The Midwife's Son by Dani Haviland

The Midwife's Son by Dani Haviland

Author:Dani Haviland [Haviland, Dani]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chill Out!
Published: 2019-12-29T16:00:00+00:00


***

“Where am I? What’s going on here?” Junior asked, trying to lift his hands which were strapped to the bed.

“You were unconscious for two days, Champ. You kept trying to scratch your stitches. Now, if you promise to be a good boy, I’ll remove the restraints,” Foster said, adding a wink and a tender smile to let him know he was both teasing and concerned.

Junior closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing while he tried to make sense of where he was and why. Where were his mothers and why was his avian studies instructor here? “Okay, I’ll behave,” he said, then waited, his breathing echoing in the room devoid of dialog.

If you stay quiet too long, he’ll know something’s wrong with your brain. You’re obviously in a hospital and with a cut somewhere, but you’d better get up before you look crazy.

Sitting up made him aware of where he had been injured. The left side of his head was throbbing as if crammed full of steaming, oversized baked potatoes. He leaned back again. “Oh, my skull’s going to explode,” he groaned, reflexively reaching up to touch it.

“Uh, uh, uh!” Foster sang out. “You promised.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. More or less. Where are my mothers?”

“Mothers? Plural?” Foster paused a moment, then realized how that could be possible. “Oh, you didn’t have your application filled out completely, Señor Rodriguez Gonzalez. No emergency contact person was listed, so I volunteered. Actually, with all the hoopla, and then the freak twister that set down practically in our camp, the enthusiasm for the program waned. Everyone elected to go back to one-week rotations and groups of four.”

“Sorry if I messed up your plans,” Junior said, a blanket apology that would hopefully cover whatever had happened. Everything was still so fuzzy.

“Oh, and Cindy should be fine. She’s still a little,” Foster twirled a finger around his ear, “out of it from the drugs Carson — or whoever it was — gave her.”

“Wait! What? Cindy? My Cindy…she was hurt?” Junior asked, sitting back up too fast, a cold sweat blanketing him in spots nausea hadn’t already claimed. He sunk back into the hospital bed. “Tell me everything from the beginning, would you?” he asked, biting off the word ‘sir’ that certainly would have alerted the man that he didn’t remember his name, either.

Foster leaned in and whispered, “I get the feeling that you have blank-slate-itus. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything, Champ. Just let me know if you remember your moms’ phone number, so I can let them know what’s going on.”

The instructor sat back, crossed an ankle over his knee, and began his recitation about what had happened before and after Carson left the group and his own suspicions.

“Wow…”

“Yes, your Cindy is still recovering. Physically, she’s fine. She doesn’t have any family around, either, so I’ve been visiting with her, too. Every once in a while, she starts babbling about how she’s worried about her baby.” Foster rolled his eyes and sighed. “But, I want to be there for her, whether she’s having a major meltdown or flashbacks.



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