Chapter Title: Worrying Changes
Author: Sam and Dani
Story: The Omega Trials: 13 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
Setting: AU: December 25, 1941 - January 1, 2942: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
xxx
Translations:
Cariad - Love - Welsh
Jakub - James - Polish
Sczcepan - Steven - Polish
xxx
Setting: AU: Thursday, December 25, 1941: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
"I love the way you look after we make love, Cariad," Bucky murmured as he stroked his left hand down Steve's chest to settle over the blond's abdomen. The brunet leaned down and softly kissed his new husband, grey-blue eyes dancing with happiness.
Purring softly into the kiss, Steve murmured, "You're a masterpiece, Buck. I love how you look always."
The brunet laughed, stretching leisurely, letting his fingers caress lightly over the blond's abdomen. "Well, an artist needs a masterpiece to draw, right?" he asked in a cocky voice.
"Why draw when I can admire the piece up close and personal?" Steve responded, his eyes trailing down his husband's body. The blond leaned close and gently nipped at the brunet's chest, scraping his teeth roughly against Bucky's nipple.
A soft groan escaped the twenty-five year old and he let his head fall back to the pillow. "God, Stevie, I wish we could stay in bed all day." He tangled his fingers in Steve's hair; the smaller man needed a haircut again.
"Why can't we? We can't have a traditional honeymoon, but I think we're owed a day in bed," Steve mumbled.
"You always think we should have the day in bed, Cariad! You're insatiable . . ." he kissed Steve longingly, "but I love it. Just not today. We're supposed to go to Mam's for Christmas dinner, Stevie." He stroked his lover's hair and added, "we need to get up and get cleaned up."
Propping himself up on his forearms, Steve suddenly looked at Bucky, his whole posture turing serious. "Do you think . . . we should tell her?" The blond quietly asked.
Bucky knew instantly what his husband referred to. Thinking over that, trying to mentally judge his mother's reaction, the brunet sighed. "I think Tata would have accepted us together. I'm sure Mam will . . ." he looked at Steve's eyes, his own pale blue eyes worried but hopeful.
"And if she doesn't?" Steve asked, his voice trembling slightly with fear as he thought about telling someone about the truth behind his relationship with Bucky.
Drawing a slow breath, Bucky made a decision that might break his heart in the long run . . . but he knew, if given a choice between Steve and anyone else, there was no question whom he'd choose. Softly, Bucky said "then we find somewhere else to live."
Gasping softly, Steve looked at his husband with wide, shocked eyes, "You'd do that? You'd leave your family so that we could stay together?"
Bucky slid his hand under Steve's chin and made sure to hold his lover's face still so he could stare intently into the smaller man's eyes. "You are my family, Steve. You're my husband and I love you." He swallowed. "If Mam can't accept that, I'll have to leave her behind. I won't lose you!" He dropped his hand and wrapped his left arm around his lover in a fierce embrace.
Steve felt his eyes begin to burn with tears as he wrapped his arms as tight as he could around his husband. The smaller man leaned his head into the crook of Bucky's neck and breathed deeply, inhaling the brunet's addicting smell. "I love you, Buck. I love you so much," the blond whispered, not sure if he'd been loud enough for Bucky to hear.
"I love you just as much," Bucky assured his match, his love. He hugged him again. "Look, we tell Mam, but not the girls. Gracie might accidentally tell someone, and Becca's new beau is a barrister." He looked down at Steve in his arms.
Lifting his head so that he could meet his lover's eyes, Steve nodded. "Yeah, okay. Just your Mam."
With one last cuddle, Bucky sat up fully and sighed. "We better get ready and get over there. The almanac is threatening storms later tonight, and we don't wanna hold up diner." What Bucky didn't say was that they didn't want to be stuck out in the weather or in with Mrs. Barnes if she didn't approve of them. They wanted plenty of time to make an escape if they needed to.
Sliding down to the foot of the bed since Steve blocked the open side, Bucky stood and stretched again. He strode into the all-purpose room and started running water to heat for washing. As he waited for the warmer water they could wash with, Bucky looked down and studied his own manhood with a puzzled frown. Their love-making session had again ended in that glorious, yet puzzling, enlarged knot which had locked them together for about twenty minutes.
The intelligent man had never heard of that kind of thing happening, but he'd never actually talked to other people about what to expect in the bedroom. He also hadn't had a men's health doctor like Steve had, and they'd never gotten a chance to ask Doctor Johnson about the confusing sexual response. Bucky worried that, despite Steve's reassurances, the large knot had actually hurt his small lover.
Shaking himself from his brown-study, Bucky checked the water, finding it warm enough, and poured it into a basin for Steve. He began to heat a second potful for use. "Steve, come wash, love!" he called, not avoiding the pet name but keeping his voice low enough not to be discerned through the apartment walls.
"Alright!" Steve called back as he walked out of the bedroom. The smaller man made quick work of washing away the grime of his daily activities. The blond watched as Bucky warmed another pot of water; with a small smile, Steve stated, "You're beautiful, Bucky. You know that right?"
Smiling at the compliment, Bucky looked at Steve and chuckled. "How can I not when you tell me five times a day? You're gonna turn my head, Cariad." He pulled the warm water from the stove, filled the basin once more, and began washing up.
"Ain't no turnin' needed. You're already a jerk." Steve laughed.
Bucky threw back his head and laughed loudly. "Ya punk!" He stole a quick kiss then headed back to their bedroom to strip the bed and get dressed.
It didn't take long, once they were ready, for the couple to make their way the five blocks to Winifred Barnes's tenement building. Bucky's mother greeted them warmly as she let them into the third floor apartment, smiling when she apparently saw the way Steve's hand lingered on the faded blue line Bucky had painted on the wall to guide his baby sister home.
Winifred shut the front door and turned to the men. "It'll be storming tonight. I feel it in my bones."
Steve nodded and made a small noise of agreement. "Gettin' real cold." The small man rubbed his hands together to emphasize how the cold air had numbed his slender fingers.
Frowning softly, Winifred nodded. "Come to my room, boys," she said. "I've got something for you."
With a puzzled look for Steve, and a small shrug, Bucky turned and followed his mother to her bedroom. Inside the room, Winifred opened a chest of her husband's old clothes and pulled out a coat, hat, gloves, and other warm clothes. "Any of this fit you, Steve?" she asked.
Looking at the clothes with wide eyes, Steve shook his head, "Ma'am I couldn't accept them."
She turned and frowned softly. "What, you want me to sell them to strangers or give them to people I care for?" She snorted. "I know you both aren't making much right now . . . young men just starting out never do."
Reaching out to take the coat and the hat, Steve smiled softly at the memory of Tata wearing both of the items. Running his thumb over the thick wool, the smaller man couldn't help but think how much warmer he'd be in them rather than his old, ratty coat that had been patched far too many times. "Thank you, Ma'am. I promise to take real good care of 'em," Steve promised.
Pressing the equally warm gloves into Steve's hands, Winifred smiled. "Please. I want you to have them."
"Mam," Bucky cleared his throat and reached out his dominant left hand to take one of her's. He opened his mouth, but stopped when Winifred's eyes fastened on the dull glint of gold on her son's finger. He swallowed.
"Jimmy?" Winifred asked, quietly, breath almost held, "did you get married?"
"Yes, we did," Bucky said and waited for his mother to catch on or question him. The brunet fidgeted nervously under his mother's gaze.
"We?" the woman asked, confusion across her features.
Steve eyes flickered between Winifred and Bucky; he heard his heart pounding in his ears, and his breathing began to pick up. The smaller man didn't want his husband to be forced to pick between him or his mother; Steve wasn't sure if he'd be able to live with the guilt knowing that he had been the reason why Bucky no longer had a relationship with his mother.
Taking a deep breath, Bucky reached out and took Steve's hand in his and said, "Steve and I vowed to each other, Mam. We couldn't go to a church, or we'd be arrested . . . but I love Steve, and we wanted to be married."
Surprise crossed the woman's features and she sank onto her bed, hands tangling together as she looked from her son to the small blond man beside him and back. "You . . . married one another . . ."
"I love your son, Ma'am." Steve spoke softly, but he held Winifred's gaze. "I love him with my whole heart."
Winifred kept Steve's gaze for a long time, looking for something unspoken. Finally, she reached out, grabbed Steve by the shoulders, and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Welcome to my family, Stevie. You take care of my son, hear me?"
Letting out a shocked but relieve gasp, Steve nodded and wrapped his arms around his mother-in-law. "I promise, Ma'am. I'll take care of him . . . always."
"Mam," Winifred told Steve.
Bucky's mouth dropped open in shock then he snapped his lips shut. He'd truly feared his mother wouldn't accept their illegal, and according to many immoral, relationship. "Mam? I . . . I thought maybe you . . ."
She nodded, cutting off her son. "Sit, boys . . . Becca's cooking tonight so I have time to sit and talk. It's her present to me." She patted the bed, reaching out to take Steve's hand as she scooted over enough that the men could sit beside each other.
Her son sank onto the bed. Steve sat in between Bucky and Winifred, his hand still held by the woman, as he looked at her, eagerly waiting for what she had to say.
Nodding, Winifred explained softly, "When you boys were young, maybe thirteen? Fourteen years old? Jerzy took me and your Momma aside to tell us he'd caught you two together. He said he thought you were both homosexuals . . . and looked to be a couple." She took a deep breath. "He told us that he told you about his uncle Jakub, who was murdered for possibly being homosexual." With a shudder, Winifred suddenly reached past Steve with her free hand and grabbed her son's hand, as if she needed reassurances of his safety. "Sarah didn't seem surprised at all, and she said she thought you two were meant to be together."
Bucky turned to look at Steve's reaction to hearing about his mother's words. The brunet smiled softly and stroked one hand discretely down his husband's back. He responded, "Tata told me to take care of Steve . . . that last day in the hospital."
Hearing that his mother had known about his love for Bucky when he was just thirteen years old made tears spring into Steve's eyes. Her last words echoed in his mind; she'd told him to take care of Bucky. She'd talked about them as if they had already been in a relationship. His sweet mother had accepted him for who he was. Sarah had loved her son unconditionally, and the thought made him ache for his mother's touch, one last embrace so that Steve could convey all the emotions he felt.
Caressing Steve's hand, Winifred nodded at Bucky's words. "I knew he had felt you two belonged together. But, unlike Jerzy or Sarah, I couldn't accept it." She sighed. "It took a lot of praying . . . a lot of soul searching . . . before I came to accept what they had already seen: my son was in love with another man and would never have children or carry on the family name." She looked at them as if to judge their reactions. Before either man could do or say anything, though, Winifred rushed on. "I finally accepted things when Jimmy turned seventeen. You were so depressed and weren't able to eat, Sarah and I thought we might have to commit you to an asylum."
Shock once more crossed her son's face and he gripped Steve's hand. Steve gently squeezed his husband's hand, soothingly running his thumb along the brunet's knuckles.
"Then I caught you two kissing and it seemed . . right somehow? Odd as that might sound, I wasn't upset by the sight . . . or the idea anymore." She looked at Steve. "And over the next couple of weeks, it became very clear that your love had pulled my boy out of his depression. That you were the reason he was sane at all." She nodded and stroked the blond's hand again. "Well, that decided it. If you two needed to love each other, then God must have decided it for you. I don't know why He made you both men, but that's His decision , and who am I to question Him?"
A small sob broke from the tall brunet, and he wrapped both arms around his husband, pulling him in close. His mother's words, and her final acceptance, made him realize that loving Steve wasn't just a privilege . . . it was a necessity. "I love you, Cariad," he whispered softly in Steve's ear.
"I love you too, Buck. You're my whole world," Steve whispered back.
Smiling at the display between the young men, Winifred nodded. "My only wish had been to have been able to tell Jerzy." She shrugged. "And when I was sure Jimmy was getting better, and that it was you, Steve, who was the cure . . . if you will . . . I gave Jerzy's ring to Jimmy. I hoped you'd both find a way to be together safely . . . even if you had to run away to a far off country." She shook her head. "You two need to be so careful!"
"Of course, Mam!" Bucky breathed against the back of Steve's neck, having shifted his husband practically into his lap. "We've very careful."
"We don't want anyone findin' out," Steve added.
Standing, Winifred hugged first Steve then Bucky. "I am so glad you chose to take vows before God, even if you can't do so before the world or in the church."
The door swung opened suddenly and Gracie looked inside, her almond-shaped eyes worried. "Mam? Rosie's sick real bad again."
"I'm coming," Winifred rushed to her closet, pulled out a basket of stuff, and hurried from the room, leaving her youngest and oldest children together with Steve.
Gracie made a face. "I hate when I bleed every month,"she complained and trotted out after her mother.
When the men were alone once more, Bucky relaxed visibly, despite the apparent emergency with his middle sister. He reached over and ran a hand through Steve's hair, ruffling it, then put the hat on his mussed blond locks. "So, Mam loves us," he murmured.
Laughing softly, Steve nodded and pushed up against his husband, humming happily. "Yeah, I'm glad. I was real worried there for a moment."
"So was I," Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper and he placed his forehead against Steve's. "Mam'll be back in once Rosie's settled in bed. She gets sick for three days solid when on her courses, and no doctor's been able to figure it out yet. But somehow Mam can always make her feel better."
Steve couldn't help but think of his own mysterious, recurring sickness: the cramps that would sometimes keep him in bed for days. "How does she do it? How does she make Rosie feel better?" the small man asked, his voice quiet but dripping with curiosity.
"I don't know," the brunet shook his head, "but she does. Your Momma might have been a trained nurse, but if you want home remedies from the old country, there's none better'n Mam."
Not saying anything, just pushing himself closer to his husband, Steve breathed in Bucky's scent.
Gently, moving his face mere inches to nuzzle at his husband's neck, Bucky kissed the blond's throat. "If you get sick or hurt, Steve, and can't get to a doctor? Go to Mam or call her up from a nearby telephone. If I can't be there to take care of you 'cause I'm at work or something, I like to know Mam'll do it."
Making a small noise of agreement, Steve nodded and said, "Alright." The blond moved so that he could look at the brunet. "I'm glad everything worked out, Bucky. I'm so happy."
"Can't be happier than me, Cariad," Bucky murmured and gently kissed his lover. "Why don't we go join Becca and Gracie in the kitchen?"
xxx
Setting: AU: Friday, January 1, 1942: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
Steve groaned loudly as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his body, causing his entire body to tremble. The small man couldn't understand why the cramps had come on so sudden; normally his symptoms were three to four months apart, but his last attack had only been a little less than a month ago. The cramps were so severe that the blond couldn't move without his abdomen tightening agonizingly. He knew he couldn't go to Doctor Johnson anymore, and Bucky would be at work for several more hours, so that left him with limited choices. He could either wait and try to suffer through the pain or he could get in touch with Winifred. The blond knew a hospital was out of the question, with the little income that his husband brought in a hospital visit would be too expensive. Realizing that he only had one logical choice, Steve knew he had to call Winifred for help; however, the small man couldn't remember the woman's number.
Waiting for a break in the waves of clenching pain, Steve shakily rose to his feet, nearly collapsing from the agony that ripped through his frail body. The blond made his way over to the small basket of clothes that needed to be mended and sifted through the contents. Pulling out an item that Steve believed to be beyond repair, the small man carefully stuffed the linen into his underwear to try and catch the blood and stop it from getting all over his pants. Steve knew the flow was much larger than the previous ones he'd experienced, and the small man felt a twinge of fear course through him.
Shaking his head, Steve shoved his fear aside and finished getting dressed. Pushing past the pain, much like Bucky had taught him during their training at Goldie's gym, Steve staggered to the all-purpose room and grabbed the still-full bottle of pills Doctor Johnson had prescribed him just last month . . . right before he'd closed up his practice. Without the free medical and food the doctor had been providing Steve as his patient, the blond had avoided taking any; he didn't know when he could afford more of the strong drugs. Sliding the small glass bottle into the pocket of Jerzy's over-large woolen coat, Steve shoved his arms through the sleeves and doubled up again from the pain, leaning heavily against the wall.
Taking several deep, slow breaths, the small man finally managed to get his gloves and hat on. Foregoing the galoshes, knowing he couldn't bend or sit without giving up, Steve left the tiny apartment and headed around the corner towards his new family's home. The blond left the door unlocked without thinking, but no one would bother such a poor tenement; no one living on their block had any significant money or valuables anyway.
Staggering through the icy streets, the strong winds nearly knocking his tiny body over, Steve used the buildings to prop himself up to avoid collapsing. The five blocks to the apartment took him longer than normal and by the time he stood on the front stoop of the tenement, Steve was exhausted and shaking in pain. He pushed inside the musky-scented front hall. Collapsing to his knees, unable to remain on his feet any longer, the small man took a deep breath and tried to will away the tears that stung his eyes.
"Sczcepan?" Surprisingly, the familiar, curious tones came from Gracie Barnes. The stocky nineteen year old bent over him, hands on her knees, peering at him. "You sick?"
"Gracie?" Steve muttered, slowly lifting his head. "Yeah . . . I'm sick. Do you think you could help me? I need to see your Mam." He carefully began to rise to his feet again, but his legs gave out under the action, sending him back down to his knees.
With a self-assured nod, the sturdy girl squatted and slid her arm around Steve's waist, hefting him to his feet. She was far stronger than one might think for a girl. Repositioning the smaller man so he leaned into her shoulder and against her wide hip, Gracie chirped out worriedly, "we gotta follow the line, 'kay?" Once she seemed sure he understood her directions, Gracie practically carried Steve up the two flights of steps, watching every step she placed rather than the wall, apparently relying on Steve to guide them.
Eventually they wound up right outside the door to the Barnes's apartment. Gracie picked up her fist and banged on the door loudly, not stopping as she hollered "Mam! Help!"
The door swung open and Winifred's shocked face appeared in the opening. "Gracie? Stevie?!" She slid her arm around Steve's other side and helped the man over the threshold. "Gracie, get him to our bed." The pair of women managed to lay Steve on the soft, wide bed. Straightening, Winifred breathed out, "Gracie, get me warm water and towels."
"Right, Mam," the girl nodded and trotted out on her errand.
Finally, Bucky's mother turned to her son's husband and asked, "what's happened, Stevie?"
The blond's face contorted as his abdomen tightened again, he looked at his mother-in-law and groaned, "I . . . I get c- -cramps. Real bad . . . about every three months or so. It feels like my . . . guts are being clawed out. I- - I have some bleeding, too. I don't understand . . . I had them last month . . . they've never been this close together. This one's real bad . . . worse I've ever had."
Surprise crossed Winifred's face, but before she could question him Gracie came back, several towels tucked under her arm and a large basin of warmed water in her hands. She placed the objects on the desk, pulled a chair over, then moved the supplies carefully to the chair close by the bed. Winifred nodded and offered a wan smile. "Good girl. Go to Jimmy's old room and find my medical bible, Gracie." The stocky girl nodded and trotted off once more.
Finally, Winifred turned to Steve and stroked his hair from his face. "Tell me the truth, sweetie. Are you a woman?" The worried mother kept her voice low.
"What?!" Steve exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock from the question. Pushing himself up onto his forearms, the small man moved to get off the bed. "No! I'm not a woman!"
Quicker than he could see, as quick as Bucky moved at times, Winifred grabbed Steve's shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed. "For heaven's sake, Stevie! Stay down. I don't want you hurting yourself!" She began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the gold wedding band hanging on the silver chain. Biting her lip, large blue eyes worried, Winifred begged, "help me, here, Stevie. Need to get you undressed if I'm to tend bleeding."
Swallowing hard, Steve nodded, a slight blush rising into his cheeks. Shakily he finished unbuttoning his shirt and slid it off his bony shoulders.
As Steve removed his shirt for her, Winifred unfastened his pants. "Lay back and lift your hips, so I can slide these off, sweetie," she ordered.
Doing as he was instructed, Steve slowly lifted his hips, trying desperately to ignore the pain that the movement caused.
"Good boy," she breathed, much like she would for Gracie. Winifred eased the pants off the small man and drew a deep breath at the sight of the bloody cloth in his drawers. She removed his drawers and the cloth, letting it unbunch enough to reveal a ripped undershirt far too big to be Steve's. Finally, she revealed Steve's genitals, proving that he indeed was a man. But Winifred's eyes seemed only to see the blood leaking steadily from his rectum. "Steve, have you seen a doctor for this?" Her voice rose in worry.
"Yeah," Steve answered shakily, "But he had to stop practicing medicine so he could go to war." The blond didn't want to mention his diagnosis of cancer, because he knew if he did that Winifred would tell Bucky. Steve wanted to tell his husband himself.
Taking a deep breath, Winifred asked softly, voice wavering as if in fear of the blond man's answer, "Stevie, sweetie . . . did Jimmy do this to you . . . in bed?" She took Steve's cold hand, unable to meet his eyes.
"No!" The small man answered quickly, "No . . . Bucky . . . he'd never hurt me. I've had these symptoms since I was fifteen. But this is the worst one yet."
"Fifteen?" Winifred echoed, sounding relieved if puzzled. At a sound from the doorway, Winifred quickly pulled the quilt over Steve's body, protecting his privacy.
Gracie lumbered into the room under the weight of a very large, homemade book. She put it on the desk, well away from the cooling water, and beamed at her mother. "Found it in the trunk under the bed, Mam."
Winifred turned to her daughter and smiled once more. "Good girl. Carefully fill the hot water bottle as hot as you can, but don't you burn yourself, girl!" the woman ordered. "And bring me the courses basket, too, Gracie."
"Okay, Mam," Gracie nodded and looked at Steve. "Didn't know boys got courses, too," she murmured, sounding very sympathetic. "I hate them myself." And the friendly girl trotted back out on her newest errands.
Letting out her breath, Winifred turned to Steve, drawing back the quilt. She stood and retrieved a sheet from her ironing basket, returning and unfolding it over Steve's abdomen.. "You should try to find another doctor, Steve. Can you tell me what your other doctor said about this problem?" She took a towel and dipped it in the cooling water then began washing the majority of blood, both drying and fresh, from his thighs, buttucks, and between his legs.
Nodding, Steve answered softly, groaning when his muscle clenched tightly, "I got checked every time it happened. The doc would check for anything odd and said there might be a couple of lumps." Steve flushed and continued quickly, "but I don't wanna panic Bucky, so I haven't told him." Steve's eyes widened, pleading with his mother-in-law to understand, "I wanna tell him myself, though . . . I just don't know how."
She looked thoughtful and carefully asked, "he doesn't know that this has happened since you were fifteen, Steve?" She continued bathing his small body, as gentle as a mother could be, making sure to get all the blood from his panis and testicals. Winifred's touch was as gentle yet unprovocative as Sarah's had ever been..
"He knows about the cramps. Just . . . not about about the lumps." Steve swallowed nervously. "The doc gave me some antibiotics and pain meds. I finished the antibiotics but the cramps stopped so I didn't take the pain stuff."
With a soft sigh, Winifred put aside the bloody towel and dipped another into the tepid water, beginning to tend him again. "If you've been having this kind of bleeding and pain for almost ten years, Stevie, I don't think the lumps have anything to do with it. Bodies get lumps that come and go all the time. One day they're there, the next no one can find them." She carefully pressed the damp towel against the blood flow at Steve's rectum. "If the lumps stay around for any real length of time, then it might be a problem, but I wouldn't panic so much about those lumps right now, sweetie. And best not to panic Jimmy either."
Again, Gracie interrupted the private conversation and Winfried whipped the sheet down over Steve's privates. This time the younger woman carried a basket of cloths and a hot water bottle wrapped in a thin towel. She walked right over to the bed and put the basket directly next to Steve then moved the rubber bottle to his waist, right over the sheet. "Mam? You need the willow?" Gracie offered.
Looking surprised, the woman shook her head but said,. "Yes, Gracie, go make some up, please. You know not to put too much in the cup or you'll spill,' she reminded.
The younger woman nodded happily and trotted off to make what she'd called willow.
With a deep breath, Winifred once more pulled the sheet back, picking up the cloth wrapped water bottle and moving it to directly over Steve's abdomen. She carefully folded one of the off-white colored cloths from the basket and replaced the towel against his anus with the cloth; it felt as soft as an infant's blanket. "Gracie's getting medicine that will help ease pain, Steve. It used to be traditionally made from willow bark in a tea, but you may have had some experience with it as a pain and fever medicine called ASA . . . or Aspirin." She smiled at the man and sat carefully next to him on the bed. "Gracie just likes the idea it comes from willow trees. She wants to see one in person someday." Giving a soft laugh, Winifred stroked Steve's face gently. "Water helping?"
Sighing softly at the small relief that the water bottle gave him, Steve nodded, "Yeah . . . it's helpin' a lot."
"Good," she breathed. Finally, she said, "Look, Stevie, this sounds odd, but your symptoms match Rosie's exactly when she gets her monthly courses. Do you know about a woman's courses?" She finally met his eyes.
"Yes, Ma'am," Steve answered. "My Momma told me about them when I was thirteen, about the same time I started seeing the doctor."
Winifred looked relieved. "Good." Offering him her wan smile, she added, "so you see why I was confused at first about you being a man or a woman? I wasn't trying to insult you, but my heavens, sweetie, you're so delicate and artistic. And with these symptoms, I wondered if you and Sarah might have been hiding something from me."
A deep red blush creeped onto his neck and into the tips of his ears as Steve nodded once. "Yeah . . . I . . . uh, I can see why'd you think that. You didn't offend me . . . the question just caught me off guard is all."
Shaking her head, she sighed then said, "but no, Jerzy said he saw you boys together. He'd have said if he thought you were a girl." Winifred looked puzzled as if trying to figure this entire problem out concerning Steve's odd symptoms.
"Would you . . . uh," Steve cleared his throat, nervously running a hand through his hair. "Would you prefer it if I was a woman, Ma'am?"
Surprise washed away the faraway look and Winifred met Steve's intense blue eyes. "Never!" She reached over and stroked his cheek gently. "And it's Mam, Stevie. I actually can't ever picture you as a woman. You're delicate, yes, but I can't see you as anything but a man. It's why I was so shocked earlier thinking maybe you'd fooled me so long. You've very good at being a man . . . would probably make a very poor woman, in fact." She chuckled but worry laced the tones. "I think it'd be a shime for someone so fierce and strong to be trapped in a woman's role, Steve."
"A woman's role?" Steve asked gently, his body already loosening up just from the relief the water bottle provided.
Winifred clarified, "a woman's limited to certain expectations, like tending the house and children or other relatives. Rosie wants so much to be a carpenter, but there's no man who'll take up where Jerzy left off in her training. And Becca wants to help with the war effort, but she keeps getting told to sew things or collect things but not being given real work to help."
"That's not fair! She should be able to do whatever she wants . . . be able to have whatever job, and be able to train just like anybody else." Steve said, angry at the unfairness that seemed to always put people down, not allowing everyone to have the same opportunities.
"As a man, you have so much more freedom to try to do what you feel is right," Winifred nodded in agreement.
Shaking his head softly, Steve grumbled, "Not me. I can't even go fight for our country. They say I'm too sick."
Raising her hand, the woman said, "I know you want to fight, like your father did, and the Army denied you, but that doesn't mean you have to give up on the idea of fighting in the war."
Furrowing his brow in confusion, Steve asked, "what do you mean?"
"Have you thought of joining the Navy, instead?" Winifred asked, practically, "Or maybe volunteering to work with students at the schools to prepare them to fight?"
"Never thought of joinin' the Navy. My Da was in the Army, and I've just always wanted to follow in his footsteps . . . help fight for our country." Steve shrugged; the Navy really hadn't ever crossed his mind.
She sighed and stroked his cheek again. "I just want so much for you . . . and for Jimmy. I see Gracie struggle and she'll always be shunned and living with me at home. Becca promised she'd take care of Gracie if something happens to me, but I still worry. And I see how people try to put you down, and I ache for you just like I do for her. God made you delicate for a reason, but we won't know why until you discover that yourself."
"I wish He'd show me soon," Steve mumbled.
The door swung open and Gracie came back with a cup of hot tea and a pair of simple aspirin tablets on a dinner plate. As Winifred covered Steve's privates again, Gracie concentrating on putting the large plate on the desk then pulling over the other chair in the room. She put the plate on the chair and began to clean up the towels and water, removing them from the first chair. Finally, hands full, Gracie asked "Mam can I go down and visit Mrs. Shelgood again."
"Yes, Gracie. Thank you. You're such a good girl," the mother replied and the daugher trotted off with her burden.
Easing into a semi-sitting position, and picking up the small pills and cup of tea with slightly trembling hands, Steve then swallowed the aspirin and took a small sip of the tea.
"Gracie goes down to visit the elderly woman on the first floor several times a day. She'll be down there at least half an hour now," Winifred clarified with a soft smile. She reached over and stroked Steve's hair once more.
Steve nodded and took another drink of his tea, the hot liquid already working wonders to help with his cramps.
"Steve, have you ever kept track of the symptoms? How long they last, how often they occur, how bad or easy they are?" Winifred frowned softly. "If you keep track, you might notice a pattern and be able to predict just when they'll hit and how bad they'll be. You can be better prepared for these attacks." She stood and started going through her closet, pulling out old dresses and a beat up sheath of papers.
"Can't say I have. But that sounds like a good idea . . . I'd like to be able to somewhat predict how bad they'll be," Steve said before taking another drink.
She sat back down and checked that the hot water bottle hadn't shifted or cooled too much. She offered the book to Steve, flipping it open so he could see that only two pages had been written on in a foreign language. "Here, it belonged to Jerzy. He used to put his ideas and dreams in books. I'd tear out these pages to keep, but I don't want the book to fall apart, so you keep them for me. They're in Polish." She smiled softly, closed the book, and placed it in the basket of cloths.
"Thank you," Steve said, surprised at such a gift.
With a shake of her head and a gesture to the basket of soft cloths, Winifred said, "You take these for when you bleed, Steve. And if you can start guessing when these attacks happen, feel free to come on over and I can try to help ease them. Wash those in cold water to get out the blood then in washing powder to finish cleaning them." She patted the old dresses. "I'll make a new courses basket, so don't worry about taking those cloths. Think of them as a belated wedding gift. And I want to give you some of my aspirin to help with the pains." She reached into the basket to produce a small glass jar of the white tablets then slid it back securely inside the woven wooden container.
"No, Ma'am. You've already helped me so much. I can't accept them," the blond started quickly.
Suddenly, Bucky's mother, Steve's mother-in-law, frowned fiercely at the small, unwell man. She shook her head and stroked his hair. "Mam, Steve. And I'll be insulted if you refuse my help, sweetie. You're my son's husband . . . and now my son. It's my right and privilege to care for you!"
Nodding slowly, completely taken off guard by the woman's generosity, he replied, "thank you . . . for everything. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate all of it."
"We may not know why you get these attacks, Steve, but you are probably the only man in history that can identify with what we women suffer through between children." She kissed his forehead. "Rest, sweetie. I'll change your bottle in a few minutes, but you should sleep. Let me know if you need to throw up or anything. Rosie often does, and I wouldn't be surprised if you have that same symptom at times."
Exhaustion seemed to take over at the suggestion and suddenly Steve's eyes felt heavy. "Okay . . . thank you," he mumbled again, eyes slipping shut.
She stood and walked from her bedroom, leaving the door partially open, taking Steve's clothes and Bucky's bloody undershirt with her. From the kitchen, the sounds of running water could be heard.
Steve lay there, eye closed, thinking about his own mother and how she would have approved of how Winifred took care of Sarah Rogers's only child. He felt tears burn under his eyelids; he missed his mother and wanted to tell her so badly that he was happy with Bucky, like she had predicted that last day. He'd thought her words were worrying, but now they were merely confirmation that the people who cared about them would accept how he and Bucky were. Just as he felt himself drifting into sleep, Steve heard Winifred walk back into the room; he felt a fresh hot water bottle being placed on his abdomen. Vaguely, Steve heard her steps leave the room. With the water bottle and aspirin finally working, Steve let himself fall asleep.
xxx
Continued in Chapter Fourteen: Everything Changes