Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) (15 page)

Chapter Twelve

There was crying in the room. Stone was roused from sleep, his arm asleep under the weight of his…
wife
? Was that how he should think of her? It fit. It felt good.

“Little One?” he grumbled, wiping a hand down his face, voice hoarse. “Wake up, honey.”

He grabbed hold of her shoulder, leaning in to kiss her awake when something made him pause.

She was cold. And gray in color.

“No, no no nonononono…” he was mumbling, rolling her to her back and pushing her hair out of her face. “Oakley? Honey? Come on, baby. Wake up. You’re in there.” His chest was tight, his throat closing up. He knew the truth.

She was gone.

His heart stopped; he heard it and felt it. All sound was coming from far away. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get up. He pulled Oakley into his lap, sobbing as her arms flopped to the side, limp. That’s when he saw, felt, and smelled the blood. The bed was soaked with it, still slightly warm. He’d been sleeping in it, too. Their legs were both coated with crimson.

“Come on, baby,” he babbled, fighting for air through his weeping. “Don’t leave. Come on baby, stay with me.”

Useless words. Words don’t change what had happened. He’d slept while she died. How the fuck did you not realize the person you were holding stopped breathing?

The door swung open and he looked up, shaking, pleading. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Please. Bring her back.”

May dropped the tray she’d been carrying—coffee and eggs. She’d brought them breakfast. She rushed towards the bed, hands going for Oakley’s wrist. At the very first touch she’d winced and he knew it wasn’t his imagination—she was cold. She was dead and gone for good.

“Stone—” May could sound so fucking practical and calm sometimes.

“No,” he cut her off. “No, she can’t.”

“Stone, she’s gone. She’s dead. Look at her.”

He was. He had her head cradled to his chest. Her lips were purplish blue, skin pasty and gray. He shook his head. “She can’t be. She can’t.”

“Let her go, honey. We’ll take care of this. You take care of the baby.”

He’d forgotten. The bean was in his cradle, still screaming for attention. He was probably hungry, too. Fuck, what was the bean going to eat?

“Oh no. Christ, no.”

They both turned to the door where Jo stood, not dressed for the weather. More like she’d pulled on boots with her sleeping clothes. Her hair was disheveled and she wasn’t wearing her hat, and markedly pale as though she’d already known what she was going to find.

Stone felt himself center, because now he felt rage. “Did you know?” he growled, and May was already putting a restraining hand on his arm.

“I dreamed it this morning.”

“That’s not fucking
fore
sight, Jo.”

“Stone,” May whispered gently. “Stay calm. It won’t help anything.”

He set Oakley down and got out of bed, his pants stuck to his skin because they were soaked in blood. Jo’s eyes took in the sight and she started to tremble.

“Did you see us together? Did you see the baby?”

Jo was nodding, covering her mouth as her eyes watered. “But I saw happiness, an entire life of it. I swear to Christ, Stone.”

“You pushed her at me knowing this would happen. And we fucking
killed
her!” He was roaring and irrational but it was better than fucking crying.

Jo’s face went slack in shock. “I never saw this, I swear!”

“You mind your own business and she would have stayed away from me. But now she’s dead.”

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have your son.”

He shoved her. He didn’t like manhandling women, but in anger he’d been known to push a few around. This topped out anger and overflowed into fury.

Jo stumbled out into the snow. Absently he registered that it was sunny, the sky a brilliant royal blue, the world dazzling with its coat of snow. A gorgeous, breathtaking day. Not that Oakley would get to see it.

Jo had landed on her ass but she scrambled up quickly as May pulled back on his arm.

“My son?” he hollered, voice breaking. “He’s going to die, too! How can he live without his mother?”

“Stone, this isn’t going to help anything.”

He ignored May, pushing Jo again. She didn’t fall this time and that pissed him off. She held up a hand pitifully as her face crumpled into crying.

“Please, Stone. I didn’t want this. If I’d seen this I would have told her to stay away. I swear it.”

Even he was surprised when he raised his hand to her, but he didn’t get the chance to strike her because suddenly he was on his face in the fresh snow himself.

He rolled to his back, ready to come up swinging but Harley was standing over him, hands clenched into fists. “You hit her, and I promise I’ll hit you three times, asshole.”

“It’s fine,” Jo was now pulling Harley away from
him
. “He’s hurting. It’s okay.”

Harley ignored her, chest heaving.  There was a good long stare-down then he turned to May, obviously the coolest head involved. “Now what the fuck is going on?”

May wrapped her arms across her stomach, lip trembling. “Oakley’s dead. She must have hemorrhaged in her sleep. She’s already cold. There’s no bringing her back.”

Stone collapsed onto his back, hands covering his face. With the anguish of a million widows he screamed, letting loose with a terrible wail that ripped at his throat and burned his lungs. It had to hurt on the inside somewhere other than his heart, because that would kill him for sure.

When he had no more sound he stayed right where he was, feeling the snow burn his bare back. Both the rough and the cold tore at his skin. That was good, too. He needed more hurt.

Someone was leaning over him. He could tell because they were blocking the sun from his face. Stone lowered his hands, trying to breathe normally. But it kept catching in his throat and making him sob.

It was Harley, crouching next to him. His face was very different now. Fuck, even
Harley
was crying now?

“Brother,” the man began low. “I am so fucking sorry. Jesus Christ, I am so sorry. What do we do from here?”

Stone frowned. He had no idea what to do next.

“That baby needs to eat,” Harley went on. “Jo is getting some condensed milk ready for him, and she’s looking for a way to feed it to him. So the baby’s okay. What do we need to do for you?”

Stone shook his head. “I don’t know. Put a fucking bullet in my head?”

“Fuck that. No. You got a son now, brother. He needs you. You know what we need to do?”

Stone sniveled like a bitch but nodded. “We have to deal with the body.”

“That’s right.” Harley clasped his shoulder. “We gotta do right by her. Right? Take care of that baby, prepare her for cremation. That’s what we’re going to do now.” He grabbed Stone by the wrist and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s melt some snow to clean her up.”

Stone nodded, wiping his nose and eyes. They filled metal pails with snow, returning to the little shack to melt it on the wood stove. Even
that
was still smoldering. The fire lasted longer than his woman had last night.

“Shit,” Harley mumbled, gazing down at the bed.

“I’ll wash her,” May offered behind them. He turned to see her holding Adam. Ah,
that’s
why it was quiet. His son was flailing an arm around, trying to grab her hair. His eyes were fighting to stay open, too.

“I’ll do it,” Stone insisted, hearing the hoarseness of his own voice. It hurt to talk now.

“I can help.”

“No,” he snapped, giving Harley a warning glare. “No one touches her but me.”

Harley held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll go get the pyre ready. Keep yourself busy, yeah?”

Stone nodded as Harley left, closing the door behind him. He was left in the room with his dead woman and his son, held by someone else. May was
tutting
at the baby, bouncing him in her arms. It was keeping him quiet.

There were rags on the table, and he knew they were meant to be diapers but he grabbed one anyway, lowering it into one of the pails. The water was cold but it barely registered.

He peeled the nightgown from her. When he saw her stomach, still distended and swollen from pregnancy, he was weeping again but it was quieter. And he controlled it better now that he had a task to perform.

He washed the blood from her back, her legs. Her feet. It hadn’t gotten to her hair. Once she was clean, about five towels later, he pulled a sheet from the foot of the bed. It hadn’t been bled on. He knew it was a waste of good linen but he couldn’t bear her being burned in a bloody shroud.

Stone was able to keep her away from the pool of blood at the center of the bed as he wrapped her. He rested her, clean and ready for the fire, on the edge of the mattress. Then he stood and stared down at the form.

“Stone,” May called out, rousing him from the confusion of inactivity.

“Yeah?”

“Change your clothes. You need to clean up, too.”

He looked down, only now remembering the blood drying to his legs. With a nod he crossed to the chest of drawers he’d shoved along one wall. It was missing a drawer; he’d removed one to make the cradle for the bean. He dropped his pants after checking over his shoulder. May had turned her back to him, still swaying side to side and whispering to Adam. He used one of the bloody rags to wipe his own legs down before pulling on clean fatigues and socks. A long underwear shirt cut through some of the cold. Yeah, he was fucking freezing.

His fists rested on the highboy in front of him and he squeezed his eyes shut. Shit. Four months. He’d had her for four months, and that was it. The best part of his entire life, and it lasted four months.

There was a little cough, then Adam was off crying again. May was talking to him softly, and Stone opened his eyes. He couldn’t fall apart, could he? It wasn’t just him. The bean changed everything.

He turned and stalked towards May, hands out. “I got him,” he said, probably too aggressively.

May’s arms tightened protectively, and he liked her more for that. “You’re okay?”

Stone swallowed, nodded. “Yeah. I…I need to hold him.”

Her suspicion faded into a smile. She transferred the bundle into his arms. He was so small. His entire body was as wide as Stone’s arm. With Adam in the crook of his elbow Stone placed his other hand on his son’s tummy, watching his little hands wipe at his face with absolutely no coordination. The kid was sniffling and scoffing like his shit was all bent out of shape.

“I know, man,” Stone whispered. “It sucks. But you got me, okay?”

At his voice the fussing stopped. He could feel the little legs in the blanket stop pushing and writhing, and his hands came to rest next to his head. He sighed, falling still.

Stone had to chuckle. “You got more faith than me, bean.” There was a pause and he looked up to find May staring at him. “What?”

She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “Nothing. He just looks good on you, that’s all.”

Stone snorted, looking down at Adam again. “How can something so small be so fucking scary?”

May sighed, covering a yawn. “I don’t know. You got me there.”

Stone kept Adam in his arms as Jo returned with a rubber glove filled with milk. The four fingers were tied off and a hole had been poked in the thumb. They’d boiled it to sanitize it and the milk was the right temperature, all facts that had done absolutely nothing to reassure him. All he knew was his kid needed to eat.

With his free hand he held the glove over his son, feeling despair again. Last night the bean had latched right on to Oakley’s breast, no hesitation. Talk about confusion—

He gasped right along with May as Adam sucked the end of the thumb into his mouth, suckling away. It likely tasted like rubber shit but he was drinking and didn’t stop until it was empty.

“We’ll ration the condensed milk,” Jo assured him. “We don’t drink it. It’s all for Adam.” She sounded wretched, and he felt terrible for blaming her but he wasn’t up for apologizing yet.

Stone watched his son fall back asleep, then looked around for the cradle. May moved out of the way so he could set him down, then he was staring at the wrapped body on the bed again. The lead weight in his chest got heavier.

“I’ll go see how Harley’s doing,” May mumbled, leaving. After a moment of hesitation, Jo followed her.

Stone dropped to his knees next to Oakley, resting his hand where he knew her crossed hands were. He could feel her small wrists underneath the cotton. “Shit, Little One,” he sputtered, feeling the calm crack again. He covered his mouth with his other hand, eyes staring at the far wall. “How come this feels like the end of my life? Is it just because you took all hope with you?”

The fire crackled behind him.

“Pretty sure I’m in love with you, Oakley. Never outright said it but…I love you. I used to think it took years for that to happen, not a few days. But things are a little clearer lately. Maybe it was the bombs, maybe it happened when I got locked up. I don’t know.”