Muscles in her back and shoulders released fractionally. Muscles that she hadn’t even known were tense. She wondered now why she’d waited so long to return home, why she’d let her fear and heartache keep her away from the familiar places----and people, of home.
“So, my little Owl has flown home.” A voice out of her childhood sounded behind her.
Just a few months earlier Theresa would have whirled to face the speaker behind her, first from fear of capture and then an instant later from the joy of reuniting with her dear friend and mentor from the reservation.
“Poppa Bear!” She turned cautiously, but with a warm smile, concentrating on maintaining her balance with her center of gravity so greatly skewed from her protruding belly.
She turned to see the same tall, broad-shouldered man who had seemed so strong and safe when she was a little girl. He really didn’t look like a bear, but he had to her childish eyes so many years ago, and he’d been happy to accept the nickname. His glossy black hair had more than a few strands of white in it now, and his stomach had thickened slightly with age, but he was still the solid rock she had leaned on through her confusing childhood, tempestuous adolescence, and the painful years while her mother weakened from her disease.
More tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she didn’t know if they were tears of joy at the sight of the man who was a father to her in every way but blood, or tears of grief at the shock and disappointment that flashed through his eyes when he saw her for the first time.
“Momma has been worried about you, Owl. You haven’t called in months. And just what you think she’s going to think of this?” Mark Winterwolf chided her gently, gesturing towards her abdomen.
Theresa knew he didn’t refer to her mother, who had passed away nearly six years ago, but to his wife, Jennifer. Jennifer and Mark had befriended her as a young girl, bereft of both twin brother and father, and left in a strange place with an apathetic mother. They’d filled in the holes left by her mother’s emotional abandonment and adopted the scared and grieving girl into their large brood with the careless generosity that characterized their lives.
“I’m sorry, Poppa.” She told him sincerely, trying to swallow down the lump in her throat. “So much has happened, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t tell you most of it over the phone.”
To her dismay the tears stopped pricking at the backs of her eyes and filled them instead. Mark saw them and swept her into a comforting hug that eased some of the ache left in her spirit after her dehumanizing experiences at the Centre.
“It’s okay, little one.” He soothed her, patting her back reassuringly. “Momma won’t really be mad.”
“I know.” She admitted, tears wetting his shoulder. “I missed you so very much, Poppa!”
Mark wondered what had happened to the stubbornly self-reliant young lady who’d left the reservation the same month her mother had died. Her letters and phone calls to them over the years had indicated her growing maturity, but she had retained her sense of self-confidence and fierce independence. Not even the overactive hormones of pregnancy could explain the way she clung to him now, like he was her only safety. Someone had hurt her badly, he realized, and his anger rose at the thought. He’d always had a soft spot for Theresa, with her pale blond curls and solemn blue eyes.
She forced herself to release the fierce grip she had on him and stepped back, trying to control the flow of tears. It seemed, though, that her hold on her pain, anger, and fear had been completely shattered. Tears continued to pour from her eyes even as she fought to stop them.
“I’ve been told pregnancy makes women emotional.” She sniffed half-heartedly, trying to ease the concern growing in his eyes. Mark gave her the same piercing look he’d given her as a child when he caught her lying, and urged her down the path.
“That is true, little Owl.” He told her gently. “But the emotions themselves are determined by the woman’s state of mind. Come, Momma is waiting.”
“I should really start unpacking.” She protested feebly, knowing that if Jennifer were to see her she would be hurt that Theresa hadn’t told her about the coming child and distressed that Theresa was in tears. She knew that Mark sensed her guilt when he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and guided her inexorably towards his home. Jennifer would be even more upset if she found out that Theresa had returned and hadn’t come to see her immediately.
Jennifer had 5 sons but none of her daughters had survived more than a few days after birth. Theresa was the girl she’d always longed for and she’d lavished her with maternal love. She was the perfect companion to Mark, a petite, round woman with sparkling black eyes and glossy black hair. She too was a native American and she was just as generous and giving as her husband.
“No, child, Momma would have my head if I didn’t bring you home with me.” Mark overrode her objection without a moment’s thought. “Especially in your condition. Just when are you due, anyway?”
“Late next month, ideally.” Theresa smiled wanly at Mark’s look of skepticism and nodded her head in confirmation. “This is just the start of my ninth month.” She assured him, wishing she wasn’t so confident; that, like most women, she wasn’t positive of the day of conception.
Escaping the Centre had only given her freedom, it hadn't healed her battered spirit, and it had left her with more than just the hard lesson she’d learned about the dark side of human nature. The six weeks she'd spent with Jarod had been informative, and she'd regained a little of her confidence as she mastered the art of Pretending, but she didn't get the same thrill that Jarod seemed to with his stings. It had almost been a relief when she realized that her time at the Centre was going to have longer lasting consequences than she’d known. She hadn’t told Jarod why she was parting company, just that she was ready to make it on her own now.
She knew he was relieved too when she announced her intention to go off on her own---he’d been delaying his search for his family while he finished her training as a Pretender. Two people were hard enough to keep hidden; he hadn’t wanted the added complication of one of his family members to conceal. The capture of his father so soon after they had been reunited had left a scar on his soul and he was never going to take that risk again. So they’d gone their separate ways, each happy about it for their own reasons.
Theresa had thought about returning home, or rather, returning to the Winterwolf home, but she hadn't known how to tell them about her pregnancy. She still didn't what to tell them, really. Even she hadn't really absorbed the enormity of what was happening to her. She knew that Lyle and the Centre were responsible, but she wasn't sure just how they'd accomplished it. All she knew was that her vague memory of someone being in her room that last night wasn't a dream but was a reality.
So she'd spent the better part of seven months drifting around the United States at random, using her Pretending skills to earn a living when money ran out. She would have returned to the reservation sooner, but every time she stopped moving for more than a week she had the uneasy feeling that someone was closing in on her. She didn't know if it was true, or if it was just a product of her deep fear of recapture by the Centre. Only the conviction that the babies were coming soon had finally driven her back to the one place she hoped they'd all be safe.
Within the hour she was sitting in the kitchen she’d more or less grown up in and sipping a cup of hot tea. Her surrogate mother had taken one, pain-filled look at Theresa’s damp face and pregnancy swollen belly and moved into action. Now, worried frown creasing her forehead in spite of her best efforts, she finally stopped her superfluous cleaning of the counters and sat down near the girl she loved as a daughter, the questions she wanted to ask clear in her mind.
“Theresa, what happened, dear? The truth.” She added, firmly.
“I---“ Theresa's face was closed and blank, trying to deny her bruised emotions. “I found Timmy. But he wouldn’t come with me. He’s-----he’s in an awful place.”
“The Centre?” Mark asked, having spoken to Theresa’s father about it in the past.
“Yes.” Theresa closed her eyes, her throat working as she strove to control her emotions.
“Timmy isn’t the problem, dear.” Jennifer returned relentlessly to the matter at hand, refusing to allow Theresa to sidetrack the issue. Theresa's face got even stonier. Neither of the two people hanging on Theresa’s every word missed the fact that she was delaying explaining her pregnancy and both of them were becoming convinced that that delay had something to do with the baby’s father.
“They caught me when I tried to sneak in to see Timmy.” Theresa finally admitted, her voice a mere thread of sound. “They aren’t human, Momma. They’re monsters in human skins.”
Mark and Jennifer exchanged worried looks; had someone raped her? Was that why she was avoiding the subject of her pregnancy? Theresa continued, her voice growing a little higher, her delivery more rapid as she went on.
“I met someone from the Centre; another child that had been stolen from his family. He’s all grown up now, of course, and he escaped the Centre several years ago. He rescued me, after I was captured. He explained that the reason the Centre took us children is because our genes had been altered. Some of us are what he calls Pretenders. We can---get into someone else’s head, become them, solve problems. He warned me about the Centre before I tried to sneak into it, but I didn’t listen.” Her voice broke but she began speaking again almost immediately, trying to hold off another emotional breakdown by a torrent of words.
"They’ve hurt Tim! He can barely speak. They act like we are things! Like we are their property." Theresa's voice dropped to a whisper again and fresh tears welled. Jennifer squeezed her hand comfortingly. "It was awful, Momma! I felt like---like----I started to almost believe I wasn’t a person anymore.”
Theresa leaned her head down on the table tiredly, tears falling again and her shoulder's shaking with sobs she refused to sound. Her stay at the Centre had shattered the confidence the Winterwolf family had managed to give her. The months of wandering and the constant fear of being recaptured had exhausted what resources had remained with her after her ordeal.
She’d always been prone to question her own worth----after all, it was her brother who had been kidnapped, not her. Her mother had grieved the loss of her son so much that she’d all but forgotten her daughter, and her father had disappeared looking for Tee, so her childish mind had concluded that she simply wasn’t important enough for love and attention. Mark and Jennifer, and their sons, had ameliorated much of that self-doubt with their unstinting love and acceptance, but deep down inside Theresa there had remained a wounded child that didn’t believe she was worthy of anything good. That child had been released during those fateful few days, and Theresa didn’t know how to lock her away again.
“Oh, Theresa!” Jennifer breathed painfully, tears welling up in her own eyes. “Baby, what can we do?” Her heart ached, recognizing the defeated attitude in Theresa’s posture as a replay of her lonely childhood.
"What is there to do?" She managed to say. "It's all been done. It's all over now----All. Over. Now."
“What about the baby, little one? Where is the father? Why haven’t you spoken of him? Did someone----hurt you?” He couldn’t bring himself to mention the word “rape” but they all knew that was what he was asking. “Do you not want it? We could always give it up for adoption.” Mark suggested softly.
“Oh, no!” Theresa denied vehemently, springing upright. “I could never give them up!”
She smiled bitterly at the renewed shock on their faces.
“I’m having twins.” She confirmed. “And I wasn’t----no man-----ah, this is so hard to explain!” She trailed off painfully.
“Sweetheart, you just tell me who’s responsible for this and your brothers and I will see to it that he provides for you, and the little ones too, since you want to keep them.” Mark told her soothingly.
"No, you don't understand." Theresa looked so lost that Mark and Jennifer each grabbed one of her hands and she clung to them like she was in danger of falling off a cliff. "I don't know if they're mine."
Mark blinked and Jennifer frowned. That kind of a comment was enough to make one wonder if the speaker had completely lost her mind.
"Honey, what are you trying to say?" Jennifer asked gently. “How can they not be yours?”
"The Centre did this to me, not nature, not a man. Well, not a man in the usual way, at least. I’m sure it was Mr. Lyle’s orders, but he never----touched me.” Theresa swallowed hard, aware that she wasn’t explaining well, but unable to think coherently enough to make her explanations simple and clear.
“I’m not sure, but I think that these babies are from embryos that were kept frozen at a clinic called Nu-Genesis----where my parents and the parents of the other children went for help in getting pregnant. I’m almost certain that I’m no more than a surrogate mother.” She choked out, anxiety, pain, and desolation written on her face.
Mark was angry, even more so because he couldn’t see how to make things better for the girl he cared about. Jennifer was deeply concerned by the attitude of defeat she saw in her surrogate daughter. She knew Theresa had more inherent strength than she was showing at the moment and she knew that Theresa’s self confidence and fighting spirit had to be restored if the girl was going to survive the difficulties coming up in her life, but she wasn’t sure just how she could remind Theresa that she was tougher than she was giving herself credit for.
“What if someone finds out and tries to take them away from me?” Theresa continued, not seeing her friends anxiety but staring blindly at the wooden table top. “What if the biological parents find out and try to take them away from me? I don’t know what to do, Momma, Poppa. I don’t know if I should try to find their real parents when I want so much to keep them-----and I’m terrified that the Centre is going to catch up with me and get the babies AND me. I don’t know how I’d survive another stay there.” She admitted in a whisper, dread written on her expressive face.
"The Centre is nothing to take lightly, young lady, but if you survived once I’d say you’re stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for." A new voice from the door behind Theresa startled all three of them.
Mark jumped to his feet, hands fisted, chair flying to crash into the counter. Jennifer just jumped, her hand flying over her heart, and Theresa jerked violently, her teacup flying off the table and shattering on the floor.
Jennifer's worried frown grew as Theresa's face went blank and she turned slowly around, her hands spread protectively over her abdomen. She relaxed fractionally when she saw the tall man, his hair silver and his face lined with care. Slightly behind him and to one side was an adolescent boy, his brown eyes alight with curiosity.
"Who are you, Mister? And what the hell do you think you're doing waltzing into my house without permission?" Mark moved protectively in front of Theresa.
"It's okay, Poppa." Theresa stood awkwardly. "I think I know who this is. Major Charles?" She asked expectantly, but with an uneasy undertone.
"Yes." The man smiled charmingly, and Theresa saw the resemblance to Jarod. "You must be Theresa."
"Yes." Theresa didn't return the smile and continued to stroke her stomach protectively.
“Please forgive me for just walking in, but the door wasn’t locked and no one answered our knocks. I was afraid that a Centre team had beaten me here and came in to see if everything was all right.” The man explained smoothly, his attention fixed on Theresa and her gravid belly.
"I know you and my son traveled together for several weeks.” He continued, eyeing her round stomach with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. “Is it----his?”
Theresa frowned her confusion, and then, as understanding dawned, managed a slightly amused smile.
“No, Sir. Your son is a fine man, and I’m deeply indebted to him, but he and I don’t have those kinds of feelings towards each other. I’m not hiding the existence of his baby from him, I swear.”
The Major studied her face shrewdly and then relaxed slightly when what he saw reassured him. “That’s all right, then.” He allowed, smiling wryly when he realized how that would sound to his audience. “So, uh, Theresa! Do you have any leads on my son?” He changed the subject with more than a hint of discomfort.
“No, Sir.” Theresa told him gently. “We decided it was better not to know where the other was going, just in case.”
“Yes, I suppose that was sensible.” The Major agreed, his face gloomy with disappointment. “Well, I guess we should be going, then.”
“Wait. Why don’t you stay here for a few days?” Theresa offered suddenly, much to Mark and Jennifer’s amazement. “My mother left me a house just down the road from here that you and this young man are welcome to use for a while.”
She felt the Winterwolf couple’s puzzled looks, but she ignored them, knowing that she needed to talk to the Major before he disappeared. She was fairly sure that Jarod wasn’t the father of the babies she carried, (although she knew better than to discount anything where the Centre was concerned), but she wasn’t so sure that the Major wasn’t. Her sense of honor wouldn’t allow her to keep him ignorant, no matter how afraid she was that he might want them himself.
Major Charles opened his mouth to refuse, but then saw the determination, and apprehension, on Theresa’s face. He was no fool, and realized that she wanted a chance to speak to him without the presence of these two people who obviously cared about her a great deal. His heart sank and apprehension settled in his own stomach as he realized that anything she didn’t want to reveal in front of her friends was undoubtedly something painful and probably involved the agency that had already royally screwed up his family. With a sense of impending doom he sighed and nodded his head, bringing a dazzling smile of joy to the boy’s face.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay around for a few days.” He answered slowly, his eyes still fixed on Theresa’s face. He didn’t miss the flare of relief, quickly followed by misgiving before she smiled gamely at him.
“I’m glad. I hope that we can get together later and talk.” She absently pressed against a nagging ache in her lower back.
Jennifer noted it and threw a speaking glance at her husband. The babies were coming soon, her look declared. Mark looked nervous and turned his attention to the newcomers.
He hadn’t been happy during any of his wife’s deliveries, even though he was right beside her for every one. Now with Theresa’s impending labor he could feel an increased level of concern. Somehow he’d never been able to stop himself from thinking of Theresa as a gentle, fragile flower, growing up amongst his own stronger and wilder sons. She’d proven herself as tough as any of the boys many times, but when Mark looked at her he still saw a skinny little girl with wary eyes and a too serious face.
“I’m Mark Winterwolf, and this is my wife, Jennifer. Theresa here is like a daughter to us.” He announced gruffly, holding out a hand to shake. Major Charles smiled at the blatant warning in Mark’s greeting and took his hand in return.
"I'm sorry for invading your home." He told Mark , repeating the explanation he’d given them earlier. "We knocked, but there was no answer. I came in because was afraid that the Centre goons had beaten me here."
"Someone is on Theresa's trail?" Mark eyed Charles narrowly.
"Yes. I didn't know why until now. I’m still not sure how I missed hearing that she was pregnant while I was tracking her. But if this child is a potential Pretender then the Centre will spare no effort to retrieve him." Charles answered, his eyes meeting with Mark's in a silent warning.
The Centre is not an organization to take lightly, his eyes said, she needs protection.
"So you are here to help her?" Mark wanted to know, his defensive instincts rousing.
"Actually, I was only hoping she could give me a lead on my son. At least now I know why they've turned their attention away from him."
"Jarod and I parted ways months ago, how did you find me?" Theresa asked, her brow furrowed with puzzlement.
"A lucky break." Charles admitted. "I crossed your trail in Denver, after I had already learned of your time with Jarod in Texas. Jarod's trail was dead by then so I followed you, hoping you could give me a lead to my son."
“I’m really sorry, I wish I could help." Theresa told him sincerely, thinking of the pain of her own separation from her brother and wondering if her own father was even alive.
Charles nodded, the lines on his face seeming deeper even as he said, "I appreciate your consideration for my son's safety."
"Jarod is a good man. I'm sure you're proud of him." She smiled warmly.
"How did you two come to travel together? How did you attract the Centre's attention?"
"They've always known about me." Theresa answered bleakly. "My mother and father went to Nu-Genesis too. They kidnapped my brother when I was a little girl and they got me when I went looking for him a few months ago. Jarod got me out, but not before-----."
“Just what did they do to you?” Charles looked almost afraid to hear the answer, his eyes drawn to her protruding stomach.
He recognized the look of a bruised spirit when it peered at him from Theresa’s eyes. He also remembered her saying that she wouldn’t survive another encounter with the Centre---whatever they’d done, it had obviously scarred her soul badly.
“Oh they didn’t hurt me physically at all.” Theresa assured him with an undertone of bitterness. “I was hustled into the Centre proper and there were some people waiting for me there; Miss Parker, Sydney, some other little man who looked scared of his own shadow, and my brother. When I saw Tee,” Theresa’s voice dropped to a whisper, choked with emotion.
“When I saw Tee I didn’t care what happened to me because I was back with my brother, and nothing else mattered. I got to hug my brother for all of a minute before that horrible Mr. Lyle intervened." Theresa's face took on the same stony expression that had guarded her thoughts while she spoke to her surrogate parents, but Charles saw the underlying fear and anxiety. "He had me tested and examined and poked and prodded. Dr. Sydney guided me through a Sim, and he confirmed what Jarod had suspected." She paused visibly striving to pull herself out of those unpleasant memories.
“Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I’m a Pretender, like your son. Oh, Jarod is better than I could ever hope to be, but I can do the same sort of thing as him, so I was valuable. A commodity to be exploited. Mr. Lyle had me whisked off into the sublevels of the Centre. They----I don’t know how, but they---“ she looked down at her overlarge belly, with both love and sorrow. “They did this. I don't even want to think about what else would have happened to me if Jarod hadn't rescued me."
Theresa broke off what she was saying, an almost comical look of surprise crossing her face as her stomach moved visibly in a strong contraction. The next instant water gushed down her legs, pooling on the floor.
“That’s it, dear, they’ve decided to come today!” Jennifer bustled over. “Let’s get you cleaned up and to the hospital.”
“No!” Theresa protested. “No hospital---they’ll look there for me!”
“Perhaps,” Jennifer hustled her out of the room and down the hall while the three men looked on in bemusement. “But they won’t be looking for Rianya Winterwolf, my niece.”
“Mark! Get the car ready!” Jennifer called back down the hall. “These little ones are in a hurry.”
“Wow.” The boy said, awe etched on his face.
“Wow, indeed.” Mark smiled at the round eyed boy. “Want to help me bring the car around? If you two want to come with us I’m sure I can find a few minutes to show you Theresa’s home and open it up for you after I deliver my wife and Theresa to the hospital.”
“Can I watch her have the baby?” He asked Mark earnestly, still seeing this as an interesting intellectual experience rather than an actual activity involving real people and real feelings. “I’ve never really seen a baby born before.”
“You’ll have to ask Theresa, son.” Mark informed him gently, “But I imagine she won’t mind. She’s a fine one for educational experiences.”
“Son, don’t be pushing into a personal event.” Major Charles warned, making the boy’s eager face fall.
“Really, Theresa will undoubtedly think it’s fine. She understands children better than anyone I’ve ever seen, save my wife. She should have been a mother long ago.” Mark pulled the keys from the hook by the door and headed out of the house, waving his guests to join him, and resolutely ignoring the painful way that Theresa’s motherhood had been brought about.
“Why is having a baby a personal event?” The boy asked, his brow furrowed with thought, revealing in one innocent question that his upbringing had been lacking, to say the least. Mark shot a questioning look at the Major, who he’d already determined to be a caring parent and received a grim shake of the head in return. He’d explain later, Mark understood.
“Well, son,” Mark began, trying to think just why it was so special. “When a baby is born it’s kind of like God Himself comes down and gives you a precious gift. It’s a time for family to come together and celebrate life, and love, and our connection to each other. Of course, it’s often a time of yelling and screaming too.” He added with a chuckle, thinking of the less than spiritual births of his first two grandchildren. Neither of his daughters-in-law had been happy campers during their deliveries.
“Why is that?” They were climbing into the Suburban as the boy continued his probing. “I’ve seen pictures and videos and it seems fairly straightforward.
Mark and Charles exchanged amused looks at the boy’s naiveté.
“Son, they don’t call it “labor” for nothing. A woman works hard to bring a child into the world. And it hurts, especially the first time.” Mark explained patiently, letting the vehicle warm up. “And, one thing most books and no videos tell you is that during that time a woman goes a little crazy. Jennifer explained once that all of the emotional ups and downs of the pregnancy come together into one giant outburst of feeling that can be happy, or sad, or angry or all of ‘em rolled into one. Trust me, when a woman’s having a baby she’ll tell you exactly what’s on her mind without a second thought, sometimes at the top of her lungs.”
Mark pulled the suburban around, motioning the Major into the front and the boy into the back.
“It sounds very unpleasant.” He said earnestly. “Why do women do it more than once? Why do they do it at all?”
“That, young man, is one of life’s great mysteries. The woman will simply tell you it’s all worth it when she holds her child. Personally, I don’t think they remember it as well as we men do.” He gave the boy a conspiratorial wink.
“All set, hon!” Jennifer and Theresa made their way slowly out of the house, Theresa holding her belly tightly as if it would slow or stop her labor. Already a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. Mark moved to support Theresa from the other side, practically lifting her into the seat of the Suburban when they reached it.
“Don’t dawdle, dear.” Jennifer ordered her husband, a hint of concern coloring her voice. “She’s already having contractions five minutes apart.”
“Will we make it?” Mark asked worriedly, wondering if he should be speeding.
“Plenty of time---I think.” Jennifer answered, just a touch of worry bleeding into her own expression. Theresa shuddered and began breathing short, even breaths, pulling the air between her clenched teeth.
“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, suddenly feeling a bit intimidated by the level of tension in the vehicle and trying to turn this back into an interesting intellectual experience.
Theresa let out a long breath as the contraction eased.
“What’s your name?” She asked him before answering.
“The Maj---uh, Dad and I picked Joseph.” He answered shyly.
“Joseph’s a nice name.” Theresa assured him. “So, Joe, have you ever run really, really hard, even after you were tired?” She asked.
“Yes.” He answered, a troubled look crossing his face. Mr. Raines had made him do several Sims involving physical effort after he was already totally exhausted. He remembered one Sim in particular that left him treading water for thirty-six hours. It had been horrible.
“Well, this is sort of like that. It hurts because my muscles are working harder than they usually do, and because my cervix is dilating, but it isn’t too bad.”
“If it doesn’t hurt bad, then why do you make those noises?”
“Joe, let her be.” Major Charles interceded.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t know why,” She inhaled deeply as another contraction started, “but---it seems---to be easier---to deal---with the pain,” She exhaled and began taking short, but not panting, breaths and groaning softly through her teeth while exhaling. The silence in the car was thick enough to cut until the contraction finished and Theresa resumed her answer. “It’s easier to deal with when I make that noise. Kind of like the sound drains the pain out of my body.”
“I never read about that.” Joe frowned thoughtfully, searching his formidable memory.
“I’m sure most of the books you read were written by men.” Theresa laughed. “They aren’t exactly experts in this aspect of life.”
“You’re right!” Joe realized with amazement. “I wonder why I never thought of that before. A woman should write about childbirth.”
“Some have, but for the past hundred or so years doctors have mostly been men, so they dominate the medical literary field.”
Mark pulled into the emergency room entrance of the small hospital, really more of a glorified clinic and the small group piled out. Joe, who seemed totally enthralled with Theresa, or maybe just the intensity of childbirth, stuck close to her and Jennifer as they entered the triage area. Mark and Major Charles left together to park the Suburban and walk back to the ER.
It took very little time to determine that, yes, Theresa’s water had broken and yes, she was definitely in labor. In fact, she’d already dilated to 5 centimeters, indicating that she’d probably been in labor for some time without realizing it.
“That’s a good thing, dear.” Jennifer assured her, “In my experience the ones who dilate before coming in seem to go through quicker labors.”
Theresa was busy puffing again and didn’t answer, but Joseph, eyes fixed on the clock volunteered the information that her contractions had moved up to three minutes apart. By the time Theresa was changed, re-examined, and moved to a comfortable labor room her contractions had moved to two minutes apart and she’d dilated another centimeter.
“She’ll be moving into transition soon, so maybe you should move out to the waiting room.” The nurse suggested to Joseph who looked disappointed as he started to the door.
“No. I want him to stay, if he doesn’t mind.” Theresa countermanded the nurse.
“But he’s a child.”
“It doesn’t matter. He is a sensible boy and I know he’ll keep out of the way. If he feels faint or anything he knows enough to move away, don’t you Joe?” She argued reasonably.
Joe nodded his head, a pleased smile on his face at Theresa’s trust.
“Our policy is for immediate family only.” The nurse tried one last time.
“He is. He’s their brother.” Theresa managed before focusing on her breathing again as another contraction hit.
Joe looked startled, and uncertain. He hadn’t considered the possibility, but he realized that he should have, given the Centre’s involvement in Theresa’s pregnancy. Was it another clone? He wondered briefly. He moved to Theresa’s side and took her hand, just sitting with her until the contraction eased. Jennifer, noting that Theresa seemed quite content with the boy, took a moment to head to the waiting room and her husband.
“Really?” Joe asked her, checking her assertion of his relationship to the unborn children as she leaned back in the chair tiredly.
“I’m not sure, but I suspect so.” Theresa smiled at him with more than a hint of sorrow in her expression.
“That’s why you want us to stay?” He asked.
“Yes. I need to tell the Major---“
“Tell the Major what?” Major Charles spoke from the door to the room. He’d come to collect the boy and head off to Theresa’s house, but he ignored Joe, looking at Theresa with an uneasy expression.
“The Centre did this to me.” Theresa answered obliquely.
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
“I think they used embryos from Nu-Genesis. Embryos that they had frozen until they needed them, or had the right surrogate mother for them.” Theresa told him, her blue eyes fixed on his face, even as she began breathing through another contraction.
Charles looked at her with growing dismay as a terrible suspicion began to grow.
“Please tell me you aren’t implying that Margaret and I----“ He looked ill as Theresa nodded slowly.
"You two produced Jarod. It stands to reason." She told him sadly, as the contraction finished.
"Damn!" Major Charles spun around and pounded a fist on the doorframe. "The bastards! Those--" His voice trailed off and he rested his forehead against the frame, his shoulders sagging in defeat.
"I'm sorry." In spite of her fear that the man would try to take her babies from her, Theresa empathized with his pain.
“You wanted me here for a genetics test, didn’t you?” Charles asked grimly.
“And Joseph.” She affirmed. “I thought it was only right to try and find out for sure, since you happen to be here at the right time.”
“I---suppose you’re right.” Charles said heavily, grappling with the thought that he might be a father again. “But even if they do turn out to be mine, I couldn’t take them from you. I don’t have the resources to care for them myself.”
He noticed the relief in Theresa’s eyes with a measure of his own relief. She wanted the children; they would be well cared for when he had to move on. Resolve washed over her face as she made herself ask one more question. "And if you find Margaret?" Theresa's blue eyes met his with a courage that touched him. "I don't know." He told her honestly. His eyes were dark with past sorrow and current indecision. "The Centre has stolen so much from Margaret and me. I----I just don't know."
Her eyes filled with grief and anxiety even as she nodded understandingly. It was then that he truly understood that she considered them her own children regardless of their parentage. It dawned on him what a sacrifice her honor had demanded of her and his eyes filled with compassion as he responded to her pain.
"We'll work it out, Theresa." He promised her almost tenderly. "I promise you, no matter whose children the turn out to be we will work it out for all of us. The Centre won't tear apart anymore families if I can help it."
“Thank you.” Theresa’s eyes filled with relieved tears even as another contraction struck.
Joseph watched the interplay between the two with fascination. His upbringing had left him with huge gaps in his understanding of emotional issues. He wasn’t quite sure why it mattered to Theresa if she kept babies. After all, they weren’t hers, so why would she want them? He didn’t get the chance to ask her though, as she went into the transitional phase of labor, almost as if the stress of her conversation with the Major had triggered it.
Theresa kept a tight hold on Joseph’s and Jennifer’s hands as her labor continued and the contractions became almost continuous. Charles and Mark paced the waiting room floor and avoided the birthing room, and a birthing chair was wheeled into the room. After another quick examination by the nurse the midwife was called, arriving just in time to ease the identical twin girls into the world.
Joe was completely enthralled as the children emerged, and awestruck when the nurse handed him the messy little bundle of humanity that she had wrapped in a warm blanket. He was almost afraid to hold the tiny infant; she seemed so incredibly fragile and delicate, and he handed her to Theresa with reverent care. He looked almost harried when the nurse handed him the second infant.
Then he looked at Theresa’s radiant face, examining her daughter with loving attention. He felt a moment of envy, knowing that he’d never had a mother to look at him that way, but then Theresa turned her dazzling smile at him.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” She asked him happily.
Joseph looked down at the red faced, squalling newborn in his arms, noting her mottled skin and the blood and other stuff smeared on her skin.
“Yes.” He answered, surprise evident in his voice. “Yes they are.” He smiled back tentatively, feeling a warm sensation of belonging.
It wasn’t long after that Jennifer and Joseph were shooed out, so that all of the post-birth procedures could be handled. Jennifer kissed her on the cheek and promised to return in the morning. Joseph startled them both by kissing her other cheek and promising to come back with Jennifer. Theresa gave the lonely boy a quick hug before he ducked away, a blush staining his cheeks even as a pleased smile creased his lips.
“Tell Poppa I’m fine and I love him.” Theresa ordered Jennifer lovingly as the nurse and the midwife closed in on her to finish their jobs.
Knowing that it would be better to let Theresa and the babies rest, the group, tired, concerned, confused, and yet somehow happy, took a quick look at the two girls, Major Charles sucking in a startled breath when he saw them. He didn’t respond to the curious looks of the others; didn’t mention that the two girls resembled his daughter Emily at birth, but he suddenly had no doubt as to the findings of the genetic tests that were already being run. Even though he hadn’t expected these girls, hadn’t even know that their existence was possible, he felt his heart warm with paternal pride as he looked at them. The Centre couldn’t be allowed to harm them, he decided firmly, they had to be protected at all costs. He an Joseph left the hospital in silence, and were shown to the small house Theresa had grown up in.
Joseph squeezed in between the Major and Mark as soon as the door opened and began to search until he found Theresa’s room. He sat on her bed, looking at the stuffed animals and well read books on shelves on the wall and considered the events of the day. He was grateful to the Major for taking him in, and for giving him an alternative to the long, lonely days and nights at the Centre, but neither of them were comfortable with each other yet. With Theresa, though, and to a lesser degree with Jennifer and Mark, he felt almost like he belonged. Since he’d never belonged to a group of people before he couldn’t define his feelings well, but he knew that being around the three left him feeling warm and happy----feelings he was pretty unaccustomed to, even now.
He relived the moment that the first baby had been handed to him, seeing the angry red face and toothless mouth in his mind’s eye. She was a strong willed little thing, he thought smiling at the memory. The other one had been quieter, more upset at the strange new sensations of life outside the womb than angry about the changes. Both of them, though, had quieted down the moment they were in Theresa’s arms. He wondered why? If she wasn’t their real mother, why would they know her so well? Finally, deciding that he wasn’t going to find the answers he was looking for by sitting around, he applied himself to the task of making up the bed.
When he was done he went outside the house, looking for the Major who was chopping wood around back.
“It’s going to be cold tonight, we’ll need the wood to keep warm.” He explained to Joe, even though the boy hadn’t asked him anything.
“Is it okay if I explore?” He asked, unsure if he should offer to help with the wood but anticipating a look around the wild terrain surrounding the house.
“Don’t go far.” The Major warned. “It’s easy to get lost in wilderness like this. If you go into the woods, make sure you’re on a good path and don’t go down any side paths, okay?”
“Yes, Sir.” Joe answered respectfully, even though he was shifting from foot to foot with his eagerness to get going.
“Get out of here, then.” The Major smiled indulgently at him, straightening to wipe his brow with the back of his hand before he went back to work chopping the seasoned logs. Joe didn’t need a second order, he was off like a shot, wondering as he galloped off if the air out here really did smell better, or was it just not being in the Centre that made everything sweeter, brighter, and clearer?
Since the Winterwolf home and Theresa’s were the only two houses within miles of each other, it wasn’t surprising that Joseph eventually made his way to the Winterwolf house. He hadn’t headed there on purpose, but once he saw the tidy cabin with the trail of smoke coming from the chimney, he realized he’d wanted to return. Cautiously, not sure of his welcome, he made his way to the clearing surrounding the house. As he drew nearer he heard the unmistakable sound of wood being chopped around back, and grinned as he realized that Mark Winterwolf was performing the same chore as Major Charles. He skidded to a stop, though, as he rounded the corner of the house and saw a large stranger chopping where he’d expected the older man.
“Hi. You must be Joseph.” The strange man straightened up, looking relieved for an excuse to take a break. “I’m Abraham. Most everyone calls me Abe.”
“Hi.” Joe answered warily, wondering who this man was.
“I’m the oldest son.” Abe answered the unspoken question shining in Joe’s eyes easily. “Mom called all of us boys as soon as she got back from the hospital. We’ll probably all be here by dinner time tonight, except for Daniel, he’s away with the Air Force in the States. Theresa was kind of like a little sister to us, so we’re all eager to see her new little girls.”
Joe’s interest sharpened as he realized for the first time that Mark and Jennifer weren’t Theresa’s real parents. He’d just assumed that if they loved each other then Theresa had to have been born to them.
“What happened to Theresa’s real folks?” Joe asked curiously.
“Don’t let my Mom hear you ask that question!” Abe laughed good-naturedly. “She’d be the first to tell you she’s just as real as anyone else.”
Joe looked a little apprehensive and Abe laughed again, slapping the boy gently on the shoulder as he went to the porch for a swig of water from a jug.
“Don’t worry, son.” He said kindly. “Mom won’t bite. Theresa’s mother died about six years ago, and her father’s been missing since she was a girl. My Mom and Dad just sort of adopted her, which was a good thing because even before her mother was diagnosed with MS she pretty much ignored Tess.”
“So she doesn’t have any family left?”
“She has us, Joe.” Abe’s eyes were understanding as he tried to explain the unconditional love his family had for Theresa to the young man standing before him. He was just as generous as his parents, and he understood instinctively that Joe’s lack of understanding was because of a lack of that same love. In a lot of ways Joe reminded him of Theresa when she’d first stumbled on the Winterwolf household.
“Not one of us boys isn’t furious that our “little sister” has been hurt, and not one of us would hesitate to take out the people who did it. We love her, son, and it doesn’t matter that she isn’t “blood of our blood”, to use the biblical phrase.”
“But why?” Joe’s question was innocent, and hopeful, and demanding all at once.
“Love doesn’t have a why.” Abe answered simply. “It just is. Tess won’t ever be alone as long as one Winterwolf survives.”
“Is that why she wants the babies? She doesn’t think they’re hers.” Joe wanted to know.
It was an issue that puzzled him greatly. He knew that the Major liked him, but he didn’t know if either of them loved the other. It might explain some of the other one’s actions too----Jarod, who’d risked himself to rescue him from the Centre and ended up captured anyway when he stopped to help the woman who got hurt. Joe wondered about Jarod’s actions a lot, trying to decide if he felt guilty or happy or what? Was that because of this confusing emotion called love?
“They are Theresa’s babies.” Mark explained softly, rounding the corner where he’d paused to eavesdrop on the two. He gave his son a warm and approving smile before continuing. “If they turn out to belong to the Major and Margaret and those two want them, she’d probably give them up. Our Tess has been hurt enough by her own family’s separations. She could never hurt someone else by keeping their children, but she’d grieve deeply. This Centre has created a very difficult situation.”
The boy sighed sadly. “They don’t care. They don’t care who gets hurt, they just want to make money.”
“I know that this will be hard for you to believe, Joe, but eventually people like that do get what they deserve.” Mark assured him gently. “But right now it’s time for us to wash up for dinner.”
Joe started guiltily, looking at the darkening sky with surprise.
“I better get home. The Maj---my father will be worried.” He corrected himself firmly.
“No, he’s in the kitchen, chatting with my other boys. He came here looking for you when he realized you hadn’t come back.”
“Is he angry?” Joe’s face was carefully blank but Mark could see the fear lurking behind his eyes. His heart went out to the young man even as his jaw clenched in anger against the people who’d hurt the boy so badly.
“No, son. He isn’t angry at all. He was a boy once too, and he understands how easy it is to get carried away while exploring a new place.” Mark reassured him as best as he could and then motioned him on to the house. He held his son back, though, with a hand on his arm.
“It wasn’t his father who did that to him, Abe.” He explained to his furious child. “It’s a really long and complicated story, but the shorten version is that the boy has been raised in isolation by a bunch of monsters, masquerading as humans. He’s only been reunited with his father for a few months.”
“Damn!” Abe’s fist smacked into his open palm. “I’d really like someone to hit right about now.”
“Well, don’t take your anger out on the Major.” Mark chuckled. “He’s a good ‘un.”
“You are telling me the whole story after dinner, aren’t you?” Abe half asked and half ordered his father.
“Of course.” Mark responded with hurt innocence. “Would I leave you hanging?”
“If you thought it was funny enough, yes.” His son answered dryly. Mark sobered dramatically.
“Nothing about this is funny, son. The same people who hurt that boy hurt our little Owl. It’s time for a war council. Tess’ babies are just a good excuse for our get together; in reality we have to decide how we’re going to protect her and the babies from these people.”
Abe and his father exchanged long looks, identically grim expressions on their faces. Seen side by side like this it was obvious that they were father and son. Both had the high cheeked, round faces of the northern native American tribes, both had the same flinty gray eyes and high brows, both had long, shiny black hair hanging down their backs in a single braid. They were tall and broad shouldered, but most of all, they shared the warrior spirit of their ancestors. Most of the time they were the gentlest, most loving men anyone could find, but attack one of their own and they became fierce and dedicated to righting whatever wrong had been done.
Theresa knew that she was considered one of the family by the Winterwolf, but she was only now going to find out just what that meant in terms of love and protection. She’d come back because it was the only place she could imagine being safe, and because in the back of her mind she was sure that not even the Centre’s reach could go this far. Even now she slept more peacefully than she had for almost a year, knowing somehow that she was being protected and sensing the care and concern flowing from her foster family.
Major Charles was an immediate hit with the Winterwolf men, especially when he revealed his friendship with the Inuit and related some of his more entertaining tales from his time with them. Joseph ate well, as growing boys usually do, but he didn’t enter into the conversation or merriment. Charles didn’t note his air of distraction, because Joseph was a quiet boy most of the time anyway, but Jennifer did and she watched him discretely. However, after the meal she and her three daughters-in-law were busy clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen and so no one noticed when Joseph scribbled a quick note and left it on the dashboard of Theresa’s blue Sprint, which Charles had driven down to the Winterwolf’s home.
Joseph had a nagging feeling that Theresa was in danger. He didn’t know why he felt this way but he trusted his instincts. Years of doing Sims had taught him that sometimes his mind knew things that he couldn’t consciously explain, but that he needed to accept. However, he wasn’t accustomed yet to asking for help or volunteering information, and he never considered taking his concern to the people laughing in the house. So he started briskly down the road leading to the small town center. It took him two hours to make the walk, and he was slipping into the hospital’s maternity ward at about the same time as he was being missed at the Winterwolf’s.
“Tess? Are you okay?” He whispered as he quietly closed the door to her room.
“I’m fine, Joe. What are you doing here?” Theresa’s voice was surprised, but not sleepy and Joe spotted her moments later in the rocker by the window.
“I was worried. Something is wrong, but I don’t know what.”
“Aren’t they going to miss you?” Theresa didn’t know what was worrying the boy, so she didn’t comment. She knew how long it must have taken him to walk to the hospital, and she accepted his worry as genuine without question.
“I left them a note.” He said, only a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “I really think we should leave here.” He urged, anxiety clear in his voice.
Theresa studied him in the moonlight, assessing his unease and conviction.
“Okay, Joe.” She agreed, knowing that this boy was Jarod’s clone. She knew that if Jarod were here urging her to leave that she would listen without question and her heart told her that Joseph was just as reliable. “Let me get a few things together. You hold Katherine, okay?”
She handed the tiny bundle to Joe and began throwing necessities together into her suitcase. Joe’s anxiety grew as she disappeared into the bathroom to change into street clothes.
“We have to hurry.” He urged her the moment she exited the bathroom.
“Okay.” Theresa was getting caught up in his anxiety so she quickly wrapped her other daughter securely into another receiving blanket and she and Joe started towards the door of the room, stopping dead in their tracks as the door began to open.
“Well, look.” A dry, unemotional voice sounded from the figure in the doorway. He was framed by the lights in the hallway which left his features in darkness. “You are all ready to go. How thoughtful.”
A gun materialized in the man’s hand and Theresa’s heart plummeted to her feet as she realized that the Centre had caught up with her at last.
“Twins?” He asked, spotting Joseph holding Katherine. “And the clone. My, my, my, this certainly is my lucky day, isn’t it? If you would be so good as to precede me down this hallway?”
Theresa exchanged a defeated look with Joe, who was clearly terrified. She pushed aside her own fear and gave him a brave smile.
“It’s okay, Joe. We’ll be all right.” She promised him reassuringly.
Well, it would have been more reassuring if either of them had believed her words.
They huddled close together as they obeyed the gunman’s orders. Theresa wished she had a hand free to hug Joe, but she had her daughter in one arm and her suitcase in the other. She needed the contents of the suitcase to take care of the girls so she didn’t dare drop it. As the walked through the deserted hallways Theresa wondered where everyone was, until she saw the feet of the night nurse protruding from the nurses station. Once again she stopped dead in her tracks, whirling to face the man.
Now that they were under the light she could see that he was the palest man she’d ever seen. Pale skin, hair that was nearly white, washed out blue eyes, and a face devoid of the faintest spark of empathy or humanity.
“Is she dead?” Theresa demanded, a spark of anger flaring in her blue eyes.
“No.” He answered with an unpleasant smile. “But she will be if she wakes up before we’re gone. So I suggest you move it.”
The woman moaned slightly and Theresa silently hurried to the hospital entrance, spotting more feet as they progressed to the emergency room doors----the only doors still open in the building. Theresa was busy thanking God that no one had regained consciousness and gotten themselves shot as they burst into the hospital parking lot.
Idling just in front of the hospital doors was a long silver bus, doors open and a black clad sweeper standing to one side.
“Come now, dear.” The man urged her with frightening reasonableness as her footsteps slowed the closer they got to the bus. “Don’t make me start firing; one of the babies might get hit.”
Theresa fought back tears, terror, and nausea and made herself keep her chin high as she boarded the bus. Inside she was grabbed by another sweeper and propelled further into the bus, Joseph receiving the same treatment as he entered. They were barely given time to note that the bus had a plush living room behind the driver’s seat, rather than a row of seats. Moments later they were shoved through a metal door set midway back in the bus and the door was slammed and locked behind them.
They weren’t even given time to brace themselves before the bus began to move, pulling away at the highest speed it could manage. Theresa dropped the case and grabbed the top of a propane stove as the bus rocked on the poorly kept road. Joseph just braced his legs wider apart and placed his free hand on the wall next to him for added stability. They were standing in a tiny RV kitchen. The wall Joseph was holding onto undoubtedly hid a bathroom and further back they could see a huge bed dominating the back of the bus.
As soon as the bus evened out Theresa moved back to the bedroom and placed her daughter on the bed. When she was carefully positioned between two pillows Theresa moved back, taking Katherine from Joe with a grateful smile and asking him to bring the case.
“I’m sorry I didn’t move faster, Joe. I’m sorry they got you too.” She told him, turning her back to him as she positioned her now fussing daughter to feed.
“I’m not.” Joe said bravely, only a hint of a tremble in his voice to betray his unease. “Now you aren’t alone.”
Theresa gave his hand a companionable squeeze and they rode in silence for some time.
“How long do you think it will take to get there?” He asked anxiously.
“I don’t think they can get us there by bus in less than three days.” Theresa guessed, anxiety shining in her own eyes.
“What do you suppose will happen when we get there?” Now his voice was a mere whisper, his shoulders hunching as though Raines was in the room with them.
“I don’t know.” Theresa looked at him with compassion and complete understanding. “I’m scared too, but I’m going to try and convince them to let us stay together, if you want us to.”
“Yes!” Joe’s face lit up with hope and then fell almost as quickly. “But they’ll never let us. They’ll turn me over to Raines----or send me to Africa.” He tried to control his fear, but his eyes welled with tears anyway.
“I don’t know who Raines is, but I’m very frightened of Mr. Lyle.” She admitted, knowing he needed to know he wasn’t alone in his fear. “If they want you to go to Africa then I’ll ask them to send me and the girls too.” She added, forcing hope into her voice for him. His sad brown eyes told her he wasn’t convinced and she squeezed his hand again.
“You should get some rest.” She urged him.
“What about you?” He asked.
“Kyla will want to nurse in a minute, but then I’ll lay down too. We need to be well rested and strong for whatever is coming.”
“Okay,” he agreed, “but I don’t feel tired at all.”
“You will when the adrenaline rush wears off.” Theresa assured him. “Just climb under the covers on the far side. I’ll sleep on this side and put the girls between us. That way they’ll be safe from falling off of the edges.”
Kyla woke up and demanded her turn at breast before Joseph had finished preparing for sleep. By the time she had Katherine changed and settled onto the bed, Kyla was crying brokenheartedly. Theresa soothed her with a lullaby as she nursed. She continued to sing softly even after Kyla had quieted when she noticed that Joseph was listening closely while he pretended to sleep.
By the time Kyla was settled for the night, Joseph’s breathing had evened out and deepened as he slipped into the sleep he’d denied needing. A frown creased Theresa’s brow as she considered the sleeping boy. He pulled at her heart in a way she’d never felt before. Something about his solitary courage touched her, and reminded her of her own feelings of isolation, before she’d been taken in by Mark and Jennifer. She meant what she’d told him, that she hoped to convince the Centre to keep them together.
Her hopes weren’t high that the Centre would listen to her, but she knew she had to try if she was going to be able to live with herself later. She was aware, though, that she might very well be parted even from her two babies and her stomach churned with repressed terror. Resolutely, she began the same breathing and relaxation techniques that she’d learned to take her through labor. She knew she had to stay calm and as optimistic as possible for her own health and for the babies. Too much anxiety would not only wear out her resources, but could possibly affect her ability to nurse her daughters. Plus, they would probably pick up on her negative emotions and become fussy and anxious.
to be continued…
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