by B C Yancey
Anne nodded.
Daphne cleared her throat. "Well, now that we've established the rules and we are all duly cautioned against the perils of eating raw dough, have both of you washed your hands?"
Anne held out her hands for inspection. "See how clean?"
"Wonderful job, darling," she murmured and placed a kiss to the top of Anne's head. Meeting Everett's gaze, she arched her brow, "And you, Captain?"
Everett hid his hands behind his back, "Dirty as the day I was born. Perhaps if you'll step aside, I may rectify the issue."
By the time all hands were washed, and the dough made, enough flour for another batch covered both the kitchen and Anne.
Daphne covered the bowl of dough with a cloth and set it off to the side to free up the counter, smiling in greeting when Elyria opened the bathroom door. "Morning sunshine, would you like something to help settle your stomach, so today isn't a day of misery for you?"
Elyria covered her mouth and closed her eyes with a low groan, spinning on her heel, she ran back into the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later, a hand pressed to her rounded belly as she padded across the floor to the kitchen. "Please tell me you made your pretzels or I shall be devastated."
"I have, indeed." Daphne opened a large glass jar on the counter filled with soft pretzels. Handing two to Elyria, she then turned and poured a glass half full with what smelled like lemonade. "I also made this for you," she said, setting it on the counter in front of her. "Take a sip."
Elyria took a cautious sniff before drinking, waited a moment, then took a longer one and set it back on the counter with a pleased sigh.
Daphne winked at Everett, "I'll leave you the recipe."
"I'd appreciate it," he said, pressing a kiss to his wife's brow. "Anything to help her feel better."
"When's dinner?" Simon asked, covering a yawn as he entered from the guest bedroom using his crutch. "I thought Everett and I might take the children out for a little drive around town unless you need us to stay and help."
"That's a wonderful idea, darling," Daphne exclaimed with a wide grin. "I could use a few moments of peace and quiet."
Simon stole a quick kiss from his wife and waggled his eyebrows, "Any chance I just earned myself an entire pumpkin pie for a reward?"
"No."
Everett and Elyria laughed.
Simon shrugged and flashed a lopsided smile, "Can't blame a man for trying." Holding out his right hand to Anne, he said, "Well, Annie, my girl, shall we go on an adventure with your brother and Uncle Everett?"
Anne looked longingly at her father, then to the bowl of dough waiting to be made into rolls—clearly torn between the two.
In the end, Simon and the promise of adventure won out. Fifteen minutes later, the men and children loaded into Everett's car with a supply of blankets to help keep them warm.
Everett gripped the steering wheel and turned to Simon while he let the car warm up a little, "Anywhere particular you'd like to see?"
"Actually," he murmured with a mischievous smile at Anne sitting between them, and William in his lap. "There's a place for sale, three or four houses down I saw a few days ago…I'd like to check it out."
Everett released the brake, threw the car into reverse, and turned out onto the road. "Ben Andrews old place…he built it about five years ago, but never had the chance to live in it." He lowered his voice and whispered, "He booked passage on the Lusitania."
Simon hmmm'd and nodded, "So no one's lived in it all these years?"
"Nope…" Everett glanced at Simon and maneuvered the car over to the snow-covered curb in front of the house in question. "His wife remarried a year later having never set foot in the place. It's been up for sale ever since."
Simon turned to Anne and pointed at the home, "What do you think, Annie? Should we go take a look?"
She nodded and smiled. "It has a porch swing."
Simon looked out the window and laughed, "That it does."
They climbed out of the car and trudged through the snow, looking in the windows of the single-story home.
On a whim, Everett tested the back door and found it unlocked. "They must be expecting us."
Simon grinned and motioned Everett ahead.
It had a welcoming feel to it, like that of an old friend. Light spilled in through the many windows, dust motes danced, glittering like tiny diamonds in the air.
But other than being cold, dusty, and needing a good airing out, the four-bedroom house seemed to be in good condition. Especially considering how long it had been sitting vacant.
With each step across the wood floor, dust rose up, floating in the beams of sunlight streaming through the grime-covered windows. They quietly walked from room to room, even Anne and William made no sound, leaving a noticeable trail on the floor, until they found themselves back where they'd started.
Everett turned to Simon, but the question he wanted to ask died on his tongue at noticing the peculiar look on Simon's face as he took one last look around.
Motioning them out, he closed the door firmly behind them and trudged through the snow on their way back to the car. "Anywhere else you want to go?"
Simon stared at the house, a peaceful expression on his face, and shook his head, "Around town, perhaps."
Once loaded inside, Everett glanced at Simon. "You were awful quiet…what did you think?"
Simon pressed a kiss to William's head and turned to meet Everett's gaze. "It felt like coming home."
Forty-Four
"Goodness," Daphne murmured several minutes after the men and children left, "I've forgotten how wonderful a quiet home can be."
Elyria smiled, pulling one of the kitchen chairs nearby. She set her lemonade on the counter then sat with a muffled groan and rubbed her lower back to ease the ache. "Without fearing that the children are getting into mischief somewhere?"
"My thoughts exactly," Daphne laughed. "You better enjoy this while you can; soak up every last drop of quiet because in four and a half months you're going to miss it."
They fell silent while Daphne began washing and peeling potatoes until Elyria gathered her nerves and asked quietly, "What scares you the most about being a mother?"
Daphne set her potato and knife down on the counter with a muffled clatter. "Honestly? That I'm no better at this than my Aunt Martha."
Elyria scoffed.
"I'm serious. I can't think of anything worse than when my children are grown, and on their own, they'll come back and tell me I've scarred them for life. Just like Desmond and Henry did."
"You're nothing like her," Elyria said with an adamant shake of her head. "And Des and Henry would blame just about anything on that poor woman if they could. Remember how they accused her of being responsible for the river flooding when she refused to let them go camping with the McMahan twins? Never mind by doing so, she saved them from being killed alongside those poor boys."
"I'd forgotten about that." Daphne sighed and finished working on the potatoes. "Are you scared?"
Elyria took another sip of her lemonade and traced the embossed pattern on her glass with her thumb. "I'm terrified."
Daphne clucked her tongue and filled a pot with water, "Do you remember when Anne was firstborn?"
Elyria nodded. "You almost died."
"She was two weeks old by the time I first held her…it's still one of my most cherished memories." Daphne began cutting the potatoes and dumping them into the pot. "Simon once asked me if I felt jealous of you for being able to hold her when I couldn't…I did a little, but I also felt relieved."
Tears stung Elyria's eyes at the admission. Wiping the moisture away, she cleared her throat and whispered, "Why?"
The soft raspy-clunk of cutting potatoes stopped. Daphne's voice wavered with emotion when she said, "Because you were there to hold her and love on her when I couldn't." She sniffled and resumed cutting, "Your little one will be lucky to have you for a mother."
Elyria set her glass down and dried her face with the edge o
f her nightgown. "I think I'll go change and get ready for the day."
Daphne cleared her throat, "Excellent because you're in charge of the green bean casserole. I can't stomach the feel of them in my fingers."
By the time the men returned a bit later with a sleeping William and giggling Anne in tow, the house smelled of sage, roast turkey, cooked potatoes, and fresh-baked bread.
Thankfully, Elyria's morning nausea had long since passed, leaving her with a voracious appetite once they all sat at the table, forks in hand and plates loaded with a sampling from each steaming dish.
Both the food and conversation were plentiful, the later continuing after everyone ate their fill and cleared the table of the leftovers.
"Tell me more about this house you visited," Daphne said, holding a fussy William in her arms while she paced back and forth between couch and table. "Is it haunted?"
Everett laughed, "Not that I'm aware of. No one's lived in it since they built it."
"Doesn't mean it can't be haunted. Wouldn't you agree, El? Remember the old Lambert home when we were younger?"
Elyria nodded, resting a hand on her belly. "I wouldn't step foot on the property, even after Stephen promised me ten dollars, but Daphne did."
"I bought myself a new pair of gloves with that money," Daphne murmured with a laugh. "Oh, how I loved them. They were the prettiest blush pink I'd ever seen."
"What happened there?" Everett asked, taking Elyria's hand in his.
William quieted, and Daphne resumed her seat next to Elyria. "Shall I tell the story, or do you want the honors?"
Elyria chuckled, "You, since you're the one who actually saw it."
"Saw what?" Simon and Everett said in unison, each with a mixture of fascination and skepticism in their voices.
"So, there we were—well, actually only me. Stephen and El remained on the sidewalk out front. How old were we at the time? Thirteen or fourteen?"
Elyria nodded.
Daphne cleared her throat and continued, "If I remember correctly, Darius Lambert finished building the house in 1904. But he never stepped foot in it because his wife, Evelyn, died in a freak accident while they were at the World's Fair a month before. Two years pass with no one living in the home for more than a month at a time—four families each bought and sold the property. It lays vacant to this day."
"Why do I not remember any of this?" Simon asked.
"Perhaps because you've never given ghost stories much credence; and at the time, you were infatuated with Ida Pickett and her expansive bosom."
Simon leaned toward Everett and whispered loudly, "It was quite a spectacular bosom."
"I beg to differ," Daphne muttered. "I've seen cow udders far more impressive."
Everett laughed.
Elyria giggled, "Continue, Daph."
"Now, as I was saying…the house fell in disarray, and by 1906 it looked as though it had been abandoned for at least a hundred years instead of only two. El's brother Stephen dared me to enter the house for ten dollars after she wisely refused. I'd barely slipped through the broken front door when I heard a woman laugh in the room to my right."
"Someone else taking a look?" Everett asked, his voice low.
"That's what I thought at first, but no one was there except me."
"Spooky," Simon chuckled, "did you leave after that?"
"Of course not, I had ten dollars at stake. But, what's even more spooky is that when I reached the upstairs floor, I saw a woman at the end of the hall and she saw me."
"You just said you were there alone," Simon murmured with a wry laugh.
"Which is true; I could see straight through her to the window beyond."
They fell silent, then Everett asked in a hushed whisper, "What happened next?"
"We sat and had tea, then she read my palm and told me I'd have thirteen children with a man named Horace."
Simon choked.
Elyria burst out laughing.
"I'm teasing," Daphne giggled. "She vanished seconds later, and I ran out of there, terrified."
Everett clucked his tongue. "We didn't see any ghosts at the Andrews home when we walked through earlier today."
Simon admitted softly, "I quite liked it."
"Then I'm sure I will too, even if there are one or two ghosts," Daphne said. "Especially since it's only a short walk from here, which means our children can grow up as best friends, just like their mothers."
"Well said, darling," Simon murmured, "now who's ready for pie?"
Forty-Five
Overnight, or so it seemed to Everett, Elyria's belly went from a decent-sized mound to nearly tripled in size.
Even Doc commented on it with some surprise at her last appointment; although he assured both her and Everett everything continued to look normal and not to fret. Something far easier to say than do, in Everett's opinion.
The first full-fledged winter snowstorm hit the first week of December, a couple of days after Daphne and family left. It dumped a whopping ten inches in less than seven hours with the promise of another eight to ten by nightfall.
Everett needed no further proof to declare Elyria forbidden from continuing her school lunches with him once school resumed after the holidays. Not that she'd been up to the feat over the past couple of weeks.
She barely made it around their home without breaking down in tears or needing a nap, and even then, she spent more time tossing and turning—forever in search of a comfortable position that never lasted for longer than three minutes at a time.
The nights were long and miserable, but the days were longer and near unbearable. Each moment he spent away from her, he worried about her being alone at home and the wide array of issues and needs that might arise without him there.
It was torture, this never-ending worry. The only thing making it bearable became the short bursts of relief—or, as he liked to call them ‘miracle moments'—where Elyria didn't suffer from nausea, and the myriad other pains lessened.
One such ‘miracle moment' took him entirely by surprise two weeks ago, just before Christmas. He came home from school, eager and ready for the long holiday break, and found Elyria had made him a hearty roast beef stew with his favorite fresh baked bread for supper.
Imagine his surprise when once they finished dinner and the dishes cleared, his wife, who hadn't been able to stomach the mere smell of him, suddenly couldn't keep her hands off him.
Some of these miraculous moments sadly lasted only a few hours, while others lasted one to two days at a time.
He'd secretly been hoping for a ‘miracle moment' upon his return home today, but the instant he opened the back door those hopes came crashing down.
The house was alarmingly cold and silent. Hairs stood up on the backs of his arms as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Pegleg?"
Nothing.
His heart hammered, and his stomach knotted in dread. He went first to their bedroom but found it empty of her presence. Telling himself to calm down and keep a leveled head, instead of giving in to the panic gnawing at his gut, he made his way over to the bathroom.
Anguish and pain, the likes of which he'd never known, engulfed him when he found Elyria on the white tiled floor, lying deathly still. A cry tore from his throat as he rushed to her side and knelt on the floor.
She jolted awake with a groan, "Why are you making that noise?"
Relief, more intense than his anguish of moments before, overwhelmed him, leaving him weak. Tears stung his eyes, and his hands shook as he gathered her up and cradled her to his chest.
For a moment, she sighed and returned the embrace, but then she quickly pushed free of his hold and hugged the toilet instead.
"I thought you were dead," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What are you doing on the floor?"
Once she finished throwing up, she pulled the chain to flush the toilet, sank to her knees, and covered her mouth with a shaky hand.
Elyria pointed to the towels she'd used for pillow and blanke
t on the floor next to her, whispering, "I grew tired of the journey from our room to here."
He wiped hair off her sweat-dampened brow and frowned in growing concern. She looked pale and gaunt, and her growing belly appeared to have doubled once more in size.
Alarm bells blared within his mind. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to either take her to see Doc or drag the man here. "Do you want me to help you to bed? Lying here can't be comfortable."
"I'm too tired." She shook her head, leaning back against the wall, her arms falling listlessly to her lap. "A real pillow or blanket would be nice, though."
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he bit back a groan and stood. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
"There go my plans for the evening," she murmured with a sad attempt at a smile.
Panic clenched around his heart. He needed to get help and fast. "I love you."
She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his as though she could actually see him. "I love you, Everett. More than you'll ever know."
He managed to fight the urge to run and give in to the fear building inside him until he reached the front door. Flinging it open, he hurried over to Marcus' home, cursing every patch of ice and mountainous snowdrift in his way until he knocked on the side door.
Two agonizing minutes passed before Marcus answered.
Everett blurted out, "Is Sally home?"
Marcus took one look at Everett and retrieved his coat. "She's visiting her sister; won't be back for a few days. What's wrong?"
Everett cursed and ran a hand through his hair. "I need to fetch Doc, but I don't want to leave Elyria alone."
"I'll get him," Marcus said, settling a hand on Everett's shoulder. "Go be with your wife."
"Thank you."
Marcus nodded, his eyes gentling for a brief moment when he met and held Everett's gaze. "I'll be back as quick as I can."
Everett removed his glasses and wiped moisture from his eyes, then set them back in place and returned home to be with his wife and wait.
Thirty-five minutes later, there came a sharp knock at the front door. Everett let out a sigh of relief and hurried over to show both Doc and Marcus inside.