looked hand-crafted. It was neat and clean, but very plain, there were no personal touches, nothing about it to suggest an occupant. It was far removed from the opulent surroundings she had become used to living with James.

She looked down at her arm and realized why she had been unable to move it. It was in a splint made of two small, flat pieces of wood and some tape and bandages. The whole thing was then in a sling that held it up tight against her body. Her face and head still throbbed, although with much less intensity, and she explored the bandaged right side with her left hand, which she found was undamaged. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble for her.

A vague memory of brilliant green eyes blurred together with a grizzled old man and her plane going down, and, "Oh my God!" she gasped, as memory of why she was here suddenly returned.

"Hello?" she called, as loudly as she could without tearing the top of her head off.

A few moments later the door opened and the older man she remembered came in, smiling, carrying a tray covered by a clean white cloth. She eyed him suspiciously as he crossed the room to stand near the bed, and she unconsciously pulled away, as he got too close. Sensing her withdrawal he stopped, regarding her kindly.

He had seen a good many years, judging by the lines visible through a sparse salt and pepper beard, and his shaggy hair, which had obviously been night black was now mostly white and steel gray. A shock fell boyishly over his forehead belying the wrinkles. His dark russet skin revealed Native American ancestry, browned even more by sun and wind and time, grooved but not embittered. He was tall and wide, and although his shoulders were stooped slightly, he moved with a lively step and his dark eyes were bright and kind. He spoke with a slight, charming accent that she couldn't quite place.

"Hello there," he said. "Glad to see you're awake. You sure look a whole heap better than you did. How are you feelin'?"

She studied him for a moment longer before she smiled back with the half of her face that could. "Hi. I'm feeling much better, I think. How long have I been here?"

"Let's see now, Edward brought you in yesterday morning, and it's late afternoon, so almost two days." He came nearer to the bed and examined her more closely. "I think you're ready to eat a bite. Am I right?"

"As a matter of fact I am a little hungry." she told him, somewhat surprised at her appetite. She could not remember the last time food appealed to her. Maybe it was all the fresh air she had been breathing.

He sat the tray on the dresser and assisted her in sitting up, propping the pillows behind her. He then placed the tray across her knees and removed the cloth to reveal a steaming, fragrant bowl of soup, warm soft rolls and a fruit salad. "This looks wonderful!" she told him. "I can't begin to thank you enough, mister...?"

"No need for mister, just call me Jake. Jake Black. I hope you enjoy that soup, it's my specialty. Eat up now, that little person you're carrying around in there needs something to grow on. I'll be right back with a nice glass of milk."

"Thanks Jake," she said, and tucked into the food as best she could with her left hand. He was back in few moments with a tall, cold glass of milk.

"There you go, there's somethin' that'll make that little fella's bones good and strong. Doesn't look like you've been gettin' enough to eat for quite a while, you need to make up for lost time."

"No," she told him between bites, "I haven't been eating too well I guess. There were things going on that..well I just didn't have much appetite." She frowned, stretching the wound on her cheek. She put the spoon down and reached up to run her fingertips over the bandage. She wondered if it would leave a scar; she hoped it would.

"Well, you can tell us as much as you want to, later, when you feel stronger."

"I appreciate that. There is one thing though, the other man, what was his name?"

"That would be Edward. He got you out of the plane and brought you here."

"Did I tell him anything?"

"Not that I know of, except that we shouldn't let anyone know you were here."

"And," she was almost afraid to ask, "did you?"

"No ma'am. We took you at your word and didn't even call a doctor, although I sure wanted to. You were mighty lucky you didn't lose that baby with all the bangin' around you took when that plane went down. I took care of your arm and bandaged your face. Edward went right back out to make sure no one could see the plane. You're safe for the time being."

Sudden tears stung her eyes and she bowed her head letting her long, wavy hair hide them from him. It had been so long since she had felt any measure of safety. He patted her shoulder somewhat awkwardly. "Don't you worry now. Eat and then get some rest. Is there anything else you need?"

She wiped her eyes and smiled her gratitude at him. "Maybe somewhere to freshen up a bit? I'll need a bathroom, very soon." She wondered about that, suddenly realizing she had been unconscious for most of two days. Who had done what while she slept? She decided it didn't matter, she was only grateful to who ever had cared for her.

"It's down the hall, first door on the left," he informed her. "You'll need some help gettin' there, I'm sure you're gonna be a little unsteady on your feet at first, so you just let me know when, OK? Edward brought your bags back with him when he hid your plane, so you have your things here. They're in the closet there," he said, pointing to the door beside the dresser.

"Thanks, so much. I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am."

"Sure. Oh, by the way, do you have a name I can call you besides Ma'am? I feel a little silly callin' you Ma'am."

She hesitated for a moment. "Call me Marie," she told him, finally. "The less you know about me the better it will be for you."

"That's fine, that's fine." He assured her. "Like I said before, you don't have to tell me anythin'. I'll leave you alone now to eat in peace. Call if you need me."

She couldn't speak over the lump in her throat, so she nodded and he left. Since she had gotten pregnant she had lost some of the hard shell and cool cynicism that she had cultivated so carefully over the years, and she found herself teary eyed far too often. It was really disgusting. He did seem like an awfully sweet old man though. She had to get away from here before they found her, because when they did, anyone around was bound to be embroiled in the same terror she had lived with for so long.

Pushing the tray down her legs, she curled her arm protectively over her swollen middle. She couldn't let any harm come to herself either, because this innocent life was depending on her. Dear God, sometimes it felt like another day was just too great a burden to bear. Then the baby would kick, or turn, and she would know that she had to go on, that in a world where a miracle like this could take place, there was hope.

She had never thought about having kids, it never occurred to her that she might want to, and when it happened she was in a state of shock at first. Then, gradually, the enormity of it dawned on her, and the first time the baby moved she was stunned by the emotions that flooded her. It was as though there was a whole other person that she had never known hiding inside her, this woman who wanted to nurture and protect, this individual who was very different from the tough, look-out-for-number-one person she had always thought herself to be.

She was so tired though, so weary to depths of her soul tired, that sometimes she was not sure she would be able to see her task through to its completion. Yet, she had to.

She had to give birth to this baby, see that it was properly cared for, and then she had to kill James. What happened to her after that, well, it didn't really matter to her at this point.