Cradled by the Night Read Online Free

warmth of the July day. To her surprise, a tiny sign marked the direction of the family plot with a name etched in black and an arrow pointing into the woods.
    Winthrop Cemetery
    “Okay. It should be right back here.” Her heart thudded at the silence of the woods. Not a bird chirped, and the brush underfoot crunched like gunshots. She walked 15 yards, and a clearing appeared, complete with a few dozen sagging tombstones and a gate, hanging slightly open.
    As if they were waiting for me...
    Amelia shook her head at her morbid fancy and walked through the gate, letting it swing with a creak behind her.
    The divide between servants and Winthrops was easy to see. The family was on the right with tall, auspicious headstones, and others were on the left with modest, flat gravestones to mark their lives. Many of those stones were engraved by hand. It was clear the family hadn't spent money on their inscriptions. The Winthrop gravestones were solid, if aging, with clear engraving on all but the oldest from the first quarter of the nineteenth century.
    Hettie and James Winthrop and two older sons' resting places lay in the front, looking newly polished. The dates of death confirmed that they were the most recent inhabitants. Amelia meandered to the last two rows of family stones. She was disappointed to find just one young child's grave there. He had been born in 1900 and had died at age seven.
    What did I think I'd find? The crying baby?
    She shook her head, wondering again about the woman she had seen guarding over Lottie—if that was what she had been doing.
    Unease ran through Amelia at the thought of the baby. The monitor was quiet in her hand.
    I need to get back. What if the distance is too far, and I can't hear Lottie crying?
    She ran out of the graveyard, feeling a sense of urgency she couldn't explain. All she could think about was her baby and the shadowy woman who had stood over her the night before.
    Why did I leave her alone? I'm a horrible mother.
    Her palms were slick, and tears of fear ran down her face. Images of a woman with a gnarled hand reaching for her baby flooded her mind. The images came with abandon, terrible in their specificity. Lottie was falling. Lottie was screaming. Lottie was careening down the stairs, thrown by an unseen hand. Lottie's head was smashed against the wall.
    “Oh my God!” She gasped as she lunged through the back door. The house stood silent, as did the monitor in her hand. Hand on her chest, Amelia surged upstairs to the nursery. She wrenched open the nursery door and doubled over with relief. Lottie lay in the crib, tiny hands thrown over her head, peaceful and asleep.
    “Oh, thank God.” Amelia smoothed the tendrils of hair on the baby's forehead.
    Am I losing my mind?
    She knew it was irrational to think that leaving the baby for twenty minutes so close to home would bring her to great harm. She was behind the house after all, but the panic she had felt had been real.
    I still don't feel myself, and it's been over seven weeks now since Lottie was born. Maybe Lark is right. Maybe it's time to see a doctor.
     
    Chapter 4: One Pill
    * * * *
    “I'm going to prescribe you a lose dosage of an anti-depressant. I think it will help.” Dr. Marple said with a gentle smile.
    Lark was right. She's great.
    “I hope so. I just feel so...weird coming here. I had a tough life, but I never needed medication until now. T his is the best part of my life so far.” Amelia clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
    “The postpartum period is full of joy, but it's difficult physically and emotionally. Make sure you take your meds. In six months or so, you can  probably come off of them. This is fairly common. Don't beat yourself up. You came to see me, and that means you're a wonderful mother.” The doctor patted her shoulder and wrote out a prescription.
    “Thanks. I will.”
    “So, how are you enjoying the house so far? Stormcliffe? It's a lovely old place.”
    “It's great. Well,