by Faye, Carmen
She wouldn’t be the only one. “You have two years before that, at least. And I’ll be so glad to see him I won’t care if he looks like he’s just been released from a concentration camp. I’ll just have to feed him really well until he thickens back up.” The thought of food made my stomach growl loudly, and I scowled. I’d been trying to ignore my outrageous appetite, my clothes that had been loose after I was sick now almost too tight.
“I think someone needs to have a snack,” Georgie said, climbing off the bed. “Let’s go pop some popcorn and watch a movie.”
I thought about arguing, but my stomach seized with hunger, and I followed, knowing it was a bad idea but that I would feel sick again if I didn’t eat. It was a cycle I couldn’t seem to break out of, no matter how hard I tried. While Georgie stuck a bag in the microwave, I reached into the fridge and pulled out two cups of chocolate pudding, ready to devour them both before the popcorn was ready.
“Damn, I underestimated your appetite,” Georgie laughed. “I wish I could put away food like that and keep your figure.”
I rolled my eyes. “My figure has gotten a little thicker than I’d like,” I admitted out loud for the first time.
Georgie shrugged. “It’s the holidays. It happens. But you look good. Your face is fuller than it was three weeks ago, and it looks good on you.” She eyed me more carefully. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and you’re really stressed out, but you’ve got good color to your skin, so I’m not as worried as I would be otherwise.”
I didn’t comment on that as I finished one pudding and opened the other. “I’m glad you’re here, Georgie. I feel like I’ve always been the one who’s reasonable and logical, and you’re the dreamer. But if I’m going to get through this, I need to do a little dreaming myself. And I think you’ll actually keep me grounded enough that I can do that without losing sight of reality.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” she told me, looking more serious and supportive than I ever remembered her being before. “We all have to take on roles we aren’t used to at some point in our lives. It’ll do me some good to be reliable and have responsibility on my shoulders.” The microwave beeped, and she went about dumping the hot popcorn into a bowl, my mouth watering at the buttery scent. “Well, I hadn’t planned on staying for Christmas, but I think the best thing to do is call the airline and quit and then find something local. Maybe a nice desk job, like a receptionist.”
“I don’t want you to give up your career,” I said, but then, I didn’t know if I could handle Georgie flying off all the time and being gone for a week at a time sometimes.
She waved a hand in the air dismissively. “I haven’t been doing it long enough to call it a career yet. And I’ll find something else that interests me. Or if I don’t, I can go back to it when all of this is done. You’re my sister, and family comes first. It’s important to me to be here.”
On impulse, I hugged her, and she hugged me back. But the smell of her scented oil bothered me, and the pudding I’d just finished seemed to curdle instantly in my stomach. I pulled away, the nausea coming on so fast and strong that I nearly doubled over and had to grab the counter for support “Mari, are you all right?” she asked, touching my shoulder and sounding panicked.
I nodded and managed to grunt, “It’ll pass in a minute.” I took large gulps of air, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, and slowly, the nausea subsided. I straightened and turned toward the popcorn, inhaling the aroma of butter and blessed carbs. “That’s better,” I whispered.
“If you’re still sick, you have to see a doctor, Mari,” Georgie insisted as she followed me into the living room. I carried the bowl of popcorn with me, focusing on the smell and trying to ignore her pestering. “It’s not normal to randomly get nauseous for weeks on end. What if you have a really bad virus? Or something like Ebola?”
“I don’t have Ebola,” I laughed. “I haven’t been out of the country, and neither have any of my students or their parents. It’s not just going to show up as an isolated case like that.”
“It could still be serious,” she pursued. “For all you know, you have a tumor. It could be anywhere, in your stomach or bowels or gall bladder or esophagus. It could be your liver or your kidneys. You should just…get checked out.”
“I don’t have a tumor,” I told her, my mirth dissipating as I stuffed kernels in my mouth.
“You can’t be sure of that!’ she insisted. “Anything could happen, and if it’s a tumor…”
“It’s not a tumor!” I cut her off, louder and harsher than I’d intended. She stared at me in awe. I never yelled like that, and I’d rarely shown her the side of me that got frustrated and angry.
She crossed her arms and scowled at me, hurt and worried, and I felt terrible for snapping, but I also felt like she’d pushed me into it with her nagging. In a low voice, she asked, “If you’re so sure it’s not cancer, then what do you think it is?”
She wouldn’t turn away, and I knew my sister. Georgie wouldn’t give up until she got a response. I sighed and put the bowl on the coffee table, resting my elbows on my knees and covering my face with my hands. I was too tired to fight anymore, so I told her. “It’s not a tumor, Georgie, I promise. I’m not going to die, and I don’t need chemo or radiation. I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
My sister had never been that silent for that long, and I finally turned to peer at her through my fingers. Her face was a mask of shock, and I recognized it as the exact feeling that had come over me when I’d first realized what was going on. Way back, the day after I’d nearly been attacked by one of the Valves and had faced Dawson with the threat of calling CPS. I’d been throwing up everything by my toenails, and I’d thought at first it was a virus or food poisoning or maybe just the sick feeling I got at the decision I had to make.
But then, somewhere in the midst of it all, I’d realized I was late for my cycle, by close to a week. I’d still tried to convince myself otherwise, especially when the nausea had gone away. Then, the hunger had come, with strange cravings and an aversion to certain smells. Up until the day Dawson left, I’d convinced myself that the stress had caused my body to malfunction and that, eventually, I’d start my cycle. But I’d managed to run to the drug store while Ginger was at a playdate and get a pregnancy test, and the result had been a very clear positive.
There was no more denial, and now, I had to face the facts.
“Have you told Dawson?” Georgie asked, finally breaking the silence with a raspy voice.
I shook my head miserably. “He’s in prison, Georgie. He’s got enough on his mind right now, just trying to keep his hope alive, his head down, and his hands clean. The last thing he needs to worry about is another kid. And it’s not like he’s going to see me all big and fat with a beach ball in my stomach.”
“Are you crazy, Mari?” she hissed. “So what’s the plan? You call him from the delivery room and say, ‘congratulations, you’re a father?’”
I shook my head. I hadn’t really thought of a plan. If I added things up right, then when Dawson got out early, our child would be about sixteen months old. That gave me a lot of time to figure out what to say and how to say it. “I don’t have a plan right now, obviously, since I didn’t plan to tell you yet, either.”
She was suddenly on her feet and tugging me up off the couch. When I looked at her, I saw excitement and enthusiasm, and I felt her joy radiating around me. “This is incredible news! I know the circumstances are rough, but this is something to celebrate, Mari! You’re going to have a baby!”
I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t been able to appreciate the beauty of something growing inside me yet, the idea of having something that lived and breathed, something I could hold that was part of me as well as part of Dawson. It hadn’t been on my roadmap, that was for sure, but it would have been a welcome surprise had it not happened at the absolute worst possible time.
“Doesn’t it make you hap
py?” Georgie practically squealed. I must not have looked very happy about it because she frowned and asked, “You aren’t thinking of…”
“No!” I cut her off because I didn’t want to hear the rest of her question. “No, this is my child. I could never do anything but raise it.” I realized how wild this was and said, “I can’t believe there’s a life growing inside me. I never understood just what a miracle it really was until now.”
“Of course it is!” Georgie agreed, hugging me again. “Oh, I get to be an aunt! I mean, with Ginger, I’m already an aunt, I guess, but I feel like she’s more like a baby sister or a really good little friend. But this is my niece or nephew we’re talking about!” She held me back by my shoulders and looked at me, beaming. “Well, that explains the nausea, the appetite, the color in your cheeks, the couple o extra pounds, and maybe even the fact that you didn’t care for the way I smelled when you actually liked it three weeks ago.”
I nodded. “I would say so.”
“Mari, you have to tell Dawson. It’ll give him a reason to work harder to get out sooner,” she told me. “He needs something like this to assure he won’t let that temper of his I know has to be right under that calm, sexy exterior get the best of him. You can’t keep it a secret forever.”
That wasn’t the idea. “I can’t tell him yet. And I don’t want to talk about it around Ginger yet. It’s something we’ll discuss in time, when I can’t hide my stomach from her anymore. She’s got plenty of classmates with brothers and sisters. I can explain it to her, but I don’t want her writing a letter to Dawson and talking about it.”
Georgie didn’t like that at all. “It’s one thing not to mention it, but to take measures to make sure he doesn’t hear about it at all is deceptive. Mari, what are you doing here?”
I jutted my chin out defiantly. “I’m doing what I have to do to keep everyone safe and happy.” She gave me a look of disbelief, and I pressed harder. “If I tell Dawson, he’s going to go out of his mind with worry. He’ll be on edge, and if anyone says the wrong thing or speaks to him in a slightly wrong tone, I can’t guarantee he’ll hold it together. I would rather face the brunt of his wrath for keeping it from him than have him in there for another five years knowing he had a child he’d never met.”
I was done arguing, and I turned away from her. “If you don’t support that, I understand. But it’s my decision, and I have a right to make it.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, and then she surprised me once again. “I’m sorry, Mari. I didn’t mean to be unsupportive. You’re right, it’s your decision. Just keep the lines of communication open in case you change your mind.”
I looked at her over my shoulder to find her completely serious once again, and it made me smile ruefully. “Look at that. For once, the baby sister is giving me advice. I’ll take it under consideration, okay?”
“That’s all I’m asking,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “That and one other thing. If you have a girl, her middle name should be Georgina, and if it’s a boy, George.”
I laughed and embraced her tightly. “Keep dreaming, Georgie. The name fits you, but I’m not naming my child after you!”
She sighed, deflated. “I had to try.” Smiling again, she said, “Well, that’s the happiest news I’ve heard in a while. It puts me in the mood for a comedy, or maybe a feel-good movie. Have a seat and kick up your feet so we can get this party started.”
I did, and she chose a dramatic comedy that had one of those really fulfilling endings. By the time it ended, I was ready for bed, and I said goodnight to my sister before slipping quietly into my bedroom and under the covers beside Ginger’s peaceful form. She barely even stirred as my weight shifted the bed, and I lay on my side facing her back so I could stroke her hair. She was a beautiful little girl, and I loved her dearly. Looking at her now, in the blue tinted moonlight, I wondered if I would have a little girl. I imagined Ginger would love to have a sister, someone to dress up and fuss over.
But I also thought she would enjoy a brother. And I had to admit, the idea of having a boy and a girl left things even, so I would never worry that there was anything I hadn’t experienced as a mother.
I didn’t expect the child Dawson and I had created to look like Ginger. After all, she didn’t belong to either of us biologically, and this baby would come from our gene pools. But I could hope that the baby had silky hair and an innocent face with bright eyes like she did. I pictured Dawson as a child and knew I wanted our kid to look like him more than me. I’d been an awkward kid, but I somehow knew intuitively that he’d been graceful and sexy since he was very young. Nothing awkward about him.
At some point during my train of thought, Ginger rolled over and snuggled her face into my chest. It was soothing to feel her even breathing, and it helped me slow down the racing thoughts in my head. Eventually, it lulled me into my own light rhythm, and my eyelids fell shut as I drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY
23 MONTHS LATER
Dear Mari,
I can’t believe the time has passed so quickly. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long it doesn’t seem possible that it’s really here. But I know reality will hit the moment I walk out of these doors in regular clothes and see you waiting for me outside the open gates. Six days, and I’m a free man. Not just freed from this cage but free of the trouble and fear and danger of the Valves.
I have you to thank, for everything. I fell in love with you so quickly and so easily it was hard to hold back the truth, and you were a force to be reckoned with when it came to honesty. I appreciate that. It opened my eyes. Now, I only hope we can rebuild our relationship into something even better than it was before.
I know things haven’t been easy for you, and I promise, when I get home, I’m going to pamper you and make sure you get to relax and enjoy being a family the way you should.
I can’t wait to see you and hold you again, baby. It’s your strength that got me through this, and I’ll make sure it’s my strength that takes care of you for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.
Love,
Dawson
I read the letter twice before folding it and putting it back in my purse while I waited for Dawson to emerge from the bleak building where he’d been captive for the last two years. Time had passed faster than I’d ever imagined, and yet it still felt like a lifetime since I’d seen him. I couldn’t wait to get him home to the life that awaited him there.
Ginger had wanted to come with me, but we still hadn’t explained to her exactly where he’d been. She was seven and could have understood better, but we’d mutually decided it was best to wait. I’d had enough trouble getting her to remain silent about the surprises we had for her father, and I’d bribed her with a trip to the zoo if she would stay home with Auntie Georgie and wait.
The door opened, and my breath caught. I held it as two figures came out, the first in a guard’s uniform and the second in a pair of jeans with a polo shirt and a pair of boots, as he’d requested. He carried a box, and I guessed it was full of letters and pictures and whatever else he’d collected while he tried to turn a prison cell into a temporary home. I wanted to run to him, but there was still a tall chain link fence with barbed wire across the top between us.
I watched the smile spread over his face as he came closer, and I had to hug myself to keep from jumping up and down for joy. Georgie had been right – he came out even more cut than he’d been when he went in, and all I could think of was taking him to bed and never letting him out from under the covers.
At long last, the gate opened, and his stride quickened. He dropped the box beside me and gathered me in his arms, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t mind, clinging to him like if I let go, he’d disappear. He turned his face into my hair and inhaled deeply. “God, I missed you,” he whispered, the overwhelming emotion clear in the way he trembled.
Or maybe it was me shaking. Or both. I took his face in my hands and kisse
d him soundly, blinking against tears of joy. “Then let’s go home and never do this again.”
***
I let him drive, and we didn’t talk much, just held hands as he cracked the window and breathed in the cool, fresh air. We’d gotten lucky – Thanksgiving was three days away. He would be with us for the holidays.
He pulled into my driveway with his jaw slack and his eyes watery, seeing Ginger on the stoop, waiting for him as she bounced and clapped her hands. He barely put the car in park before he was out the door and racing to meet her halfway. They collided with such force it was a wonder neither of them got hurt, and I watched with delight, trying not to cry as Ginger shouted and cheered. “Daddy! Daddy! You’re home! I missed you so much!”