Convicted (Consequences)

was different than he’d ever foreseen. The addition of their child would only further propel it into an oblivion he never before knew existed, and as for strength—he could do that. It was his thing. If he could endure the pain he saw in Claire’s eyes in her stead, then he would without hesitation.
    “You don’t have to be strong,” Tony encouraged. “Scream if you need to scream.” This time, she took his hand and squeezed. For a moment, he considered screaming. Never before had his petite, gentle wife exhibited so much strength. He worried the bones in his fingers may not survive; and then all at once, her grip lessened and the clouds of pain floated away revealing shiny emerald eyes as tears slipped down her cheeks.
    “Where’s Dr. Gilbert?”
    “He’ll be here soon . ” Did he sound confident? Tony hoped he did. He tried multiple times to contact Phil by phone, but Tony knew the phones had poor reception when out to sea. The only way to make contact was the two-way radio. The transmitter and receiver were in the boathouse. Earlier, Tony mentioned going to the boathouse and trying to reach them, but Claire’s sudden look of panic stopped him in his tracks. She was determined that he needed to be with her. Didn’t she understand, he was useless, and Dr. Gilbert was the one she needed?
    “Tony? Tony!?”
    “I’m right here.”
    Her face contorted as she made a sound he’d never heard.
    “I’m right here. What can I do?” he asked.
    Breathing through the pain, she spoke in but a whisper, “There’s so much pressure.”
    Madeline lifted the sheet and felt between Claire’s legs. When her hand emerged, it was covered in blood. Tony felt his own blood drain from his face. Mercifully, he was on his knees. If he’d been standing, Tony feared his show of strength would fail as he’d be prone on the floor.
    Madeline looked directly into his eyes. “Monsieur, we’re going to bring your bébé into this world.”
    Tony nodded—at least he thought he did.
    Madeline emphasized, “Now, Monsieur!”
    Claire screamed as Madeline, once again, explored below the sheet.
    Although Madeline’s voice was calm, her words took the air from Tony’s lungs. “I’m not feeling your bébé’s head. It’s too soft. She’s coming bottom first!”
    Before he could respond, Claire’s hoarse voice pleaded, “Oh, please, please help my baby.”
    Tony soothed her forehead with his hand, unsure what else to do. “Madeline, tell me what to do.”
    “Let me see your hands, Monsieur.”
    He did as she asked and held up his hands.
    “Too large—I will help your child come. I worry about the cord. Did the doctor ever mention breach ?”
    Claire shook her head, tears flowing easier than words. “No, but the last ultrasound was almost two months ago.”
    “She has turned, but it is all right. Many women deliver bébés this way. I worry about pulling if the cord is where it should not be.”
    Claire’s breath was a ragged plea, “Please...I don’t care about me, save my baby.”
    The hair on Tony’s neck stood to attention. “I care! We will save both of you!”
    Before he finished declaring, Claire screamed again. The sound echoed through the house and over the island. Blood now covered Madeline’s hands and arms. Tony saw splashes on the front of her dress.
    Madeline instructed, “Go to the kitchen; in the cabinet near the stove there is a case. It is brown. Bring it to me.”
    Tony looked down into Claire’s now clouded eyes. Again, she cried out.
    “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he kissed Claire’s damp head and stepped away. Rounding the end of the bed, Tony’s shoe slipped on the wooden floor. Looking down, he stopped. On the floor, seeping into the cracks between the bamboo planks, he saw a puddle of blood.
    “Go, hurry!” Madeline’s command propelled his stilled feet.
    Tony wasn’t well-versed on anything in a kitchen; however, he knew a stove and a cabinet. Flinging open the doors he found a brown case. When he opened the case, his heart stopped beating. The cutlery was shiny and clean with sharp looking blades. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined one of these knives being used on his wife. Tony couldn’t let Claire endure this pain without something. Quickly, he grabbed a bottle of bourbon. He’d make her drink if he had to; or perhaps it could be used to sterilize the knife. Tony didn’t know the exact reason; however, as he rushed back toward his bedroom, he held