Magically Delicious

by Robyn Peterman

  There was blessed silence in the room and I took a few deep breaths preparing myself for the next round of hell.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered to Mac.

  “You can,” he promised. “You are so very beautiful and strong. You humble me, my love.”

  “Sorry about the neuter thing,” I said. “I didn’t mean it—well, I did at the time, but right now you’re safe. I’m really quite fond of your Bon Jovi. I can’t promise I won’t change my mind in the next five minutes, but I love you and your Bon Jovi.”

  “I love you too, little witch.” Mac laughed and kissed me again.

  “Zelda, it’s time to push,” DeeDee said in her ever calm voice. “Are you ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Nope,” she shot back with a smile.

  “Then let’s blow out some puppies.”

  “That’s my girl,” Mac said.

  Amazingly the pushing was the easiest part. It only took ten minutes of me swearing like a sailor and threatening to remove Mac’s Bon Jovi with a dull butter knife before my children entered the world—one right after the other. Mac was an emotional wreck and DeeDee was as calm as a cucumber. And me? I was amazing. Magic had nothing on the miracle of birth.

  “Are they furry?” I asked frantically as Mac cut the cords and DeeDee cleaned the babies up.

  “Nope,” she sang out as she swaddled my crying children with great care.

  “Horns?” I demanded weakly. I was beyond exhausted.

  “No horns, Zelda. They’re perfect.” Mac said with tears in his gorgeous eyes as he held a bundle of pink and a bundle of blue.

  It was all kinds of sexy that my beautiful alpha wolf was so moved by the birth of our children.

  “Can I see them?” I whispered, terrified of what I’d discover.

  I was certain they loved me when they were hitching a ride in my tummy, but now that they were here, would they feel the same way?

  Mac gently laid our babies on my chest. My heart was pounding so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it. Soft curly tufts of red hair dusted two perfect little heads. Sapphire blue eyes that matched their father’s and smiles all their own beamed at me.

  My breath caught in my throat and tears filled my eyes. Words were impossible. There were none perfect enough to describe my babies. A fierce wave of love consumed me and I silently promised Lucky and Charm I would defend them with my life until the day I moved on to the Next Adventure. I loved Mac with everything that I was, but this was different somehow. It felt life changing and important and really, really wonderful.

  “I think they like me,” I whispered, tracing my daughter’s Cupid’s bow mouth and gently cupping my son’s chubby cheek.

  “They love you just like I do,” Mac said as he lay down next to me and ran his hands carefully and lovingly over our children.

  “We made them,” I said with a giggle, staring at the tiny people with wonder.

  “And I think you did a pretty good job,” DeeDee said as she finished cleaning me up and tucked a blanket over my little family and me. “I’ll leave you alone for a bit so you four can get acquainted. When you’re ready for visitors, just call out.”

  “Thank you, DeeDee,” I said with an enormous smile that I couldn’t contain.

  “The pleasure was all mine, Zelda,” she said, quietly slipping from the room.

  “Are we still calling them Lucky and Charm?” Mac inquired with a lopsided smile.

  “In my head I am, but we’re gonna have to come up with something better than that.” I brushed my lips over their soft foreheads and breathed in their beautiful baby scent.

  I was exhausted but strangely wired. I’d never felt so alive or powerful in all my thirty years.

  “Were you kind of shocked that they came today?” I asked Mac with a yawn.

  “You could say that.” He chuckled and gathered the three of us in his arms. “You were four weeks pregnant when we woke up this morning.”

  “I’m pretty shocked too. It was the magic in the berry patch that sped things up.”

  “Speaking of, the magic in the area has been restored. Was it Marge?”

  “Yes and it’s a long and weird story. Can we take a nap and I’ll tell you everything later?”

  “Yep,” he said as he plumped the pillow behind my head and tucked my hair behind my ears. “You sleep and I’ll watch over you and the babies.”

  “Okay,” I said as my heavy lids fluttered closed.

  “Thank you, Zelda,” he whispered as I let sleep overtake me. “You have given me more than I ever dreamed of. With you, I have a life worth living.”

  “Love you,” I mumbled.

  “Love you more.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Oh, but it is, my little witch. You have no idea how possible it is.”

  I fell asleep with everything I needed in this world surrounding me. I was loved and I loved right back. Mac might think he loved me more, but I knew the truth. I loved him just as much as he loved me and we both adored our children more than words could ever express.

  Later the room was packed with my friends and family. I’d napped with my babies for an hour and then Mac held them while I showered and got dressed in the fabulous green Prada dressing gown Fabdudio had surprised me with. Of course he’d also had the wherewithal to buy matching Prada baby outfits for Lucky and Charm. We were quite the spiffy picture.

  “Oh. My. Goddess,” Sassy said knocking my fat cats off the bed and sniffing the babies. “I want one of these so bad.”

  “You can’t have mine and you are not allowed to borrow them,” I told her sternly. My clothes were one thing, but my babies were entirely another.

  “Can I babysit?”

  Pressing my lips together so I didn’t shout something rude that I’d regret, I nodded. “When they get a little older. Right now, they’re all mine.”

  “And mine,” Mac added with a grin so proud, I giggled.

  “Shifter twins are very rare,” Wanda said as she and little Bo marveled at the tiny bundles.

  “As are witch twins,” Baba Yaga added, not wanting the other half of the twins’ heritage left out. “The Goddess has truly blessed you, my child.”

  Looking around the room, I felt ridiculously blessed. Roger, Bob and Simon were loaded down with all sorts of baby toys. Chad, Chip, Chunk and Chutney had thoughtfully—or thoughtlessly—brought my toothless babies who couldn’t even eat food yet, a large case of chewing gum. Fat Bastard, Jango Fett and Boba Fett arrived with adorable tiny bibs and a baby sized cans of spray paint. Of course the spray paint was going back to wherever they stole it from, but I reminded myself it was the thought that counted.

  Baba Yaga and Marge had conjured up tiny wands and brooms for the babies and Jeeves came bearing food—tons of delicious food that he’d apparently whipped up in Marge’s kitchen. My people were eating and drinking and cooing over the newest additions to our tight little community. It was all kinds of wonderful.

  “Have you named them yet?” DeeDee asked.

  I looked at Mac and grinned. While I’d showered, I’d explained what had happened—everything that had happened including the identity of Sassy’s father. He listened with a tense expression and asked plenty of questions. I knew he hated that my job put me in danger, but he also loved me enough to respect what I had to do.

  And then we chose names. In the end it was actually very easy. Mac’s late parents had meant the world to him and they had very beautiful names.

  “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to our children,” I said as emotion welled up inside me. “This is Audrey Hildegard and this is Henry Charles.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mac and his brother Jacob hug each other tight. It sent me over the edge and I cradled my babies close. I’d never had a sibling, but Mac did and our children had each other. As of right now, I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to get knocked up ever, ever, ever again… but who new what the future held?

&
nbsp; “The names are perfect,” Baba Yaga announced grandly. “And the Goddess sends her love. Audrey Hildegard and Henry Charles are very special people. There are no others in existence like them. I charge everyone in this room to watch over them and keep them safe. They will play very important roles in the future.”

  “Would you like to be a bit more specific?” I asked her with narrowed eyes.

  “Of course not, darling! Where would the fun be in that?”

  As Sassy and Jeeves passed around the food, I noticed Baba Yaga and Marge in deep conversation. Baba pointed to Sassy and Marge squealed with joy. Marge’s eyes stayed glued on Sassy for the rest of the gathering.

  Holy hell on a broom, if that conversation was what I thought it was, Sassy and Marge were in for some hellacious times together in the very near future. Thankfully if Sassy was Marge’s replacement, it was not my problem. Who was I kidding? Sassy was always going to be my problem. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling when I realized I wanted it that way.

  As for Bermangoogleshitz… I would tell Sassy about him when the time was right. But that wasn’t today. Today was a day for celebration. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.

  Bob the beaver was the official baby photographer and took enough pictures of the glorious day to fill many albums. My obese cats left briefly and came back with two tiny kittens. They were the familiars in training for Audrey and Henry.

  “We’s gonna train them fuzzy little shits good,” Fat Bastard promised as the mewing kittens settled themselves right next to Henry and Audrey.

  “And we’s not gonna give them no spray paint,” Jango assured me.

  “Well, not untils they’re a little older,” Boba Fett added much to Mac’s displeasure.

  I laughed and listened to the kittens purr with contentment next to their new charges. Then my eyes grew wide and my smile even wider.

  “Can I name them?” I asked my three rotund furry nightmares.

  “Sure youse can,” Fat Bastard told me.

  Glancing at the little kittens, I knew without a doubt that I’d chosen the ideal names. “Their names are Lucky and Charm,” I stated with a giggle.

  Mac’s laugh went all through me and my tiny babies cooed their approval. The homage to my favorite cereal didn’t work for my children, but was outstandingly well suited for their cats.

  “The monikers are very fitting,” Baba Yaga said with her hand tucked firmly and lovingly into my father’s.

  She was correct.

  Life was good.

  We were very lucky and most certainly charmed.

  #The End… For Now#

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  ~ Robyn Peterman

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  Excerpt: Nearly Departed In Deadwood

  By Ann Charles

  The first time I came to Deadwood, I got shot in the ass. Now, twenty-five years later, as I stared into the double barrels of Old Man Harvey’s shotgun, irony was having a fiesta and I was the piñata.

  I tried to produce a polite smile, but my cheeks had petrified along with my heart. “You wouldn’t shoot a girl, would you?”

  Old Man Harvey snorted, his whole face contorting with the effort. “Lady, I’d blow the damned Easter bunny’s head off if he was tryin’ to take what’s mine.”

  He cocked his shotgun—his version of an exclamation mark.

  “Whoa!” I would have gulped had there been any spit left in my mouth. “I’m not here to take anything.”

  He replied by aiming those two barrels at my chest instead of my face.

  “I’m with Calamity Jane Realty, I swear! I came to …”

  With Harvey threatening to fill my lungs with peepholes, I had trouble remembering why I’d driven out to this corner of the boonies. Oh, yeah. Lowering one of my hands, I held out my crushed business card. “I want to help you sell your ranch.”

  The double barrels clinked against one of the buttons on my Rebecca Taylor-knockoff jacket as Harvey grabbed my card. I swallowed a squawk of panic and willed the soles of my boots to unglue from the floorboards of Harvey’s front porch and retreat. Unfortunately, my brain’s direct line to my feet was experiencing technical difficulties.

  Harvey’s squint relaxed. “Violet Parker, huh?”

  “That’s me.” My voice sounded pip-squeaky in my own ears. I couldn’t help it. Guns made my thighs wobbly and my bladder heavy. Had I not made a pit stop at Girdy’s Grill for a buffalo burger and paid a visit to the little Hens room, I’d have a puddle in the bottom of my favorite cowboy boots by now.

  “Your boots match your name. What’s a ‘Broker Associate’?”

  “It’s someone who is going to lose her job if she doesn’t sell a house in the next three weeks.” I lowered my other hand.

  I’d been with Calamity Jane Realty for a little over two months and had yet to make a single sale. So much for my radical, life-changing leap into a new career. If I didn’t make a sale before my probation was up, I’d have to drag my kids back down to the prairie and bunk with my parents … again.

  “You’re a lot purtier in this here picture with your hair down.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Old Man Harvey seemed to be channeling my nine-year-old daughter today. Lucky me.

  “Makes you look younger, like a fine heifer.”

  I cocked my head to the side, unsure if I’d just been tossed a compliment or slapped with an insult.

  The shotgun dipped to my belly button as he held the card out for me to take back.

  “Keep it. I have plenty.” A whole box full. They helped fill the lone drawer in my desk back at Calamity Jane’s.

  “So that asshole from the bank didn’t send you?”

  “No.” An asshole from my office had, and the bastard would be extracting his balls from his esophagus for this so-called generous referral—if I made it back to Calamity Jane’s without looking like a human sieve.

  “Then how’d you know about my gambling problem?”

  “What gambling problem?”

  Old Man Harvey’s eyes narrowed again. He whipped the double barrels back up to my kisser. “The only way you’d know I’m thinking about selling is if you heard about my gambling debt.”

  “Oh, you mean that gambling problem.”

  “What’d you think I meant?”

  Bluffing was easier when I wasn’t chatting up a shotgun. “I thought you were referring to the … um …” A tidbit of a phone conversation I’d overheard earlier this morning came to mind. “To the problem you had at the Prairie Dog Palace.”

  Harvey’s jaw jutted. “Mud wrestling has no age limit.”

  “You’re right. They need to be less age-biased. Maybe even have an AARP Night every Wednesday.”

  “Nobody told me about the bikini bit ‘til it was too late.”

  I winced. I couldn’t help it.

  “So, what’re you gonna charge me to sell my place?”

  “What would you like me to charge you?” I was all about pleasing the customer this afternoon.

  He leaned the gun on his shoulder, double barrels pointed at the porch ceiling. “The usual, I guess.”

  No longer on the verge of extinction, I used the porch rail to keep from keeling over. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for the realty business. Did they still sell encyclopedias door-to-door?

  “This ranch belonged to my
pappy, and his pappy before him.” Harvey’s lips thinned as he stared over my shoulder.

  “It must hold a big place in your heart.” I tried to sound sincere as I inched along the railing toward the steps. My red Bronco glinted and beckoned under the July sun.

  “Hell, no. I can’t wait to shuck this shithole.”

  “What?” I’d made it as far as the first step.

  “I’m sick and tired of fixin’ rusted fences, chasing four-wheeling fools through my pastures, sniffing out lost cows in every damned gulch and gully.” His blue eyes snapped back to mine. “And I keep hearing funny noises at night coming from out behind my ol’ barn.”

  I followed the nudge of his bearded chin. Weathered and white-washed by Mother Nature, the sprawling building’s roof seemed to sag in the afternoon heat. The doors were chained shut, one of the haymow windows broken. “Funny how?”

  “Like grab-your-shotgun funny.”

  Normally, this might give me pause, but after the greeting I’d received today from the old codger’s double barrels, I had a feeling that Harvey wore his shotgun around the house like a pair of holey underwear. I’d bet my measly savings he even slept with it. “Maybe it’s just a mountain lion,” I suggested. “The paper said there’s been a surge of sightings lately.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Harvey shrugged. “I don’t care. I want to move to town. It gets awful lonely out here come wintertime. Start thinking about things that just ain’t right. I almost married a girl from Taiwan last January. Turned out ‘she’ was really a ‘he’ from Nigeria.”

  “Wow.”

  “Damned Internet.” Harvey’s gaze washed over me. “What about you, Violet Parker?”

  “What about me?”

  “There’s no ring on your finger. You got a boyfriend?”

  “Uh, no.”

  I didn’t want one, either. Men had a history of fouling up my life, from burning down my house to leaving me knocked up with twins. These days, I liked my relationships how I liked my eggs: over-easy.