Hungry Independents (Book 2) (8 page)

The little girls started hooting and clapping
from the corner house on the street.

Emma hollered, “That a boy!”

Mark ran for home.

* * *

Molly walked up to Ginger’s house that had
become her home away from home. The yellow paint glowed in the
morning sunlight like a warm pot of honey. Flowerbeds filled the
yard in patterns and swirls, perfectly maintained and full of life
and color. Bees busied themselves dipping into petals here and
there, having found their personal Shangri-La for harvesting nectar
to return to the hive. The smells were intoxicating.

Whispering came from the porch and Molly
noticed the swing creaking back and forth on its metal chains. She
stopped beneath the green shade of Ginger’s pear tree to eavesdrop,
wondering who would be talking so quietly.

Catherine looked up over the hedge, but she
must not have detected Molly for she continued her conversation
when she ducked back down on the swing. “I don’t know why she
didn’t see you. I thought we had a 50/50 chance, but you never know
with this sort of thing.”

There came a short pause before Catherine
answered some unspoken question.

“Yes, she is very beautiful. I think that has
something to do with the pregnancy.”

She paused.

“I’m glad that makes you happy. Everyone has
been supportive. He will have a wonderful reception when he’s
finally born.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s a boy. I know these kinds
of things.” Another pause followed. “He’s out of town on a mission.
Samuel has him out doing something about the grasshoppers. You
don’t need to worry. Michael is very responsible now.”

“I meant Hunter. I flip-flop with all the
nicknames, except for Raven, of course. I don’t want her to hit
me.” Catherine laughed her innocent little girl laugh.

Molly smiled, even though the conversation
disturbed her greatly. Catherine obviously suffered from some sort
of dementia. Molly wondered if the child’s guilt over not saving
Jimmy had become greater than Hunter’s guilt over being the one who
was saved in his place. She wanted to sneak back home and check her
books before confronting the little girl’s delusions. Granted,
Catherine was not an ordinary child, but something could still be
seriously wrong with her. Everyone was susceptible to mental
anguish, especially in these times.

Catherine’s conversation continued. “Oh you
saw her aura. It’s been getting brighter over the past month.”

“No, she doesn’t remember who she is yet, but
I suspect the time is getting close. The hellhounds must have seen
her glowing and that’s why they attacked.”

“She’s what?” Catherine shot up off the swing
and peered over the hedge.

Molly stood out like a garish garden gnome
beside the narrow trunk of the tree.

“Don’t you know it’s impolite to spy?”

“I wasn’t spying. I didn’t want to
interrupt.”

Catherine frowned and looked back over her
shoulder. “Yes, I’m being analyzed this very instant.”

Another pause and Catherine nodded. “I know.
It is frustrating.”

Molly ducked out from beneath her hiding spot
and walked up onto the porch. Catherine patted the seat next to
her. Molly looked around the empty porch. Then she shrugged and
took a seat.

Catherine hopped down, pushed the seat of the
swing back, and then spun around and hopped up, releasing the swing
into motion. “Keep us going, please. My feet don’t reach.”

Molly wrapped her hand around the metal chain
and kicked off the porch. They swung higher and Catherine folded
her legs up on the bench, looking pleased to have someone doing all
the work.

“So?” Molly hesitated.

Catherine’s head snapped around to give Molly
her full attention. “Questions?”

“Uh, yes, I have a few.”

“My favorite color is pink. I like the number
seven and eleven best because they both rhyme with Heaven. My
favorite food is bread. I’m partial to grape juice, although not
the kind that Samuel makes because too much of that can lead to
temptation. I don’t remember my mother and don’t know how long she
breast fed me. I don’t remember my biological father either, but my
real Father watches over me from His Kingdom in Heaven and, no, He
would never do anything inappropriate.”

“Why’s that?” Molly asked for lack of
anything smarter to say.

“He’s incapable.” Catherine leaned back. She
signaled with her hand for Molly to keep the motion going.

Molly kicked off the porch. “Who were you
talking to a minute ago?”

“Do you see anyone?”

Molly looked around the porch again. “No, I
don’t.”

“Then I was talking to no one.” With a giant
twinkle in her blue eyes, Catherine appeared to be having a good
time. “My turn. Why were you at Samuel’s in the middle of the
night?”

Molly pulled her shirt, Samuel’s shirt, down.
“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Hunter’s only been gone a couple of
days.”

Heat rushed into Molly’s cheeks. She leveled
her gaze on the smiling, happy girl. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t
say I went looking for comfort in Samuel’s bed.”

“So defensive.”

“My turn. Why would hellhounds be after
me?”

Catherine stared at her for a long moment.
The swing stopped swinging.

“You want the truth?”

Molly nodded. “Of course I do.”

Catherine bit her bottom lip and motioned
Molly to start swinging them again.

Once they were going high enough, Catherine
said, “I can’t tell you everything. One, I don’t know it all, and
two, you wouldn’t believe me anyways. Some things are going to
happen to you, and it will all make better sense when it does.
Right now, if I tried to tell you everything, it might affect the
outcome. Understand?”

Molly shook her head slowly. That, with the
swinging and Catherine’s explanation, left her feeling dizzy. Not
to mention lack of sleep and the fight with the hellhounds and the
help she lent reviving Samuel.

Catherine groaned. “This would be a lot
easier if you remembered who you are.”

Molly hedged back from the unexpected
statement. She sort of remembered who she was before Catherine
fixed
her. “Do you mean when I was evil
Molly?”

“No, before that. In your past life.”

Molly straightened her knees and halted the
swing. “My past what?”

The front door opened. Ginger waddled out in
her golden maternity blouse stretched tightly across the round life
resting inside her belly. She glowed in the morning light.

“Molly, are you okay? Catherine told me what
happened.”

Molly looked from Catherine to Ginger and
back to Catherine. “My past what?”

Catherine smiled at her like Molly was simple
and patted her hand with what must have been patience. “It’s called
reincarnation.”

Obviously, one needed a ton of patience when
dealing with Catherine. Molly rubbed her forehead. Catherine could
and had done some amazing things, like basically raising the dead
or at least not letting Hunter, and now Samuel, slip too far away
before bringing them back. And the world had grown a whole lot
weirder since Catherine’s arrival. Between a boy named Chase being
responsible for the plague that killed all the adults, and now
hellhounds evaporating in sunlight, reincarnation was just another
pill to swallow. Except this giant pill had Molly’s name written
across it and she never took her medicine well.

“Reincarnation, right,” she said, pouring
sarcasm into the words. “So what was I before, a flower?”

Catherine frowned. “If you’re not going to
take this seriously then what’s the point?”

Ginger stepped over, belly leading the way.
Molly stood up and offered her side of the swing. All the swinging
motion was making it difficult to talk to Catherine and maintain
any type of concentration.

“I can stand,” Ginger said.

“Luis put you on bed rest didn’t he?” Molly
held the swing steady.

“I had to get out of my room for a bit.”
Ginger took the offered seat. “I get anxious lying around all day.
You know how I like to stay busy.”

Catherine placed her head next to Ginger’s
belly and nodded like she was listening to the daily news on a
radio. “Oh, really? Well then, I think you should come out when
you’re ready.”

Ginger shared a look with Molly and shook her
head. “Our morning ritual.”

Catherine lifted her head and smiled at the
belly. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

Ginger rubbed Catherine’s back. “What’s the
status report?”

“He’s still worried about being cold. He says
he’s just about ready but he’s having a hard time finding his way
out.”

“Tell him not to worry about the cold. It’s
been a sunny August so far and Luis has everything we need to keep
him warm. As far as getting out, tell him to head down.”

Catherine relayed the information then nodded
again.

Ginger shifted and held her hands around the
lower portion of her belly. “Oh, my goodness.”

Molly stood up from where she leaned against
the house. “What is it?”

Ginger’s face twisted. “He’s really moving.”
She blew out a long breath of air and sucked back in an equal
amount. She narrowed her eyes at Catherine. “What did you do?”

“I’m just the messenger.” Catherine glanced
down at the belly like she just heard a shout and pressed her ear
against it. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”

Ginger huffed and puffed like a bellows at
the fireplace. “What?”

“He’s having a hard time turning around.”

Ginger’s face pinched in discomfort.
“What?”

“He says he’s tangled up in something.”

Mark ran up to the house like a pack of
hellhounds were having breakfast on the porch. His heavy breathing
matched Ginger’s perfectly. He wore a pair of denim cutoff shorts
and an orange T-shirt with “BRONCOS” written across the chest in
navy letters.

“What’s wrong?”

Molly knelt next to Ginger and held her
hands. “She’s having the baby. We need something to take her to
Luis’s.”

Luckily, Mark had been through all of this
before. He didn’t even hesitate. “Give me three minutes.” And he
was gone, sprinting across the yard and down the street, pumping
his arms as his legs churned like a galloping horse.

Ginger gripped Molly’s hands in a tight
squeeze, wincing from pain Molly could only imagine. Ginger’s face
reddened and finally she relaxed her grip. Molly waited for the
feeling in her hands to return.

Catherine scooted off the swing and held it
steady. She stepped close and placed her small hand on Molly’s
shoulder. “We’re going to need you sooner than I thought,
Margaret.”

Molly straightened up. The name jingled
inside her mind, like the tinkling of familiar sleigh bells from
Christmases long ago. Her back became uncomfortably cold and she
wiggled in an attempt to shake off a frosty shiver. Memories
flooded her mind, but she couldn’t make sense of the sequence.

Catherine settled her palm over Molly’s
forehead. A warm sensation seeped into her, flowing with the pulse
of her heartbeat, carrying itself into the core of Molly’s soul.
She closed her eyes.

A shining light stood at the end of a long
tunnel. Molly’s hands lifted and stretched toward the light. Her
feet walked with a purpose and conviction that she never knew she
possessed. The closer she came to the light the more brilliant it
burned, and that warmth she felt from the small hand on her
forehead was nothing compared to the searing fire that blazed from
this illumination. She found it odd that her eyes weren’t
smoldering in their sockets and that her flesh did not fry off her
bones.

Molly found herself, at last, standing in
front of a golden cross, the source of the light. She fell to her
knees and clasped her hands together, zapped by an electric
realization, rewiring and then recharging her mind and spirit.

“I am Margaret.”

* * *

Someone shook her awake, but she held her
eyes shut, wanting to remain in the dream.

“Do you think you should be doing that?” A
familiar male voice asked. “I thought you said she hit her
head.”

Little hands grabbed her shoulders and shook
again. “It was just a bump, silly. Nothing to worry about at
all.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I don’t have time for this. We need her in
the other room.”

“What can Molly do in the other room that
Luis and you can’t?”

“She has a special talent for these sorts of
things.”

“What, childbirth? What in the world does my
sister know about delivering babies?”

She waited for the answer, but one didn’t
follow. She remembered being inside the stifling foul belly of a
dragon once. She remembered that her devotion and prayers to the
Lord were rewarded with freedom. Not to mention the golden cross
she wore had irritated the beast’s belly. She smiled in her feigned
sleep.

“Now you’re just faking. Get up, Margaret.
You got work to do.”

“Why did you call her that?” the male voice
asked, rising concern evident in the way his timbre trembled.
“What’s going on with my sister?”

Margaret opened her eyes and recognized the
handsome young man with the troubled brown eyes. He stood over a
girl with shiny strands of golden hair. She knew them both right
away, and then she knew herself completely, like the closing of a
circle, tying itself off at the ends and containing everything
within.

The girl pressed him back with her tiny hand.
“It’s just a little head trauma. Nothing to worry about.” The girl,
Catherine, spun around and grabbed Margaret’s shoulder and shook
her roughly. Catherine stopped, catching Margaret staring up at
her, and placed her hands on her hips. “I knew you were
faking.”