Regardless, I can't dwell on it. I made my choices, and now I'm here. The only thing I can do now is everything in my power to protect my son. Caleb's going to use him as a weapon. I know he will. He's pretty much told me so, and I hate it. I hate myself for being so cowardly that I stayed in Ireland. I should have left the country.
I scold myself for what I should have or could have done. Then I think about Annie and Dominick, and another wave of sadness passes me.
I never stop wondering if Caleb killed Dominick. I hope he's okay, but I also know he might have permanent damage from Caleb's blow.
Then I think about how excited they were about the baby. I glance at my son, and it all makes me more emotional, remembering how they were willing to welcome him as a grandchild with open arms. All the kindness they showed me was in vain. It only wreaked havoc over their household.
My son looks up and coos.
It pulls me out of my thoughts. I look down, whispering, "Hey, sweetie."
He opens his eyes, and they're as green as Devin's, making me emotional again.
I try to pull it together and kiss my son's head. I vow, "Hi, sweetie. I promise I'll take care of you."
It seems to appease my baby. He puts his head back between my breasts, as if tired, and closes his eyes.
I don't know how long I'm there, stroking his head, trying to fight sleep, afraid that somebody will come in and take my son from me the moment I do.
It's well past midnight, and besides the nurse who comes in to check on us every so often, no one else has been around. Every few hours, I doze off slightly, but my son is always there, hungry, wanting to feed, and I can't help but smile.
Seeing so much of Devin in him makes me sad and happy, but I also know Caleb will probably see it. At some point, he'll hate it.
I have to figure out how to escape him.
My worries never fade. My fears of waking up without my son never do either, and it's well into the next morning when there's a knock on my door.
I'm exhausted. I look over, and Maeve is standing in the doorway with a bunch of flowers.
I seethe, "What are ya doing here?"
Her eyes widen. She asks, "Can I come in?"
I don't say anything.
She steps inside, shuts the door, walks over, and puts the flowers on the table.
"I asked ya what you're doing here," I snap.
She furrows her eyebrows. "I came to see the baby. Caleb said it would be okay."
"Ya sure are buddy-buddy with Caleb, aren't ya?" I accuse.
Her face falls. "No, I'm not. Nor do I want to be buddy-buddy with him."
"Sure could have fooled me."
She glances between my son and my face in confusion.
I grip my son tighter, warning, "Don't touch him."
She holds her hands in the air. "Okay. I really did come to see how ya were doing."
"Why do ya care? Ya didn't seem to care when ya told Caleb where I was, now did ya?"
Guilt fills her face.
I lash out some more. "Ya even told him that my child wasn't his. Now he's using that information as a weapon against me. Are ya happy?"