22: Change of Heart
Two and a half seasons. That's how long it's been since the wedding. Time went by faster than I would think possible.
Our ranch was flourishing – Mirabelle had recently started selling me sheep, so I had two of them now – Rusty and Thyme. I still had six chickens that Woody protected fiercely, and I'd gotten a lot better at horseback riding.
Spirit was actually quite mellow when I calmed myself and took control. I could often be seen riding around the Island, doing whatever needed to be done that day. I'd planted a few trees last spring.
The very first one died, which made me sad. But Chen had told me what I'd done wrong, so now I had three healthy apple saplings that would be grown by the end of the year. The quality in my crops rose and my knowledge about them rose, and I often won the end-of-the-season crop festival.
Felicia always awarded me with the generous amount of prize money proudly. My relationship with all the animals was very good, and I took good care of them, so I won the animal festivals, too.
Taro would sometimes approach me randomly and compliment me on all the things I'd accomplished. "You've become a great rancher," he'd said, "Just like I was, when I was younger."
His praise and approval meant a lot to me. I told him so, and he smiled widely. I didn't get exhausted as quickly now that Vaughn was around constantly to help me with things. I hired Mark occasionally to do work for us, as he was still on the Island.
"I'm really fond of this place," he'd said, "I'm not sure if I can leave it just yet."
Everything was working out beautifully. Everything was the way it was supposed to be. I was so happy.
"Chelsea!" Julia burst into my house without knocking.
Startled, I almost dropped my mug of early-morning coffee when I stumbled back. It was Wednesday, unfortunately, so Vaughn wasn't around.
"Hi, Julia," I said, a bit annoyed at her sudden appearance.
"I have news." Her smile was huge.
"Oh?" I asked.
She held up a blue feather, identical to the one I'd received three and a half seasons ago. Mine was pressed between the pages of my favorite book – I cherished it.
"I told you he could do it." Julia's tone was smug.
I put down the coffee and went over to hug her tightly. "I'm so happy for you. We're going to go the city and do everything for you that you did for me. When should we go?"
She shrugged. "I don't know – we're not having the wedding for three weeks. Elliot's got a few things to take care of back home." She made a face.
"How did he ask?" I wanted to know, honestly curious. I never thought Elliot would have the guts to ask – if anything, she'd be asking him.
"He was acting really nervous all day. I kept asking him what was wrong, but he wouldn't say. I asked him for the fourth time a while ago, and he just blurted it out. 'Julia, marry me'. I was shocked." She laughed.
"This is great." I said enthusiastically.
"Yes!" Julia agreed.
I put off my morning chores for a bit while we celebrated briefly. She left after a while, though – she had to go tell Lanna, Sabrina and Natalie.
***
"So guess what?" I asked.
Vaughn sprawled out on the couch and glanced up at me. "What?"
"Julie and Elliot are getting married in three weeks," I said brightly.
He smirked. "Really? Didn't think he'd ask."
"I didn't either. But I'm so happy for them. I wonder when Natalie and Lanna with get married . . ." I trailed off.
He shrugged and pulled off his gloves.
"I missed you yesterday," I told him.
He looked up me lovingly. "I did, too."
I turned, intending to walk to the kitchen. But when I was halfway there, my stomach suddenly twisted violently. Covering my mouth, I whirled and rushed to the bathroom, praying I would make it.
Vaughn held my hair back for me, his expression worried. "You alright?"
"Yeah," I said when it was over. I rinsed out my mouth. "I was just fine a second ago." The whole thing was weird – I'd felt perfectly normal, but then all of a sudden I had to throw up.
"Maybe Dr. Trent should look at you," Vaughn said anxiously.
"No – he's not even on the Island."
"We have a phone," he insisted.
"I don't want to bother him. Really, I feel fine."
He didn't look convinced.
***
But over the course of the next week, I didn't really feel fine at all. It seemed like I got tired a lot easier; I'd finish work for one day and then pass out on the bed without saying a word to Vaughn; I didn't have the energy.
He commented one day that I looked really pale and that I should see the doctor.
"No," I snapped, "I don't want to." Along with the constant exhaustion, I had to admit I was a little moody, too. I snapped harshly at anyone who dared to ask me a question.
Vaughn was irritated with me for it at first, but then he only got more worried, because being rude all the time simply wasn't me.
"I want you to see the doctor," He said with finality in his voice while we ate at the table one night.
"No," I all but snarled.
"Yes," he argued stubbornly.
I stormed off to the bathroom and slammed the door. The same feeling hit my stomach, and I turned to the toilet, thankful I had been in this room when it happened. The next day it was raining heavily, so thankfully I didn't have to water any of the crops, but Vaughn and I still tended to the animals.
When we got back into the house in the early afternoon, I was very tired. But I resented it; I didn't want to be tired. I'd barely done any work – just some brushing, milking and feeding. That did take a bit of energy, but certainly not all of it.
"I'm going to the mine today," I said, almost defiantly, pulling my hammer out of the tool box.
"No," Vaughn said, pulling it out of my hands and putting it back. "You're not well. I don't want you doing anything strenuous."
"I'm fine." I was sick of telling him.
This was the first time since we'd been married that I was truly annoyed with him. He shook his head, and held me very tightly when we went to sleep that night.
***
I woke up at ten in the morning the next day.
Ten. In. The. Morning.
I hadn't slept that late in a long time. But why hadn't the alarm gone off? Vaughn was sitting at the table, eating what I presumed to be cold porridge.
I sat up in bed and blinked. "Why didn't the alarm go off?" I asked.
"I switched it off before it could blare," he replied simply, "The morning chores are done. Stay in bed. I've called the doctor – he should be here at any time."
"I told you . . ." His glare made me purse my lips.
He got up and cupped my face. "I want to be sure."
There was a light knock at the door before Denny walked in, smiling widely. "Morning," he said.
His eyes fell upon me and his smile faded. "You okay, Chelsea? You look kind of pale."
"I'm alright," I sighed, "But I'm supposed to see a doctor today."
"Oh." Denny frowned. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," I assured him.
Denny looked at Vaughn. "I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out today. But I guess now's not the best time . . ."
"No, he should go with you," I encouraged.
Vaughn shook his head. "No, I'll stay here with you."
"Please go. Have fun. Take a break – you work too hard." I smiled up at him. "And when you get back, I'll yell at you for making me see the doctor when there's nothing wrong with me. Okay?"
He stroked my cheek. "Alright," he agreed reluctantly, "I won't be long."
Denny hugged me once before they left. "Hopefully you're okay, Chelsea," the fisherman said, "I kind of like you."
I pushed him away. "Go on."
They left after that, and I lay back on the pillow, still tired, even after all my rest. Dr. Trent arrived just minutes after Vaughn and Denny had left. The door was open, so he came right in with a bag in his hand.
"Hey, Chelsea," Dr. Eye-Candy said, smiling nicely.
"Hi, Dr. Trent. I'm fine – Vaughn's just paranoid," I said.
"It's always good to be sure. Now, tell me what's wrong."
I told him about my puking episodes, and my exhaustion. "It's horrible," I complained, "Maybe I'm getting the flu."
Dr. Trent pursed his lips and looked deep in thought. "Um . . . maybe," he agreed.
He went through a basic routine – listening to my heart, checking my ears, my throat. "You look perfectly healthy," Dr. Trent said.
"I thought so," I replied smugly. "But then . . . that doesn't explain my discomfort."
Dr. Trent bit his lip and sat down next to me. "Well, Chelsea, have you considered that you might be, um . . . pregnant?"
I gaped at him for several minutes. "Um . . . err . . . no. I mean . . ." I trailed off stupidly. "I . . . no. I'm pretty sure I'm not."
"Why not?" Trent asked.
I blushed and fidgeted. I'd had many passionate nights with Vaughn, it was true, but I was on the pill. In the early days of our marriage, I'd asked him about kids. My brain zoned out for a minute as I remembered.
***
It was late in the evening, and Vaughn and I were walking into the farmhouse, both quite exhausted.
"A Festival and chores are a lot to deal with in one day," I said, flopping down on the bed.
He started to make dinner for us, and, though I wanted to help him, I was simply too tired. When he was done, I hobbled to the table and sat down.
"Thanks." My smile was huge.
He smiled back slightly and nodded once. Even now, after all that had happened, he was still quiet, but definitely not as much as he had been before.
"I went fishing with Lanna yesterday," I told him, "But she talked a lot, so it was hard to concentrate."
"And Denny doesn't talk a lot?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Sure, but that's . . . different. Lanna is wondering when Denny's going to propose to her."
"He hasn't said anything about it," Vaughn said, as he lifted his fork.
The stew he had made was wonderful, though it would be ever greater if it had carrots. I smiled slightly to myself and focused back on the conversation.
"Really? Lanna seemed so sure. She was going on about the season she wants to get married in, the specific dress she'll have – one from the shop I went to, actually – and even about kids. She said that with her and Denny's fishing skills combined, the kid would be the greatest fisher in the world. She's probably right," I mused.
"Probably," he agreed.
"I wonder what Natalie's and Pierre's kid would be like," I said, snickering.
"An obsessed chef with attitude." Vaughn chuckled, too.
It was quiet for a moment while I pondered something. I could imagine quite vividly the other couples on the Island having children eventually – which made me think of myself as well. I hadn't even asked him about it at all.
I had to admit, the idea of a little baby, part of Vaughn, part of me, was heartwarming. But we were both so young. I wasn't quite ready for that now. In the future, though . . .
"Well," I joked softly after a moment, "With your love of animals and my love for planting and harvesting crops, our kid would be the ultimate rancher."
He almost choked on his food.
I froze, alarmed, while he coughed and then composed himself. When his eyes met mine, they were both uncomfortable and nervous.
"What?" I asked, hurt at his reaction.
"I don't – I mean, I don't think that, err . . ." He trailed off.
"What?" I said again, annoyed now. "You don't want kids?"
He stood up and walked into the kitchen, placing his bowl in the sink. When he turned to face me again, his expression was wary. "I – I don't think so. My childhood was so screwed up, and I don't know anything about being a . . . father. I wouldn't want the kid to be just as messed up."
I frowned. "He – or she – wouldn't be, you know that. What happened to you happened because both of your parents were totally irresponsible. It wouldn't be like that with us."
He was suddenly annoyed. "Why does this all of a sudden matter to you?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, Vaughn. It's not like I want a kid right now. But maybe, in the future . . . and it makes me sad that you don't want the same thing."
He sighed, remorseful. He walked over and pulled me up into his arms. "I'm sorry. I just . . . don't want that."
Pain twisted in my heart, but I didn't let him see; I kept my eyes on the floor. "You'll change your mind," I murmured, trying to sound confident.
"I won't. Maybe you can change yours."His tone held finality, and it was impossible to doubt him.
I broke away from him and walked to the closet, looking for my jacket.
"Where are you going?" he wanted to know.
"Out," I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. I left the house and went for a walk.
***
"Chelsea?" Dr. Trent snapped his fingers in front of my face, slightly irritated.
I came back to the present and looked at him apologetically. "Oh, sorry."
He shrugged. "It's alright. But anyway, I'm pretty sure you're pregnant."
I bit my lip. "How sure?"
"Ninety nine percent," he said, smiling.
My stomach began twisting in knots, and a million thoughts came rushing into my head. One stood out from all the others.
"I can't be," I said, "I take a pill."
"You must have missed a day or two." Dr. Trent shrugged, and noticed my panicked expression. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," I managed to say.
After I'd spoken to Vaughn about this issue, I'd sort of resigned to the fact that I wouldn't ever have a kid. And I hadn't missed a few days intentionally – I thought for a long moment, trying to decipher exactly when it had been. Then I suddenly remembered. The very first day of summer, there was an awful storm.
It wasn't big enough to be called a hurricane, but it was definitely the kind you shouldn't go out in. We'd been passionate for most of the day, and, come to think of it, I hadn't taken the pill that day . . . and a few afterward.
My mouth opened and I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Trent looked concerned. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm okay," I lied.
I wasn't coherent in my mind – the thoughts were coming too fast. On one hand, I was joyous. The picture in my head would come true.
A tiny little baby.
One that I would watch grow older with the years passing. One I would love and treasure. On the other hand . . . I swallowed heavily. What would Vaughn say? Would he be angry with me, thinking I missed the pill on purpose?
"Chelsea, honestly, you look like a ghost," Trent said, still concerned, "Maybe you should lie down."
I did, and I felt a little better.
"Now, what exactly is wrong? This is generally wonderful news for married couples." Trent smiled, his eyes gleaming.
"It is great," I replied truthfully, "It's just . . . I don't know what Vaughn will think."
"Surely he'll be glad," Trent said, his voice warm.
"I'm not sure," I sighed.
"Well, if he doesn't like it, he'll just have to get used to the idea eventually." Trent nodded to himself and stood. "There are a lot of uncomfortable symptoms that come along with pregnancy, you know. Absentmindedness, for example."
"Great," I muttered sarcastically.
He chuckled. "I'm just letting you know. Would you like to come back to the city hospital when the time comes?"
I made a face. I wanted the baby to be born here, on his/her home. "No," I said, "I'll call you."
He nodded. "I'll come as quickly as I am able."
"Are you staying here for a while? Or did you just come to the Island for me?" I asked, hoping it wasn't the latter.
"Just for you." He smiled. "But I might stick around for a few days. I want to see the Harvest Goddess' pond again. I have to get back soon, though. Work, you know." He began walking to the door. "Good luck" was the last words he said before leaving.
I gnawed on my lip for the next hour and thought about things. Whether Vaughn was alright with it or not, it was going to happen, I promised myself.
Though it would preferable if he was okay. It was about noon when Denny and Vaughn walked into the house, smiling about something.
"Hey, Chelsea," Denny said, "What'd the doc say?"
I wanted Vaughn to know before anyone else, for reasons unknown to myself, so I just shrugged and answered, "That I'm fine."
Vaughn raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.
Denny left after we fed him lunch, and ate ourselves. "See you guys. I'm going to go find Lanna."
When we were alone, I sat down on the bed and stared out the window. Hesitantly, he came over and sat down next to me.
"So what did Trent really say?" His voice was nervous.
"How do you know I was lying?" I wasn't sure why I said that; stalling maybe.
"I just do. Now, what did he say? Are your okay?" He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.
I felt a little bad for keeping him in suspense. Best to get it over with. "He said I was perfectly healthy," I began.
He nodded, seeing the truth in my eyes. "But . . .?"
"But nothing," I snapped, "I am fine."
"Then why the puking episodes?" he asked, annoyed.
I blurted out the words without another thought. "He said that I'm pregnant."
He froze for a second, and then his mouth opened, but no words came out. He leaned back, looking somewhat dazed.
"But you're taking a pill," he said.
"I missed a few days," I muttered, "The day of that big storm at the beginning of this season, and a couple after that."
He was silent for a moment as he remembered. "Not the best day to forget," he murmured quietly after a second.
"It wasn't on purpose," I told him, "So don't think it was."
"I believe you." He nodded slowly. "Was Trent positive?"
"Ninety nine percent," I said, still studying him carefully.
"Oh," he breathed, "Well, that would explain the irritability and the puking."
"Are you . . . mad?" I had to know.
When his eyes met mine, they were still dazed. "Strangely . . . no. I mean, I thought I would be . . . if this ever happened. But I know how much it means to you. And besides, not much can be done about it now, right?" He smiled slightly.
"One thing could be done," I muttered, "But I'd never do it."
"I know you wouldn't. So if you're happy . . . then I'm happy."
My heart inflated, and my gaze turned loving. "Really?" I asked. "Yes. I'm still . . . um, nervous, though." Vaughn swallowed heavily.
"I am, too. But everything will be fine, you'll see." My arms wrapped around him, and he bent his head to kiss me.
My fingers braided into his hair, and he grunted, clutching me closer. I pushed him back on the bed and began kissing his throat.
"I love you," he sighed.
"I love you, too," I murmured back between the kisses. I had worried for nothing.
Everything was going to be okay. I loved him, he loved me, and we were going to have a baby together.
A/N: I never really thought that Vaughn was a kid-type of person. Do you think he is?