VI. The Tell-Tale Heart
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt, I love.
-William Shakespeare
Like Maria had the feeling it was her turn, so did Judy. The red-headed wife of Caleb Danvers had had to leave work early yesterday because of a vomiting bout. Her breasts had felt sore the past week, and she just felt…different. Judy stayed home today too, feeling a fatigue (not to mention the nausea) that was so heavy the alarm clock didn't even wake her up. So when Caleb came home after work, they took the EPT test together.
The applicator stick was on the bathroom counter. Caleb stood behind Judy with his arms around her, her hands on his forearms.
"Do you think it's our turn, Caleb?" she asked quietly.
"I think so, honey."
And there it was, a plus sign. Silent tears fell from Judy's eyes, obscuring the indicator that there was now a baby inside her. Caleb held her to him, his chest filling with awe. Before he found out the truth about his father when he was a senior in high school, and when his mother constantly harangued him about addiction to his Power, he often thought, in the deep recesses of his mind, that never having children was the best thing. Why bring an innocent child into the world that would have to contend with what his father did?
Then Caleb learned that his father, William Danvers III, had not become selfishly addicted, but rather double-damned himself for killing an illegitimate Keeper for threatening his family. Addiction wasn't in his blood, there was no genetic predilection for it. And when he met Judy, fell in love with her, he couldn't imagine not having children with her.
Judy sniffed, smiling. "We need to call our family."
Caleb nodded. "You ready to hear yells of joy?"
"Oh, definitely."
xx
"Sweetie!" Evelyn crooned the next day at the gathering. She kissed her son's cheek with tears in her eyes. "I'm so happy for you. I'm going to be a grandmother twice over."
He chuckled. "Thanks, Mom."
Then she turned to Judy and gave her a big hug and kiss. "When are your parents getting in?"
"Tomorrow," she replied.
"Time to have dinner?"
Judy nodded. "They'd love to."
"Ah, Caleb!" Reid exclaimed as he walked in, arms open. "How does it feel? Crazy, right?"
He rolled his eyes, accepting the man-hug that was rife with loud slaps on the back. Then it was Rowan's turn, with no back slapping. A lot of hugs were shared, and it was a pretty large gathering. Chase and Ginger showed up, Ginger gave hugs, Chase gave a handshake.
Eventually, the men and women had branched off. Women in Rowan's old apothecary, guys in the den. Evelyn had a catering appointment and had to leave early.
"Well, know Rowan can give you your jar of stretch mark cream," Maria said.
"Oh, yeah!" Rowan said. "Judy, I will get that to you. I don't know where my head is these days. It's right there in my apothecary."
"So, are you looking forward to getting really fat?" Maria asked, getting laughs.
"Um…" Judy hedged with an awkward grin. She remembered when she really used to be fat back in junior high and high school. It had made her a recluse with only Millicent for a friend.
"It's all right, Judy," Hope said, "you'll get your figure back afterwards."
"What about you Ginger?" Maria inquired. "Are you showing yet?" Her eyes dipped to Ginger's middle which was obscured by a peasant blouse.
"Not much. My jeans are getting a little tight though."
"Eh, yeah, mine too," Rowan commiserated.
xx
Since work was being had the next day, they departed a couple of hours later. The ride home for Ginger and Chase was fraught with silence. The obvious happiness of the others' impending births was a stark contrast to Chase's fear and unwillingness to believe that having this baby was a good thing.
Chase had not even wanted to come when Rowan called Ginger and invited them over to the Danvers' estate for a very casual congratulations get-together. But he'd been in the room with Ginger when Rowan called, and saw the glow of excitement in her eyes; Chase couldn't bring himself to say no.
"So," Ginger said, "did you guys have a nice time?"
He pulled a wry grin. "What, do you mean did we pour our hearts out to each other?" At the ensuing silence he glanced over at her, realizing the joke was out of place. "Sorry…Gin."
She shrugged.
"No, it was…okay," he said, hoping to salvage the moment.
Ginger looked at him hopefully. "Yeah?"
He nodded. "We're still not best friends or anything though." This elicited a small laugh.
Ginger reached over and took his hand. "That's all right. One step at a time, right?"
"Right." They continued to drive for a bit before Chase asked, "Hey, how about I come see you at lunch tomorrow? Take you out?"
"Hmm…" Ginger bit her bottom lip uncertainly.
"What?"
"Well…it's Wednesday. Jeffrey and I have lunch on Wednesdays."
Ugh, bile curdled in his stomach. "He does know you're married right?"
"Yes! We're just friends."
"Does he know that?"
"Of course he knows that. We have a lot in common."
Chase's jaw ticked. "Like what?"
"We like the same movies, he quotes them too; we also read the same books."
"We read the same books," Chase interjected. "And I watch the movies you watch."
"I know, Chase," Ginger tried to explain. "But he's a…friend. Different."
"Different how?" His mind was reeling. "How…How did this even happen? He just approached you one day and what? Oh, hey, let's be friends." He rambled on, "Ginger, you don't know guys-"
"I know guys!" she exclaimed indignantly.
"You haven't been friends with a lot of them. They may seem like they enjoy the platonic thing, but inside they're…"
"They're what?" she prodded after he paused.
"They're not thinking good things! What do you even know about him? Do you even know his last name?"
Silence.
"You don't know his last name?" he snapped.
Her lips pursed at his biting tone and she went mute. Crossing her arms over her chest she looked the other way. A minute later Chase heard her sniff.
"Gin…" he warned.
Another sniffle.
He emitted a sharp sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
Ginger shook her head, refusing to look at him. No apologies would be accepted at this moment.
xx
His wife had been strangely quiet the ride home. Hope wasn't a hyperactive talker, but anything he'd said had only been returned by monosyllabic answers. Pogue was pretty sure her work day had been all right, and up until the call from Caleb her mood was pretty centered, too. So what was wrong now?
Out of the corner of his eye while they got ready for bed, he observed her. She tossed her clothing right on the floor which wasn't like her. Then she went through her nightly ablutions, putting on lotion, combing her hair back. She appeared distracted as she did so.
Hope walked out of the room, a minute later he heard her banging pots and pans in the kitchen. All right, Pogue had let her have her moments of silence. At the very beginning of their relationship there was a hush, unasked and unanswered questions that'd almost prevented them from being with one another. Then there was that whole debacle with Chet, and Pogue's enormous jealousy. So Hope and Pogue knew the importance of communication more than most couples.
Now he stood on the periphery of the small kitchen, watching his wife scrubbing dirty dishes like the scum of the earth was stuck to them.
"Babe?" Pogue spoke. "Scrub any harder you'll wear a hole through 'em."
Hope's back went erect as his comment and for a pregnant pause only the sound of running water filled the room.
Pogue approached casually, reached over the sink and turned the water off. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, letting the crook of his fingers leave a trail down her cheek. She was beautiful.
"You want to tell me what's wrong?"
Her iron stance slumped, she threw the scouring pad in the sink with dismissal. Hope didn't want to sound petty, but was unable to feel what she was feeling.
"Nothing," she finally said. "Just too much baby talk."
His brow rose. "You're tired of babies?"
"No! I'm not tired of babies." Out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband tip his head inquisitively, patiently. "Tired of not…having one," she mumbled.
"What?"
She exhaled. "Tired of not having a baby," she repeated more clearly. Now that the confession was out, the words poured over. "I mean, when's it going to be my turn?" Round, dark eyes implored her husband. "When's it going to happen?"
"It's going to happen, Hope," he told her with surety.
"Well, when?" she demanded.
"Soon."
"How soon?" Hope turned away, feeling hot tears gather in her eyes. Pogue touched her shoulder. "I want to talk about how my jeans aren't fitting, and stretch mark cream!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. She glared at him. "I want to wake up in the middle of the night and tell you to get me something disgusting like pickles and ice cream!"
Pogue couldn't help but chuckle at that.
"It's not funny!"
"I'm not laughing at you, Hope." He took her head in his hands. "It will happen. I promise."
She made a sound of ambiguity, falling against her husband's chest and letting him comfort her. "Promise?"
"Yeah." He kissed the top of her head. "Cross my heart with pickles and ice cream on top."
She laughed. "You know, there's only one way to make good on your promise."
"How's that?"
"Make love to me."
xx
"This one?" Rowan pointed to the wallpaper in the baby magazine.
Reid's face scrunched in disapproval. "No, there's purple in it."
Rowan looked back at him. They were all comfy in their big bed. Reid sat up against the headboard with his fingers laced on her tummy, and Rowan sat between his legs. Erwin, Tippy and Bruce Lee dominated part of the right side of the bed, snuffling and snoring in a pile.
"What's wrong with purple? It's a dark purple."
"It's still purple, Row. I vetoed the purple in this room when we were choosing the stuff."
Rowan half-smiled. "True, true."
Reid turned the page. "Eh, that's not so bad." It was a pattern of blue, green and white stripes.
She tipped her head to side, considering. "We'll come back to that one." She dog-eared the page. "Maybe the room should have a theme."
"A theme?"
She nodded. "Pass me that magazine."
Reid ruffled in the small stack next to him. "This one?" She concurred and they began to look through that one. "Jeez, these are like sets from a play."
Rowan sighed. "Yeah. Who knew designing a baby's room was so…"
"Filled with options?"
"There we go." Reid kissed her neck and she let out a giggle. "Well, maybe furniture would be easier right now. It's probably better to pick a design to match the furniture than the other way around."
"Makes sense. But it's not like I can't use my powers to change something." The blond Son managed to control himself very nicely over the years. Certainly he used them here and there, fixing a leak, blown fuse; things that might have required an expert had he cared to call one.
"A little something," she said, flipping to the furniture section of the catalog.
The couple pointed here and there, making notes to come back to a certain item, no set-in-stone decisions just yet.
"How was Chase?" Rowan asked.
"Hmm…kind of quiet." Having Chase among them hadn't been so bad. Reid hadn't felt any animosity; he certainly felt none within himself. Yet there was a distinctive wholeness around them, like the fifth Son had come home and the circle of the Covenant was complete.
"Uncomfortable quiet?"
"Maybe that." They shifted; Reid got out of bed and set the catalogs on a chair, then got back in bed with Rowan. "He might have joined in if he was more excited about Ginger being pregnant."
Rowan frowned. "I wish he was. It's bringing Ginger down, but I didn't want to ask her at the moment."
And Reid saw it was bringing his wife down too. Oh, no. He knew she was an extremely caring person, but he could not let her get so wrapped up in Ginger and Chase's pain that it began to affect her mentally and physically. Reid knew one of the causes of premature birth was high levels of stress. Not to mention the hypertension she was already afflicted with.
"Row."
"I know. I know," she said, then sighed. "Despite that…I think Chase will come around."
He cocked a brow. "You do?"
"You don't?"
He shrugged. "You'd think he'd at least accept it by now. Doesn't he remember what happened last time he let his bullshit get in the way of his relationship with her?" Said 'bullshit' had led Ginger to being abducted by a Libero and Loons after a fight with Chase who had then called Rowan for help to get Ginger back.
Rowan scooted closer to him. She was lying on her side because it seemed to be one of the more comfortable positions right now; Reid lay facing her with his arm over her waist.
"He's scared. But his heart will win out in the end. He loves her too much."
Reid still wasn't sure. "Yeah, he loves her too much. He can act like he accepts it, but what happens when his kid grows up and senses that his father believes he's some bad seed? That'd probably mess with a kid's head."
"I believe he'll get passed that too."
Reid couldn't help but half-grin ironically. "That's you, Row. Believing the best in people. That's what I love about you." He kissed her.
"Do you think you could help him?" she asked.
"Who, Chase?"
"Yeah. You have a way of knocking sense into people. You can talk to men in a way that women can't and get through to them. I think Chase might let your words sink in a bit more than a woman's because you're on the same side he is. Look how you interact with Aaron. He'd never admit it but you've helped him in a lot of ways."
Reid laughed. "Oh, hell. Aaron's a dickhead."
"Pfft. You guys like each other." Rowan waved off her husband's profanities. "Quibbling like old men every time you get together." Reid rolled his eyes, but Rowan went on. "Please?"
He pulled a face of utter dislike before groaning theatrically. "Fine."
"Thank you. This is good karma."
"Karma," he scoffed.
"I love you." Rowan kissed him. Softly, then deeply, letting him rise with her which didn't take long. The love making was gentle, yet didn't fail to bring them to the peaks of ecstasy.
xx
It was about four in the morning when Rowan woke up. Something that didn't feel right with her body. When she came to full consciousness she began to feel a subtle cramp in her lower abdomen. She got out of bed, into the bathroom and saw smeared blood between her thighs. Still wet. At the realization, like a knell, another pang hit her.
Shuffling back into the bedroom, she woke Reid.
"Wuh?" he said.
"Reid, I'm…bleeding."
Now he was fully awake. "What?" he repeated, even though he'd heard her. Her t-shirt, well, his, was partly lifted and he saw the blood. "Does it hurt?" Okay, he'd read about this, too.
"I have a cramp," she replied, trying to stay calm.
But although she was outwardly calm, there must have been some deep-seeded panic within her because a half-asleep Hunter popped up in their bedroom, prostrate on the floor because he'd been sleeping with Gabriel just a minute ago.
"What the hell?" he mumbled.
"Row's bleeding," Reid announced as if Hunter dropping in unexpectedly was a normal occurrence…which it usually was.
Like the soldier he was, emergencies had him alert in nanoseconds. Hunter knew he wasn't needed at the hospital for the moment, so he said he'd take care of the animals that were now jittery, and call the hospital to inform them that the Garwins were on their way.
xx
"There's no placental rupture," the doctor said. "Your cervix is slightly inflamed. When was the last time you had sexual intercourse?"
Rowan and Reid exchanged a glance. Rowan said, "Last night."
An hour ago they'd been admitted into the hospital. The cramping had gone, the bleeding abated, but Rowan developed a low-grade fever somewhere along the way.
"But it was gentle," Rowan added.
The doctor nodded, understanding. "You still have a low-grade fever, and your blood pressure is up. I want you to stay here for blood pressure and urine testing, and to make sure your fever goes down." She also said Rowan would need a sonogram, biophysical profile and blood tests.
They thanked her before she left to get things ready.
Rowan sighed. Reid stroked back her hair trying to offer some comfort, but no words were forthcoming. To Rowan, his presence was enough. And although it wasn't yet five months; the continued proteinuria, hypertension, platelet count bordering on below average; Rowan was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia.
xx
Ginger sniffed. "It's just sad. She's been through a lot in her life and this should really be a happy time."
Jeffrey, the vigilant listener to the woman in his life (in his twisted mind), Ginger, nodded sympathetically, made the proper sounds that indicated compassion and respect for her worry over a friend. Truly, Jeffrey didn't care about the well being of Rowan; frankly, it made him jealous that Ginger's heart went out to Rowan. He wanted Ginger's heart and soul exclusively to himself. However, it still was not the right time to speak of such things.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She gave him a weak smile. Today they walked to the park and ate lunch on a bench. It wasn't too hot because the soft breeze buffered the already tepid heat.
Jeffrey went quiet, stared ahead of him, lost.
"Are you all right, Jeffrey?" Ginger asked.
"Oh, yeah, yeah." He nodded. "It's just… Your friend's situation reminds me of my wife."
Her eyes widened momentarily. "You have a wife?"
"Had," Jeffrey corrected. "She um…she passed away."
A small intake of breath noted Ginger's surprise. "Jeffrey…I'm so sorry. I had no idea." Instinctively she reached over and took his hand in hers.
He squeezed her hand. "It's okay. It took some time but…it doesn't hurt as much anymore."
Pause, then, "When did it happen?" she questioned softly.
He licked his lips, took a deep breath and exhaled as if the memories were weighing on his shoulders. "Two years ago. She uh…Josephine, that was her name."
"That's my middle name," Ginger confided.
"Really?" Jeffrey grinned. "What a coincidence." He cleared his throat. "Well, she died in child birth. It was…a shock. I mean, she was so healthy, everything was going just fine. I never thought…"
"I'm so sorry," Ginger said again, one hand gently on his back, the other still holding his hand. "That's terrible."
His smile was strained. "We'd been trying for a baby for so long. God…I can still remember how ecstatic I was when the doctor told us. Ah, and the months went by…seeing Josephine getting bigger…" He closed his eyes for a moment, as if the memories were floating behind his eyelids. "She was so beautiful." And then he looked at Ginger, right in the eyes, unwavering.
Ginger swallowed a lump in her throat, for the pain her friend had gone through, and the sorrow of Chase not being as happy about their baby as Jeffrey had been about his late wife's.
"You remind me of her," Jeffrey said tenderly.
She startled at this confession, cheeks flushing. "Oh," she said amid a modest chuckle. Naturally, she removed herself from the physical contact with Jeffrey, placing her hands back in her lap.
Damn it! Jeffrey seethed, wishing he hadn't said that for it had broken the spell he had been trying to weave between them. But he made sure Ginger did not see it.
"Oh, wow," Jeffrey said, chortling sheepishly. "I didn't mean to yap your ear off about my sad tale."
"No!" Ginger assured him. "It's all right. Really. You can talk to me anytime, Jeffrey."
"That means a lot to me, Ginger." Ah, her name was like honey on the tongue. "More than you know."
xx
Despite the diagnosis, Rowan tried to remain positive; still there settled a depression in her that could not be shaken, at least inwardly. On the outside she mostly appeared serene. She was scared though. Scared for her baby. Wishing her body was a stronger vessel to carry him into the world. So after a two day stay in the hospital, she and Reid went home.
Rowan slept. She read. She kept her activity light. Gardening was a relaxing pastime for her. Rowan worked in her apothecary, making creams, lotions, tonics; the herbs, plants, gems, and general feng shui of the room was spiritually soothing. Everyone was very supportive.
Bruce Lee, Erwin, and Tippy sensed a shift in the atmosphere, the sedateness of their female human and adjusted themselves accordingly. Sometimes animals could act very human, but in the end they always submitted to being animals, especially when they continued to bogart the bed.
Reid could not let himself get down about this. When Rowan was sick he and the rest of the guys openly showed their concern, like sitting vigil, but not this time. Reid had to tell Rowan it was going to be okay, he couldn't despair. He made sure Rowan was as comfortable and non-stressed as possible. When calls came in for Whitelighter assistance, Reid had to tell Saul (the go-between for making 'appointments') that the Whitelighter was officially on vacation. Hunter handled what he could, but if it was beyond his ability, he got in touch with some other witches that might be able to help.
The nights were sedate, usually filled with plans for the baby, which both soon-to-be parents reveled in despite the condition of the mother. They were told to abstain from sexual intercourse for the duration of Rowan's pregnancy, doctor's orders.
"I don't know what's more difficult," Rowan had said. "Going without caffeine, or going without sex." It had the intended affect on her husband, a smile and a laugh.
xx
Friday, nine days after the diagnosis, Reid came home as the official new owner of Beans. He'd had misgivings about going through with the deal when Rowan was in a precarious position, but his wife wouldn't let him halt his plans just because she was going through a delicate pregnancy. The meeting with the now previous owner of Beans had been scheduled a month in advance. "You cannot miss it," Rowan had insisted.
"Row!" he called when he got in.
Rowan was coming down the stairs, grinning. "You the king of Beans now?"
"Hell yeah, I am!" He would have picked her up and swung her around, but he settled with a hug and very long kiss. "I can't believe I own a business."
She laughed. "Well, it will only thrive in your hands, Reid." On tiptoes she kissed the tip of his nose. "I'm making your favorite in celebration."
"Ah…Rowan, you didn't have-"
Rowan 'tutted' him into silence. Her dinners hadn't been the most elaborate since 'the diagnosis' but this was a special occasion and she was glad she felt well enough to stand up for it. Reid followed her into the kitchen.
"Damn that smells good," he said.
The animals ran in then, Rowan told them to congratulate Reid on his coup. Understanding something deserved kudos; the three of them went wild around Reid's legs. And when he went up to get out of his suit they continued hot at his heels.
The day was pretty hot so he hopped in the shower and was out in less than ten. Comfortable jeans and t-shirt clothed his body and he went barefoot. He glanced around the bedroom, seeing that Rowan had cleaned. He made a low grunt, thinking she better not have overexerted herself or hefted anything too heavy.
Downstairs now, he said, "From now on I will do the cleaning and laundry."
She was stirring over the stove, she stopped, stared. "Huh?"
"I don't want you lifting anything, even if it's a feather duster. And I can't have you hauling around a basket of clothes."
She grinned. "It's hardly 'hauling,' Reid."
His face brooked no argument.
"Reid…I love you, but remember what happened last time you tried to do the laundry?"
He grimaced. Two years after they were married. Rowan had been so busy the entire week for this animal charity adoption that the laundry she normally did once a week went untended, which included his favorite towel. So while she was out he decided to wing it. Along with his towel he put that and other clothes in the washer. He remembered Ernie, Bubbe and Bruce Lee (the first) looking on, amused, wondering what their male human was doing in such foreign territory.
Reid recalled grabbing the bleach, and Ernie barking when he did so. Bubbe jumped on top of the dryer as Reid poured a cup full of Tide into the mix before setting the dials. Naturally the result was...bad.
"Okay, but that was a long time ago," Reid said now. "And you wrote those directions and taped them in the laundry room."
Rowan shook her head, amused. "All right, you can do the laundry."
"Thank you." Reid paused. "Damn, I can't believe I'm insisting on doing housework." When once he had used his Power to clean his dorm room every chance he got. "Can I help?" he asked, gesturing towards the foodstuff.
"You can dice and chop, husband," she allowed.
xx
"Ginger, you have an admirer," Mrs. Alcott said with a teasing smile.
"What?" Ginger flushed, any sort of teasing banter about her love life always made her do so.
"Flowers." The older woman pointed to the bouquet.
Seeing it, Ginger's heart fluttered. Her favorite! Blue hydrangea and yellow roses. Ginger beamed, took the small card expecting to see the lackadaisical script that was her husband's. But only a flicker of disappointment and confusion veiled her face at what she read.
Ginger, I am so blessed to have your friendship. I hope these flowers bring as much light to your days as you have to mine. Yours truly, Jeffrey
Not accustomed to this sort overture from any man except her husband, Ginger didn't quite know the proper protocol for the acceptance of such a bestowment. So, at the end of her work day she placed them carefully in the passenger seat of her car and drove home. They were pretty flowers, after all, and they shouldn't go to waste.
Ginger knew Dottie was tending to an ill friend so it was just her and Chase. She walked in with the flowers with her nose tipped down to smell them.
"Where'd you get those?"
She startled, unaware that Chase had walked into the foyer.
"Um…"
He cocked a half-smile. "Hey, your favorite." Chase kissed her forehead. These were the flowers she had held in a small bouquet on their wedding day. The same flowers he made sure were fresh on her birthday and their anniversaries. He always remembered such occasions, now he questioned himself if today was a special time and he was forgetting.
"Did your writer's block go away?" Ginger asked.
"Ah, don't think you're getting out of my question that easily," he said, walking with her to the kitchen. He observed her getting a vase from beneath the sink, filling it with water. "Gin?"
"A friend," she replied.
His face lost its mirth. "That 'friend' we were talking about not too long ago?"
Ginger wrenched the water off, put the flowers in the vase and arranged them neatly. "Why can't someone send me flowers?"
He sighed sharply. "A guy does not send a woman flowers without an underlying reason. Where's the card?"
"It's personal."
His eyes narrowed. "You don't want me to see the card because I'm right. Did he write something inappropriate?"
Ginger huffed, gazing up at her husband. "There's nothing wrong with Jeffrey and I being friends. I told you that."
"There is a problem if he thinks there's more to it than there is."
"But he doesn't!"
"Don't be naïve Ginger," Chase said forcefully. "You're a beautiful, smart, personable woman, and men do not send beautiful, smart, personable women flowers unless he's attracted to her." He was out of breath from his diatribe, and the anger that was simmering beneath the surface wasn't helping.
Ginger was quiet. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Chase's blue eyes flashed, anger replaced with consternation. "You know I do. Why would you…?"
She shrugged lamely. "You don't talk to me anymore. And you come to bed late." Her head hung and she picked at the scarf around her neck.
He came off his high horse pretty quick to embrace her. "I'm sorry, Gin." But even he felt the futility of his words. How many times had he told her he was sorry? Though he meant it, no action was taken to rectify what caused the apologies. Nothing to rectify the burgeoning gap between them.
"Do you still like me, Chase?" she asked quietly.
Still holding her, he said, "I like you more than anyone. You're my best friend."
Ginger tipped her head up, gave him a close-lipped smile.
"We still have that appointment tomorrow?" Despite his reticence at the pregnancy he always accompanied his wife to the prenatal appointments. When Ginger nodded, he said, "Why don't we grab lunch at Sorellina afterwards, hmm?"
The couple took the contented moment to go upstairs to make love. They napped for a while and when they woke up the sun was going down. While they were making dinner, Dottie came home.
"How's your friend, Dottie?" Chase asked.
"Oh, like an old woman who insists she's fit as a fiddle but really needs to stay in bed a few more days."
"Sounds like you," he said with a rascally grin.
Ginger made Dottie some tea while the older woman got washed up. Somewhere along the line the phone rang, about the time when Ginger was setting the table.
"Hello?" she answered.
xx
"Ginger, hi," Jeffrey said. He paced in his living room, eyeing the floor-to-ceiling pictures of the woman he was talking to.
"Hi," she said.
She sounded hesitant to him.
"Did you get my flowers?" he questioned.
"Yes, they were beautiful."
Jeffrey beamed. "I know you've been down lately and they're your favorite. I hope they cheered you up."
Pause. "They did."
He didn't like her tone. "Am I bothering you?"
"No! Not at all."
"Oh, okay. I know tomorrow's Saturday but I was thinking after your doctor's appointment tomorrow I could take you out to lunch and a late movie?"
Silence. "I'm…I'm sorry Jeffrey I have other plans."
xx
Chase had stopped what he was doing completely, unabashedly listening to his wife's end of this conversation. What the hell was Jeffrey calling his wife for at dinner time? Chase had half the mind to tell Ginger to hang up, but things were content between them now and he didn't want to muss it up…yet.
A minute later Ginger hung up.
"He asked you out," Chase stated.
"He wanted to take me out to lunch after my appointment."
"How'd he know you have a doctor's appointment?"
Ginger opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. "I must have mentioned it."
Pushing back the discontented barbs he had on the tip of his tongue, he let it go, which took all his willpower. "Too bad for him. I have you tomorrow." This made Ginger smile. "You okay though?"
She nodded furtively. "Yeah."
But later that night as Chase held her, she thought about the card Jeffrey had written. How he knew that the combination of hydrangea and roses were her favorite. Had she told him that? She thought back, unable to remember. And again, did she happen to mention her prenatal appointment tomorrow?
Unconsciously, Ginger put her hand over her tummy.
"The baby's growing," Chase said, putting his hand over hers.
"Yeah." Tingles went through her body when he kissed the back of her neck.
"Love you, Gin," he said. "More than anything."
xx
No sleep for him tonight. Splitting fury wracked his entire body. 'Other plans' she had said. What other plans? And after he sent her favorite flowers. The flowers he had seen her holding in her wedding photos that were placed on the mantle of the fireplace in her home.
It wasn't what Ginger thought. He did live on Beacon Hill, but not in a house; in a very small flat above the garage he rented from a near-deaf loony tune who avoided people as much as he could. Mr. Loony Tune only rented out this place to supplement his income. So it worked out for both Jeffrey and the old man.
He had thought knowing about Ginger in advance would help him establish a solid relationship. Jeffrey followed her for two months before approaching her in the library. When nobody was home, Jeffrey snuck into their house, bypassing the security, to snoop around. He looked at the pictures on the walls, the mantle, photo albums. He went through Ginger's drawers, investigated her likes and dislikes.
Jeffrey had his little camera, taking snapshots of things to remember. The titles of DVDs on the shelves, books. He watched and read them all.
And the beautiful scent on her pillow. He remembered drowning in it so deep he lost track of time. Before he exited the house, he took a few strands of hair from Ginger's brush and placed them in a small Ziploc bag. He slept with them on his pillow every night…along with one of the many scarves he'd pilfered from her top drawer. Ginger had so many, she wouldn't miss one.
Now… No, he still couldn't fall asleep.
He paced furiously, jaw clenched, periodically slapping his head with sweaty palms.
"Ginger. Ginger," he half keened, half growled.
Jeffrey wanted to wring her neck.
No! he yelled within his mind. No. Not wring her neck. Her husband's. Yes.
He took deep breaths. Hoping against hope that Ginger would not betray him…like the others. Teasing and tantalizing him to distraction. But Ginger wasn't like that. She was different.
Jeffrey ceased pacing to face Ginger's wall. He stood, mesmerized, heart pounding in his ears. Heart pounding for her.
I'm no Doogie Howser, so I apologize if any of the medical stuff is *way* off. I read up on preeclampsia as much as I could to make it as realistic as possible, but I did take some literary license.
Thanks to all who read and review. Always appreciated. :)