Excerpt from end of Chapter 1 of To Finish a Quilt

The baby's cry, more urgent now, brought her back into the instant.  Eunice wiped her brow as she stood and relived the sobbing and pain and the stench of alcohol and the taste of blood inside her lip.  Her pale eyes had felt about to burst from their orbits as if the pressure of her imprisoned screams were pushing them out.  It was not desire on that bastard's mind that night - it was punishment, she thought.  'Why did I deserve that?'  What indecency did I have for to God turn away from me at that moment? she asked herself as she had tens of times each and every day for over two decades.  But she had no real answer as usual.   Instead, she returned to the same vague allusion as always: somehow she had failed Him with the deep stains she wore inside.

Still without more of a true-ringing answer, she walked away from the bedroom.  Her head throbbed with every step and every cry of the baby.  Padding her way over the faux-Persian carpet she had purchased at Bullock's department store in downtown Los Angeles, she paused to take in the commanding panorama from high above the San Gabriel Valley.  It was a great view, a prestigious view.  She gave a sigh of pleased accomplishment and stole into her daughter's room.  

She crossed the room filled with blue light of the full moon and looked down into the crib. The child kicked her clubby legs in gleeful anticipation and her mouth arced into a pudgy heart as she cooed her welcome.

She had never wanted any children, but at least the first one had served to encumber her husband.  No way he would leave her with the threat of losing over half his assets hanging over his head.  This second one, the result of a moment of forgotten passion, really a sex act against her desires, was all because of him and worthless to her.  

Watching the child wriggle in its crib, the night's earlier anger and disgust rose again inside her.  She hated this baby.

She could right that wrong.  It was all in her power.  Jules would be sad, for a while, but he would get over the loss.  She would be there to help him through. Babies die in their sleep all the time, she knew that to be true.  And she would make sure of never delivering another.

The baby started to fuss again and seemed about to let out a cry.  Eunice bent over to give the baby a soothing caress of her buttery face with the back of her hand.  Solemnly she took the pillow from under the child's head.  “Shhh, there there,” she whispered as she placed the pillow over the baby's face and pressed it down along her ears.  

There were sounds, painful ones, but she could live with those too.  The infant's legs started to frantically dart in every direction.  Seconds dragged by as Eunice looked out the window.  How much longer could this take, she wondered.

“Mom?” her son Gary asked as he slumped on the door frame behind her.  His red plaid pajamas hung from his lean five year old body.  

Without a flinch, Eunice slid the pillow away and the baby started to bawl.  She spun in Gary's direction and stomped her way close to him.  “Damn it Gary.  See what you've done?  I almost had her down but you've ruined that.”

The boy, recoiling away from her, said, “I was having a bad dream.”

“And what can I do about that?”

Gary combed his deep auburn hair with his fingers as he turned back to his room.

“Nothing, I guess.”