by Ward, Vivian
“What is it?” She asks, uncertainty in her voice as to whether or not she really wants to know.
“I’m going to make it look like a suicide,” I tell her. “I strangled him to death, crushing his neck bone. We can write a suicide note and drag him out by the ropes so it looks like he hung himself and fell.”
She thinks about the idea for a moment. “Do you think it’ll work?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I’m not sure but I don’t have much time and it seems like the best idea that I’ve come up with so far.”
After a minute, she agrees. “Yeah, it would make sense. A lot of Marines and officers commit suicide, and if you write a note and stage his body, it would be feasible.”
“I’ll move him in a couple of hours to give everyone time to get to sleep. At night, there are only a couple of guards on deck and most of the time, when it gets too cold, they’ll sneak into their sleeping quarters for a bit to warm up.”
While Victoria falls asleep in my arms, I begin to realize how much I care for her. The thought that it could’ve been her instead of Charlotte drove me mad and I couldn’t handle it. I never thought I was cut out as a family man but the more time I spend with her and the baby, the more I can picture it.
What would my life be like if I had the opportunity to stay at Botany Bay with her instead of going back out for the next fleet? Would we live as a family? Would the rules of relationships change with no one else around besides convicts and officers? Who would tell? Would Lizzy call me dad?
Does Victoria feel the same way? Would she even consider me as her new husband or would she marry me? What would our lives look like together?
As questions continue to consume me, I realize that I must move Digby so he can be discovered before the day shift goes on duty.
I’m so scared for Matthew now that he’s murdered Digby. We had a long talk about all of the what-if’s and I’m terrified. He would be facing a death sentence if they found out that he did it, but I understand his reasons.
He told me how much he already hated Digby, which was no secret to me, but when he explained how he was exploiting Charlotte for sex and that it could’ve been me, I could see the disgust and hatred in his eyes. It looked like he wanted to kill him all over again. I can only imagine how everything went down once he had him alone.
I know that I have to go back down with the other convicts when it gets dark this evening, in case they want to do a search of the cabins to ensure it was a suicide, but I’m not ready to go back just yet.
It would be great if I could just do something nice for him, like cook him a good dinner or something but I know that’s not possible. Not here, anyway. I just want to show him how grateful I am for his protection and kindness because he’s done so much for us. Not only Lizzy and me, but also for Charlotte.
I also need to tell him something: I’m pregnant.
At first, I thought my belly was swollen from not eating enough food—this is common among many of us—and that the vomiting was due to my illness but I’ve come to realize that I was wrong. Dead wrong. I began to think I might be pregnant about a week ago when I first started staying in his room because I was eating quite well, but the swelling in my abdomen didn’t go away. And then I was still throwing up, even while taking the antibiotics, which I thought was unusual, but I could still explain it away with being sick.
The confirmation came last night as he was holding me while we discussed the details of Digby’s suicide note and I felt the baby kick for the first time. Initially, I thought I was crazy but throughout the night, I felt the baby move a few times in addition to kicking.
To say that I was shocked and scared is an understatement. I’m still not sure how I feel about being pregnant. There are so many emotions and thoughts running through my mind that I don’t know which way is up anymore. I’m a little excited because I remember how wonderful my pregnancy was with Lizzy, but the situation right now is much different than before.
I don’t have a loving husband and a home. There is no support from family and friends. And while we have a doctor on the ship, I don’t feel like I can go to him to about my pregnancy to make sure that the baby is okay. I can’t tell anyone that I’m expecting. If I do that, they’ll know that I’ve been sexually active and immediately question about who the father is. There’s no way that I can tell them it’s him because the repercussions would be too severe.
I’m worried that now isn’t the right time to tell him. He’s got so much going on and to be quite honest, I’m not sure how he truly feels about me. A lot of men become enraged when a woman is raped, so maybe he that’s why he killed Digby. He’s done some fucked up things but even when he could’ve raped me, he didn’t. I don’t think he could bring himself down to that level.
And sure, we’ve bonded a lot over the last week. But is it enough to say that he loves me? I’m not even sure if I love him. I care for him, but do I love him? Love is a big word. A complicated one. What will he think and how will he feel knowing that his seed is growing in my belly? And if he doesn’t love me, could he love the child that he fathered? Would he help me with the baby or would he cut things off between us to protect himself and pretend it wasn’t his?
These questions have plagued me all day. What if I tell him and he becomes angry? What if he wants me to try to end the pregnancy somehow? What if he kills me? The night that I tried to kill him, I thought he was going to take my weapon away and use it against me. I know he’s capable of murder—he did it to Digby.
Or, what if he wants me to keep the baby? What if he wants to raise it together? Could we be a family together?
And what would that do to his career? It’s forbidden for an officer and a convict to have a relationship. How would I explain the pregnancy? What if it got him in serious trouble? What if I were to get in trouble for allowing an officer to have sex with me?
There are too many questions and not enough answers. All day, I’ve sat and stared at Lizzy, wondering how she’d feel about a little brother or sister. I’m sure she’d welcome the idea and love to have a playmate, but I already have enough trouble raising her on my own.
Can I handle two children on my own?
I’m petrified at the thought of being a single mom to two babies. Without Matthew and Charlotte, we might’ve already died during this long voyage to Botany Bay. Nothing is saying that without her help and the extra food, blankets, and clothes from Matthew that we’d be alive right now. We could’ve easily starved or froze to death. Some of the others already have.
And what if he’s only sending me back down with the other convicts tonight because he’s sick of me? He could be telling me that they might do a search so that he doesn’t have to confess that I’ve worn him down and he’s tired of me. I don’t know how any of this stuff works. It could all be a sham because he doesn’t want to deal with me and a baby and would like his private space back.
We’ve shared a lot of secrets, hopes, and dreams, and have had quite a bit of intimate moments, but what if I’m reading too much into all that? We’re two human beings crammed together in close quarters. Maybe we’re just both lonely.
I’ve questioned myself as to whether or not he’d seek a woman like me if the situation was different; maybe if we had met at the market, or if we bumped into each other on the street, but I can’t say that I know the answers to any of those questions. He’s told me how, after his marriage, he never wanted another relationship again. Does that still hold true? Or does he look at me differently?
Matthew is nothing like anyone I’ve ever met. He’s so complicated and complex. There is no black and white with him. It’s one big gray area. Sometimes, I feel like he gives me mixed signals but I also know that I’m hormonal right now so maybe I’m overthinking things or not seeing things clearly.
Then there’s the question of is he ready to be a father? I’ve watched him as he’s interacted with Lizzy. The truth is he adores her and she likes him, too; I can see how genuinely he cares fo
r her. But would he want children of his own? And with a convict?
I think the biggest question I’ve asked myself today is how do I feel about him? How do you love a man who you once feared? How can you not love a man who protects you at all costs? I’ve thought about all of the times we’ve spent together—good and bad—and I’ve thought about what it might be like to have a new husband. The thought of having a family again excites me. I don’t like being a single parent, but is he right for me?
And what if I weren’t pregnant? Would I still think of him like this? After he held me hostage and I tried to kill him? Would I still consider him as a possible husband and father for Lizzy if things were like they were before I felt the baby kick?
Can I trust a man like him? A killer? Would and can he change his ways?
Before I tell him, I have to figure some of these things out. I’m not sure how much time we have left until we reach the island but I’ve got to be smart about my decisions because it’s not just me or me and Lizzy. Now there’s a third person to think about.
I felt awful sending my girls back down with the other convicts but I had no doubt that there would be an investigation into Digby’s untimely death—and I was right.
Even with the suicide note and me staging it to look like he’d hanged himself with the ropes, they still questioned everyone on board and looked for any signs of a murder. I spent a lot of time cleaning all of the blood from his room and it was no easy task. It was too much of a risk having the girls up here with me.
But a small part of me is grateful for the distance with them because I was starting to let my emotions interfere with too many things. I’d started treating her as though she were a housewife. My housewife, to be exact, and that worries me.
I’d let my feelings cloud my better judgment while she was with me and I know there’s no way that we can exist together—as a couple or family. And after vowing to never get into a committed relationship, it was deeply disturbing to me that of all people, I was considering a convict.
I know that I shouldn’t let a label dictate who I’m with but it can never happen—the two of us. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t stop thinking about her but it seems she’s always in my thoughts whether I’m working or relaxing in my room. I can’t escape her.
I’m obsessed with her. She’s all that I think about, the only woman I want to be with, and, sometimes, I think I can smell her scent in the breeze. It’s been several days since I last saw her but she’s still prominent in my thoughts.
Even now as I lie in my bed, I can’t help but think of how they’re down there, lying on cold, hard boards. Maybe when I go back on duty, I can find something to occupy myself with because if I don’t, I know all I’ll do is sit and think about her.
Knock, knock, knock.
When I open my door, I’m surprised to see Victoria standing on the other side of it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking out past her. “Are they having you do chores?”
She shakes her head no with a cheesy grin on her face.
“No, I brought you a gift,” she says, taking her hands from behind her back. I can’t imagine what she could possibly give me but I reach for the bag and open it.
“What’s this?” I ask, curious as to what’s inside.
“Go on,” she nods. “Open it up!”
It’s a scarf that she must’ve made. But how? The confusion on my face must say it all. She answers my questions before I can ask.
“Charlotte was able to get some yarn and we fashioned some old, splintered pieces of wood into needles, and then we knitted you and Robert scarves.” She pauses and quickly adds, “But you can’t say anything to him just yet. She’s still working on his but it will be done soon.”
I’m impressed with her talent and generosity. The fact that she thought about making me a gift tells me what an asshole I am for using her label to make excuses for why we can’t be together.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I wanted to give you something to keep you warm,” she explains. “And with you giving us blankets and clothes, it’s the least I could do for you.”
“I love it,” I say, running my hands over the thick yarn. “It’s even my favorite color.”
“Is it now?” She says with a cheeky grin plastered across her face.
“You knew that, didn’t you?”
She nods. “I pay attention to everything you tell me.”
As she stands before me in the gusting wind, I can’t help but notice a gorgeous glow about her. Her skin looks radiant despite being locked away in the darkness and as her hair flies around her face, it looks like strands of silk. She almost looks like an angel.
An angel that I don’t deserve. She’s too good for someone like me. After the things I’ve put her through and the things I’ve done, I don’t deserve someone as caring and thoughtful as her. Maybe being with my ex-wife was karma for something I’d previously done but since I’ve met Victoria, I’ve done nothing but manipulate rules, break laws, and act like a criminal.
“You’d better get back,” I say. “Don’t want you to get caught anywhere near our sleeping quarters.”
“Do you think you might be able to sneak me back up here soon? I’d like to talk to you.”
I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet for what I’m about to say but I need to put some space between us. If I don’t, I’m afraid that I’ll get in too deep and that wouldn’t be good for either of us.
“No, Victoria. You need to stop coming up here,” I say. “Now go on and go back downstairs.”
Her mouth falls wide open as her eyes bulge out of her head. She can’t believe what she’s hearing; I can tell. Before she has another chance to speak, I assert my words. “I’m ordering you to go back down with the other convicts,” I keep my voice stern. “This is your only warning.”
“But I have….,” she begins.
“Now!” I say through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me write you up.”
With tears in her eyes, I can see the sting my words have caused her but I refuse to back down. I’ve got to make her understand that we can’t be together and the longer I continue trying to play house with her, the harder it’ll be. It’s time for me to toughen up and end things now before either of us gets hurt.
But who will hurt the most? Me because I so desperately want her, or her because I know how much she needs me?
Without uttering another word, she turns to walk away, looking over her shoulder as she makes her way down the deck. I know she’s probably looking to see if I’ll come after her but I won’t, no matter how much I want to chase her down and apologize. It doesn’t matter what I feel because, in the end, I have to protect her—even if it’s at my expense.
I’ve never felt so hurt or humiliated my entire life. Maybe it was my mistake for thinking that a Marine could fall in love with a convict, but the way he spoke to me? It was harsh and hurt like hell.
My heart shattered into a hundred pieces. He was so cold when he ordered me back down to the hulks. It was like he couldn’t get me away from his door fast enough, and all I was doing was bringing him a gift. I’d hoped that when I took him the scarf that I’d knitted that he’d invite me in so we could talk.
I need to talk to him.
I’ve been so conflicted about things lately and I wanted a chance to talk to him, to see where he is in all of this because I need to tell him about the pregnancy. Even if he doesn’t want to be a father, he has the right to know that I’m carrying his child. It would be wrong for me to keep that from him. I know a lot of women might keep it to themselves, especially in these circumstances but I want him to know because it’s the right thing to do.
He deserves the choice as to whether or not he wants to be present for this child. I’ve seen the way he is with Lizzy and how the two of them light up and babble for hours. There’s no way I could deny him of that with his own flesh and blood.
I’ve given it a lot of thought over the pa
st few days as to whether or not I should tell him and how we might be able to work things out given our current situation, but I need him to make the final choice in all of this because I can’t. I can’t decide if I should keep it to myself and do things alone or if I should tell him and try to become a family.
Every time I’ve felt the baby move or kick, my heart flutters knowing that I’m carrying Matthew’s baby. I’ve also thought more about whether or not I love him, and I do. I came to this conclusion as I was pondering things and asked myself if I could live without him. The answer is no. I couldn’t live without him. He’s more than just an officer or captor. Having him around brightens my days, makes me sleep easier at night, and makes life easier to live in this hell that I’m in.
I mean, sure, I could live without him, it’s not like I’d die if he weren’t around but I would be so lonely. Thinking of not having him in my life saddens me; not only because I’d go back to being a lonely widow, but because I wouldn’t have the love he’s given me and no one (besides my children) to give my love to. When I think of Matthew, I think of him as a partner, a friend, and a lover. The thought of not having him by my side crushes me.
Crushes my soul.
We’ve bonded so much, especially during my short stents in his room that I truly consider him as my other half. I don’t want to be in this world without someone as strong, protective, and loving as him. And I know he’s not said he loves me but he must. Right? They say actions speak louder than words. Not only have we formed a relationship but he’s put himself on the line for me quite a bit by letting me stay in his room, sneaking us food, giving us extra blankets, breaking into the doc’s office and stealing those medicines, and for killing Digby over what he did to Charlotte. And there’s no doubt that he’d do it all over again if he had to, and I’m sure he’d do a lot more for us if necessary.
I’m strong enough that I could raise these babies alone. It would be nearly impossible though; that’s the bloody truth, but I could do it. But I want him with us.