Life, with a little spice Chapter 20
It's early in the morning the next day. Louise sits on the side of her bed and grabs a couple sugar cubes from the box she always keeps at hand on the stool acting as a bedside table. Skipping dinner altogether was clearly not a good idea – especially when she'd barely had any lunch before that, being too wound up by Ventrell's decision to call Atlantis after said lunch.
She then grabs her walkie talkie and calls Meeka to let him know she's awake. The doors whoosh open barely a minute later but it's not the young man who walks into her room. Ventrell ambles in self-confidently, grabs the only chair in the room and sits in front of her, handing her a box half-full of cookies she's made the day before.
"I'd much prefer to wait until I can cook breakfast," she tells him. "I've had sugar. I can walk to the kitchen."
He sighs. "The rules have changed, chef. I'm gonna let you go to the kitchen but only so you can prepare your own meals. Drake and I have agreed that whole experiment of letting you roam freely around the kitchen and mess hall was a bad idea," he informs her.
She looks up in alarm. "Why?" she cries out. "What did I do wrong?" she demands.
He pouts. "You have to understand, pumpkin. My men were getting way too addicted to your food. I can't let that happen. From now on, you're allowed thirty minutes tops in the kitchen three times a day. And no more lists. I decide what you get on the menu," he adds, making her flinch.
After almost two weeks of getting to know the whole crew and finding her bearings on board, she feels she's back to square one. She realizes food doesn't look as enticing when she cannot share it with other people. She's sorted out her recipes in her mind to find those she can cook or bake in a jiffy. There's no microwave oven on board so she's regretfully set aside her beloved mugcakes. Salad is an option if Ventrell agrees to buy fresh products but in a matter of days, she knows she'll have to revert to other options. Grilled cheese and melts soon become her best friends. That and French and cinnamon toasts, overnight oats and pancakes.
The rest takes too long to make but it pains her to see that tin box acting as a cookie jar void of treats so she prepares her doughs in the morning, nibbling at her toasts with one hand while she mixes with the other, and uses lunchtime to bake the cookies. By the third day, she inevitably finds small papers sporting smileys at the bottom of said box. It comforts her a little but it's not enough – not by a long shot – and by the end of the week, she's too depressed to even care what she eats or cooks. Sleeps eludes her most of the time but what worries her most is when she starts having nausea in the mornings and soon cannot even bear the idea of having anything to eat.
A week later, when Ventrell is told she's refused to leave her room to come to the kitchen for breakfast and he appears on her doorstep, he's shocked by the haggard look she sports and her obvious weight loss. Louise's forced diet and her active way of life have always prevented her from getting fat. With no possibility to exercise and her now constant nausea, she knows if she were still on Atlantis, she'd probably be in Jen's ward.
She cringes when she sees his appalled look that turns into fury. He walks up to her, making her walk back until her back hits the bay windows. She cowers under his glare. "What do you think you're doing?" he growls. "Trying to kill yourself?"
She shudders and lowers her gaze. She's too tired to fight back. "I can't eat. I can't stand the smell of food. Even thinking about it makes me want to throw up. I want to eat. I simply can't," she apologizes.
He grabs her by a shoulder and shakes her. "You need to, damn it, or you'll die! Have you thought about the baby?" he demands, making her eyes well up with tears.
"You think I don't know that? You think I'm a bad mother?" she accuses him.
He rolls his eyes and lets go of her. "I'm not saying that. I just don't get it. Are you trying to make me cave in and let you return to the kitchen?" he counters, narrowing his eyes at her accusingly.
She scoffs. "I told you already. I can't stand the thought of going near the kitchen."
He sighs in exasperation. "What do you need to start eating again?"
She shrugs despondently. "Things you can't give me."
He lifts his eyebrows. "Try me."
She steps aside and goes to stand on the other side of the room, putting the bed between them before she answers. "Fresh air. Fresh food. Stuff that won't make me wanna puke..." she answers hesitantly.
His jaw twitches but he doesn't explode. "What kind of stuff?" he insists, ignoring her demand for going outdoors for the time being.
She shakes her head wretchedly. "I dunno. Every pregnancy is different. You find what agrees with you by trial and error – smelling and tasting and seeing what happens."
He watches her intently for what seems like excruciating minutes before he suddenly turns on his heels and exits her room without a word. She breathes out and sits on the bed, feeling utterly downcast. What she hasn't told him is what worries her the most. The last time she was pregnant, her nausea had lasted almost until the end. She had lived on bran cereals, milk, red fruit – the only ones her body seemed to accept – and green beans, starting and finishing her day with mint green tea and a small square of chocolate. She'd had to take supplements and had even spent a couple weeks in hospital to balance her sugar level.
She closes her eyes, her elbows resting on her knees, and combs her hands through her hair, feeling a new wave of nausea building up at the back of her throat when the doors whoosh open again. Ventrell walks briskly to her and glares at her. "What?" he barks, seeing her look up in alarm.
"Nausea," she whispers.
"Need a bucket?" he snaps at her.
She winces. "I have nothing in my stomach. I just need it to pass, that's all." She looks at him expectantly, wondering what he can possibly want.
"I've come to inform you we'll reach a planet with a marketplace in two hours." He hands her a long woolen cape with a hood. "Get ready to be taken to the transport rings. And don't get your hopes high. I tried to find a place that is not part of your trading system agreements. We stay one hour tops – time for you to get some fresh air and find something you fancy."
Her eyes light up a little. "Thank you," she manages to say.
"Welcome," he grunts. He hands her a chocolate bar. "This is the last I have. Try to restore your strength a little. I don't want to have to carry you."
He's made her remove her jacket and jewelery – anything that would indicate who she is – and wear the cape with the hood on. Anyway, she's happy she has it because it's early fall and what strikes her first when the rings deposit them on the grassy meadow near the gate is the biting cold. Or maybe she's not used to the outdoors anymore after being cooped up first on Atlantis and then on the Goaul'd ship for so long.
She gasps but the breath of pure fresh air she takes makes her feel like she's finally really breathing again. "You're not gonna be sick, are you?" Ventrell worries.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "Feels good," she says quietly.
"Good. Before we head for the village, maybe we should go through the rules again," he tells her sternly.
She huffs. "I know them by heart, seeing as you told me about them three times already in the last half hour." She ticks them on her fingers. "I don't speak to people, only if you allow me first. You'll have your arm around me at all times. I ask first if I want to buy something. I don't try to run away..." She sighs. "Can we go now?"
He nods and takes hold of her elbow, pulling her towards the path leading to the village. She lets him, not really caring at the moment as she takes in the surroundings. She's never been here before and she thinks it's a pity because the whole place looks gorgeous in the autumn morning light. Soft hills with fruit trees and a snow-capped mountain in the distance. A creek furrowing along the meadow... She sighs with content and finally relaxes, realizing it was just the thing she needed.
They reach the village and she takes it all in – the wondrous smell of spices and herbs, the sight of all the different colors and shapes of fruit and vegetables piled high on the stands, the hustle and bustle of the street vendors and patrons, children playing right in the middle of the streets and all kinds of animals waiting to be bought and sold. How much she's missed all this!
She turns to Ventrell and gives him a tentative smile. "Thank you," she simply says.
He nods quietly and leads her to the first stalls. "What do you need?" he asks her, seeing her looking around.
She shrugs. "I don't know. I'm not sure what my stomach won't reject."
He motions for her to move closer to the stalls as a vendor hands her a piece of fruit to taste. She thanks him with a nod and takes a bite but shakes her head. "Too sweet," she explains. She looks up at Ventrell for permission and when he nods she adds: "Do you have berries?"
The vendor shakes his head but indicates another one down the street. "Go see my cousin. He's got many kinds. You might find what you're looking for."
They move on down the street and she does not recoil from the berries as she did with the other fruit though so he buys her a little of each kind and hands the baskets to the two guards who have been shadowing them.
"Need anything else?" Ventrell asks, looking around, and she sees he's on edge, his right hand hardly ever leaving his gun.
"It seems I can't digest milk but if I could find goat milk..." she asks cautiously. "And maybe some nuts..."
"Any reason you think they'll work better?" he wants to know, moving to yet another stall, his hand at her elbow.
She bites her bottom lip. "It worked the first time," she answers, her voice strained.
"The child you lost," he replies, stating the facts, making her know there's not much he doesn't know about her.
She nods, tears in her eyes. "I had a difficult pregnancy – to say the least."
"But it was worth it?" he prods.
She looks up at him. "You mean, were there complications?" She shakes her head. "No, there weren't really. But I was in a secure environment and within twenty minutes of the nearest hospital..." she replies, hoping it won't anger him.
He pouts. "Yes, well, we'll manage. After all, Atlantis is barely a gate away," he counters. "I didn't mean that, actually. I mean – were you happy to have the child?" he insists.
She looks surprised. "Of course! What is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs. "Don't know. Seeing as you want to abandon that one," he says, pointing at her belly, " I'm just wondering what's different this time..."
She gulps and falls silent. She starts walking again, her head bent, hoping the hood will hide the hot tears of hurt and shame streaming down her face. She brushes at them hurriedly and walks to a stall. He comes to stand by her side. "I was just stating the facts," he tells her.
She turns to him, eyes red with tears. "Why do you care?" she snaps.
He bends towards her and lowers his voice so only she can hear what he's saying. "I was abandoned at birth and I always wondered what went through my mother's head, that's all," he tells her, making her shudder.
She stutters. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know."
He scoffs. "Never told anyone about it. I'd like it to stay that way." He points at the bags of nuts on the table before him. "Want these?" he asks gruffly. "We need to get a move on. Been here too long already. Pick what you want," he tells her.
She pouts but grabs a few bags of almonds, knowing they contain healthy fats, can stabilize her blood sugar level and are a source of protein and magnesium. Plus, she knows tons of ways to use them in both salads and dessert. She then finds a place where she buys a jug of goat milk. She picks salad and dry fruit and turns to Ventrell. "I think I have everything I need," she thanks him.
He still looks pissed but nods. "Seeing as you've been on your best behavior," he compliments her, "I think you deserve a little treat." She looks up at him hopefully. He hands their errands to his men and sends them on their way. "Return to the ship," he tells them. "I'll manage. Tell Drake we'll be there shortly." He turns to Louise. "Let's find you some cocoa. If you're a good girl and regain weight, I'll let you have some."
She smiles and nods. They amble through the market, looking for the precious ingredient. She sees him relax and almost forgets she's just a prisoner and this might be her only chance to escape.
But then she sees someone she knows standing on the other side of the town square and suddenly, she cannot breathe. She's seized by both the fear of putting her life and those of the innocent by-standers at risk and the irresistible shred of hope she might get help.
She glances at Ventrell but he seems to be unaware of her change of mood so she glances towards the man who's now walking her way – one of the merchants who regularly trade with Atlantis. She fidgets and looks away, pondering her chances of escaping but there are too many people around for her to get away quickly. Ventrell would catch up with her in no time. But she can still pass on a message – let John know where they are. By now, people outside might be looking for her too, know she's been abducted. It's worth a try, especially if Ventrell doesn't suspect a thing.
She angles her head just so, so her head is hidden from Ventrell but the man will see her face under her hood. As she passes him, his head jerks up and he gapes at her, obviously not expecting to find her there. She shakes her head beseechingly. If Ventrell realizes she's been spotted, he'll probably go berserk and kill the guy to make sure he won't talk. The man seems to get her drift and nods in agreement. He doesn't slow down or turn to look at her but goes his own way, ambling towards the other end of the market.
The thing's happened so fast, she's still wondering about it – pondering if she's just dreamed it or if the man really saw what was happening – as they buy her cocoa and leave the village. She's not once made a move to take the bag from him, nor has she asked for anything else on the stall, though there were dozen of small wooden boxes containing her favorite spices littered on the vendor's table. "You're eerily quiet," Ventrell remarks. "And surprisingly reasonable..."
She looks up at him, as if she were just waking up from a dream. He bends towards her and looks her in the eye suspiciously. "I expected you to put up a tantrum to get some of those spices..." he baits her.
She shrugs despondently. "You would have said no. I'm not masochistic," she counters.
Ventrell smirks and opens his mouth to mock her but his hand drops to his gun instead and he grabs her shoulder and shakes her. "What have you done?" he demands angrily, his eyes darkening.
She hears rapid footsteps around the bend behind her and Ventrell is suddenly pulling her, forcing her to take it at a run. She stumbles and he catches her then calls the ship on his communicator and then things happen too fast for her to process everything but there's that roaring sound of a ship overhead and the metallic clanging of rings descending around them and shouts and gunfire and finally utter silence and she crumbles on the floor in the ring room. The only thing she grasps in that moment is the vision of Ventrell's rage directed at her and the flimsy memory of Cam's despair as he realizes he's gotten to her a split second too late.
Ventrell towers over her, pure rage glinting in his eyes, his fists at his sides as if ready to pound on her, and she cowers on the ground as he throws the bag of cocoa on the floor beside her. "You had to do it, didn't you? Why can't you understand you can't escape?" he yells at her. "Is that so difficult to grasp for that scatterbrain of yours?"
She cringes but does not answer, fueling his anger. "What will it take for you to understand there's no way out of here?" He squats in front of her. "Answer me? 'Cause right now, all I want is feed you to the Wraith," he growls.
"I'm sorry?" she whispers tentatively, her mind refusing to let go of the vision of Mitchell, standing just a few feet away from her – a sight for sore eyes even though all this is gone and she knows she's deep into it.
"You're sorry?!" he sneers. He stands and turns to his men who are cautiously observing the scene, some smirking but most wincing at their boss's anger which is bound to have repercussions on the whole crew in the hours to come. "She's sorry!" he mocks her, waving at her spitefully.
He gets in her face. "Well, you'd better be because you're gonna have to pay for this."
He turns to his 2IC who's watching the whole scene with a satisfied smirk. "You're gonna tell me I had it coming, ain't ya', Drake?" Ventrell baits him.
Drake shrugs as if bored. "Naw, why would I? You tried to be considerate, which was noble of you. She should have played fair. She didn't. Her loss."
Ventrell nods at him. "I'm glad we agree on that."
He turns to Louise again. "You know what? I'm done being noble, as Drake puts it. You think you can play me, lady? Well, too bad for you," he says coolly, tilting his head and sneering. "From now on, you're going to learn what it means to be a prisoner on my ship."
He motions to two of his men. "Get her to the brig. That's where she'll live from now on."
She gasps, earning herself a few sniggers from the men around her, except Muron who looks sorry and a little worried.
"Surely, boss..." he protests though weakly, knowing he's risking his life doing so.
Ventrell mocks him. "Ah, chief, I know how much you enjoyed her time among us – the cookies she lavishly fed you all – but that time is over. She'll stay in the brig until I decide what to do with her."
He looks at her. "I'll have your things sent there. And don't worry. You're worth much more alive and well than dead or sick so I'll make sure you get some of the food we bought today. Three meals a day but no more trips to the kitchen. You're gonna learn what it means to cross me."
He turns on his heels and leaves the room, motioning for Drake and Munro to follow him, leaving her with the two stern-looking guards she barely knows.
TBC
Extract from Louise's Cookbook
Fast and Easy Cookies
One of the easiest recipes I have in my cookbook. I can whisk them up in no time. They're foolproof as long as you allow them to chill long enough before baking them.
1 egg & 1 yolk
3 cups (450g) flour, sifted
1 tsp baking soda
1 & 1/2 cup brown sugar (260g)
chocolate chips or butterscotch chips or whatever dried fruit you like
3/4 tsp salt
vanilla extract
1 cup (225g) shortening or room temperature butter, according to which one you fancy
|Chill one hour at least.
Bake 7 to 10 mn at 375°F.