Prologue
"Michael! Tomas! I need you to come inside now.”
Michael looked up from the game he was playing with his best friend. They were sitting just next to the driveway, playing with marbles..., or trying to. Michael knew that his friend was worried. They both were..., even though the adults didn’t think they could understand what was happening.
Aunt Nora stood in the doorway. Her long black hair was pulled back into a braid and she looked tired..., like Michael felt when he didn’t get enough sleep during the night.
Tomas scrambled to his feet at the same time Michael did. The two boys ran through the front door, Tomas just ahead. He stopped in front of the woman and looked up at her. “Is Mama gonna be okay?”
“I need to take her to the hospital.” Aunt Nora smiled reassuringly at them. “Tomas, your father will come and look after you both.”
The sound of hard, sharp gasps for breath prompted Michael to glance towards the door of the living room, the door only slightly ajar.
Aunt Nora crouched down and put an arm around each of the boys. “It’ll be all right.”
A sharp cry came from the room and Michael’s eyes darted towards the door. He could tell that Tomas was scared and he reached out to grip his friend’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight.
“Stay here.” Aunt Nora stood up, releasing the boys, and walked into the living room. She pushed the door, but it didn’t close properly behind her.
Michael glanced at Tomas, who stared back at him, wide-eyed. He then looked at the door. He wanted to go inside. Ethel was always warm to him and he was scared by the obvious pain she was in. He didn’t really understand why having a baby had to hurt..., but he didn’t want to stand outside and listen.
As so often happened, Michael took the lead and walked into the living room. He knew Tomas was behind him - his friend pressed close enough that Michael could feel Tomas’ breath on the back of his neck.
Michael had been in the living room more times than he could count, but that was the first time he was there when Ethel was in so much obvious pain. She wasn’t sitting down on the couch, or even stretched out. Instead, she was moving slowly, aunt Nora holding her arm gently as she shuffled around the living room.
Ethel’s hair, normally thick and styled in a neat braid, now hung in a tangle, the ends just touching her shoulders. She was breathing harshly..., as if each breath was a struggle, or hurt her.
Michael didn’t know if they knew he and Tomas were there, but Aunt Nora left Ethel’s side and walked over to the phone. She picked it up and began dialing..., looking worriedly back at Ethel as the woman cried out, supporting herself against the sofa. She soon realized that it would not be possible to take Ethel to the hospital, as the baby was eager to make an entrance into the world.
Tomas left Michael’s side and slipped his hand into his mother’s. Ethel managed a faint smile at him... but her brow quickly creased once more with pain and she put her free hand to her back.
Michael glanced at Aunt Nora, who had tucked the phone under her ear and was listening. Her eyes landed on Michael. “Mike..., go and get me some towels.” Her voice was firm and carried a reassuring note.
Wanting to be of help, Michael stepped to the door... but then paused, eyes darting anxiously between his friend and the two women. “I don’t know where they are,” he said softly.
“I do!” Tomas left his mother’s side and ran out of the room.
There was a wet patch on the carpet and Michael stepped around it as he moved closer to Aunt Nora and Ethel.
Aunt Nora glanced over him, but focused on Ethel. She helped her to settle on the couch... something that took longer than it should have, considering she was also directing her to take deep breaths. The phone remained in place and Michael thought the person on the other end was telling Aunt Nora how to help Ethel.
A scream ripped from Ethel’s throat and she clutched at Aunt Nora, her nails digging into the woman’s arm. Michael could see a tiny, dark head peeking out from under Ethel’s dress and Aunt Nora reached out to hike the skirt up out of the way.
Tomas walked back into the living room, a stack of towels held in his arms, so high that he had to peer round.
Aunt Nora took the stack of towels from Tomas and began wiping the sweat from Ethel’s forehead and cheeks. “I need a bowl of warm water, kids...,” she called out.
Tomas was back out of the room almost before the last word was out of her mouth.
Aunt Nora placed one towel under Ethel’s legs..., not a moment too soon, because with one final scream, a rush of blood gushed out and a tiny baby was deposited onto the towel. Her eyes were scrunched up tight and a piercing wail came out of her mouth.
“There’s nothing wrong with her lungs,” aunt Nora muttered, as she used another towel to wipe over the tiny dark form, then picked up a pair of scissors from the pot on the coffee table. She cut the cord and then wrapped the baby up so that only her face was showing. “Mike...,” she indicated the armchair next to the couch.
Michael sat on the chair, so big that his feet couldn’t even touch the floor. When aunt Nora deposited the towel-wrapped baby on his lap, Michael wrapped his small arms around her and stared down into her tiny, delicate face. It was as if something was pulling him in, forcing his tiny soul to connect with that of the newborn baby girl. He knew Aunt Nora was cleaning Ethel, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the tiny baby as he whispered to her, “I love you and I promise I will never drop you.”
