by J. Adams
In between indulging in peppermint tea and mini cream puffs, I try on colorful feminine tunics, coordinating elasticwaist slacks, and adjustable-waist gowns, as well as colorful, one-of-a-kind sandals and slippers. I instantly fall in love with and purchase each outfit I try.
“You are a very talented lady, Rachael,” I say as she folds my purchases and places them in four large shopping bags.
“Well, thank you, dear, but you make the outfits beautiful.”
I smile and blush slightly. “Thank you. I'm looking forward to wearing your masterpieces.”
“And I am looking forward to hearing of your husband's reaction once he sees you in them.” She leans close and whispers conspiratorially, yet loud enough for Sarah to hear, “Between you and me, he won't be able to keep his hands off you.”
Sarah chuckles. “He already can't do that!”
The two women laugh and I join them, still blushing furiously. Sarah and I each take two bags. “Thank you again,” I say to Rachael as she walks us to the door.
“You're very welcome. Come back and see me soon.”
“I will.”
* * *
Sebastian enters the closet just as I finish putting everything away. He peruses my new wardrobe. “I'm looking forward to seeing you in these.”
“Well, you won't have long to wait.” I smile widely. “Rachael told me you won't be able to keep your hands off me when you see me in these outfits, and your mother assured her that you can't keep your hands off me now.”
Sebastian's eyes widen and he laughs. “That's Mother for you. She speaks her mind.” He pulls me close. “But she is always truthful.”
“I'm surprised she didn't include me as well. It's pretty hard for me to keep my hands off you.”
“And for that I am grateful.”He laughs. “It's all my father's fault. I take after him.”
“I can believe that. And speaking of your father, what's the story with him hiding the town clock?”
“My father will have my head for this,” he says, grinning. “But since you are family, you are entitled to know his deep dark secret.”
“Do tell.”
We make ourselves comfortable on the tan leather sofa in the sitting area of our room. “Well, it all started with his friend, Saul. Saul is in charge of maintenance at the town hall, which includes the clock. One day the clock stopped working. My father mentioned it to Saul, and he in turn told Father that he would get around to repairing it sometime. * * *
“Sometime!” Devon replied in shock. “What do you mean sometime? It needs to be repaired now. The President requires order in the kingdom, and a broken city clock is definitely not considered order.”
“Well, it's not like our lives depend on the thing,” Saul said. “Everyone has a clock or two in their homes. What difference does it make if the town clock isn't working? Life will still go on, my friend, working clock or no.”
Devon said nothing else, just bid his friend goodbye and left. A week later the clock still hadn't been repaired, so Devon decided to teach Saul a lesson. Late that night after making sure no one was around to see his dastardly deed, he took the clock down, brought it home, and stored it in one of the guest rooms. Since he had been ranting to his wife and son about the non-working clock non-stop, the two watched him hide it, mumbling to himself about work ethic and clock neglect, and they fell against each other laughing.
“The next day, Devon watched from a distance as Saul walked toward the building entrance, looked up, and froze as he gazed at the spot where the clock had been. The man released a frantic shriek and hurried into the building. Devon entered the town hall a minute after Saul and caught up with him in the elevator, slipping in just before the doors closed.
““Good morning, my friend, he greeted. How are you today?”
“Did you see?! The clock is gone!”
“Oh, how terrible!”
“I can't believe it. Who would do something so underhanded?”
“I could not venture to guess,” Devon said, suppressing a smile.
“I just don't understand,” Saul said, scratching his head in puzzlement. “I mean who . . .” He paused and looked at his friend, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “It was you, wasn't it? I know it was you!”
“I have no idea what you're talking about. What would I want with a large defective clock?”
“You did it to get back at me, didn't you?”
“I have never been one for revenge, and I'm appalled that you could think that of me.”
“What did you do with it?” Saul's voice was suddenly pleading. “You must tell me what you've done with it. I can tell the President that I took it home to make the repairs and plan to bring it back as soon as I have finished.”
“But you haven't been working on it. You had not even planned to work on it.”
“Please,” Saul pleaded, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. “I promise I will prepare it today. Just tell me where it is.”
“Do I have your word?”
“Yes! Just tell me where it is.”
Devon smiled. “Go home and check your living room.”
“Go home? What do you mean go home? I don't have it!”
“You do now.”
* * *
“It seems Father had visited with Saul's wife two days before and told her of his plan. Because she knew what a procrastinator her husband was, she happily agreed to assist Father in his scheme. When Saul finally got home, he was greeted with the vision of the clock topped with a big pink bow. He immediately made the repairs and took the clock back. And he never procrastinated repairs again.”
I roar with laughter as I picture the whole incident. I can see Devon doing it all–hauling the clock away and hiding it, then waiting for Saul to leave for work before taking it and placing it in his friend's living room.”
“That is just too priceless,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Your father is a riot.”
“He's something,” Sebastian says, causing me to start laughing all over again. He joins me. When he finally stops, he says, “Please make sure I'm not around when you bring the story up with Father. His eyes will shoot fire darts through me and I will be maimed for eternity.”
“Don't worry,”I say laughing. “I will keep you safe. You have my word.”
Sixteen
I stand in front of a full length mirror with Sebastian's arms wrapped around me and his large hands on my bare abdomen as we gaze at the reflection of my growing round stomach. Sarah had been right. I did start to show a week after our announcement, and now, a month later, my midsection has doubled in size. I am halfway through my pregnancy and I feel wonderful. Our son is extremely active, his kicks and movements growing stronger with each passing day.
“I think I want to stay home and be lazy with you today,” Sebastian says, burying his face in my hair.
“That sounds good to me,” I say with a sigh, closing my eyes. “However, the council will soon be awaiting your arrival. I don't think they would call wanting to be lazy with your wife a good excuse for not attending a meeting.”
“True, but it is a good excuse to me.” His longing eyes meet mine in the mirror. “I'm going to let my assistant handle the training class today. I will return to you after my workout.”
I smile and kiss him. “And I will be waiting,” I murmur against his mouth.” I walk with him to the door where he embraces me once more before reluctantly releasing me. “I love you.”
“And I love you.” He kisses me again and leaves.
I shut the door and head back upstairs to shower. I dress, make the bed, dedicate a few moments to commune with The One, eat, tidy the already clean house, then pull out my colorful straw crocheting tote and make myself comfortable in the garden room on the large, ivory suede sofa, placing a cup of herbal tea on the thick, square glass table beside me. I absolutely adore this room. It is completely enclosed in floor-to-ceiling beveled glass windows. A large white area rug covers the middle of the white and light gra
y tile floor. There are both hanging and standing plants in each corner. The two over-size green and ivory striped chair with matching ottomans coordinate with the sofa and all the glass tables are topped with white and gray tatted lace. A panel on the wall next to the double French doors and a remote on the table control the windows, tinting them when the sun is too bright, and adjusting the shades which extend from the ceiling to give the room total privacy. An electronic picture frame sits on the table next to me, displaying alternating images of Sebastian and I and his parents. This is my favorite room in the house, coming in second only to our bedroom.
I take out the baby afghan I have been working. The light blue yarn is the softest I have ever felt. I had purchased several pastel colors two weeks ago and I have finished six afghans so far. Yellow, green, purple, lavender, white, and turquoise ones now sit folded on a shelf in the nursery upstairs, along with a chest full of baby clothes.
I smile. I could make a hundred of these in a couple of hours, but I prefer going slower because it's so relaxing. My mother taught me to crochet when I was ten and I've kept it up through the years, crocheting blankets to give as gifts. Once I started working at the rest home, I began crocheting afghans and donating them for the residents there.
I think of my elderly friends sometimes and wonder how they are. I also think of Karen and Sarah. I hope Karen took Sebastian's counsel and left her abusive husband. I miss my friends and I wish I could see them again. But I wouldn't trade my life now for anything. Besides, I'm sure I will have the chance to see them again one day.
I change the course of my thoughts and let them drift to my husband. Every single day, every single moment I spend with him is blissful. I never imagined that marriage could be so wonderful. Sebastian is perfect for me in every way. Of course, he would have to be, to be my true mate. There are no secrets between us. Our minds, hearts, and souls lay completely open to each other. There is nothing I can't tell him or he can't tell me. I am literally the blood of his blood, bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh. I feel him moving inside my soul, and I in his. We are one in all things. No outer earth couple could ever be so deeply connected. I mean, a married couple can feel deep love for one another, sure, but here in Challis, it goes so beyond that. Here, the love shared between true-mated husband and wife is everything. It is the essence of all we are. If The One had not chosen me to be the Woman of Prophecy, to be Sebastian's true mate, and I had married someone on the surface, I'm sure I would have loved him very much, raised a family, and enjoyed a happy life, but there could never have been the connection I feel with Sebastian. I would never have known such rapture, such openness, such oneness with another soul.
Feeling a sudden warmth, I close my eyes as Sebastian's rich, deep voice travels over the distance between us and enters my mind.
I adore you as well, beloved. You are on my mind always. Am I disturbing you? I ask him.
Never.
When we are apart I miss you.
I miss you as well.
I'm still amazed that a part of me can be with you, and that I
can still talk to you, feel you, when you're not here.
It never grows old, does it?
It never will. I am counting the hours until you are home. I am as well. But until then, imagine my arms around you,
my mouth pressed against yours, my voice whispering words of love in your ear. Can you feel me? Can you taste my kiss? Can you hear me?
A warm shudder comes over me, runs through me. I feel you, my love. I taste your kiss, and I hear your voice whispering to me. Thank you. I will be fine now until you are here.
His voice is no longer here, but I still feel the warmth of him wrapped around me like an embrace. I sigh and continue crocheting the afghan, finishing it faster than I had planned. Oh, well. I put the hook and unused yarn back into the tote and fold the afghan, pressing it against my cheek a moment, enjoying the softness. I am about to head upstairs when the doorbell rings. I place the basket and blanket on a table in the hallway.
When I open the door, I am pleasantly greeted by a young man holding a large gift basket of fruit.
“I was asked to deliver this to you, my lady.”
“Thank you,” I say taking the basket. I open the card attached. Written in beautiful handwriting is the inscription, Best wishes to you, my lady. Health to you and your little one.
“There is no signature. Do you know who sent it?”
“No, my lady. I was only told to bring it to you.” He smiles. “Maybe the sender wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Well, it definitely is,” I say smiling. “Thank you very much.”
“You're most welcome,” he says and quickly jogs back to his hover car.
I close the door and take the basket to the kitchen, placing it on the counter. Taking a ripe pear from the basket, I can't help wondering if it is from Devon and Sarah. They know how much I love fruit, especially pears, and there seems to be more of them in the basket than anything else. I immediately bite into it and close my eyes, smiling as the juicy flavor bursts in my mouth.
Ahhh, I love eating for pleasure. I decide that whoever sent the basket was very thoughtful. I have yet to meet an unkind person in Challis and I feel a great sense of gratitude to be raising our child in a place with so much love. That's not to say he will never know unkindness, but he will know kindness first.
As I raise the pear to take another bite, I begin to feel extremely nauseous, a feeling I haven't experienced during my pregnancy so far. I place the pear on the table and close my eyes, trying to swallow back the sick feeling. Taking a deep breath, I wipe the beads of perspiration from my forehead. Unable to sit up any longer, I lean forward and rest my head against the table, wondering what is wrong with me. I'm not supposed to be able to get sick anymore, or at least normal Challissian women aren't.
I decide to lie down for a bit and see if that helps, but just as I stand up, a sharp pain shoots through me, starting in my stomach. The intenseness of it causes me to double over. Then the sensation moves to my head. I tell myself that if I can make it to the bedroom to lie down I'll be okay. The pain increases, blinding me with its intensity, and I stagger a few feet before collapsing on the floor.
Sebastian . . . help me . . . please. I say no more as everything goes dark.
Seventeen
As the pain seizes his mate, a thunderous roar escapes Sebastian, startling the counselors and rattling the windows of the conference room.
Celine!
Devon quickly moves to him. “What is it, son?” Celine, can you hear me? When there is no answer, he
says, “It's Celine. Something is wrong!”
As if they were one body, the president and his counselors immediately stand. Sebastian bolts from the room with his father and the rest of the men following him.
Hold on, beloved! he sends to her. Just hold on, I am coming!
* * *
Making it home in record time, the front doors fly open with a wave of Sebastian's hands. “Celine!” he calls running to the kitchen, having sensed her location before he'd even entered the house. He finds her lying on the floor, her clothes drenched with sweat. He lifts her and races up the stairs past the group of men, yelling to his father, “Call the healer!”
Sebastian places his wife on the bed, then waves his hand over her, removing her wet clothes and dressing her in a lightweight white chemise. He lifts her and pulls back the covers, drawing only the sheet over her. He runs to the bathroom and wets a wash cloth, then sits on the bed and gently presses the cool cloth against her forehead, dabbing the perspiration from her cheeks.
I am here, beloved, he mentally croons. I am here. He lifts her hand to his lips and holds it there. Help is on the way, angel. All will be well. He leans down and lightly rests his ear against her stomach. “Be well,” he whisper to their child. “Your mother and I love you and we need you. All your people need you.” He raises up and again presses the cloth against her forehead and cheeks. Never in
his entire existence has he seen a face more beautiful, or felt a more beautiful soul. Earlier, he had felt the strength of her love wash over him, and it had caught him off guard so, he had been overwhelmed and could barely concentrate on the meeting. He remembers the smile President Simon shot him from across the table. He knew the older man couldn't read his mind, but he was sure his expression spoke volumes. He'd spent the remaining time anticipating being with his wife again. When the pain hit Celine, the force of it had staggered him more than a blow in battle ever had. The rage the sensation produced had even frightened him.
A moment later the healer enters the room. The silverhaired woman gives him a kindly smile, but he reads the worry in her deep-set eyes and her furrowed brow.
“Has she awakened at all?”
Sebastian tugs a hand back through his hair. “No, she hasn't.” He watches the woman press a hand to Celine's forehead.
Frowning, the healer sits on the side of the bed, presses her hand against Celine's stomach, and closes her eyes.
“She has been poisoned,” she says softly.
It takes every ounce of strength Sebastian possesses to stay seated and remain quiet. He feels like he will explode. Who dared to hurt his mate? Who dared to harm their child? When he finds out, absolutely nothing will stop him from destroying the enemy, for the person is indeed his enemy now.
“The poison is a bad one,” she continues. “One I have never seen before.” She slowly moves her hands over Celine's stomach and the rest of her body. “It isn't plantbased, so it must have come from the surface.”
“The baby?” he questions.
Lightly resting her ear against Celine's stomach, the healer is quiet for another moment. She finally lifts her eyes and smiles. “Your son is healthy and strong. By some great miracle, his is unaffected.”