For the first time in a long time, Jack Swift slept soundly. The only sound throughout the entire house was that of his soft breath escaping his lips.
Becka bit her bottom lip as she looked on. She hadn't realized just how bad off he had been.
Becka couldn't help being mad at herself. Aren't mothers supposed to have a sixth scent about this kind of thing? Yet she had sat there as her only child was knocking at Death's door, oblivious to the fact that there was even the slightest of problems. Just who exactly did she think she was?
Thank God for Linda. Becka shuddered to think what could have happened if it hadn't been for her. Although her sister spent most of her time out of the country, she always managed to show up when she was needed most. Becka loved her sister and was immensely grateful for her. What she didn't love, however, was the fact that she seemingly knew Jack more than his own mother. Not that that was Linda's fault. She should have known better herself.
Becka's heart nearly stopped as Jack stirred in his sleep. She made her way over to him. Just a dream. She leaned down to brush his hair out of his beautiful face and smiled to herself as he calmed at her touch. It had been close, but he had survived.
Never again would Becka allow something like this to slip her notice. She would pay better attention, pick up on signs when no one else could. Maybe this was just the wakeup call she needed. The scare that would remind her that she couldn't live without her only son. She had to protect him. She vowed to be a better mother.
"Don't worry Jack," Becka said softly as she lifted him from his crib. "I won't let anything else happen to you. I promise."