Thank you to all those reading and also those commenting. We're drawing to the close of the story now, likely only a couple chapters left. Hope you enjoy.
"So, Woolly seems like a good friend," you say as the two of you walk through the park. It's not raining this evening, but Helena has her arm linked with yours much the same as she does when it is raining and you have to keep close to share an umbrella. The fact that wants to be close to you regardless of weather thrills you.
"Yes, he's a dear friend," she agrees. "He's practically family to me."
"Do you have family?" you ask curious. Helena has never mentioned family before, and you have wondered why she never mentions them. But when you feel her pull away slightly, you wish you never mentioned it. "I'm sorry, Helena, I don't mean to pry. I know family isn't always a pleasant subject. I'm not really close to my own," you ramble on. "I mean, things are better than they were when I was growing up, but I'm closer to my best friend Pete than I am to my own sister."
Helena smiles at you. "Something else we have in common then." She sighs. "My parents have been gone many years, but I have an older brother, Charles. We're not close and I can only imagine what he would have to say if he knew I was pregnant."
"I'm sorry, Helena," you say squeezing her arm to offer comfort.
"It's quite alright, he's not exactly the sort of person I want to be close to, not like Woolly or you," she smiles drawing you closer to her again much to your relief.
"So you've lived on your own for a long time then?"
"Mostly. I had a teacher, Caturanga," she says softly, "a gentler soul I've never known. He was kind enough to take me in while I finished school. He was a gifted musician and it was because of him, of his teaching that I earned enough scholarships to pay my way through school. Even after I moved out of his home into my own flat, we met regularly every week for dinner and to play music," she smiles fondly at the remembrance.
"He was a dear man and I miss him terribly," she says softly as she meets your inquisitive eyes. "He passed away almost eight months ago. I was quite distraught I'm afraid…and on one particularly lonely night, I sought comfort in the arms of a stranger," she says her dark eyes boring into yours. "It was a physical attraction in a time of need, nothing more. And…several weeks later, that night long forgotten, I learned I was pregnant," she sighs.
"That must have been difficult for you."
"I was quite terrified," Helena agrees. "And ill every morning and I felt more alone than ever, until I heard Christina's heartbeat for the first time," she smiles.
"Hummingbird wings," you nod.
"What?" Helena asks confused.
"Ah, I mean, when I heard her heartbeat for the first time, it beat so fast, like hummingbird wings," you try to explain.
Helena looks at you amused and you grasp the back of your neck, willing yourself not to blush, knowing it's a losing battle.
"Yes, well, hearing her heartbeat so fast, like hummingbird wings," she grins at you, "was the moment I realized this baby would be my family, is my family," she finishes softly, her hand laying protectively over her growing stomach.
"I'm glad you have each other now," you reply softly.
"Yes, and I'm glad to have you in my life, Myka, however short a time it may be," she says her eyes shining. "Honestly, I don't know what I would have done without you these last couple months. The rent of my old flat raised was raised and with medical bills beginning to accumulate, I knew I'd never be able to continue to afford living there. Then I saw your advertisement, quite by chance in a discarded newspaper left on a table in a teashop I frequent, and now here we are," she says smiling.
"Here we are," you agree. "It's funny the way things have a way of working out sometimes."
"And that you're a chef in addition is quite the coup. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you enough for all the wonderful meals you've prepared."
"It's my pleasure, Helena, truly. I enjoy cooking for you, and there's nothing better as a chef than to cook for someone who appreciates food the way you do."
"Even with my odd cravings?" Helena teases.
"Even that," you agree with a smile.
The day has been long one for you, a case of too many cooks in the kitchen, and you felt pulled in so many directions it's enough to make you want nothing more than to collapse on the sofa with Helena by your side. You release a sigh as you fit the key into the lock of your apartment, knowing that Helena will be inside and the two of you will spend a quiet evening at home together relaxing.
Having taught potential chefs for the last couple months, you're well aware of the smell that assaults your senses as you step inside the apartment is the distinct aroma of something burning.
Dropping your satchel on the sofa, you hastily run towards the kitchen calling out Helena's name frantically, relieved when you find her in the kitchen, calmly setting cookies onto a plate.
"Helena, are you all right?" you ask trying to calm your breathing from the panic you felt seconds before.
"I'm fine, darling," she assures and you notice a streak of flour across her cheek.
"What is all this?" you ask looking around you to see bowls and baking sheets, flour and sugar strewn about the counter haphazardly.
"I baked chocolate chip cookies for you, Myka," Helena beams rather proud of herself. "As my way of thanking you for always preparing such lovely, and delightful meals for me."
You smile at that, looking down at the plate of a half dozen cookies, slightly misshapen and partially burned; they look perfect to your eyes. "Only six?" you tease.
She frowns. "Well, there were more…" she falters…"but the ones that were burned beyond being edible I tossed and the others…I already ate," she says ducking her head in remorse.
You lift her chin to look into tear-filled eyes.
"Hey," you speak softly, "what are the tears for?"
"Oh, Myka, I've disappointed you, haven't I?"
You shake your head, baffled by her reaction. "Not at all," you reply.
"I felt this overwhelming desire to do something for you, to bake those cookies and I couldn't even manage something that should be so simple, and what I did manage to salvage, I ate most of them before you arrived home," she says shaking her head.
You take her into your arms then and just hold her as you feel your shoulder become wet with her tears. "Helena, listen to me," you speak gently into her hair. "I'm never disappointed by you. I think it was a lovely gesture to bake me cookies and I'm not at all upset some of them burned or that some of them never made it onto the plate," you can't help but laugh a little and are relieved when Helena does the same.
"You're eating for two, so there's no need to feel remorse in eating a few cookies. And this feeling you have now to bake and to tidy things up, it's normal. You're nesting."
Helena raises her head from your shoulder to look at you critically. "I'm what?" she asks.
Suddenly you feel a slow heat fill your cheeks and travel down to your chest. You're…nesting," you repeat, barely able to get the words out with your embarrassment.
She smirks at you then. "And just how do you know this?"
You try desperately to remove yourself from her grasp, but she is surprisingly strong, despite her slightly smaller frame and holds tight to you, her arms gliding about your waist in a gesture you would consider intimate if her eyes weren't looking through you in such a way you felt your soul on display. You try looking away.
"Myka," she persists and you are helpless to look at her.
"I may have read a book about pregnancy," you admit as you feel your blush grow hotter under her intense stare.
"A book?" she questions with a raised eyebrow and you know what she's insinuating.
"Maybe a few books…several…" you find yourself admitting. Her eyes don't leave yours and finally you confess, "Ten books," you whisper, finally dropping your gaze.
"Why would you do that?" she asks baffled. "I've only read a couple myself."
You shrug your shoulders as if in defeat. "I just wanted to know what to expect…"
"When I'm expecting," she finishes with a smile.
"Yeah, something like that," you mumble.
She frowns and now you worry you've done something to upset her.
"I'm sorry, Helena, I didn't mean any harm…"
"Shhh," she silences you as she brings a fingertip against your lips. It takes all your willpower not to kiss the tip of it, something you're sure would not be a good idea when whatever this is between you is still so delicate.
"Myka Bering," she speaks softly, "this feeling I have, this desire to…take care of you…it's not because of something to do with my pregnancy. It has everything to do, however, with the fact that I've fallen in love with you."
You can feel your eyes widen in complete shock. Of all things you thought she would say her declaration of love for you, no matter how much you desired to hear it, is not something you thought you'd ever hear from her perfect lips.
"You have?" you whisper.
"Irrevocably so," she says, glancing down to your lips then back to meet your eyes.
You want to tell her all the many ways in which you've fallen in love with her. That first phone call, her voice soft and inquisitive, followed by your first meeting in the apartment as you discovered your shared love of literature. You fell in love with her watching her eat cereal for dinner, and the way raindrops glitter in her hair. You love her as she moans over a good meal and for her odd cravings of ice cream. You love her for the way music just flows from her in the way she commands the bow and strings of her violin with gentle fingers and the way she moves to the beat of a song. You fell in love with her as you watched the beauty and awe of her face over that first kick and the indescribable joy when she learned she was having a girl. You love her the way she falls asleep after dinner, head resting in your lap and you love her now, her eyes soft and warm with flour on her cheek.
You reach out then to gently trace your thumb along her cheek, brushing away the flour. "I love you too, Helena, so much," you breathe and Helena smiles at you before leaning up to press her soft lips against yours in a breathless kiss.
You feel her arms glide around your neck and you naturally slide your arms around her waist, pulling her into you as much as you can with a six-month pregnancy between you.
You hear and feel her moan as you slip your tongue into her mouth, eagerly seeking hers in a kiss that is becoming more heated by the second. Her hands slip into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.
Before you quite realize what is happening, Helena breaks the kiss to take your hand, leading you silently through the living room and down the short hallway to her bedroom. Your heart thunders so loudly you're sure she must hear it too. As you step into the bedroom, her hands deftly remove your shirt; your hands by contrast tremble as you try unsuccessfully to unbutton her blouse. Gentle fingers brush yours aside as Helena unbuttons it for you, her dark eyes never wavering from yours as she does so. You watch stunned as she removes the blouse from her slender shoulders, and there she is before you, her skin pale and freckled, she is perfect to your eyes.
You must stare too long however because Helena questions softly, "Myka?" and you can hear the worry in her voice. You inwardly curse yourself, because as self-conscious as you may be, Helena is more so, with her pregnancy so blatantly obvious without clothing to mask it.
You step forward then, slowly and take her into your arms. "You're so beautiful, Helena," you whisper into her hair and are relieved to hear her shaky laugh.
"All of me?" she still questions.
"All of you," you readily agree as once more your lips meet hers in a heated kiss, your hands gently cradling her abdomen. Helena sighs at your touch and you break the kiss only to roam further down heated skin, your lips latching onto her pulse point and gently sucking the smooth skin there. You feel Helena's hands tighten in your hair as you slowly move downward, trailing the edge of her bra and licking at a freckle on the edge of her breast. She moans then, the sound of it making your stomach coil pleasantly with anticipation.
Slowly, Helena manages to remove the remaining clothing between you and you watch as she settles back onto the bed, her hand reaching out for yours. You take it willingly, and guide yourself onto the bed next to her, careful of her.
Helena sees your trepidation. "I won't break, love," she whispers into your ear.
"I know," you say, and you do because you've read all the books, and you're nothing if not a thorough reader, paying particular attention to sex and pregnancy, just in case your dreams actually came true as they seem to be now. "I just…I don't want to hurt you or the baby," you speak apologetically.
Helena smiles then. "Just touch me, Myka, please."
So you do. You lift your hand to gently caress her cheek, dipping to capture her lips with yours once more; pulling back only to take in the sight of her laid bare before you and the gasp that escapes from your lips surprises you both. She smiles at you then, warm and inviting, her hands slip around your shoulders, pulling you close to her, into her.
Soon only the sounds of soft gasps and pleas can be heard over the beating of your heart as you make love with the woman you love, as you make love with Helena.
Afterwards, long after you and Helena have mapped out every curve, dip and hollow of each other's skin, Helena has succumbed to sleep, exhausted from your endeavors. You watch her silently, brushing a strand of hair from her face and you know now, you never want to leave her. Never leave them.
Carefully, so not to wake Helena, you move from her side to gently lay your head against her bare stomach, smiling when you feel the vibration of a kick against your cheek. "I love your mother so much, little one, and I love you, Christina," you whisper brushing a soft kiss to where you feel movement.
You're startled when you feel a hand tangle in your curls and turn to find Helena's dark eyes fill with tears as she looks at you. Her hand in your hair tightens briefly as she tugs you forward, a silent plea you answer as you move up her body.
"Myka…" she whispers, your name and it is all she manages to say, all she needs to say, before she is pulling you down to her again, her lips finding yours allowing her fervent kiss to speak all she feels for you when words so obviously fail her. You can only cling to her and deepen the kiss in silent answer.