understand the words or pick up on her frustration.
With her rolling bed parked along the wall, a young man placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned down. “Someone will be here soon to check your progress. Please give us a few minutes.”
The only thing that kept her calm was the sight of her mother parked next to her. Two nurses busied themselves with hooking a monitor to the side of the bed and placing sticky pads to her mom’s pale skin, ignoring Rebekah’s pleas for information.
“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” she cried out, desperate for answers.
Finally, one of the nurses turned and calmly touched Rebekah’s swollen abdomen. “We’re doing all we can, ma’am. The storm has brought in more patients than we have beds. The birthing suites are full, the operating rooms are in use from the numerous car accidents that have come in, and the ER has no room left. That’s why you’re in the hall. We’re really sorry, but we’re doing the best we can.”
“No…my mom.” Tears filled her words while her lip quivered. She didn’t care where she was or how much space they had available. Her primary concern at the moment was her mother. “Is she okay?”
With a gentle smile, the nurse replied, “She seems to be all right for now, but we won’t know anything until she’s been examined by a doctor. We’re getting someone here as soon as we can.”
Her stomach clenched, and she immediately leaned forward, attempting to curl into a ball to alleviate the pain. Her screams echoed in the hall and pierced through the chaos around them. In an instant, several people crowded around her bed, yet Rebekah couldn’t concentrate on any of it.
Intense pressure built between her legs. Her skin broke out in a layer of perspiration, her face flush. Heat traveled through her like the lightning ripping through the sky outside. Each time her stomach hardened with a contraction, a scream tore through her and threatened to steal her voice.
The lights flickered above her.
Panic surrounded the bed.
And a baby was born.
Blue. No voice. No cries.
Silence.
Rebekah sat up and reached for the baby, willing it to make a sound. Any sound. She prayed aloud, begging and pleading to anyone who’d listen. She swore that if she could just hear her baby cry, she’d never complain about the sound. She’d never take the squawks of a newborn for granted.
Commotion.
That’s all it was.
A soft cry, followed by a stronger one.
And an elongated, shrill, steady alarm sounding next to her.
Simultaneously.
As lightning crashed, the circle of life reset.
Chapter One
Drew
I closed the heavy wooden door and turned the key, locking the main office. The day was officially over for me, but for some reason, I wasn’t as excited as I should’ve been. Once again, the overwhelming silence reminded me of how lonely life was at Black Bird Resort.
Every year on the Fourth of July, I took a six-pack to the main dock and watched the fireworks light up the sky behind the mountaintops. So with a small cooler of beer, that was exactly where I headed.
I didn’t visit the dock only on the Fourth; it was the perfect place for a bit of quiet contemplation. The lapping water along the embankment had a way of drowning out everything else and resetting my soul. It centered and soothed me, as though the lake summoned my spirit. It was the perfect place to be alone and grow lost in the whispers of nature.
The dock wasn’t far or difficult to get to, just behind the main office, tucked into the foot of the mountain. I could’ve walked if I’d wanted to, but taking the golf cart was easier and quicker. Honestly, it had become my primary mode of transportation, regardless of where I was headed. Most people opted to get around the resort on foot. I couldn’t blame them, considering how beautiful and peaceful the grounds were, but after living here my entire life—as well as working here every day for the last six years—I’d concluded that walking was overrated.
As I drove down the dirt path that led to the lake, I couldn’t help but feel the loneliness consume me. It didn’t matter how hard I fought the oppressive cloud that cloaked me in pathetic misery, it wouldn’t go away. The most ridiculous part of it all was that I didn’t have to be alone. I could’ve spent the evening celebrating Independence Day along with everyone else at Black Bird’s restaurant or bar. Instead, I’d