Chapter 1 - The Cry Claire Remembered
Eight weeks earlier, rain hammered the windows of St. Matthew Women’s Hospital while Claire Carter tried to bring her daughter into the world.
She had been in labor for nearly fourteen hours.
Emma stood beside the bed holding one hand.
Margaret held the other.
Claire remembered almost nothing clearly about the final hour.
Pain.
White lights.
A nurse telling her to breathe.
Emma crying and laughing at the same time.
Margaret repeatedly asking the doctor whether Claire needed stronger medication.
Then a baby cried.
Claire smiled weakly.
“My girl.”
Someone placed a tiny warm body against her chest.
Claire saw a wrinkled little face.
Dark-blonde fuzz.
A trembling mouth.
“Lily,” she whispered.
The nurse smiled.
“She’s beautiful.”
Claire kissed the top of Lily’s head.
Then the room became noisy.
Too noisy.
A monitor changed tone.
The doctor spoke quickly.
Someone took Lily away.
Claire tried to sit up.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re bleeding more than we’d like,” the doctor said. “We’re taking care of it.”
Emma squeezed Claire’s hand.
“I’m here.”
Margaret stepped closer to the doctor.
“What does she need?”
Claire heard the word hemorrhage.
She heard medication names she did not understand.
Then she heard something else.
A cry.
Not Lily.
Lily was already across the room.
Claire could see the nurse holding her.
The second cry came from somewhere behind the doctor.
Higher.
Sharper.
New.
Claire turned her head.
“What was that?”
Nobody answered.
“Emma?”
Emma looked confused.
“What?”
“There’s another baby.”
Margaret’s fingers tightened around Claire’s wrist.
“You’re exhausted.”
“I heard her.”
“You heard Lily.”
“No.”
Claire tried to raise her head.
The room tilted.
Near the warming station stood another nurse Claire had never seen before.
The woman was holding something wrapped in a pale blanket.
Claire saw one tiny foot.
A white hospital band circled the ankle.
Then Margaret stepped directly into her line of sight.
“Claire, look at me.”
“There are two.”
“There is one.”
“I heard another baby.”
The anesthesiologist leaned over her.
“We need you to stay calm.”
Claire fought the heaviness spreading through her limbs.
Emma looked toward the second warming station.
Later she would remember that moment hundreds of times.
At the time, she thought she saw only folded blankets.
Nothing more.
Claire’s eyelids closed.
Before darkness took her, she heard a woman say, “Twin B is breathing.”
Then nothing.
Claire awakened five hours later in recovery.
Lily slept in a clear bassinet beside her.
Margaret sat in a chair near the window.
Emma was gone.
Claire swallowed.
“My other baby.”
Margaret did not immediately respond.
“What other baby?”
Claire stared at her.
“The second one.”
Margaret rose and approached the bed.
“There was no second baby.”
“I heard them say Twin B.”
“You lost a lot of blood.”
“I saw a foot.”
“You were medicated.”
Claire looked at Lily.
Her daughter’s tiny chest moved gently.
“I heard her cry.”
Margaret touched her forehead.
“You nearly died.”
The words were soft.
Almost loving.
But there was something underneath them.
A warning Claire was too weak to recognize.
When Emma returned later with coffee, Claire asked her the same question.
Emma hesitated.
“I heard a lot of things.”
“Did you hear two babies?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret answered for her.
“No.”
Emma looked at Margaret.
Something passed between them.
At the time, Emma assumed their mother simply wanted Claire to stop upsetting herself.
Claire cried silently.
The following morning, a nurse came to remove Lily’s hospital bracelet for a routine check.
Claire noticed two bassinets reflected in the dark television screen.
She turned around.
Only Lily’s bassinet stood beside her.
“Was this room prepared for twins?” Claire asked.
The nurse blinked.
“Why?”
“My chart.”
The woman checked the tablet in her hand.
For a fraction of a second, her face changed.
Then it disappeared.
“No. One live birth.”
Claire stared at her.
The nurse lowered her voice.
“Do you remember your delivery clearly?”
“No.”
“Then focus on recovering.”
Margaret entered.
The nurse immediately stopped talking.
Margaret carried a small rosemary plant in a white ceramic pot.
“For the kitchen,” she said brightly. “Something alive to bring home with you.”
Claire looked at the plant.
“I don’t want a plant.”
“You’ll like it later.”
Margaret placed it beside Lily’s bassinet.
When she turned away, the nurse stepped closer to Claire.
Her badge read JULIA SLOAN.
She bent as though adjusting Claire’s blanket.
Then whispered four words.
“Trust the second cry.”
Claire froze.
Julia straightened.
Margaret turned back.
The nurse left the room without another word.
Claire watched her disappear through the doorway.
“What did she say?” Margaret asked.
“Nothing.”
May you like
It was the first lie Claire had ever deliberately told her mother.
And it would not be the last.
