Chapter and Verse

by Jo Willow

  We were laying side by side, catching our breath and stealing glances at one another. We were grinning like fools, but for two different reasons. I was grinning because the big “O” and I were friends again after a three-year hiatus. He was grinning because he’d finally slipped the ring in my nose...erm...finger. He’d slipped a ring, on my finger. Oh my sweet baby Jesus. There was a ring on my finger.

  I sat upright and reached for the light. A faint glow lit the room and I raised my hand to my face. It felt like it weighed a ton. I’d never get used to wearing something that required it’s own zip code, I was a note taker. A writer. I need my hands free to help me express myself.

  I was grousing to myself when I finally looked to see what he’d adorned me with. My breath caught and my eyes glazed. It was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen to date. It was even prettier than Deacon. There was a huge cushion cut diamond in the center and in clusters of three on each side, were emeralds. As green as the hills in Ireland. That kind of green.

  I felt him crowd in next to me before he kissed me on my shoulder.

  “Do you like it? I bought it last week while you were mad at me.”

  I looked at him and chuffed before I went back to fawning over my ring.

  “I wasn’t mad at you, you were mad at me. Remember? You stormed out on Monday after you found out I had a date with Hamm.”

  “Whatever. The point is, I never lost faith in us Dorothy. I knew this day was coming and I wanted to be ready for it. Do you like it?”

  “I love it Deke. It’s stunning. Why emeralds?”

  “They reminded me of your eyes. You have the prettiest eyes babe. The stones don’t do you justice.”

  My heart melted and I was almost ready to forgive the sneaky way he’d proposed. Then I noticed something. Something embarrassing.

  Normally, I would never bring something like this up. I was raised better. The thing is, it pertains to the chain of events and how they unfolded. So here it is. I was sitting in a wet spot that was growing.

  At first I didn’t panic. There was nothing to panic about. If anything, I should be offering to make him a sandwich and bring him a beer. I was newly engaged and it was cause for a celebration, right? Except I had this nagging suspicion about something that I couldn’t quite grasp. I couldn’t help but think that the wet spot was involved and it was all wrapped up in “sneaky”.

  I glanced over his shoulder at the nightstand. Nothing there but an empty ring box. I scanned the bed on the other side of his body. Again, nothing. Okay. Now I was beginning to feel the first threads of unease. Deacon was looking at me with humor in his eyes, but I couldn’t tell if he was laughing at me or if he was in on the joke.

  I leaned completely across his body and checked out the floor on his side of the bed. Completely clean. I sat up, getting ready to stand and go to the bathroom. He must have caught the look on my face.

  “Dorothy, what in the hell is wrong with you? Why are you fidgeting and what are you looking for?”

  I turned ten shades of red. I know I did, I could feel it. We were intimate now, right? We were engaged (I’m still not sure it was a legitimate engagement, his tactics were dubious), I should be able to tell him anything. I just had to find the words.

  I played with the hem of my nightshirt, balling it up into my hands as I looked at my knees. Deacon patiently waited and I could feel the grin on his face. Oh he was a smarmy little asshat once he got what he wanted.

  I tried to figure out a way to phrase the question. Deacon saw me struggling and broke out in an out and out laugh.

  “Dorothy, spit it out please. You’re killing me here.”

  “You haven’t left the bed since you crawled in.”

  “I haven’t needed to. Everything I need is right here, fiance.”

  I shivered at the endearment.

  Fear was now winning the race against unease. Finally I gave up and asked. The not knowing was doing me in.

  “Deacon, where’s the condom?”

  “What condom?”

  I turned on him and he leaned back at the look on my face.

  “The fucking condom you better have been wearing mister. I’m sitting here ovulating while occupying a wet spot that’s growing. Don’t you dare, ‘What condom’ me, you sneaky bastard.”

  “Simmer down missy, there’s no need for name calling. There’ll be plenty of time for that after the wedding. Look at your ring if it helps to calm you down. It’s pretty. Isn’t it?”

  “Deacon I swear I’m going to cut your dangly bits off with it if you don’t start taking me seriously.”

  He took one fingered and dragged it down my thigh. I grabbed that finger and bent it back against his hand.

  “Ouch, Ouch, Ouch.... stop it!”

  He jerked his finger out of my hand and held it against his chest.

  “Woman, what is the matter with you? Pregnant women are supposed to glow, not go postal! It’s too soon for hormonal surges, you’ve only been pregnant fifteen minutes! Damn it Dor’, I think you broke it.”

  My circuits were sizzling, I could hear them. Pregnant? Me? No way. No. Nuh-uh. What was he, some sort of psychic pregnancy test? He couldn’t possibly know that. And was that what he was trying for? Where was my list... I knew that there was something on there about waiting a couple of years for children...

  “Dor’ are you alright? You look...strange.”

  I slowly turned my face to his and my eyelid had begun to twitch.

  “Strange? Are you sure it’s not just pregnancy making me look this way?”

  My tone was sarcastic, but he was still whining over his yet-to-be-determined broken finger and didn’t realize it.

  He stared at my face and went back to cuddling his finger.

  “I don’t think that’s it. You’re glowing, but it’s not the same. You look...overheated. Are you hot? Are you...you know... hot?”

  Men are morons. Maybe it’s just Sloan men, but I don’t think so. Pierce seems kinda on the sharp side. After getting his finger almost broken, the pea wit had the balls to put his whole hand on my thigh and squeeze. He started kissing and nibbling on my shoulder as he began to snake his hand up my leg.

  “Deacon?”

  “Yeah baby?”

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “Don’t need one.”

  “Why not?”

  His lips were on my neck now, trying to coax me into laying back down. The horndog was missing the point entirely.

  “Because my fiance is already knocked up.”

  I jerked away from him and jumped off the bed. I stood there with my hands on my hips while he looked at me as if I’d jumped off a cliff wearing angel wings.

  “Damn it Deacon, quit saying that! You have no way of knowing I’m pregnant! And while we’re freaking out about it...”

  “I’m not freaking out about it.”

  He was leaning with his back against the headboard, his chiseled chest and abs tempting me, making me even madder. Oh my god. Weren’t pregnant women supposed to be hornier than hell because of the hormonal surges? Oh shit. Maybe I was pregnant. Maybe... stop it Dorothy, I told myself. You’re horny because you finally got laid for the first time in three years and Mr. Hot Bod’ is sitting there giving you the crazy eyes.

  “Why aren’t you freaking out about it? And why are you so sure I’m pregnant?”

  “I’m not freaking out because it’s bound to happen sooner or later. I’m sure, because I’ve got Olympic status swimmers. You’re preggers. Might as well get used to the idea.”

  His state of ease made me want to cut him.

  I struggled to maintain control. What’s done was done and we’d deal with it together, if there was anything to deal with.

  “We’ll have to sell the apartments and buy a house for sure now. Something with a nice sunny exposure for the baby. New York winters can be brutal you know. I don’t want him getting sick...poor baby.”

  “Deacon? Did you plan this?”

  His eyes
cleared and he stared at me.

  “Plan what?”

  “Plan a proposal-slash-insemination?”

  “I’m insulted by your insinuation. What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “The kind that requires me to ask the damned question Deacon. Did you, or did you not, plan this?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “Deacon, you promised you’d never lie to me. Remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “Omission of fact is a form of lying Deacon.”

  “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

  “I’m sure. I’m so sure, I’m gonna give you another shot at it. Did you, or did you not, plan this?”

  He reached over and picked up the ring box and began to flip the lid up and down. Up and down. Up and down. I was ready to snatch it out of his hands when he looked up at me.

  “You won’t give the ring back right?”

  The tone of his voice broke my heart. He was nervous again and I hated making him nervous. I climbed back into bed and curled up on his lap. He put his arms around me and made tiny circles on my back with his broken finger.

  “I promise I won’t give the ring back. Even if you break up with me. The ring is mine.”

  He kissed the top of my head and sighed.

  “Then yeah. I might have thought it would be a sure thing if I hedged my bet.”

  “Hedged your bet?”

  “Well, yeah. You’re the one Dorothy. We need to get married. I need to get married. You know how self destructive I am. Just look at that limo fiasco! If you don’t get me off the streets, god knows where I’ll be in a year from now. You have to marry me.”

  “Where does the lack of condom sense come in?”

  “I didn’t know for sure, but I figured you weren’t on birth control. I mean three years...”

  “Get to the point Deacon.”

  “If you’d said no to my proposal, there’s the baby to consider. Our child needs a father Dor’. Kids need their dad.”

  I sighed. His heart was in the right place, even if I was tempted to rip it out of his chest and show it to him.

  “What if I’m not pregnant?”

  “But you are.”

  “Deacon, what if I’m not?”

  “Wallow in denial if you must, but I know the truth. We’re still gettin’ married and having a baby. Exciting, isn’t it?”

  I crawled off his lap and got off of the bed.

  “Where are you goin’?”

  “I’m taking a shower and then I’m starting breakfast.”

  “But...but...we’ve got a wedding to plan! Baby names to pick out!”

  He kept on blathering and I walked into the bathroom. I took off my shirt and started the shower. When I stepped in, he was right behind me.

  “Deke, what are you doing?”

  “I thought we did that conservation thing now. You weren’t lying about that were you?”

  “Smart ass.”

  I dampened my hair and applied shampoo before I handed it to him. My eyes were closed and I was rinsing, when I heard him speak.

  “How about Samuel if it’s a boy?”

  I looked at him while I applied conditioner. He looked serious enough and I reached for the soap before I answered.

  “I am not naming my son Sammy Sloan.”

  “It sounds hip. Edgy. Slick.”

  “It’s the name of a gangster, Deacon. No.”

  “My son is no gangster Dor’. How about Tripp?”

  “Tripp Sloan? How many broken legs do you want that kid to sustain?”

  “Oh yeah. It does seem more like a directive doesn’t it? We’ll give it some thought.”

  “You do that.”

  I turned around to rinse the soap from my body and he started up again.

  “What do you think of Scarlett for a girl?”

  “Scarlett Sloan? Sounds like a porn star.”

  “Damn it. You’re no fun.”

  “Scarlett it is then. You can buy a shotgun when she enters high school and starts to live up to her name.”

  “Those bastards better keep their hands off our Scarlett. I mean it.”

  “Right.”

  I stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel before handing him one.

  He stopped dead still and his eyes glazed over.

  “Deacon? Baby are you alright?”

  “We’ll name her after our mothers. Catherine Bree Sloan.”

  He had me there. I wasn’t even pregnant and I loved that name.

  “Dor’? What do you think?”

  I wrapped my arms around him and he hugged me back.

  “I think it’s perfect. If we have a girl, Catherine Bree Sloan it is.”

  “And if it’s a boy?”

  “Brian. Brian Sloan.”

  “Dor’, my son’s initials will not be, B.S. No way.”

  “Brian Deacon Sloan?”

  “That I like. Catherine Bree or Brian Deacon. See how easy that was?”

  I could not believe how hooked on this idea he was. He was like a dog with a bone on this baby thing. I didn’t have the heart to argue the fact that I wasn’t pregnant, because he was so happy.

  I tossed on a t-shirt and a pair of capri’s, then made my way to the kitchen. Deacon put on sweatpants and followed me.

  He perched on a stool on the other side of the counter and watched me work. While I scrambled eggs, he turned on the small T.V. in the kitchen and tuned in the weather channel.

  “Deke, don’t you think we should discuss a wedding before we choose baby names?”

  He was loading the coffee pot then put on the tea kettle. I thought that was odd because he wasn’t a tea drinker.

  “Tea AND coffee?”

  He crossed his arms and looked at me.

  “You’re not allowed to have coffee, it’s bad for the baby. You’re having herbal tea. And the wedding has to happen soon. Before everyone finds out we’re expecting.”

  “Get off my tits Deacon, this isn’t funny anymore. You can take away my freedom by slapping a ring on my finger, but don’t screw around with my caffeine. I’m serious here.”

  His nose came up and it began to look like he was standing guard in front of the coffee pot.

  “So am I. Caffeine stunts their growth. The first three months are crucial to their development and we’re not having short children.”

  “You’re prejudiced against short people? I’m a short person Deke and it never held me back.”

  “You had no sex for three years until I knocked you up. I’d say you were held way back. In fact, I’d say you were lucky to find me.”

  I gave him the Dorothy Lincoln evil eye until he withered and reached for the tea canister.

  “Lemon Zing or Orange Spice?”

  I turned the bacon and looked at his inquiring eyes. Those two were my favorites and he’d remembered. He had an entire canister full of Lemon Zing and Orange Spice tea. No one had ever been that considerate of my preferences before.

  “I love you Deacon.”

  “Love you too babe. Which one?”

  “Orange Spice please.”

  He smiled and put the teabag into the cup. He added one sugar and a splash of milk, and placed it beside me. He even remembered how I liked it. The man was a keeper.

  He made his coffee and went back to take his seat while he watched me fry eggs and sip tea.

  “Dorothy, I’m thinking we need to get married next week.”

  Thank god I’d swallowed or we would’ve had orange spice flavored eggs.

  “Next week? Why next week? What’s the rush?”

  “I would have thought it would be easier for your sister to put together your dress before you start showing. The baby will be here in May, so a June wedding is out, and if we wait until Christmas, you’ll have a cute little bump.”

  He sipped his coffee while I gawked at him. He nodded once at his genius observation as if it was decided.

  “Yes, next week would be best. Can M
el’ do a dress in a week?”

  I was blinking at him as he waited patiently for my answer.

  “Dorothy? Dress? Next week? We don’t have a lot of time to fuck around here babe. The wedding is next week and we’ve got a baby coming. There’s shit to do. Answer the question.”

  I had a question of my own. Can you go to prison for killing a stupid person if they just keep hammering away at you? I mean in a way, isn’t that a type of self defense? I could afford one of those lawyers that everyone hates. I bet I could get off on a technicality. Just something to consider. Talk amongst yourselves.

  “Sure Deke. I can get the perfect dress in less than a week. Why not? While I’m doing that, why don’t you buy and close on a house? Something with a big yard for the kids. Also, pick up Spock while you’re at it. We can have him house trained before Sammy Scarlett comes. Do you think St. Paul’s Cathedral is available for the wedding? I mean you ARE Deacon Sloan, surely they can fit in our wedding. While I’m at it, do you prefer chocolate or white? For the cake I mean.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass Dor’. We threw out the names Sammy and Scarlett. It’s Brian or Catherine. Remember? And you shouldn’t visit foreign countries while you’re pregnant, I’m sure I read that somewhere so St. Paul’s is out. I was thinking Vegas.”

  “I am NOT being married by Elvis or Darth Vader. Forget it.”

  “There are perfectly lovely venues in Vegas, Dorothy. Keep an open mind.”

  I dumped his eggs on a plate and added bacon and toast. I tossed the plate in front of him and moved to leave the room. He picked up his plate and started to follow me, before I turned on him and he froze.

  “You. Sit. Eat your breakfast and leave me alone for a little while. I need to think.”

  He sat back down but picked up his juice and reached out to me. I took the juice, sipped, then narrowed my eyes. He started picking at his food.

  “You’re not thinking about breaking up with me are you?”

  I threw my head back and counted to ten. When I looked back up, he was staring at me with big eyes and I crumbled.