by SJ Molloy
“Oh.” He’s said it diplomatically and without elaborating on their sex life, it’s enough to pacify me.
“But, Doc, forget that. I plan to satisfy you all through your pregnancy. I am glad it is safe and you still want sex. It would seriously kill me not being inside you,” he says cupping one of my breasts then settles on my hip.
“Well, Romeo, just as well because I’m very horny and plan on having you in me as much as I can, like anywhere and anytime,” I reply, yawning.
“Thank the Lord for that. Lexi?”
“Hmmm?”
“I love you, dolcezza, and I love our baby. You have no idea.” He kisses my temple and moves a tendril of hair away from my face.
“We love you too. So much it hurts.”
I snuggle into his chest, fighting against my heavy eyes until I drift off. When I wake, he’s not here but the bed is warm. I hear the shower so I sit up and hold my stomach. I run into the bathroom and curl over the toilet to vomit. Groaning, I hug the bowl before flushing.
He moves to the end of the shower curtain and frowns watching me.
“Doc, I wish I could take this feeling away.” He sighs.
“I hate being pregnant, it sucks,” I moan.
He chuckles. “You were not saying that earlier on when you were frisky.”
“Well, that’s the only perk. This is torture. Why on earth do women put themselves through this?”
I brush my teeth then hop in the shower and wash him all over. He then reciprocates, cleansing my body and washing my hair. Because I know we’re not going anywhere and it’s turned into a rainy, miserable day, I put on tartan pyjama bottoms, a grey yoga top, and thick sleep socks.
I manage to eat some soup and keep it down. When we finish our late lunch, Lucca offers to make dinner tonight. Granny, Grandpa, and Mr. Carlin go to the senior citizens club in the village community centre, accompanied by Nate, so Mum and I cuddle up on the sofa and watch Marley and Me.
It gets me every time. I have a hormonal sob at the end of the movie and feel guilty for neglecting the dogs. I slip into my hunter Wellingtons and put Mum’s wax jacket on to take the dogs out. Lloyd lurks closely behind, but I don’t mind so much now. I’m grateful for their protection.
I offer to help Lucca but he says he has it under control. I’m desperate for the family to enjoy his wonderful culinary skills since I’ve been bragging on about them.
Mum shows me the paintings she’s been working on as part of her therapy, and I’m amazed at how good she is. She has a natural talent, and she’s very creative. Mostly, they are landscape portraits of various Scottish sceneries, but there are also a few still life drawings.
“Wow, these are amazing. You’re very gifted. You could sell these. They’re that good.”
She blushes. “It’s just a hobby, but I do enjoy it. I’ve been taking lessons. I go to a class in Inverness, hence the still life drawings.” I remember Grandpa telling me that Mum applied to art school before she went travelling to Australia with her friend. Before she was taken. It was always her aspiration to paint and I’m glad she’s now pursuing her dreams. I’m so proud of her.
“Mum, you could sketch or paint a portrait of the baby when it arrives. You know how I’ve always hated photographs, but Lucca has truly helped me with that photo book. I’m thinking I might like paintings or portraits of our baby, you know canvas memories.”
“I would be thrilled. I think it’s a wonderful idea. One of my biggest regrets is that I don’t have any baby pictures of you and Cameron …” Her voice trails off. “I’ve photographed it up here.” She taps her head and smiles. “I remember everything. Every little look, expression, giggle, frown, cry, and laugh. Cameron hated being cuddled, but you would lie in my arms all day, every day, and I would just watch your face for hours.”
“Oh, that reminds me … I have something extra for you.” I’ve already given them their gifts, but I haven't given her the journal. I take her hand and lead her into my room and find it in my case.
“Here.”
“What’s this?”
“It’s just a journal, but this is how Lucca helped me communicate with him. If I was struggling to talk and needed to relieve my anxiety, I’d write it all down. I have a few now, and I still try to write in them because it really helps me. Sometimes I can’t because I find it hard, then other times I can’t stop. I thought maybe you’d like to try it.”
She strokes her fingers over it. “It’s precious, thank you. I’m very blessed to have you.”
“Don’t thank me. It was Lucca’s idea. Mum, I love him so much. He’s so good for me.” I sigh with contentment, feeling a warm and blissful flutter settle in my stomach.
She draws me in close for an affectionate embrace, stroking my hair and kissing the side of my head. “I know, honey. I know you do.”
Lucca’s food is delectable and pleases everyone. Granny sings his praises. He incorporates butternut squash—my favourite vegetable—with the main meal, hoping I will eat something, and I do manage some of the risotto and chicken.
Lucca skips red wine to drink water with me. I’m confident we’ve convinced Granny I have a virus, so Lucca is refusing alcohol in the event he needs to drive.
I clear and tidy the plates, filling the dishwasher, then we sit around the coffee table in the lounge—Men in Black included—to play scrabble, cards, and dominoes while Grandpa and Mr. Carlin carry on with their chess game.
My eyes are closing so Lucca scoops me up to carry me to bed. Grandpa leans over and kisses my head and pats Lucca on the shoulder at the bottom of the stair.
“You know I’m envious of you, son. It wasn’t so long ago that she was wrapped up in my arms. Hold her tight, young man, and cherish her.”
“I intend to. She will always be yours to hold, Alexander. That will never change.”
I’m too exhausted to shower, so he strips me of my pyjama bottoms and top to nestle against my bare body. I sleep sprawled across his chest with one leg wrapped over him and my face nuzzled into his neck as he holds me.
Chapter 31
Angel
The next day is spent relaxing indoors because the weather has been horrendous. My mind has been far too preoccupied with my pregnancy. I’ve been sick regularly and have slept almost around the clock, but I have comfort knowing Lucca is attentive and ensuring I’m well-cared for.
We have a surprise visit from our therapist and her husband, Terrance. They were on their way to their holiday cottage, so they stop by for the day. Terrance and Lucca go way back and catch up while Mum and Casey spend most of the morning together. I sleep.
Mum asks if I want to talk with Casey in light of what’s been happening with Michael Parks. At first I don’t want to, but Lucca convinces me. He’s worried about the dreams I’m having and my doubts about impending motherhood.
Lucca confesses that he’s deliberately asked them to come by. He’s been encouraging me to speak with Casey regularly again, and he thinks that I might feel more comfortable talking to her outside of the clinic. I agree, but I ask him to join me in my talks with Casey.
Casey listens with compassion; gives advice and a new theory based on the concept of my journal writing that she thinks will help me. She suggests I write a list of everything I’m feeling now, then beside it write how I want to feel. She’s convinced that I will feel most of these good things already. It’s all about painting the bigger picture, acknowledging the negativity and past in order to accept positivity for my future. After a long session of talking, crying and more talking, Casey and Terence join us for dinner before leaving.
Mum later tells me that she had a very positive session of her own with Casey, despite being very tired afterwards and that she has started writing in her journal.
I don’t sleep as well tonight, talking with Casey has stirred and provoked memories and highlighted my current situation. The pregnancy has been taking my mind away from Michael Parks, but now it’s all I can think about because Casey
spoke about it and I slept way too much this morning so I’m wide awake.
Turning on the lamp, I open my journal and sigh. I can’t bring myself to write anything down. Next I pick up my e-reader and try to read but I drop it as I’m too agitated and can’t concentrate. I’ve now disturbed Lucca.
He asks me what’s wrong. I tell him and we talk. After comforting me, he asks me to tell him about my summers spent here at the cottage. I think he’s trying to distract me. It does relax me and makes me smile. I tell him about the summer I brought the girls here and Lucy fell off a horse and it gets me thinking.
Lucca picks up my e-reader. “Do you want me to read to you?” he asks switching it on.
“Yes, okay.” I snuggle against his chest and draw lazy shapes on his body. He plays with my hair and reads a chapter from the book I’m re reading, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen until I drift back off to sleep and dream of horses and picnics.
The thunder and rain finally pass, and it’s now Tuesday. I’m wearing denim shorts and a tight fitting chequered lumberjack shirt on this bright, sunny day, and I’ve found my old riding boots. Yesterday’s therapy session with Casey and our discussion last night inspired me to share something else with Lucca. I take Lucca to the Murdock’s stables, as there is someone I want him to meet. Angel.
We spend hours with the horses. He watches me feed, groom, and walk them around the ring. I explain my history with them and he contently listens, watching me.
I’ve always found solace here. After our years of incarceration in Australia, part of our therapy was AAT–assisted animal therapy. In order for us to learn how to trust, we were encouraged by our care team to work with the horses. Every time I’m home I come back here. I normally ride the horses through the woods for hours on end, but not today.
Angel is a strong, black Friesian and my favourite. Our souls joined together years ago. I’m delighted she’s still here, but she’s certainly not as youthful or spritely as she was back then. I remember at first I was petrified of her because of her colour, intimidating size, and powerful muscles but soon I discovered she was sensitive and very intelligent and moved with such elegance and agility.
She made a great companion during the summer months up here. Cameron would ride Jambo, a Dutch Warmblood. We would follow the River Spey, trot, sprint, and jump for hours through the woodland, and it would be after dusk before we went back home.
Grandpa would ride out on Hamish, an English Thoroughbred. He’d accompany us with his rifles but encourage us to ride on in front; he was teaching us valuable lessons, to break free and move forward, and how to independent and courageous. We just never realised it at the time. Hamish was known for his agility, speed, and spirit but was sold to a family in Germany when his hunting days were over.
Our first block of sessions with the horses, Mum also had to participate. It wasn’t only Grandpa that joined us, but the whole care team, who were there to help and assess us. Cameron and I never left Mum’s side; the whole process was a daunting experience, not to mention we were not used to being around groups of people, never mind huge animals. Mum was experienced at riding because she had learned when she was younger, so when she got up on Hamish for the first time to show us what to do, I cried.
I cried, because he was so big and I was so little. When Mum first pulled his reins and Hamish began walking, I squealed in hysterics. I thought she was leaving us and I begged her to come back, although she was only circling the ring. Grandpa tried to console me but at that stage I was still nervous around him and would run towards Cameron and cling onto him. We weren’t used to having grandparents, it was a foreign concept, and so it was difficult understanding the importance or their role. To me, I was angry because Mum was our parent, no one else, and I only ever wanted her help … on everything.
We didn’t have interaction with any adults other than the Parks during our imprisonment, so the transition going from the isolation and confines of our life to having to so many adults being involved in our new lives was an extremely terrifying experience.
I knew Grandpa was trustworthy because Mum told us lots of sweet stories about him and she loved him dearly, but for us he was just another stranger in the early days, someone to be wary of. Cameron came around quicker than I did; Grandpa played football with him and so built on their relationship through the aide of sport. Cameron showed lots of promise, Grandpa recognised his skill, and eventually once he had Cameron’s trust he got him training in a local under-fifteen football team where Cameron truly came into himself.
I was harder to crack. Granny tried teaching me to sew and knit, but that petrified me because I didn’t like the knitting needles. Then when she cooked, she would ask me to watch so I could learn new skills and understand all about healthy food and local produce. I was still too withdrawn to try and cook myself as everything was overwhelming, but I did silently watch taking everything in. I think that’s where my passion for cooking comes from, her cooking lessons, our previous lack of food in our childhood years, and Granny’s perseverance with trying to encourage us to try different foods.
Granny then suggested I try dancing because all the other little girls did it. Truthfully, I think she just wanted to give us the experiences which we missed out on and to do something with me that she could be involved in. She had taken me to Ms. Saunders I.S.T.D Ballet School in Aberdeen, but I panicked and ran away when I saw all the other girls because they were following commands and instructions. The structure and concept of being ordered around scared me, and I found it intimidating that they all looked the same in their uniforms. Pink seamed tights, plum leotards and hair in tight neat buns.
Ms. Saunders agreed to give me private lessons at home until my confidence was built, then gradually we went to local dance shows so I could see the other girls perform what they’d been taught on the stage. Within two years, I was attending classes with everyone else my age but still having private lessons too so I could catch up on the grading work.
By that time the twins were turning three, so Aunt Eva enrolled Hayley in the little baby ballet class. I liked that because Ms. Saunders allowed me to be a helper with the little ones. I found them exceptionally cute and it gave me responsibility. Hayley fell, skinning her knees, screaming, but it was me she ran to and cried into my neck. The same way I would do with my mum. My natural instinct to care and protect kicked in, and I swayed her around the floor, shushing her and kissing her knees until she stopped sobbing. From then on, I knew that I wanted to help others.
The turning point for me was the day after Mum got on the horse Hamish for the first time, Grandpa was determined to win my trust. It broke his heart that I was petrified and withdrawn. He asked Mum to stay off the horse for the time being and he would go on Hamish in her place. Instead of trotting, he galloped fast around the paddock but always came back. This went on for days, until he ventured outside the paddock towards the River Spey for a short time at first and then gradually increased his time away.
I panicked because I couldn’t see him. The care team thought this was a breakthrough. Although I hadn’t fully trusted him at that point, I was showing new emotions. I wanted him back because he made me feel safe and I didn’t want Mum to be upset or lonely.
Each time he would return, Mum would give him a huge cuddle. This was his way of showing me that he would always return and he would always be there for all of us, always. This went on for a few weeks. At the time I had no idea it was intentional. He didn’t return for a full day and our routine was all messed up. I hated that. Mum said, “Keep looking out for your grandpa. Tell me when he returns.”
I looked out into the empty paddock for hours and silently sobbed because I thought he was never coming back. When he trotted back, instead of telling Mum, I ran towards him. Once he reined the horse to a halt and got off, he crouched down and opened his arms and I threw myself in them and latched on so tightly while Grandpa whispered in my ear that he would always take care of me and never let me be hurt e
ver again.
Grandpa cried when I was responsive and voluntarily cuddled him for the first time. He barely let me go after that day; I was always by his side. Our relationship then gradually progressed. Every day we built more trust and he taught me new things. He knew we never had any choices in our previous life, so he always asked what I’d like to take from Granny’s store cupboard to feed the horses; he would let me choose. The first time I suggested the yummy butternut squash soup Granny made, he smiled and explained what the horses were allowed to have and why. Normally, we would take carrots, sweet potatoes, or turnips.
Granny had tried getting me to eat apples as part of our new diet. I hated them. She used to buy green Granny Smith apples but they were awfully sour and I always thought they were better used in cooking than eating raw. I tried telling her, but she thought I was being fussy. I soon discovered the horses loved them, so I would sneak them out of my packed lunch on my AAT days and give mine to Angel on the sly.
Mum’s one-on-one therapy sessions were normally at lunchtime, so Grandpa used to take us walks with a packed lunch, weather permitting.
Sitting at a bench on a sunny June day in 1997, the summer after we escaped, I noticed a red apple in my purple Spice Girls lunch box. Granny thought I’d appreciate having something modern that was fashionable at the time. I had the T-shirts, sweatshirts, posters and pencil case.
The red apple was big and juicy; Grandpa told me it was a Red Mackintosh. I held it in my hands and turned it around, admiring its pretty colour.
“Go ahead, try it. I bet you like this one better than those green ones Granny gives you,” he said. Cameron scoffed his and I desperately wanted to try it as he seemed to enjoy it.
My teeth sank into it and juice trickled down my chin. He was right, I loved it. It was delicious. I ate it so quickly I don’t think I stopped for a breath. Afterwards I was very silent. I stared at my empty lunch box, then over at Angel in the paddock and I looked down at my hands. I felt guilty for eating my apple because I always liked to give her an extra treat, Grandpa watched me inquisitively.