Note: I seriously need to stop writing about pregnant women. It occurred to me that this is my third fic about a lonely mother. Third. I need to find more topics I like…this is kinda getting repetitive…and sort of odd…but to my credit, this is probably the best one I've done to date. (By the by, thanks for the huge reviewer turnout last chapter. All your comments are greatly appreciated!)

Chapter Ten:

Celia

I've only wanted to die twice in my life. The first was that God-forsaken night I first saw Jack laying dead on the ground, and the second was the day I gave birth to Cassie, my daughter.

"So, when you said your name means The Blind One, it got me thinking," Muffy had informed me, visiting me the day after in Dr. Hardy's tiny abode. "Apparently, there was this beautiful prophetess in ancient Greek mythology who could 'see' the future named Cassandra, and when I saw it in the book, I thought that'd be perfect! You know, so that your kid isn't blind or whatever."

"Did she have a happy ending?" was my reply, half-asleep.

For a moment, Muffy's smile faltered. "Well. No. She kinda got this god mad, and he made it so that nobody would believe her visions. She didn't love him or something. But that's totally fiction, Celia, so I wouldn't worry about it. It's a cool name anyway, right?"

And I'd laughed to myself, for if the people who could see couldn't be believed and the people who were trusted were blind, then it was no wonder we always found ourselves stumbling in circles.

"Cassandra," I'd murmured, letting the melody roll of my tongue as I held the baby in my arms. "It is a beautiful name."

I gave my consent, and Muffy, squealing, exclaimed that she knew I'd love it, and went off to go inform everyone and anyone of the news. Now, fully recovered and back in Vesta's home, I stroke Cassie's head of dark fuzzy hair as she lays in my arms, content. "I've never seen such a calm baby in my life," Vesta had exclaimed in approval. "Sleeps a lot, don't she?"

Still, even Cassie's sweet temperament couldn't stop her from screaming in the ungodly hours of the night: crying for milk, a diaper change, or comfort. "Why does she always have to be so damn loud?" Marlin complained once, and immediately Vesta had rebuked him, saying language like that shouldn't be used around children, and didn't he know all babies had to cry? It was the only way they knew how to speak.

I suppose that's true. Crying is a language in itself, isn't it?

I nestle Cassie in my arms, the hem of my shirt brought up to allow her to feed. She clings to me, desperate, like I'm her only lifeline in this world. Which, really, I am. And in some ways, she's my only one as well. Sometimes I look over her features and search for some remaining feature of her father's, some trace of the man I'd loved, just to prove he existed.

Her eyes. It took me some time to discover it, but when she blinked at me in her questioning way, I could see that those warm chocolate orbs reflected off a love I'd only known in Jack's sight. Some days, I treasured that look. Others, it was all I could do to look away.

"So what now?"

Muffy holds a snoring Cassie in her lap, and glancing up, repeats, "What will you do now? Is Vesta just going to let you stay here with your baby?"

"Oh. Um. I suppose." I wrap my arms around myself and look away, concentrating on the cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom outside my window. "Vesta hasn't tried to make me leave, if that's what you're saying."

"Well, I didn't think she'd kick you out or anything," Muffy defends herself, rolling her eyes. "I just didn't think you'd decide to stay."

I let my brow furrow in confusion. "What makes you say that?"

"Celia, in the years I've known you, you've never been comfortable relying on other people," she sighs. Her green eyes flicker, glancing towards my baby girl, then towards me again, adding, "To be honest, I'd be shocked if you chose to keep living here. It's none of my business, but I always thought you'd go back to Jack's house and live there. You don't have to, of course, but it seemed that way to me."

Shivering despite myself, I let her words flow through my mind, painting pictures of the home I've left behind. Wooden floors. Locked doors. Vacant rooms. The bed made-up on one side. The echo of my voice as it calls out into the emptiness, awaiting an answer I'll never hear.

And Cassie, a newcomer in this lonely world of silence and memories.

"I mean to go home…eventually," I word carefully. Side-stepping the question, I continue, "Vesta has helped so much with little Cassie, I just don't know what I'd do without her. If I left now—"

My words falter as a new sound interrupts me: the creaking of my bedroom door as it opens wide. "Celia?" Marlin steps forward, and his eyes widen a bit to see Muffy by my side, baby in her lap. He runs his hand through his mop of black hair, and more quietly this time, grunts, "It's just…it's the baby's nap time. I thought you might forget. That's all."

"Oh, is it really?" Glancing towards the clock, I blink; the hands point to four o'clock, the exact time for Cassandra's afternoon nap. "Thank you, Marlin—I honestly didn't notice."

He shrugs, face turned away, and mumbles, "Well, try to be more observant next time. You can't really afford to forget, raising a baby and all." Awkwardly, he stumbles out with his hands in his pockets. The door closes, and Muffy raises an eyebrow.

"Vesta's been a huge help, huh?" she remarks dryly.

I blush and shrug. It's not so much that I want to keep things from Muffy, but something in Marlin's nature seems so secret, so guarded; it'd feel wrong, exposing a side of him he so often hid. In my own defense, Vesta had, in her own way, helped out. Yet nothing she did compared with Marlin's diligence and his often gruff offers to watch the baby or rock her to sleep.

Marlin would never admit this, but there's something different about him when Cassandra's in his arms. Everything about him becomes so much gentler: his expression relaxes, his eyes soften, his callused hands cradle her with the protective care of an angel.

He…changes.

"I tell you what, that boy needs a woman," Muffy decides, letting me take Cassie from her arms. "It's such a crime that a handsome, hard-working, and child-loving guy can't find his special someone. You know how many girls would kill for a man like that? Honestly." She crosses her legs and shakes her head, waiting for me to agree.

"Marlin's…very kind," I manage. I cross over to a little makeshift cradle Takakura had built for Cassie, and lay her down gently inside, covering her with blanket. She squirms, half-waking, and lets out a single, confused cry, wondering where the warmth of my arms has gone. "Sweet dreams," I murmur. "Mommy loves you."

On tip-toe, Muffy and I draw away from the room and close the door behind us. "You have to admit," Muffy relents, grinning, "that if Marlin's going to go gaga over any kid, he's picked the cutest one in the Valley. Who can blame him? Cassandra's adorable."

"I'm going gaga over what?"

Muffy jumps a foot off the ground, shrieking in surprise at Marlin's rough voice. His arms are crossed, and as his blue eyes narrow in on her, Muffy trembles, still in shock. "My God, Marlin, you scared me--!"

He clenches his teeth as a new sound echoes from my bedroom: Cassandra crying. "Now you've gone and woken her up. Great. Think before you talk next time, would you?"

Muffy's glossy lips form an indignant O and her hands position themselves on her hips. "Excuse me?"

"I don't have time to deal with you," Marlin scoffs, brushing past her to enter my room. "Thanks to you, I've got to put her back to sleep. Idiot." He gives me what can only be considered an apologetic sigh before closing the door behind him, the sound of his usually gravelly voice suddenly softening as he speaks to my baby girl.

"On second thought," Muffy huffs, "that jerk can just rot alone all his life. People other than babies like to be respected, you know."

And she promptly began one of her trademark spiels of all the shortcomings of the male species.

Nightmares don't usually make sense. Like in this one, where I'm pacing Goddess Spring, waiting for someone I don't even know. I'm staring into the murky depths of the pond, my distorted reflection grinning wryly back at me. Something's wrong. I don't know what, but something's wrong.

Driven by an instinct I don't understand, I'm suddenly running towards all the toyflowers sprinkling the ground and throwing them, one by one, into the water. "Please hurry!" I'm begging, each flower's stem piercing my face on the lake's surface. "I need to see you! I need an answer!"

It's no longer just flowers, but rocks, weeds, twigs, and other assorted things being thrown into the watery pit. For some reason, I'm expecting something—someone—and they're not coming. I gaze at my reflection once again, and it's laughing with a cruel mirth that leaves me cold and numb as I watch, speechless.

"He's gone, he's gone, and not even the goddess can bring him back," my doppelganger cackles. "He's gone, and you're alone, alone, alone, alone…"

Then a chilling scream pierces the clearing, and I realize it's me—shrieking like a madwoman. My body shakes, and now I'm slipping and falling into the lake, drowning, suffocating in my own screams—

"Celia! Damn it, Celia, wake up!"

My eyelids flutter open, a rough hand shaking me from my slumber. Cassandra is crying in the background, her cries the scream that had haunted my dreams. Slowly, the world comes into focus, and I recognize the face before me as Marlin's, wrought with concern.

"I'm…in bed," I gasp finally. "Home. I'm home."

"And you're scaring your little girl to death," Marlin adds, jerking his head towards her crib. "Not to mention me."

I ease myself up slowly and rub my eyes. Fresh sweat trickles down between my fingertips, and I groan, trembling. "Just a—just a nightmare. Cassie's upset, I should get up and—"

But his firm hand holds me down as he replies, "Allow me." Head throbbing, I nod. Marlin's silhouette glides towards the cradle, and I hear him whispering as he takes my daughter into his arms. "Calm down, shorty. Your mommy's fine. A little tired, but fine. So don't be afraid, okay? Nothing to be scared of."

He draws her into those strong arms, muffling her cries into his shoulder. Swinging over the side of my bed, I grip the cotton sheets and protest, "I'll hold her." He can't hear my broken and quiet voice, though, so I let my words fade into silence.

He's gone.

I shake my head against the statement and concentrate on how Marlin rocks Cassie gently in his embrace and how her face relaxes into a trusting smile.

He's gone, and not even the goddess can bring him back.

"So…was it a nightmare?"

Marlin's question frees me from the painful memories, and I say, "Yes. A nightmare." It's a guarded reply, and the finality instilled in those few syllables reaches him clearly, as I knew it would.

"Then I guess I won't ask you about it," he shrugs. "No reason to relive what hurts you, right?"

Cassie has completely fallen limp in his arms, boneless with faith. It's almost as if she belongs there, blending perfectly with his shirt and skin in the darkness of the night. His eyes center on her fragile body and they lose some of their hardness as they melt with warmth. "It hasn't been this bad since the first year, huh?"

"Eh?"

"The first year," Marlin repeats, finally turning my way. "You had a nightmare. About your mom."

And suddenly, the memory resurfaces: hiding in the corner of my room, staring into the depths of a candle's flame, whispering all my fears to someone who had been no more than a stranger. He'd had no reason to comfort me then.

He has no reason now.

"Celia? What is it?"

I take in a deep breath, studying this man before me who holds my daughter as if she's the most precious treasure in the universe, and I wonder if now, I'm still gazing into the eyes of a complete and total stranger. Someone I should have understood all those years ago, but took for granted along with the all-too-perfect seams of my life.

You're alone. Alone, alone, alone.

"Celia, I just don't understand why."

Jack gripped my shoulder, and I turned to face him, cowering before his concern. My cheeks faded into the color of the autumn leaves surrounding us: a bright crimson red. "I love you so much," he murmured, stroking a strand of my brown hair. "And I thought you loved me, too."

"I still do." My voice was small, and I closed my eyes, realizing only then how weak I really was. My knees shook under my weight, and I stared at him, uncertain of what else to say.

Jack raised his eyebrows in puzzlement, and I continued, "It's just I…Jack…I can't." Biting my lip, I turned away, staring downward at Goddess Spring. Nothing but my own face stared back at me, frightened and confused. "There's so much I want to say, Jack, but the truth is I can't say any of it. The truth is that the past few seasons with you have been the most reckless and thrilling of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. The truth is…is…" A single tear slipped from my eyes, shattering the lake's perfect surface.

I hadn't thought this through. I hadn't wanted to. I'd been charmed, flattered beyond belief, and now I found myself facing the one door I was forbidden to enter. The one door that, ironically, I now longed to open more than anything in the world.

"Are you scared?" His voice came softly, soothing me as I jerked free of his grip. "Is that all this is—fear?"

Oh, if only. Shame washed over me in unrelenting torrents of agony, screaming in my mind all the truths I couldn't say. "You used him." "You just loved the idea of being loved." "You wanted something you knew you'd never have." "You wanted the risk, the thrill, the taboo of falling in love—while fully knowing you were never meant to know that joy." "You're so selfish! What would Marlin—?"

Marlin.

"I can't do this," I choked, and I sagged to the ground, the weight of my guilt piling upon my shoulders as each accusation dragged me down further and further. "Jack, I—I—Goddess, I can't do this! Jack, I can't, I can't, I can't!"

Tears poured down my cheeks, each one a testament to my sins as my lock on them broke free. My hands flung to my eyes, trying to repress the misery engulfing me as I sobbed, repeating "I can't, I can't!" until all my words faded into despair. He knelt down beside me as he watched me fall apart, piece by piece. I shuddered, too weak to stop him from pulling me close to him in comfort, as he pleaded quietly, "Why can't you?"

His voice was so soft, so gentle and concerned, that I could feel my heart ache within me, wanting to crumple in his embrace like the frightened little girl I was. "Take me away!" I wanted to scream. "Run away with me, to a place where no one knows our names and there are no promises to keep and no hearts to be broken!"

"Because," I forced my lips to whisper, "I'm already promised…to someone else. I always have been."

Like a slap, my confession caused Jack to recoil from me like I was a snake—something poisonous and treacherous. Shock flashed in those eyes as he glanced at his hands, as if my skin had burned him. "You," he managed, swallowing, "you've been with me all this time—!"

"Don't hate me," I begged, a pitch higher than intended creeping in. "Jack, don't hate me, please! It's not my fault, I didn't want to—please, Jack, understand!" He'd started to leave, and that's when I insisted, "It's been my whole life, Jack! I've been promised all my life, and there hasn't been a moment where I haven't wondered what would happen if I actually…fell in love. I didn't think it'd happen. I didn't dream of it."

Jack stood frozen at the Spring's entrance, his hands slowly uncurling from their fists. Encouraged, I continued, "Then, Jack, you showed me a side of life I didn't know existed. You showed me what it's like to fall in love, and that's what I am: in love with you. I've always meant to tell you that it's too late for us, but…"

But I wanted every day to last. I wanted to push it just a little bit more, just a few more days, just one more kiss. I wanted him, and I knew once I told him the painful truth, he'd leave me.

That thought frightened me more than you can ever know.

"…But I'm sorry." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and sniffled loudly. "I'm sorry, Jack. I never meant to hurt you."

The farmer let his head nod slowly, taking a few cautious steps away. "I know, Celia," Jack murmurs, all anger drained from his voice. "I know."

He crumpled the blue feather in his hand and walked away, leaving me alone for the first time in my life. I'd been crushed, doubled over the pond crying and crying until I was convinced that there could be nothing worse than this emptiness inside.

It's only now, as I see Cassie lying in Marlin's arms, that I realize there are some things more frightening than being alone.

Muffy may not know it, but I'm genuinely scared. I'm scared about everything she's said: about coming home, about raising Cassie, about moving on. It's terror, facing such a dark unknown. Can I raise her? Can I raise her, all by myself, while managing Jack's farm and trying to keep myself intact?

I know nothing about motherhood. I'm eighteen. I'm not ready. I'm supposed to have someone to share this burden with—someone to make things right.

But he's gone now. He's gone, gone, gone, and not even the goddess can bring him back.

I stare at Marlin as Cassandra is placed once more in her crib, wrapped amidst blankets that no doubt kept us both warm on past winter nights. I wonder why it is I never noticed how there could be more to him than his gruff exterior; that maybe deep down, there laid someone understanding, hard-working, and truly kind.

"You know how many girls would kill for a man like that?"

No one can replace Jack. I can't love anyone like I'd loved him, and I can't fully give myself over, heart and soul, to anyone else. I know this. I believe this with every fiber of my being.

"Marlin?" His head snaps my way, and I can feel the scarlet flush of my cheeks deepening. "Um…I was thinking, maybe tomorrow, you could come with Cassie and I on a picnic to celebrate the beginning of spring. We'd been planning to go now that the weather's nice, and—"

Something akin to disbelief flickers across his features, giving way to an embarrassed kind of joy. "Yeah. I mean, if that's alright with you..."

No. Don't smile at me like that. Please, don't look at me like that—it only makes what I'm doing all that much worse.

It has nothing to do with love. It has nothing to do with the thrill, excitement, and passion that my relationship with Jack had thrived upon. It has everything to do with fear, guilt, and responsibility.

"It'll be wonderful," I nod, smiling as wide as I can force myself to.

It won't be love. But it doesn't have to be.