The Family Origin

Chapter Sixty-Five: JOSEPH POV

 We knew that Maisie would be giving birth soon. Every couple of hours while we were outside, we took turns going into the house to check on Maisie. Miles somehow seemed even more unreadable than before, which I thought was impossible. For the past few nights, he stopped going outside to sit by a fire. Instead, he sat silently on the couch next to Maisie with his hands on her stomach.

When I came into the house to check on Maisie, she stood behind a wooden dining chair. She was leaning forward with a white knuckled grip on the back of the chair. Her face was contorted in pain as she struggled to breathe.

"The baby is coming?" I asked. She nodded as she let out a deep breath. "Have you been in pain for long?"

She shook her head but did not speak. She did not react to my touch when I placed my hand on her arm. Her eyes were still closed as she took in deep breaths. She remembered all the advice I had given her after speaking to Edith years ago.

Maisie did not open her eyes until I placed my hand on her lower back. My grip remained on her arm, but I doubted she would try to pull away.

"Let's get you upstairs," I said. "You need to relax."

"Where's Miles?" she asked.

Her voice was soft and made her seem so small. We had rarely been alone together since her emotional meltdown when I told her we needed to leave the house. She avoided being around me or clung to Miles's side the entire time I was near her.

"He is outside," I said. "Once I make sure you are comfortable, I will bring him in."

Maisie let out a shaky breath. She nodded, but the movement was so slight I barely noticed. I pulled her toward the staircase, and she did not fight. Her hands cradled her stomach and her gaze stayed on her feet as I walked her to the bedroom. I pulled back the blankets and helped her settle into bed. She recoiled and pressed her back into the pillows when my fingers accidentally grazed along her arm. Her eyes were wide as she watched me.

"Are you scared of me?" I asked.

She bit down on her lip as she thought.

"I am never leaving my family," she said.

"Maisie-"

"No." She shook her head harder. "No. Joseph, you need to know that I would never leave. You gave me what I always wanted. Why would I leave now?"

She was right, and it was like a knife plunging into my heart. I created this. The Wilcox family would survive, but it was not the family I recognized.

"There is no reason for me to ever leave," Maisie said. She closed her eyes as she started to ramble. "There is nothing for me out there but everything for me here. Miles is good. I promise he's good. He would never hurt me or Jasper. He loves us more than life itself. There's nothing-"

Her words were cut off when her face contorted in pain. She gritted her teeth as she hissed. She curled her fingers into the blanket. I reached out and covered her hand with mine. She turned her wrist so she could squeeze my hand. Her grip was strong, but I let her hold on until the pain passed. When her eyes opened, they were no longer filled with the same fear.

"I will go get Miles," I said.

I took a step back, but Maisie pushed herself higher against the stack of pillows.

"Joseph," she said, making me freeze. "Our family is not the same though. We need to go back to how we used to be."

She wanted to return to how we were before I told her I wanted to leave. This tension started when I told Miles we needed to start buying meat at the butcher shop again. He refused, and I have not brought the subject up again. There had been a few days when I would hear an ear-piercing scream and then not see Miles for hours. I never asked what happened, and I stayed away from the barn. None of us went hungry because there was always meat on the table.

I let out a deep breath as I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Let me get Miles," I said, not wanting to address her statement. "He will be excited you are in labour."

I turned and rushed out of the room before she could say anything else.

–

Maisie was in labour for hours. Despite this being my third grandchild, I was still repeating Edith's advice in my head while I delivered the baby. Maisie collapsed back against the pillows when her baby started to cry.

Something was wrong.

I held the tiny baby in my hands and saw it was a girl. Her arms and legs moved slowly like she did not have the strength to move them. The sound of her cries shattered my soul. The noise was weak and sounded like she was drowning. It was not identical to the sounds Briar made as she was dying, but she was weak.

I looked up at Miles. He watched her struggle to breathe, and no emotion flashed across his face. His usual mask remained as he stared at his baby.

Maisie was laying against the pillow. Her hand trembled as she wiped pieces of her sweat-drenched hair out of her face. Her eyes were closed as she tried to slow her heavy breathing. Did she hear the baby's crying? Would she panic if she knew her baby was struggling to breathe?

I tried to think back to that morning I spoke to Edith on her porch. She gave me many pieces of advice, but did she ever mention what to do if the baby appeared weak? What was I supposed to do? I had to let Briar die because we could not afford any medication.

Miles pulled the baby out of my hands. For a brief moment, I thought he would bring her to Maisie. Instead, he lowered the baby so she was out of Maisie's sight. He shifted the baby's weight to balance her with one of his large hands before covering her mouth and nose with his other hand.

My eyes widened as I watched him silence her cries. I should have torn his hand away from her face, but I was unable to move. I was stuck watching her weak life quickly drain away from her body. Her arms and legs stopped moving, and she laid limp in his hand. The silence was deafening, forcing me to listen to my heart pounding.

Maisie groaned as she tried to push her exhausted body higher. I could not speak as I watched Miles place his daughter's body down on one of Clara's knit baby blankets. Would he tell her what he had done? When he stepped toward Maisie, I bundled the tiny newborn in the blanket and held her close to my chest.

Miles sat on the edge of the bed and wiped his hands on his trousers. Maisie's brows were furrowed as she stared at me before glancing at Miles. I pulled the edge of the blanket higher so that she could not see the baby. Her lips were already turning blue.

"What is wrong?" Maisie asked. Her voice was weak and wobbly, like she already knew the answer. "I want to hold my baby."

"She's dead," Miles said.

He said the words so bluntly. Did he feel any pain for killing his child? He had killed so many people without showing any remorse, but this was his daughter.

"What?" she asked. "A daughter? Dead?"

She took in a sharp breath, but tears were already rolling down her cheeks. Her trembling hands reached toward me. Miles grabbed her wrists and forced her hands down onto her lap. She took in deep breaths to try and stop her sobbing, but she was unable to control herself. My own tears burned my eyes, and I bit down hard on my lip so I would not cry. I pulled the edge of the blanket higher to make sure the baby's lifeless face was hidden from Maisie.

"Let me hold her," she said.

"No," Miles said. "Do not hurt yourself by loving something that is already dead."

Maisie leaned back into the pillows and buried her face in her hands. She cried but did not reach out for her baby again. Miles did not scold her for crying. He stayed on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through her sweat-drenched hair to comfort her.

Unable to watch them any longer, I stepped out of the bedroom. Looking down at the baby's face and seeing her lips turn even more blue made my chest tighten even more. My body moved without thinking, and I rushed out of the house and over to Clara's grave.