Fraud (The Frenzy Series Book 5)

by Casey L. Bond

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Dinner.”

  Her eyes lit up when I said the word. She was starving.

  “I’m starving.”

  “I know,” I laughed. We’d been starving since the day we were born. Sometimes it was just worse than others.

  Inside the bag was a long strip of burlap—Mercedes’ suggestion.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked, stopping to look at her for a moment.

  She thought about it for a second or two. “Mostly,” she answered.

  “Fair enough. Close your eyes.” I took the strip out of the bag and sat the bag on the ground. “Blindfolds are required from this point forward.”

  “Is this really necessary?” she groaned.

  “Completely.”

  Her slight huff didn’t erase her smile. She turned around and let me place the fabric over her eyes and tie it into a knot at the back of her head. “Hold onto me.”

  I placed her arm around my elbow so her feet would be close to mine and picked the bag up again. Then I walked in different directions to throw her off. If I’d have followed the creek, she would have known where we were headed. She knew its bends like the back of her hand.

  When we’d been walking for a while, her steps grew slower and more sluggish. “Is this an attempt to walk the baby out? Because I still have a few months to go, I think. It won’t work at this stage.”

  I burst out laughing. I could see the logs, the blanket and a few pillows Mercedes and Roman had set up. It was just like the evening before the rotation where we sat and ate and talked. She didn’t want to accept my marriage proposal until she had to, or until she was sure it was what she wanted, desperate or not. I just wanted to remind her that I hadn’t forgotten us−

  the us that came before all of the chaos. I still remembered her.

  A few feet away, I stopped and removed her blindfold. She looked at the logs, at the spread quilt and pillows piled to one side. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression. “It’s in case you’re tired and want to lay on your side for a while. Mercedes said that helped you feel better. She actually brought those. Roman dragged the log over.”

  Porschia was quiet, which scared the hell out of me.

  “It’s just dinner. I just wanted you to have a nice dinner. Or, as nice as it can be for now. I have food.” I said, holding the bag up with one finger.

  “This is the nicest thing, Saul. The nicest thing in a very long time.” When her voice broke, I knew I’d done something wrong. I thought she’d smile and love it, but I made her cry. I hated it when she cried, because she’d done so too many times after the shit storm we were thrown into the middle of.

  “Don’t cry,” I said, dropping the bag onto the blanket and wiping her tears away with my thumbs. “I don’t want you to cry.”

  “They’re happy tears.” She sniffed and laughed. “Finally.”

  The tension bled from my shoulders. “Can I ask a favor?” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “Help me down?”

  I held her hands as she eased onto the blanket. “Sure the tree wouldn’t be better?”

  “Nope. This is heaven. Now feed me, please.”

  I shook my head. “Human. Night-walker. Infected. Hybrid. Human. Pregnant human. You’re always hungry.”

  She giggled and then her face hardened. “Seriously, what’s for dinner?”

  Eating rolls, cheese, and corn and green beans out of glass jars with Saul right by the riverside made me an emotional mess. It was nice. The evening air was cooling perfectly. The fact that Saul even thought to do this was a testament to what a great person he was. He even made my sister and Roman an accomplice. But this? The plan? The dinner and evening? It was all Saul. I couldn’t be more thankful that things between the two of us were okay.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asked out of the blue.

  I listened to the noises of dusk, almost able to hear the precise second when the sun disappeared behind the hills and the land was bathed in breath-giving shadow. Crickets began to chirp and sounds from the Colony echoed from the houses beyond us. The houses we grew up in were only a stone’s throw from us.

  Where did I see myself in five years?

  “I honestly don’t know how to answer that. I’m not sure. I know I’ll have a child, but despite the size of my stomach, that fact still seems surreal. I have no plans to leave my home or the Colony, but it’s hard to say where life will take a person. We know that well,” I said with a wistful smile. “Where do you see yourself?”

  He reclined so that his back was leaning against the blanched log. “I’m not sure. If you’d asked me before everything happened, I would have said married to you, one child, maybe two. Living in a house in the Colony. Hunting when needed, with the guardianship of a night-walker, of course. Providing for my family and community. I would have said that my relationship with my parents would be strong.”

  “That was before,” I said softly.

  “It was. Now, things have changed. I’m not sure where this road will lead me either, Porschia. But no matter what, I hope you’re always a part of my life. That much hasn’t changed at all.”

  I stared into the now-empty jar of corn. The fork I had been using swirled around the rim as I sat it on the ground beside the blanket, steadying it until it stood upright in the grass. “I hope for the same thing. I hope everyone I care about just stays close. They say change is the one constant of life, but I don’t like it. Not now. I just want things to stay the way they are.”

  “Change is overrated,” Saul agreed with a grin.

  “It is. Everyone gets in such a big hurry to change things, when maybe they’re best left alone. Maybe they’re right the way they are, and you can’t see it until it’s messed up.”

  I truly believed that. Sometimes you couldn’t see you’d made the wrong decision until the consequences slapped you in the face.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  Confused, I crinkled my brows.

  “About the baby,” Saul added.

  My mother was an awful person. I never wanted to be that way, and the thought of being a mother scared me. “I’m terrified,” I said softly, unable to change the shift in my demeanor. My shoulders stiffened, I sat up straighter.

  “About motherhood?” I asked. This seemed like more than just butterflies about a new adventure. If her arms were closer, I bet I would see them covered in goosebumps. Porschia Grant was scared.

  “Mostly,” she half answered.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” She was silent, so I begged. “Please.”

  She struggled to get comfortable, ultimately deciding to use the pillows Mercedes had brought, laying on her left side. “Mercedes thinks it’s silly.”

  “I’m not Mercedes. Try me.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’ll think I’m nuts.”

  “I’ve never in my life thought you were crazy, and I won’t start now. Just trust me, Porsch. Let me in.”

  Swallowing and laying on her side, Porschia took a leap forward in faith. “I’m scared the baby will be cursed.”

  What she said took the breath from me. “Why?”

  “Because when the baby was conceived... I was still cursed.”

  It was true. And I understood her concern.

  Porschia spoke before I did and when she did, it was like water flooding over a dam, weakening the structure before destroying it all together. “Mercedes said that when I was healed, I was healed completely, so the baby would be healed, too. But what if it doesn’t work that way? What if we aren’t supposed to be cured? What if it’s the calm before another storm and I’m bringing the rain, Saul?”

  I looked at her for a long moment. “Then we’ll deal with it. We’ll protect the baby. I won’t leave your side; you can count on that.”

  “You’d be outcast again,” she argued.

  “I would be outcast if I were anywhere but in your presence.” Her slight gasp mea
nt she finally heard me. Not only did Tage give her a life, he gave her a chance at happiness. I planned to make that happy happen, no matter what.

  Everyone was gathering at Father’s for Christmas. It had snowed a few inches and Saul refused to let me walk down the side of the hill. “You’ll fall and have the baby early. Ford’s bringing the wagon. End of story.”

  And that was the end of that story. He was so stubborn and insistent that I finally caved. I’d sewn everyone a little something and had tucked the gifts into a large sack, which Saul warned me not to lift. “I’ll get it,” he said.

  He was getting way too over-protective. It was sweet, but it was also overkill. I was pregnant, not helpless.

  Wearing the red dress I made to accommodate my rapidly growing stomach, I yelled for him to come get the bag. If he wanted to carry it, fine. I could hear hooves on the frozen earth, which meant Ford was driving the horse and cart up the hill.

  Outside, Saul insisted that he help me to the cart and that he sit beside me. Right beside me. In case anything should happen. Ford just grinned over his shoulder. “Ready?” he yelled to me.

  “You’ll have to ask Saul.”

  Saul gave me a smart-ass smirk and told Ford, “We’re ready.”

  Ford gave the reins a snap and the wagon lurched, making us rock forward. Saul’s hand reflexively fell to my stomach. “Are you okay?” His eyes were wide and concerned.

  “I’m fine,” I said, swatting his hand away. “Would you stop?”

  He helped me inside Father’s house and in his defense, the walkway was slick. Father met us with open arms at the front door, and it smelled like cinnamon inside. Mercedes hugged me next as we moved into the room. “Merry Christmas!” she greeted.

  “Merry Christmas!” I responded.

  This was the first Christmas my family had ever celebrated.

  The thought alone made me ache for what could have been, yet be thankful for what was. It made me hopeful for what was to come.

  Sure enough, Mercedes had made cinnamon tea with honey. It was now my favorite drink in the world. The baby began to kick up a storm, so I settled on Father’s couch. He had a small tree with dried orange and apple slices hanging from branches all around it.

  Saul was eyeballing the seat next to me, so as Mercedes passed me, I grabbed her and told her to sit.

  “What’s going on with you two?” she giggled.

  “He’s driving me insane. He worries about every little thing.”

  She shook her head. “He worries about you. You realize he still has feelings for you, right? You aren’t blind or delusional?”

  “I know, but I can’t right now, Cedes.”

  She hugged my neck and whispered, “I know, but he’ll wait until you’re ready.”

  Men always needed more than what I could offer, and I knew Saul wouldn’t wait around for long. He was young, but ready for a family. He told me as much a month or so ago at the riverside.

  “What if I’m never ready?” I said, voicing yet another fear of mine. The fears of childhood, the Infected, night-walkers, starvation, Mother – they were nothing compared to the fear of the future.

  What if I just wasn’t meant to have a normal, happy life with a man? Some women weren’t. Mercedes rolled her eyes. “That boy has loved you since the first time you glanced in his direction.” She glanced at Saul, who was talking earnestly with Ford across the room. “He’s yours whether you want him or not.”

  Did I? Could I ever do that to Tage? I didn’t know the answers and wasn’t sure I ever would.

  We ate dinner together: rolls, eggs, and our combined shares of meat from a slaughtered hog and heifer. The mood was light, jovial, and fun. We laughed, clinked glasses in toasts, and everyone more or less said how much they were looking forward to a new year. The winter would be rough, but all winters were. I wasn’t looking forward to that part of it, not to mention having a baby in the middle of the snow season, but it wasn’t up to me. We didn’t get to choose when things in life happened, only how we handled them.

  Gathering in the living room near the tree, we exchanged gifts. I was sandwiched between Mercedes and Father, Saul sat in the chair diagonal to us, and Roman perched on the arm of his seat. Ford sat on the floor near the tree itself.

  Roman and Mercedes had baked everyone loaves of cinnamon sugar bread. She said that Roman had procured the ingredients, but I wasn’t sure how. She also made me and Saul each our own loaf, “so my niece or nephew doesn’t have to share,” she teased. Ford and Father had gotten everyone a jar of peaches. When it was my turn, Saul got up and handed the burlap sack to me. I gave everyone their new garment: a new pair of pants for Ford, a shirt for Father, an apron for Mercedes – she was learning to cook more and more and actually enjoyed it – and for Saul and Roman, I’d learned to knit. I made Roman a winter cap with dark gray yarn, and I gave Saul a bright red scarf. He smiled as he wrapped it around his neck. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He rubbed his hands together fast and said, “My turn!”

  I hadn’t noticed him bring a bag at all, but there it was, tucked far under the tree. Ford scooted it out and over to him. The first thing he retrieved was a hunting knife, which he gave to Ford, making his smile light up like the wick of a candle.

  To Roman and Mercedes, he gave candles, handing them over with a smirk. Mercedes thanked him and giggled something behind her hand to Roman. I knew what those would be illuminating. Probably tonight.

  Saul moved on to Father. “I found these in the city,” he said, handing him three new pairs of suspenders. Father’s age was beginning to show in his middle, and those would come in handy.

  He pulled a small, velvety bag from the sack. “This is for you, Porschia.”

  I accepted the bag and released the draw string. Inside was something hard; a ring. When I pulled it out, I saw that it was my poison ring.

  Tears filled my eyes until they spilled over. “Where did you find it?”

  “I went back to the forest the next day. It took hours, but I finally found it. And when I did, it was broken. The hinge was torn apart. It took some time, but Garreth and I went into the city and found one that would work. He repaired it for you.” I hadn’t seen Garreth but a handful of times since we came back, and those were at a distance. He’d waved once, stopped by the river with a fishing pole. I’d waved quickly and walked away, leaving him with a confused look on his face. Garreth didn’t do anything wrong. No one did. He was just a reminder. Everything reminded me of Tage, and I both loved and hated that.

  Emotions clogged my throat. “Thank you.”

  “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, kneeling in front of me. “I’m sorry that’s all I could find.”

  I knew what he meant. Despite his own feelings, he would bring Tage back if he could, just so I would be happy.

  My heart might have melted a little just then.

  Winter hit hard and fast. She wasn’t playing around, and unfortunately, I didn’t cut enough firewood before she showed her face. With the scarf Porschia made me for Christmas, and its new matching hat, I trudged outside with the axe. Porschia offered to help, but she knew how I felt about her walking around on the slick snow and ice. It was frigid outside, and way too dangerous for her to even be out in it.

  Besides, late January was really close to February. She’d already seen Marjorie, an older woman who was the midwife for Blackwater’s women for the past fifty years. Marjorie told her she was ripe and the baby would come any day now. That made me more nervous than a cat on a hot tin roof. If she so much as winced, I jumped to make sure she was okay.

  She held her stomach a lot now. Pre-labor pains, according to Marjorie. But those, she said, mimicked the real thing, so how would we know when pre-labor turned into actual labor? She told us what signs to look for and said she would come no matter the weather, as long as Ford came after her with the cart.

  That afternoon, I all but begged her to let me take her into to
wn. We could stay with Mercedes until after the baby was here, safe and settled. She promised to think about it, but I wondered if she was too stubborn for her own good.

  Wood was abundant but the work had me sweating, and in cold weather, that wasn’t a good thing. I took off the cap so my head would cool down, and that was when I heard a crashing noise from inside the cabin. I slipped and slid through the foot of snow that had fallen since I’d been out.

  “Porschia?”

  No answer came.

  “Porschia!” I yelled, sliding across the porch into the door.

  When I shoved the heavy door open, I could hear her laughing hysterically. “What the hell?” I murmured.

  She was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with pans all around her, giggling so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. “I’m not...” giggle, “graceful.”

  I rushed over to her. “Did you fall?”

  She just nodded, laughing. “It was a slow fall, though. I’m fine. I just tipped over and sort of plopped down onto my butt. I’m fine.” Porschia looked at me; really took a second to look, and then her smile dropped.

  “I scared you.” It wasn’t a question.

  “A little.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It was just silly of me and I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t mean to scare you, Saul.”

  My heart pounded toward her. It and I was just glad she was okay. “You aren’t hurt? The baby’s okay?”

  “Yeah.” She tucked some hair back into the braid gathered at the base of her neck. “I’m fine.” She waved me off. “I wouldn’t turn down help getting up, though. It might take me all afternoon.”

  She was still so tiny. Even with her swollen belly, Porschia weighed nothing. I wished I could get more for her to eat, but the hunts had turned up empty for more than a week now. Winter was always rough, but this was bad for everyone. However, everyone wasn’t my concern; she was. The baby was.