Chapter One - Rebel
Life was to be lived and enjoyed, and death ignored. Day-to-day, Rebel Caldwell never considered the true meaning behind the circle of life. Her parents insulated her from the bad. In spite of her father’s profession, and that of most of the men in her family, she didn’t dwell on if Daddy or Diesel or Uncle Mort or any of them would return home at the end of the day. She just expected it to be so. She saw them as invincible, so they were.
Momma managed to hide her fears about Daddy’s safety. Rebel’s aunts kept smiles on their faces and a united front no matter what else might be happening.
In Rebel’s mind, death was a distant reality that she wouldn’t have to think about for ages. Then her mother collapsed, one of her brothers overdosed, and her twin almost drowned her. Death was no longer an occurrence that would happen decades from now and that could be shrugged off. It was at the forefront of her mind. Inevitable. Inescapable.
Current.
Rebel blinked at the TV screen, silent and dark, like the world around her. The soft light behind her hospital bed cut through the pitch black and offered a small reprieve, but her mind whirled. Coldness surrounded her and she kept envisioning herself underwater, fighting to escape, clawing at Rule’s arms, trying to pry his fingers away. Her hair spread out, wet and heavy, an umbrella hiding her brother’s fingers from their dirty work.
Except her thoughts betrayed her. When Rule tried to drown her, she’d been unconscious. He’d conked her in the head, so that freezing dampness seeping into her skin and pouring through her body was a figment of her imagination. Had he killed her, she would’ve died without knowing how or why she’d crossed over.
She drew in a deep breath, gasping for air and struggling to breathe. She didn’t remember much about her arrival to the hospital.When she awakened and talked to her father, he told her what happened. Saving Rule was uppermost in her mind. Butterfly Kisses, the song Daddy played for her, soothed her turmoil and she’d fallen asleep. Now, hours later, her lungs hurt and felt full, almost as if water remained in them.
Coughing seized her and stole more of her breath. Pain radiated from her chest and she moaned. The bedside light flicked on and Daddy stood next to her bed. He grabbed her hand as a nurse rushed in.
“She just started coughin’.” The worry in Daddy’s voice matched the look on his face. “It woke me up.”
“My chest is hurting,” Rebel croaked, her coughing lessening. She squeezed Daddy’s hand, comforted by his presence.
“That’s normal, Rebel,” the nurse said gently. “The doctor makes his rounds between eight and nine, Mr. Caldwell. He’ll check her out and discuss options based on what he finds.”
She sounded so nice, but Rebel was too tired to look at her badge and discover her name to thank her when she felt better.
“My baby girl’s gonna be okay?” Daddy asked quietly.
“Yes, sir. She’s one of the lucky ones.” The nurse reached over Rebel and twisted a green knob, then patted her arm. “I’ve increased your flow of oxygen.” She pulled out a syringe and turned to the IV, inserting the needle into the injection port. “There, love. You should feel better soon.”
Foggy warmth spread through Rebel. She tried to keep her eyes open, afraid to close them, afraid a watery grave awaited her.
“I don’t wait to die,” she whispered.
Daddy kissed her forehead. “You fine, Reb. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to you, baby.”
“Okay,” she said, believing him.
Her eyes slipped closed.
