Lilah's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The pain came in waves now, each one closer than the last. Lilah knelt on the sand by her fire and gripped the smooth palm log until her knuckles ached. She tried to hold the book's words in her mind, but they slipped away. Her breath went ragged. No one would talk her through this. The next wave hit, and her body locked up. Fear turned her arms to stone. She could not remember what came next, and the panic told her she would fail. "Breathe out," a voice said. "Not in. Out. Long and slow." Lilah's head snapped up. An old woman stood at the edge of the firelight. Grey hair fell past her knees. She wore a plain dress and a necklace of small shells. She moved without hurry, as if she had walked this beach a hundred times. Lilah had believed she was alone on the whole island. Now a stranger crouched beside her and rested a warm, dry hand on her back. "I heard the parrot," the woman said. "It called your words back to the trees. My people live where the shore turns. I am Kaimana. Push when I tell you, not before." Lilah wanted to ask a hundred things. Another wave cut them off. She began to seize up again, and Kaimana squeezed her shoulder hard. "Look at me," Kaimana said. "Out. With me." She breathed loud and slow, and Lilah copied her. The stone in Lilah's chest cracked. Air moved. Her mind cleared enough to work. Kaimana checked her with steady hands and nodded. "The baby is turned right. You did well to ready yourself. Now you only have to listen." For the first time since the water took him, Lilah was not carrying this alone. She followed Kaimana's voice through each wave. When Kaimana said breathe, she breathed. When Kaimana said rest, she rested. The clean cloth and the blade lay ready in the sand where Lilah had placed them. Kaimana glanced at them and gave a small, approving grunt. "Now," Kaimana said at last. "Push down. Long. I have you." Lilah pushed. She screamed into the dark. The parrot shrieked from the shelter roof. She pushed again, and again, with Kaimana counting her through it. Then a new cry rose over the fire, thin and furious and alive. Kaimana lifted the baby and laid her on Lilah's chest. "A girl," she said softly. "Strong. Loud." She showed Lilah how to hold her, then took up the blade and twine to finish the cord. Lilah stared at the small red face against her skin. Her daughter was here. Both of them had lived. She looked up at the old woman who had come out of the dark. "Thank you," Lilah whispered. Kaimana wiped the baby clean with warm cloth. "She needs a name," she said. "What will you call her?" Lilah opened her mouth. The name he chose sat behind her teeth. She had not said it since he died. Now she had to.