Alrighty then, I think we can all say Elizabeth isn't ecstatic to see Beckett.
Just to reassure you all, I am still alive, but I haven't written this story for a while.
Ahem, shall we?.....
Elizabeth stirred, the discomfort in her belly growing in the dawn light. The bed was more uncomfortable than ever, and the events of yesterday played themselves in her mind.
'Oh Dear God, let that have been a dream.' she groaned as she rolled out of bed.
That was a mistake, no sooner was she upright did she bend double and vomit copiously into the bedside bowl.
'Eugh' she mumbled, wiping her mouth. She needed something to eat.
Stumbling into the kitchen Elizabeth washed out the bowl and found some bread which she buttered and ate. It wasn't exactly fine cuisine, but it was the best she could deal with this morning.
A movement outside caught her eye, rushing to the window she saw Cutler Beckett sat on the pile of logs near her house. The sunlight was playing on his white hair and his sweat, even this early in the day, was making his thin cotton shirt cling to him, Elizabeth could see the arch of his back even from here. He was whittling something from a block of wood with a penknife.
It would have been a lovely image if Elizabeth's vision wasn't blood red.
Every possible hate welled up in her mind, a thousand insults could not express what she felt.
It wasn't a dream! Damn him!!!!!!!
All the things she could have screamed jammed in her brain, she couldn't express a single one, so she found one that she uttered rapidly.
'Ratbastardweaselfuck' she breathed, marching to the door and flinging it open.
Beckett looked up sharply. He had slept on the cold ground all night and was not in a pleasant mood.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes were still bleary but had a crystalline radiance in them, her cheeks were pink and her pregnant belly swelled out perfectly. Under different circumstances she would look a vision of loveliness and perfect young motherhood. Well, she would, if she didn't look as though she would murder him.
Quickly he shoved the block of wood he had been whittling behind him and put the knife in his pocket, praying it would not give her ideas.
'Er....good morning?' he asked tentatively. Surprised to see me, my dear?
'What...are you....still...doing here?' she asked slowly, as if she would explode if she stopped thinking about the upcoming sentences.
'I plan to see my endeavor through Miss Turner,' he said calmly, 'Otherwise I could never forgive myself'
'Oh, poor you.' she snarled, mock sympathy on her face. 'I had forgotten you had a little task on your mind.'
'No need for that Madam'
'Beckett, I am eight months pregnant, I'm uncomfortable and very angry, do you honestly think it wise to stay within punching reach?'
Beckett blinked, unsure about how to react to this threat. Like a snarling tigress protecting her young.....
Instead of running away like a sensible person, Beckett retaliated.
'Turner, I slept on a cold hard ground, I'm hungry and I would really like to go home!'
Elizabeth smiled warmly. Beckett was curious, what was she planning?
She came closer to him, and placed a hand gently on his chest.
'What are you doing? Miss Turner please!' Beckett spluttered, she was too close and smiling at him in an all-too-familiar way.
Her face was inches away from his, her other hand was also on his chest. Beckett truly was astonished, surely this wasn't the same woman?
Her lips were extremely close, Beckett could feel her breath on his lips.
Oh, to hell with it, he thought wildly, and he closed his eyes and leant forward.....
He was met with a forceful push in his chest, Beckett reeled backward and did an awkward somersault off the log pile, landing heavily on his side.
'Go home then!' She snapped, turning on her heel and flouncing back towards the cabin. Beckett scrambled up, rubbing the bruise that was forming on his side.
'Ow...' he breathed. That was uncalled for. A small blush of embarrassment spread across his features, giving him the look of an indignant raspberry.
'Yeah well,' he called, like a petulant child 'I'm still hungry'.
Elizabeth didn't respond, but as Beckett stood up a chunk of bread came from nowhere and collided with his forehead.
She can't stay mad forever can she? No, she can't, not with my plan to get in her good books...
Just to annoy her, he picked up the bread and nibbled at it. He heard her growl from inside the cabin, but he straightened his coat, picked up the block of wood and began to whistle merrily as he resumed his whittling.
Oh dear, Beckett with a plan, we all know that's not good.
Next chapter: It's a long chapter I'm afraid...Tragedy strikes! What is Beckett whittling? Can Elizabeth stay mad? Does Beckett has a sweet side? And why does the midwife need buckets?
More soon my lovelies! ^.^