Chapter 13 - Labor in the Storm
By noon, the house was sealed as an active crime scene, Evelyn was booked into maximum security on charges of arson, assault with a deadly substance, and burglary, and I was back in the sterile white halls of St. Jude's Hospital.
I washed the soot and sweat from my hands in the hospital bathroom, stared at my own hollow reflection in the mirror, and wiped away the last remnants of the boy who had spent thirty years trying to earn his mother’s love.
When I walked into Room 408, the world finally went quiet.
The harsh fluorescent lights had been dimmed. Soft sunlight filtered through the sheer window curtains.
Anna was sitting up in the hospital bed, propped against soft white pillows. Her dark hair was combed back, the color was slowly returning to her cheeks, and cradled against her chest in a pink knitted blanket was our daughter.
A tiny tuft of black hair. Rosy, perfect cheeks. Little fists curled against Anna’s hospital gown, sleeping peacefully to the rhythm of her mother's heartbeat.
Anna looked up as I entered. The fear, the exhaustion, the shadows of the last three months were gone from her eyes, replaced by a fierce, radiant calm.
"Is it over?" Anna whispered.
I walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, and wrapped my arms around both of them, resting my forehead against Anna's temple.
"It's over," I choked out, tears finally breaking free and running hot down my cheeks. "She’s never coming back. She can never touch you or our daughter ever again."
Anna let out a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief, leaning her weight into me. "Meet your daughter, Mark."
I looked down at the tiny face. She yawned, stretching a miniature hand out of the blanket, her tiny fingers brushing against my thumb.
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"What should we name her?" I asked, my voice cracking.
"Maya," Anna said softly, kissing the baby's forehead. "It means courage."
