Jennifer had been…well the only word that came to mind was "cranky" but Duke was not going to be the man to call her that. And she had been that way for the passed week. Duke understood why, of course, she was well into her third trimester and she was incredibly uncomfortable in her own skin. Add in that it was Christmas and she'd told him that Christmas had been hard for her since her mother passed, and it was just a perfect storm of unhappy.
Her feet were too swollen for her to do much of anything besides waddle (and god save you if you use that word) around the Rouge between the couch and the bed. She did weak laps around the Rouge when she could, but it wasn't as often as she'd like, and they weren't nearly as long as the walks she used to go on with Little John, her behemoth Great Dane that she'd acquired in her year away. Duke had been surprised that Little John wasn't more antsy about not going for the same length of physical activity, but the only thing that seemed to be making him anxious was Jennifer.
Little John had been glued to her side since she entered her seventh month, just constantly sniffing at her and keeping her constantly in his field of vision. If she moved or shifted for anything, Little John was there, watching her closely.
It was Christmas eve, and while Duke hated that he had to leave her, the Gull, it had been decided, would stay open until at least 7 that night–not that there would be a lot of foot traffic just before a major holiday, but nothing could be taken for granted in a town like Haven.
She was already on the couch when he walked out to the state room to take off, and she was pouting.
He braced himself on the back of couch with one hand to lean over her as she grabbed at the lapels of his jacket. Little John shifted a bit next to Jennifer, almost turning defensive, as she asked, "Do you really have to go?"
He sighed and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, "It's not for very long, I'll be back in time for A Charlie Brown Christmas. I promise."
She glowered at him weakly as he kissed her forehead, "I'm gonna hold you to that."
He chuckled at her and left, a begrudging, "Have a good day" following him out.
She sighed. She tried to read, she tried get comfortable, she tried to walk, to eat, to bake, to do something productive. But there just wasn't anything she could do, and Little John certainly wasn't helping.
Finally, about mid-afternoon, and after trying all those things again she just screamed.
Little John jumped to his feet in a panic and looked from her belly to her face.
"Dammit Little John!" She yelled, "This is…!"
She trailed off and just held her head in her hands for a moment. She wanted to not be pregnant anymore, she wanted to be useful, she wanted to do Christmas things like her mother used to do–she wanted her mom.
She was crying before she fully realized it, and by the time she did, there was no stopping it.
She wanted her mom, and to go home for Christmas, and to take Duke with her. She wanted to show him all their traditions, she wanted her mom to meet her grandchild, she wanted things to…be right.
This is unfair.
Little John whimpered quietly next to her before taking a step to her and licking her face nervously. Jennifer just wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his fur for what felt like a long time. She knew why she'd been snappish and cranky for the last week, and for one moment, she just wanted to miss her mom.
After she'd cried herself out, a song began to play in her mind, one of her mother's favorite Christmas hymns.
"In the bleak midwinter…" she sang quietly to herself, running her fingers through Little John's fur.
During the second verse, the baby kicked. And Jennifer sighed. The baby kicked again and she rolled her eyes, mumbling, "Alright, alright, I get it."
She stood back up as best she could and made her way to the kitchen.
Even without her mother to be physically there celebrate one of her favorite holidays, Jennifer remembered enough of the traditions and love that she could bring her mom back in some small part. So it didn't matter that it wasn't fair that she wasn't there, what mattered was that Jennifer could do something–however small it felt to her–to bring her back.
When Duke came home that night, it was the first time he'd seen her smile in weeks.