Ashes (Web of Desire #3) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,59
edge of the bed and lowered my feet to the floor. Before I could stand, the door behind me opened.
“Madeline, you must rest.”
I quickly turned to Irina. “My baby.”
“Yes,” she said, rushing toward me. “Lie back. You must be careful of your stitches.”
“No.” I didn’t care about my stitches or the pain or anything other than my baby. I forced myself to stand.
Peering down into the small bed, my knees gave out.
The bed was empty.
“Where is my baby?” I cried, fighting the onset of emotions. There were too many to recognize, creating a tidal wave capable of submerging me until I was tossed about like a buoy freed in a turbulent storm only to be lost at sea.
Irina rushed to the side of the bed. “She’s in the nursery. Dr. Kotov has looked her over…”
She.
Her.
My baby was a girl.
“A girl,” I said, looking up at the woman before me.
“Yes, and she is small, but the doctor is confident she’ll be well.”
“I need to see her, Irina.” When she didn’t respond, I did all I could do. I begged. “Please, take me to her.”
“You must rest, too, for her.”
“Please, Irina.”
Her expression cooled as her lips came together, yet despite that, she reached for my hands and with an arm around my shoulder helped me stand. “Slowly,” she instructed.
“Thank you.”
My teeth clenched as with each step, what had been a dull ache throbbed to life inside me. Fire streaked through me, shooting pain until tears teetered upon my lids. “Did I have surgery?”
“Yes, your daughter became distressed.”
“But she’s all right?” I asked.
As we came to the pocket door separating my suite from her room, I saw the clear bed where the bassinet had been. There were boxes near it with monitors and numbers. The bed was enclosed with a light above it.
I took another step closer. “What are they doing to her?”
“The bed has oxygen. Her lungs are too young. She needs help breathing.”
My fingers splayed over the glass as I peered down at the beautiful baby within. Even being early, her small head was covered in a fine layer of dark hair. Her eyes were covered by a small blindfold as a light shined down upon her. Only wearing a tiny diaper, her skin was almost translucent, showing a network of red and blue lines beneath.
“Can she hear me?” I asked.
Irina nodded.
“Baby,” I said aloud, turning my full attention on her. “It’s me, your mommy.”
Irina pulled the rocking chair close to the bed. “Let me help you to the bathroom, and then you can sit here if you’d like.”
I turned to the older woman. “Is she…will she be all right?”
“Dr. Kotov believes she will.”
“Andros?” I wasn’t certain of what I was asking. I just knew that while living here, within his compound and home, all decisions were his and his alone.
“Mr. Ivanov wants you both to get well. Perhaps you will have more children—boys next time.”
I couldn’t be hearing correctly. “He wants me to have other children? I-I…”
Irina covered my hand with hers. “Not soon, child. In the future. Now you both must heal.”
Heal.
It was what Andros said when he bought me. It was my task then and now.
I looked again at the little baby. “How much does she weigh?”
“Her weight is good for her gestation, four pounds and two ounces.”
That was so small.
Panic bubbled through me. “Can she eat?”
“See the tube,” she said, pointing to one in her nose. “She’s eating that way now. When she’s bigger, she’ll be able to eat. Let me help you to the bathroom.”
I didn’t want to look away now that she was here. I didn’t care if she was early or about her tiny size—I cared that she survived. “Baby, you’re part of your mommy and daddy. You’re a survivor. Never forget that.”
I’d not considered that Irina was listening or that according to the story I’d held true, I didn’t know my baby’s father. My eyes flashed to Irina’s.
If she heard, she didn’t respond.
“Do you have a name chosen?” she asked.
A small seed of joy burst in my chest. “Do I get to choose her name?”
“You’re her mother.”
“Andros?”
“He said it’s up to you. Her last name will also be Miller.”
Miller.
This innocent baby didn’t deserve the name Miller. She wasn’t one of Dr. Miller’s girls. She wasn’t an offspring resulting from being one of his girls. She was a Kelly, like her mother and her father. I decided to concentrate on the positive. “Andros said I could name her?”