by A. E. Murphy
I can’t stop them as they flow down my cheeks. This time I don’t try. I cry so much exhaustion sweeps through me. My eyes drift shut but I don’t feel like moving so I don’t go to bed. There’s no point.
Something is sliding under my legs. That tickles. “Hmm,” I murmur, my eyes still shut. My arms go around the neck of whoever is lifting me as a strong arm snakes around my back. I press my forehead to his neck and inhale deeply. He smells like fresh linen and a cologne I don’t know the name of. It smells wonderful. Kind of spicy but also sweet. Manly. “I’m heavy,” I mumble but get no response.
From his scent alone I know he’s not Caleb but part of me can’t help wishing.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers and begins walking.
“Uh-huh,” I say, my lids still shut. This earns me a gentle squeeze.
I wake to the sound of curtains being pulled open. Ugh. “Morning. It’s almost eleven twenty, somebody must have been tired.”
“Hello Jeanine.” I say around a yawn and stretch. In shock my hands go to my bare shoulders. My night dress is still on my body but my gown isn’t. When did I take that off?
I think back… I didn’t take it off.
“Is Nathan back?” I squeak and Jeanine nods with her usual smile. “Where is he?”
“He’s making breakfast.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t wake me, he told me to be up by eleven every morning.”
She quirks a brow, “Well he gave me specific orders to let you rest, but I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep all day and that baby needs to eat.” She hands me two spoons that feel like they’ve been in the freezer. “Put the curved part on the bags under your eyes. It’ll get rid of the swelling.”
I groan but do as I’m told, “Do I look like hell?”
She smiles sadly, “No my darling, you look like a woman who’s just lost the father of her child.” I lean into her hand when she strokes my cheek, I need the comfort. “Now come on, up, up. Get dressed, I’ll be back in ten.”
As I walk into the kitchen my nose is assaulted by the scent of mushrooms and butter. My mouth waters.
Dumping the spoons in the sink I spy Nathan sat at the dining table in the next room, a book in one hand as he eats with the other. He’s wearing glasses and I feel like sniggering but still haven’t reached the point of that emotion yet. He looks older than his time but he also looks too young to look old. I’m not sure if this makes sense, but it also sort of does.
At least he’s not wearing a suit this time, it’s good to see him looking human in a plain white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. This look suits him although I have to admit, the suit suits him better.
Without looking up, he motions to the space beside him and I see my plate of food and frown. “Why don’t I get fried mushrooms?”
He looks over his book at me from the end of the table as I take my seat beside him.
“Oh come on, if I don’t get any fat in my system I’m going to lose weight.”
“Fried mushrooms aren’t on the list for a healthy pregnancy.”
“If your concerns were real then nobody would have a healthy pregnancy.” I spy his full plate, sausages, bacon, toast, beans, mushrooms, the whole shebang, but no eggs. Then I stare at mine. “Grilled tomato and brown toast with margarine? You’re kidding me.”
“Eat.” He snaps, his eyes skimming through his book.
I do and it tastes bland and awful. “Has this been cooked with sunflower oil?”
“Organic.”
“Ewww. Can’t I just have a piece of bacon?”
He flips the page, “No.”
“Just a bite?”
“No.”
I let out a growl and so does my stomach, “You’re killing me here.”
He looks at me again, his brows raised like a parent does to a child when they’re being naughty. “Eat Guinevere.”
I have a forkful of my chopped and grilled tomatoes and cringe. He’s looking at his book, he won’t notice if I sneak a mushroom from his plate. They smell too good to resist.
It’s the bacon my heart is set on though, he has four slices. Four.
That’s just greedy. Nobody needs that much bacon.
Very slowly and carefully I slide my hand along the table, using my other one to eat the food I have so it doesn’t look like I’m doing anything suspicious. He can’t see, the book is in the way of his eyesight.
Almost there… smack.
I gasp and pull my hand back, my mouth open in shock. He looks over the top of his glasses at me, his closed book now on the table.
“Did you just hit my hand with your book?” I ask, my shock still evident as I rub the back of my hand with my other one. It didn’t hurt it just shocked me.
“I said no.”
“You just hit my hand with your book,” I say, my voice lower and more dangerous this time. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Are you an animal?” He scowls, his palms flat on the table. “Because only animals steal food from another’s plate.”
“Are you an animal?” I scowl back, repeating his words. “Because only animals hit pregnant women.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes, “So dramatic, it was just your hand.”
“It’s still assault.”
“My food. Don’t touch,” he glares and picks his book back up.
Why do I have this insane feeling that I want to do it again? If he hits me again I swear I’ll hit him back. I’m prepared.
So when he looks back to his book, slowly chewing the food in his mouth I slowly slide my hand over. YES! I got the bacon.
“Put it back,” he states, his eyes not leaving the book. How did he see me?
“But…”
His eyes still don’t leave the book, “Put it back.”
“You don’t control me or my body, I’ll eat what I like.”
“As long as you’re staying here you’ll look after your body and your unborn child the way you’re supposed to,” his book is now down and his eyes are on me.
“It’s just bacon you freakin’ pig Nazi. I can’t live on organic, I still need a bit of junk food,” I snap, my voice sounding as exasperated as I feel and I feel extremely exasperated.
“Do as you’re told,” he half shouts.
“No,” I bring the bacon to my mouth, take a bite and chew.
He’s up in an instant, his sudden move startles me so I’m up faster than I’ve been able to get up for the past three months. We stare at each other, his eyes full of warning; my body now shaking. I’m a little bit scared to be honest.
I just want the bacon. I take another bite, he stalks towards me. I step backwards with each step he takes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, paralysed by my fear. I shouldn’t have pushed him, I hardly know him. What if he slaps me or chains me up in my room?
What if he takes my bacon?
“Give me the bacon.”
I blink when my back hits the wall, “It’s just one slice of bacon.”
“You deliberately disobeyed me,” he snaps and holds a napkin out. “Give me the bacon.”
“Fine, fucking have it,” I shout and place it on the napkin, my temper rising.
Suddenly he’s in my face, his hand slams into the wall beside my head. I whimper as he comes closer until his nose is only an inch from mine. “Curse again and you’ll regret it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Curse again and find out.” He threatens and pulls away, the bacon and napkin crushed in his fist.
I slide down the wall after he leaves the room, taking our plates with him. If I could wrap my hands around my knees I would. Suddenly I don’t want to be here anymore.
Before anyone sees me I race up the stairs and hide in my room, my mind running through idea after idea. He’s clearly unstable, he has serious control issues that I’m not sure I want to deal with.
Maybe I should just stay out of his way. Maybe I should just leave.
Where will I go, though? I need to be
realistic here.
I climb into my bed after kicking off my shoes and bury my head under the covers. This is my safety, this is where I feel the most comfortable so this is where I’m staying. Why do I have to deal with this? I don’t deserve this.
My heart and my breathing are the only sounds I can hear as I shut out the world. My breath is thick as it’s hard to breathe under a quilt but it’s okay. At least I’m not crying, I’m so sick of needing to cry.
“I’m leaving now poppet,” Jeanine calls through the door. “Make sure you eat. You didn’t touch your breakfast.”
I bury myself further under the quilt after an, “Okay.” I’m so tired. So darn tired.
Does this ever get easier?
There’s a knock at the door after the sun makes its descent. “Guinevere?” It’s Gwen. The knocking becomes more insistent. “Guinevere, open the door.”
“Go away,” I say quietly but I know he hears me.
The door opens, I keep the blanket tighter around my head.
“Stop moping and come and eat.” He demands, his tone showing his annoyance.
I don’t respond, I don’t want to eat with him. Leave me in my cave of woe in peace.
He sighs and I hear his footsteps get closer, “Gwen.”
“I’m tired.”
I squeal when the blanket is ripped away from my body and Nathan looms over me, looking every bit as pissed off as I now feel. “This isn’t healthy.”
I try to bury my head under the pillow but he takes that too.
After a moment of squeezing my eyes shut and burying my face under my arms I’m airborne. “Put me down,” I order, not daring to wiggle as he cradles me to his chest for fear of him dropping me. “Now.”
“Eat and then you can wallow all you want,” he says calmly and carries me from my room. My arms automatically wrap around his shoulders. “You’re very light for someone who’s pregnant.”
“Didn’t realise you made a habit of carrying pregnant women,” I remark.
“You’re also extremely frustrating.”
“I am not.” Maybe only a little bit, but who can blame me?
He lets out a breath and begins to walk carefully down the stairs, “I apologize for upsetting you this morning. Jeanine was rather insistent that I should never take food from a pregnant woman, I’ll try to be more reasonable in the future.”
What the hell should I say to that? “Kay.”
He doesn’t speak, only takes me into the dining room and places me gently on the chair beside his. My nose instantly picks up the aroma of garlic and beef before I even see my plate. My mouth waters at the sight of the stew.
“You cooked this?” I question, impressed with the food.
He gives a little shrug, “It’s just stew.”
“Caleb could barely cook a frozen pizza,” I point out and dip a piece of fresh bread into the broth. Oh my god. “This is better than mine. Thank you.”
His eyes wander over my face for a moment before he begins to eat his own, “I see you’re not religious.”
“Did you want to pray?”
“No.”
“So…”
“It was just an observation.”
I quirk a brow at him, “You observe strange things.”
“Is it wrong of me to want to know the woman who now lives with me a little better?” His eyes fall to his food and his lower lip slips beneath his teeth.
“I suppose not,” I swirl my spoon around the wonderful mixture and pick out a piece of beef and potato. “Well I’m not religious, I wasn’t raised religious but I do believe in God.”
He nods slowly but doesn’t seem all that interested, his face is a mask of indifference and we fall into silence. It’s an uncomfortable one.
I clear the table, just to have something to do while he sits and speaks loudly to somebody on his mobile. My ears perk up when he starts talking about his dad so I wash the dishes in the kitchen, giving me a reason to linger. All I hear is, “Yes, well, what my father says clearly goes.” And then he moves onto talking about stocks and shares and other boring things.
When he’s finished he steps into the kitchen and loosens the blue tie around his neck, “Thank you for doing the dishes.”
“No problem,” my nesting instinct wouldn’t let me leave them anyway.
“Can I trust you to be present for breakfast in the morning?” I shrug in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Kay.”
“Goodnight Guinevere.”
“It’s Gwen and it’s only seven, you’re going to bed already?”
I hear him take a few steps closer, “What I do isn’t your business… Gwen. Remember that.”
Wow. Seriously? He’s going to be that rude? “I was just making an observation.”
“Don’t, you won’t like what you observe,” he states coldly and stalks out of the room. The entire time I didn’t look at him and felt no desire to either, until his parting comment. Now I can’t take my eyes off his back as he walks away.
What the hell did he mean by that? What won’t I like? Not that I’m trying to like anything or looking for something to like.
I wake up in the morning earlier than usual. Stupid morning sickness should have stopped by now. It hasn’t. I race to the bathroom and fall to my knees in front of the toilet. Yuck. Luckily the sickness subsides after the first emptying of my stomach, unlike the past few months where it has lingered deep in my tum, unrelenting for hours. Sometimes making me feel so ill I’ve cried.
Once that’s over with I have a long shower. It’s needed. I’m ashamed of myself for going for so long without one especially when there’s a bathroom right next to my room and it has a gorgeous walk in shower and a huge tub. They’re old styled but they work brilliantly.
When I finally make it downstairs I have to breathe deeply when I smell bacon. It’s odd because yesterday I wanted bacon and now the thought of it makes my stomach roll. I tentatively make my way into the dining area, Nathan is sat much like he was yesterday morning, this time he holds a different book and no glasses are perched on his nose. His hair is styled differently too, or maybe he just hasn’t combed it yet.
He looks far more casual than yesterday in a blue shirt and dark jeans, different from yesterday morning. This makes me wonder why he was wearing a suit last night, I don’t remember him going anywhere to make him feel the need to change into something so seemingly formal.
“You’re staring at me,” he comments as I lower myself into my seat.
“Sorry,” I mumble and look down at my plate, I can hear Jeanine in the background singing to herself. Although I’m not entirely sure which direction her voice is coming from. “I was wondering…”
“Jeanine!” His hand smacks the table making me jump and gasp. “Enough!”
I’m shocked when I hear her laugh loudly before falling silent. He rubs his eyes with his gloved hands and places the book down on the placemat across from me.
“You were wondering…” he prompts me to finish my earlier sentence.
“Oh, umm… I can’t remember now.”
He gives me a pointed look, I have to fight against my need to shy away from his dark gaze, “Don’t play with me. Spit it out.”
Snort. I haven’t felt the need to laugh in a really long time but this almost pushes me over.
He thinks on it for a moment before rolling his eyes when he figures out the reason for my unattractive snort, “Honestly, how old are you?”
“Twenty one.”
“It was a rhetorical question aimed at your level of maturity.”
I keep my eyes down and pick at the bacon on my plate.
He sighs loudly, “Yesterday you wanted bacon and now you have it you aren’t happy. Typical.”
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s great. Thank you.” I slowly move a piece toward my mouth, my eyes flickering to him. “Smoked, I love smoked bacon.” My stomach makes a loud churning noise, I stand slowly. “Excuse me.” With my hand over
my mouth I rush from the room and back upstairs. Hurl. Gross.
Jeanine joins me a few minutes later with a cup of ginger flavoured tea and a ginger biscuit. Why do all older people think ginger is the cure for all sickness? It doesn’t work. Well, it doesn’t for me. I can’t stand ginger.
I head back to my room seeking solitude.
There’s a light tapping at the door after twenty minutes of my being in here, I don’t respond, I sit on the window seat and stare solemnly through the glass. The trees look so thick and vibrant, when you try to look through the leaves, but if you’re walking through them they don’t look nearly so thick. They’re actually quite spaced out. It’s all of the bushes and twigs that make the forest difficult to walk through. I bet if you flew above this particular patch of trees and looked down, it would look like a blanket of leaves covering the cliff.
The tapping turns to knocking. I still don’t respond.
The door opens anyway. Great.
I don’t turn to look at whoever it is but I feel them enter and almost like I can sense his domineering presence I know who it is as soon as he steps through the door.
“You’re sick?”
“Morning sickness which comes on randomly throughout the day,” I explain and tuck my hair behind my ears, my eyes still staring off into the distance.
“You’re sad,” he observes and I want to gape at him.
“How can I not be?”
“It’s been nearly a month,” he says quietly, almost as if trying to comfort me with his tone.
This time I do look at him, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
He looks at me for a moment longer, his blank eyes giving nothing away. “You have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes. He’s travelled to the village to see you. Don’t be late.”
“And how exactly am I expected to get there?” I ask, my voice casual, my body tense.
“Jeanine will drop you off on her way home and I’ll pick you up when it’s finished.” He closes the door on his way out, I rush around getting ready. Making sure to put on trousers so the doctor won’t get a glimpse of my ‘mini’ if he has to do an ultrasound. Unfortunately I have only one set of clean clothes left due to the fact my things are still in Nathan’s car and I’ve used all the clothes in my rucksack. I pull these on with a sigh, thankful the brown T-shirt matches my beige jeans and boots, I don’t look a total disaster. They fit too which is an even bigger relief.