Title: Why Can't I Breathe? Disclaimer in the first chapter applies to this one and the second one. No money is being made, this is only for fun.

Summary: Memoirs with a twist, happy ending this time. Ok, this chapter is more on the funny side, with yet another twist thrown in there. Please enjoy!

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! lol...


Why Can't I Breathe: Chapter 3

By

Sakura


This Saturday morning had started out like all the others. Sunlight streamed through the partially opened window, and the soft chirps of the birds outside were faintly audible. She lay wrapped in the bed sheets, closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep.

She sat up in bed, and was sad to see the empty space beside her where her lover should have been. She glanced at the clock on the ebonywood bedside table. It read 0900. It was time to get up.

She looked all around the bedroom, but her husband was no where in sight. She slid off the bed and put on a robe over her night gown, to go and search for him. She descended down the stairs, bare feet padding along on the smooth wooden surface, when an overwhelming scent of eggs and bacon assaulted her sense of smell.

She gagged and clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from being sick. The nausea had been bothering her for about two weeks now, and it had just gotten worse each morning. Eggs and bacon seemed to be the foods that she could not stand the sight or smell of.

She continued on into the kitchen, where she found him wearing a white cotton shirt and khaki pants, cooking a full breakfast for both of them. He was unaware of presence until she stepped up behind him and said 'Good Morning Harry.' He turned away from the stove and greeted her with a relaxed smile. 'Good morning. How are you feeling? Are you hungry?'

Ruth crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose as she stared at the food frying on the stove. 'I think I'll skip breakfast today, I don't know if I can hold anything down.'

'This cold of yours, it's getting worse instead of better, I want you to see a doctor tomorrow.' Harry turned back to the stove to turn of the fire. He picked up the pan and slid everything onto a plate.

Ruth watched him as he moved to set the plate on the table and smiled. She knew exactly why the nausea was getting worse and not receding. But she didn't plan on telling him until she had confirmed it with a doctor.

'Ok, I'll go first thing tomorrow morning.' The crackle of the frying bacon and eggs only reminded her of how bad morning sickness could be.

'I'll just have some crackers or something.' Ruth needed to get away from the smells. She went into the pantry and was dismayed to see that the crackers were not where she left them last. She saw chips, candy, canned soups, canned goods, and bread, but she could not find those bloody crackers.

At last, she saw them on the top shelf and fetched them with satisfaction. Ruth's strongest craving happened to be the simplest snack of all; graham crackers.

When she emerged from the pantry, Harry was on the phone with someone. He turned to face her and she heard the underlying strain in his voice. She knew that something was up. Ruth sat down at the table, crackers in hand, staring at him all the while he chatted with the mystery caller.

'Yes, We'll be here. Right, I look forward to seeing you again. Bye.' Harry hung up and put the phone back on the stand that was mounted on the wall. He sat in his chair across the table from her and casually put some eggs on his plate.

'Harry who was that?' Ruth had a feeling deep in her gut, she knew exactly who called and why.

Harry put his fork down and looked at her with dread in his eyes.

' I just got off the phone with Gail Evershed. Your mother is coming to see us.'

Ruth wanted nothing morethan to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers with Harry lying by her side. Either that or run away to Thames House to finish some minimally important reports.Her jaw dropped open and horror crept into her eyes as she recalled the first time her mum met Harry. And she did NOT want a replay of that day.

Her mum had a bad habit of speaking whatever popped into her mind, something that Ruth had inherited, but at least she knew when to stop talking. Her mother was openly honest, which was a bad thing at times, and often overly spontaneous which usually resulted in violent conflicts at family reunions.

'Ruth?'

'I wish the rest of the world would just leave us alone for a while.' Her voice was genuinely distraught and he had to laugh at her reluctance to see one of her closest family members.

Ruth opened the cracker box and took a handful. She stuffed them into her mouth and chewed grudgingly, imagining spending the rest of the day with her mother in between her and Harry.

'Let's just hope she doesn't throw another hair dryer at you.' Harry chuckled and continued with his breakfast. He definitely remembered meeting Ruth's mum for the first time. She'd been terribly shocked that he was older than her precious daughter, and had not reacted to it well. He had acquired a rather nasty bruise on his back after being pelted with a blow dryer.

'By the way, she's half an hour from here.'

Ruth dropped the box of her favorite snack and flew out of her chair.

'BUGGER!'

Harry finished his breakfast alone, listening to his wife's hurried footsteps and repeated murmurs of "bugger"as she ran upstairs to make herself look presentable.

TBC...

A/N: This is about 6 months after the proposal, and I didn't feel like writing the in between time, so just imagine that their wedding was something like jotter's wonderful fic'A day to Savour.' (grin)