Chapter 8: Nanny, Housekeeper, Wife
The answer comes to me one morning like a bolt of lightning. Peeta. Peeta Mellark has always been kind and good to me. He will understand if I must come to him for assistance. And so, though my pride would normally forbid me from ever doing so, I approach the Baker at his home one morning, by the back loading dock. In the years since Nata's death, he has never remarried. Still lives alone in the bakery with only his young son, Wheat, for company. Wheat is best friends with my youngest son, Kirkman, has been since they were babies.
"Is there anything I might do to help you around the bakery?" I ask Peeta. We have become close as a result of our families playing together; I like to think he is my friend. And in a place like District 12, where you can starve to death in safety, friends are certainly needed.
Peeta looks delighted by my inquiry. He has heard of how my husband was forced to separate from me. "I have seen you have been struggling lately, Katniss. I am in need of a nanny for Wheat. If you want to come by and mind him during the day...?"
My throat clogs thick with unshed tears and emotions. "Oh, thank you!" I cheer, actually pulling him into a hug. Peeta holds it for a beat longer than I imagined he would, and when he lets go, he looks pleased.
"Well, all right, then," he smiles shyly. "You can start tomorrow."
Wheat is only ten years old, and an easy child. Ever conscientious, Peeta suggested that I bring my little ones over, perhaps recruit Finn and Elsa to help. "I would hate to think that I am keeping a mother away from her children," he apologizes.
I brush his concerns away with a smile. "Wheat needs a mother too, Peeta," I point out.
His eyes as blue as a summer sky dim slightly. He still thinks of Nata, even after all these years. I place a gentle hand on his shoulder, give him another easy smile. "My children will be fine, Peeta. Finn is plenty old enough, and besides, Prim will look after them." This my sister willingly does, having my children stay over at her house while I care for Wheat during the day.
My maternal instincts serve me well, and I begin to care for the Baker's home as well as his child, almost on autopilot. While Wheat is taking a nap, or working in the front of the shop with his father, I make myself busy by cleaning up around the house. I clean all the linens. I dust the curtains. I scrub and wash the tiles in the bathroom and wax the hardwood floors spotless. The first time Peeta notices, I have already sorted and cleaned his entire single room from top to bottom.
"Would you like to be my housekeeper?" he asks me one evening after I have put Wheat to bed. When I stare at him in surprise, he blushes and admits, "It's nice to have a lady around the house again. I can pay you fifty coin a week, in addition to what you already make. Would that be all right?"
Gaping at him, and with an acute and startling blush to my cheeks, I eagerly nod.
And so, I often find myself still at the Bakery late into the evening, keeping house for the Baker. Short of cooking, that is, which Peeta readily handles, although I occasionally help. He teaches me how to knead dough and bake bread, affording us the opportunity to talk for hours. I trust that Finn will be able to lead his siblings home from Aunt Prim's house and back to his Grandma's. We moved in with Mother not long after Darius had left. Purnia seemed pained to be kicking us out, but our former home was always meant for the Head Peacekeeper and whatever family he or she might decide to build within it. At first, Purnia had offered to put us up right where we were and simply build a bigger home for herself, but I told her not to fuss and waste the money. I often don't make the walk across Town and back into the Seam until late into the night, after my children are asleep.
The moon is already high in the sky late one night, several months later. Its glow is peeking through the storm clouds, which bring down on District 12 a heavy rain. I put Wheat down to bed an hour ago, and have just been finishing tidying up the kitchen, in preparation for the next day's batch of bread. Pausing at the back loading dock, I fasten my shawl to the brooch around my neck. Peeta is there to see me off.
"Let me at least walk you home, Katniss! That storm looks bad!"
I give him a gentle smile. "I will be fine, Peeta. My babies need me..."
"Finn can look after them till morning! Stay the night, please!" His hand suddenly encloses over mine as it reaches for the doorknob. I feel something akin to an electric shock jolt through me and we both freeze.
The gaze we now share is heated, smoldering. Blue orbs not leaving mine of gray, Peeta reaches out a paw of a hand - calloused and burned from years working at the ovens - and pushes a strand of brown hair back away from my face. I let out a shaky breath and unconsciously feel my face lean into the warmth of his palm. Though I hold his stare evenly.
"Peeta..." I ask slowly. "Why do you want me to stay with you?"
Peeta is gazing at me helplessly. "Because... because I love you. I've loved you since the first day of school, when we were five years old. I... I heard you sing beautiful enough to make the birds fall silent."
I gasp, my cheeks tinging with red. "Wh... why didn't you say anything?"
Now it is Peeta's turn to blush. "My mother would never have allowed me to court you. She has always suspected that I have feelings for you, so I dated and married Nata because I knew it would shut her up." He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to speak. "It was wrong of me, I know. But Nata didn't mind, and she and I agreed that we would be together to keep our parents happy... and give them a grandson out of it. Heck, when... just before she passed, she made me promise her something."
By now, I feel a warm hand slide about my waist and pull me closer. Peeta's other hand is tangled in the curls of my hair, playing with my braid. His mouth is hovering much to close to mine, and I feel my breathing grow erratic. My heart feels like it is pounding in my ears. My eyelids have grown heavy. "What did she say?" I whisper.
Peeta's blue eyes have become irises of fire. "She said if I ever had a chance... to go after you."
I feel my one palm pressing lightly into Peeta's chest. My other has now wound up to curl into the blonde strands of his hair. Tilting my head oh so gently back, Peeta presses his lips firmly against my own. The Baker kisses me full on the mouth, as our lips meet in a searing kiss.
My brain powers down, rapidly switches off. As Peeta's lips curve and seal themselves around my remarkably pliant ones, I let out a tiny, pleased hum. "Ummmmm..." The noise vibrates my vocal cords until my lips part just enough for his tongue to slither into my inviting mouth. I grant it passage, and it disappears greedily down my throat. I unconsciously drape my arms around Peeta's neck as we mutually deepen the kiss, my one hand fisting along the white fabric of his shirt. My other hand sinks itself deeper into his hair, and I pull, yanking him closer with an aroused, guttural groan. "Mmmmhmmmmmm..." I close my eyes.
Meanwhile, Peeta's calloused, meaty hands grope lower. They dip past my waist and the curve of my hips. His one strong palm cups me audaciously, gripping and caressing the curved flesh of my rear through my blue dress. The other, meanwhile, cradles the swell of my right breast. He squeezes there, ever so gently, squeezes me like the dough he has molded in his soft hands all his life, and I whimper. I feel my breasts rise to meet his skin, my pink nipple becoming erect as it strains against my bodice.
It is only then that the tiny part of my brain that has not yet surrendered reminds me: another man is touching me... another man is kissing me... and I am kissing him back. When I have a husband I love, real as the sun in the sky. Only Darius is gone, and Darius is never coming back. Though he is not dead, he might as well be. And besides... the law technically says that I am not married.
I yield to Peeta at last.
"Mmmmmmm..." I sigh into Peeta's passionate, insisting mouth, pushing my swelling breasts up against his toned chest muscles and rubbing them there. I have no idea what Peeta Mellark likes to see from a woman, but maybe he shall enjoy this. Next instant, Peeta sweeps my leg up and I raise it with no resistance, hooking my thigh around his waist. The Baker pushes his thigh into the space between my legs and my core sings, already pulsing and dripping wet with want. I rub it up against him, making my intentions clear, even as I snap a wrist out to brazenly cup the Baker between his legs. Clench his erection in my fist and stroke it. Groom him for me. Peeta growls with pleasure.
With that, I make the final leap into Peeta's arms, folding my legs about him. We stagger down the basement stairs to the storeroom, our lips digging and snapping and biting and becoming bruised as we furiously make out. Clearing a work table with a clatter and one sweep of his hand, Peeta hoists me onto the varnished wood, laying me gently on my back.
"Mmmm... Peeta..." I mumble into his lips. His cock gives a violent twitch against my palm and as he clambers desperately on top of me, I eagerly spread my legs wide for him.
Our fingers are clawing at each other now, tearing any offending fabric nearly in two. Peeta unclasps the brooch at my neck and my shawl pools to the floor. He makes quick work of my bodice and bra, revealing my pink, womanly curves to the world. They have become more buxom with childbearing and nursing, yet they fit into the palm of Peeta's hand perfectly, as if my breasts were made for him to touch.
Peeta's kisses into my mouth become more insistent, more frantic, and he soon mouths down my face and jawline. Eyes rolling into the back of my head, I keen into him eagerly.
"Peeta, I... oooooh... please... don't stop!" I gasp.
He doesn't, now taking my nipple between his puckered lips and he begins to suckle. My eyes pop open wide and I growl.
"Oh my god... Ohhhhh my God, Peeta!"
My fingers begin to tear the seam of his zipper, unclasp the buckle. I wrench the button open and I yank him free, so that his manliness stands at attention before me. With Peeta's face buried and gnawing between the valley of my breasts, he doesn't see me blush. I must say, I am impressed with his girth. Size has never mattered to me, as my husband was quite big himself.
I feel the lace of my panties silkily slip down my thighs and I open my legs as far as they will go, the fabric of my knickers becoming strained and in danger of ripping. Peeta finally stops feasting on my breasts, ravishes my mouth one more time, and our eyes lock. Bravely, never more sure of anything in my life, I nod.
With one plunge, he takes me.
My irises become wide as saucers and I yelp, Peeta silencing my tiny yip with a hand clasped over my flushed and very kissed mouth. Slowly, and then faster and faster, he begins to work up a rhythm, thrusting into me and I snap my hips up to meet his in perfect time. Our sweaty bodies slam together with a delicious snapping sound; beneath us, the wood of the table creaks in protest as it sways and we sway with it. Soon Peeta replaces his hand with his mouth, swallowing my lips whole in a dizzying kiss. I swoon.
"Mmmmmmm... Hmmmmm... Huhhhhh... Uhhhh... Guhhhhh! Grrrruhhh! Ooohmmmmm..." I am making noises shamelessly, as I bounce up and down and wriggle against him. I feel the warmth building in my core, hot as one of the Baker's ovens, hotter and hotter. I feel a sudden tremor, a hum, as Peeta purrs through his kiss into my mouth:
"I love you, Katniss."
And since I have never had sex without love before, this makes me cleave in two. My walls clench around him.
"MMMMM-HMMMMMM!" I whimper, scream into Peeta's mouth, as my entire body vibrates violently through my orgasm. The Baker makes me cum so hard, I see stars, and I float very gently back to Earth, almost as if on the wings of a bird.
Another weak slam, two, and with a mighty grunt, Peeta spills all the seed he has into me.
We lay like that for a while on that tabletop, weak and shivering from the exertion. Though we have never felt so warm. My mind is in such a foggy haze that I barely register it when Peeta slurs, blurts out:
"Will you marry me, Katniss?"
My ravished mouth, plump and rouged from kissing him, unhinges into an astonished 'O'. Did Peeta Mellark just propose marriage to me? Yes, the Baker really did just ask me to marry him! My children and I would no longer have to live with Mother. I could live here, work here. Kiss and caress and make sweet love to someone who clearly loves me. A man who has been so lonely, and is really kind and gentle. A good father to Wheat, and I know he will be one to my four children. A good husband to Nata, though she was not the woman he wanted. A good man.
And so, turning his face to mine, cupping his cheek, I softly kiss him, the sound of our lips coming together echoing through the storeroom.
"Yes," I whisper with a nod.
When Peeta first offered to let me wear Nata's bequeathed wedding dress, I balked at first. The garment was a heirloom from her confectioner family, and besides, I didn't have nor need such fancy clothes to get married in when I wed Darius. But I try it on, anyway, and when Peeta tells me breathlessly that I look beautiful, I know I cannot refuse him.
We decide to compromise. When we stand before the district clerk and get married in the Justice Building, sign the marriage license, I wear my blue Reaping dress. When we perform our Toasting, in the back room of the Bakery over its little hearth, I wear Nata's wedding dress. Now my wedding dress. Lovingly, Peeta and I exchange rings and vows.
"Peeta Mellark, with this ring, I thee wed," I say softly, solemnly. Then we share the toasted bit of bread - it tastes of nuts and berries - as the minister smiles.
"I now pronounce this couple man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Peeta takes me in his arms and tilting my face, I permit my husband to kiss me. And kiss me he does - passionately. I close my eyes happily and return, deepen the kiss, holding him close and falling limp in Peeta's arms as Mother, Prim, Rory, our children and some of Peeta's friends all cheer. I kiss my second husband as indecently as I like, knowing that his mother will never see. The Witch does not approve of her youngest son taking another wife, least of all taking a Seam woman as his chosen bride. Peeta's father, the former Baker, was cowed by her into not attending our nuptials. Peeta seems more bothered about his parents' non-attendance than I am. "You would think she would not be so prejudiced," he tells me one night, as we cuddle and kiss by the fire. "You were the wife of the Head Peacekeeper."
I shrug. "I was still born Seam, Peeta. My babies are at least one-quarter Seam. Once Seam, always Seam. It doesn't bother me."
My family and I move into the Bakery not long after Peeta and I become engaged. Each of the four in my brood take the news that they will be gaining a stepfather with various degrees of enthusiasm. Ave, the baby, takes to calling Peeta 'Daddy,' much to Finn's horror. Finn would never call another man 'Daddy.' He will never forget the father that was torn from him, from us. I tell myself it will be OK. Peeta loves me. And I love him in return. After all, he is kind and good and gentle, and how can I resist that? Even more, he loves my children. And I get to become a new mother, to Wheat.
And speaking of new mothers, it is with great happiness that I one day feel my stomach swelling. Feel my breasts ballooning as they take in a mother's milk. Five years into my second marriage, I feel life with me. I am great with child.
And though I am already peaking at age 40, I decide to bear a child one last time. Peeta's child. I love children, my old ways having been long killed by motherhood, by welcoming my first baby twenty years before. And seeing the way that Peeta dotes on our shared brood of five - even Finn has come to grant him his respect - I want to give him this. I want to be the mother to Peeta's child. We are happy together, as happy as one can be in Panem.
It is on a dark and stormy night, much like the night that the Baker seduced me and we first made sweet love, that I give birth. 17 hours of agonizing, straining labor. Peeta holds my hand and kisses my brow, even as I cry for him and then curse him in the next breath. Even after I fall unconscious in hour 10. When I wake up, I am told the birth almost killed me, and were it not for my mother's impeccable skill, it very well may have.
Peeta's and my baby girl is born sleeping and still. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck, cutting off all oxygen. Not even Mother's desperate attempts at resuscitation can kick-start her quiet little heart. With tears in my eyes, I name Peeta's and my little girl, my fifth child - really the sixth of my brood - Peace. My husband and I bury our little girl in the same grave where Aven rests. Another senseless death. Peeta holds me gently in his arms as I weep, sob and wail for her that night.