Whispers of the Sea (The Compulsion Bride Series) Book II (Unedited)

Part 11 Chapter One

île papillon, five years later

The screams were always the worst.

You'll get use to it, Ma Belle, Her mentor and dearest friend, Juliette Connor had said. Samantha had long ago realized those were all words of comfort. Persuasive words. That had ephemeral effect to ease the churning thoughts in her mind. The screams reminded her of the nightmares that stole her sleep every night. How many times had she heard herself echo such body quivering horrors? it makes her heart felt like it would race out of her chest. Foolish excitement had got her believing in spite of the past; a fresh start and a child would miraculously terminate all of her nightmares. It did at first, she must admit that six months heavily with child, she had slept an entire week without so much of a nightmare or dream but it came back--It always does.

Samantha shifted on the small wooden stool in the chamber, it wasn't hot outside but, droplets of water soaked her forehead, some escaped down her cheeks and she fought the urge to dash it away. Her eyes glance at the small slid of the window, the only thing she could see was the vague swinging of the branches, that spoke of the windy atmosphere, she craved. A wistful sigh left her parched lips, forgetting herself only for a moment before she realized the screams had transformed into heavy panting and moans. How foolish! She was in no position to complain about her discomfort when someone else was experiencing much more dismay. She had suffered through worst than a dreadful heat before. Shaking that particular thought away, her gaze drifted to the woman on the damped sheet, mired with her own sweat. The woman had retorted to staring at the ceiling, in taking deep, body shaking breaths. Viven Mackeinze, was an uncanny beauty at five and twenty, her dark curls scattered ceremony on the pillow and some even stuck to her forehead and cheeks, framing delicate features. Viven was not a chubby lady, with six children to feed all of which are boys, two of whom, Samantha assisted into the world--One can only sympathized with the lady with her ration of food--Those births Samantha remembered had been simple. Fast. The boys had pop out like fresh daisies on a summer morning.

It's the least she can say about this one.

"Viven, You can't possibly give up now, the baby's almost here." Samantha said calmly.

"Samantha, je ne peux plus pousser." Viven's voice was more demanding than feeble. She spoke English but Samantha had been around the woman long enough to know that her switch of languages were either due to pain or anger and in this situation both. A crystal droplet of tear formed at the corner of Viven's hazel-brown eyes and vanished by the sudden shook of her body.

Samantha bit her lips, restraining herself from forcing the lady, the last thing she wanted was to distress the woman any further. She had deal with younger mothers before who was simply to stubborn to push or listen at all but Viven was no stranger to births. "Very well." Samantha nodded and stood to her feet, they wobbled unsteady from sitting for an excessively length of time; steadying herself she moved towards the wash basin and a cool breeze disturbed her long curls, Samantha resist the urge to sigh with contentment, slowly she walked pass the window, devouring whatever ventilation was deem upon her.

"No! No! I don't want the tool of death! Don't you dare take it out that bag!" Vivien said hastily. Samantha's brown leather doctor's bag stood beside the washbasin. Viven had mistaken her destination but what in the world was she referring to as tool of death? Samantha swung back around with a confusing creased at the forehead, Viven looked as if she want to leap off the bed with eyes like a frighten deer. "What was it called? Forksteel?" She continued.

Oh! Samantha's eyebrows relax and a smile lit her face. "It's forceps and No I won't be using it. I am only going to wash my hands." She gestured at her blood covered hands.