Page 20 of Protecting the Flame

“Yeah.” Her chest yammered a complaint as she fumbled with the buckle of her seat belt, but she ignored it. “Coming.”

“No. Check my mom and Will first,” Mattie said as Emma shrugged out of her shoulder harness. “I’ll be okay. I think you’re going to have to cut me out of this anyway. The buckle’s really jammed up tight. I’m not going anywhere.”

True, that. Emma slid out of her seat and carefully stood. A swell of dizziness made her head go light, and she had to grab onto her seat back to keep to her feet. Sweat prickled on her neck and face, and she smeared salt pearls from her upper lip with the back of the hand that wasn’t bloody.

“Emma?”

“I’m good. I’m fine,” she lied. Reaching under her seat, she tugged her pack free, unzipped a side pocket, and retrieved her wool cap, a scarf, and insulated pop-tops. After winding the scarf around her neck and fumbling on her gloves, she edged around Rachel’s seat, thankful for the few feet of intact deck, and dropped to a squat before the unconscious woman.

“Well?” asked Mattie.

“Well…” There was a lot of blood. Judging from the flat, nearly dried blotch on the window, she thought Rachel’s head had first connected with the jagged end of a curtain rod that had broken on impact. A deep, ragged gash on Rachel’s scalp showed where the metal had ripped flesh all the way to muscle. And maybe bone. Emma couldn’t tell because of all the blood matting Rachel’s hair and slicking the left side of her face and neck. More blood fanned in a broad crimson bib on her chest. She slipped a finger onto Rachel’s neck.

“Is she…” Mattie’s voice quavered then firmed. “Is she still alive?”

“Yes.” Though Rachel’s pulse was fast. Blood loss? Maybe.

“What about my little brother? What about Joshua?”

“Is that the name you’ve picked out?” Her gaze fell first to Rachel’s jeans, which were flecked with snow but otherwise dry. Okay, so that was good, she guessed. How to check on the baby, though?

“My dad did.” A pause. “My real dad. He and Mom were trying a really long time after me, and then my dad died, and Scott…anyway, it’s Joshua. Can you tell if he’s okay?”

“I’m not a doctor, Mattie.” Although she knew a baby’s heartbeat could be heard through a stethoscope, which she didn’t have. A baby also moved. She’d read that at about twenty-five weeks, a mother should feel those first signs, that flutter or little bubbly sensation. “How active is your brother? How much does he move around?”

“A lot. Sometimes, when he kicks now, you can see his foot.”

That sounded pretty wild. She carefully placed her hands on Rachel’s abdomen which was swaddled in both a wool sweater and the woman’s down parka. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. C’mon, Joshua. Give me a sign here. She’d read somewhere that unborn babies responded to their mother’s touch, but she was a stranger.

“Is Joshua all right?”

She was about to say I don’t know when, all of a sudden, there came a teeny-tiny thump against her right palm, and her heart leapt.

“You felt him. I can tell from your face.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Both Rachel’s sweater and parka were thick, and so it was tough to be certain. In a few seconds, there came a second, harder thump, and she saw the parka move from right to left. “He’s rolling.”

Mattie smiled. “Mom always says it reminds her of making a cat up in a bed. You know, under the sheets?”

Despite everything, Emma grinned because the description was so perfect. Well, hey there, Joshua. As the baby shifted and Rachel’s belly bunched, she wondered what it must be like never to be alone. Wake up in the middle of the night, stroke your belly, and there was someone there, floating up to—

Will moaned.

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