"How would I know what to do?"
"You said you would help me solve my problem."
"Ingrid this is beyond my problem solving abilities," she reveals.
"How am I going to make this go away?"
"You want to make it go away?" Wendy's eyes widen.
"I meant the box, and the test. I don't want my mom to see them."
"I can take care of that."
"Are you sure?"
"Go back to bed. I'll tell your mom that you're not feeling good."
"And you'll take care of the evidence?"
"Yes."
"How can this be happening?" Ingrid wonders.
Wendy shakes her head, "I don't know."
"I can't believe this. I..."
Wendy kisses the top of her head, "It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out."
"Please don't tell mom."
"I won't, but you have to."
"Not yet."
"Soon. This could potentially be a humongous problem."
"Weighing in at roughly eight pounds when all is said and done."
Wendy smiles at her, "I'll take care of this, you go back to bed. I don't want you mom to come up here, and find all of this."
Ingrid nods, and rises from her seat. She exits the room, and heads across the hallway to her bedroom. She closes the door partway, and makes a beeline for the bed. She crawls underneath her covers, pulling them over her head.
In the bathroom Wendy stands at the counter, with the door closed. She takes one more look at the plastic stick. A single word is illuminated on the digital screen. In black print is the proof. She stuffs the test into the box, and says a few words. The box, and it's contents disappear into thin air. She washes her hands, and exits the bathroom.
When she reaches the kitchen her sister sits at the table, and eyes her suspiciously. Freya has already left for work. Joanna sips her tea.
"What took you so long?"
"Ingrid isn't feeling good."
"She's not coming down for breakfast?"
"No," Wendy shakes her head.
"Wendy what's going on?"
"Nothing," Wendy insists.
"Then why do you look so guilty?"
"I think that I woke Ingrid up when I went upstairs. Like I said, she's not feeling good."
"Things will be a lot easier if you just tell me the truth, now."
"You already ate?" She tries to change the subject.
"We waited as long as we could. I put yours in the microwave so it wouldn't get cold."
Wendy makes her way over to the microwave, and retrieves her plate. Joanna looks down at her watch.
"I should get going. Is Ingrid doing to work today?"
"I don't think so."
"You'll keep an eye on her?" Joanna questions, eyeing her sister suspiciously.
"Of course," Wendy agrees.
Hours later Ingrid finally makes it downstairs. Wendy joins her in the kitchen, as she takes a seat at the table.
"Do you want me to make you something to eat?"
"Why bother? It won't stay there."
"Maybe just some toast," Wendy offers.
"I'm fine," Ingrid insists.
Wendy grabs a glass, and pours some water into it. She sits it on the table next to Ingrid.
"I don't want anything."
"You need to drink some water, or you'll get dehydrated."
Ingrid looks up at her, "That is what you're worried about?"
Wendy pulls out the chair next to her, and parks herself in it.
"Among other things."
"Among other things?" Ingrid arches her eyebrows, "I defying all odds here, and you're concerned about me becoming dehydrated?"
"Drink the water!"
"Fine," she folds her arms across her chest, and slowly sips the cold water. When she's finished she place the empty glass on the tabletop. She looks at Wendy, "Are you satisfied?"
"Did you call work to let them know you weren't coming?"
"No," Ingrid admits, "I fell asleep," her face twisting into a look of panic.
"I called Barb. She said that she could take care of things."
"Wendy what am I going to do?"
"Just wait it out. Maybe this is all a fluke," she suggests.
"Or maybe this thing will pop out tomorrow."
"Adam was mortal, so gestation shouldn't be affected."
"Shouldn't be?"
Wendy shrugs, "I don't think it will be."
"You don't think that it will be? I am still trying to wrap my brain around how this is even possible."
"I know."
"Adam is dead."
"I know."
"Was dead," Ingrid adds.
"Wait, what?"
"He was..."
Wendy cuts her off, "He was dead when all of this transpired?"
"Yes. You can understand my complete, and utter confusion. I have a limited lifespan, and Adam was a ghost when this happened. I don't know how any of this is even remotely possible."
"You know who could probably answer all of your questions?"
"Don't say it," Ingrid warns.
"Your mother could probably answer all of your questions."
"What makes you think that?"
"She has actually been pregnant before," she reminds her, "Many times, over many centuries."
"I don't want her to know," Ingrid argues.
"Don't you think that you are going to have to tell her at some point?"
"Maybe not."
"How do you figure?"
"I might be dead by then," Ingrid points out.
"Everything about this life has been different for you. I think that something in the universe has shifted."
"But it doesn't mean that it is a shift to the good. This could all be some sort of terrible plot twist in what inevitably always ends in tragedy."
"Or maybe not. Maybe this is good news," Wendy tries to convince Ingrid, despite her own doubts.