VIII. Through a Glass Darkly
For now we see through a glass, darkly.
1 Corinthians 13:12
"Maybe I could have the baby at home," Rowan mused.
Reid stopped what he was doing (applying a wall decal in the nursery) to look at his wife. "At home?"
"Yes," she smiled. "A good old-fashioned home birth."
"Uh…" he chuckled, flattened down the paper. "I don't know… You don't think it'd be safer to be in a hospital?" Because he did.
She sighed. "I know. A hospital is best." A hospital, where she had spent much of her time the previous month.
A week after that outing at Nicky's, Rowan had been admitted to the hospital with a low-grade fever. Normally a low fever wouldn't have been a cause for alarm, but with the preeclampsia a low-grade fever was dangerous. Then the headaches had followed, vomiting, chest pains. She had to stay for two weeks, when she got home it was nearing the end of July. More and more rest was ordered, along with the frequent testing, the increased vigilance.
In the mean time, all through August, Reid and Rowan prepared for the baby. The blond baby-proofed the house. Instead of going to stores to shop for baby things, they shopped online. Standing up for too long, excessive movement that would come with going from one store to another, wasn't safe for Rowan. They ordered the crib, curtains, rug, all the baby paraphernalia, and put it on rush order.
Now, it was the second week of September; she was twenty-eight weeks pregnant; their baby was due in a little less than two months. Rowan thought it a good omen that the estimated due date turned out to be the same day as Reid's birthday, October 31st.
Mostly, Reid sensed a darkening of spirit in Rowan that worried him. Like a reproach of character, her character, turned inwards. She didn't say anything, though. Just went on as if all was normal. Except for this talk of an at-home birth.
She gazed around the nursery from the glider rocking chair she was sitting on by the window. It was almost finished. Rowan was no artist (not like Maria), but she did know a lot about the combination of colors and placement of furniture to create spiritual harmony and a well-adjusted atmosphere. The nursery was bright, but not overly so. There were earth tones; the left side of the room began as a day in the jungle, then cascaded across the ceiling, slowly converging into night with twinkling stars and an ethereal moon with a kind face. Rowan had intricately placed protective charms around the room that blended with the décor.
The crib was placed on the right side. The sun shone well there but not on the baby's face. They had little drawers and shelves, changing station, small tables with lamps, a circular rug in the middle of the room (of which the animals were now sleeping on), bookshelf with both new and old children's books.
"Done!" Reid said with flourish, having applied the very last decal.
Rowan got up slowly. "You did great."
He grinned, put his arm around her. "Takes two, babe."
"You think this one's little brother or sister will use this room?"
Reid collected himself quickly enough (from the jarring thought of Rowan having another baby) so that his wife didn't pick up on his shock. It wasn't that he didn't want another kid, but he honestly believed that Rowan could not go through another pregnancy. Now wasn't the time to talk about it though. So, he said, "He's probably going to want to move further away from our room the older he gets. Like to the attic."
Rowan gaped at him. "Don't say that. That's a long ways away." They chuckled together. "He still needs a name."
"Oh, boy." They had gone back and forth and around the world on this, and were still unable to decide. He suggested they go downstairs for a snack to mull it over.
They walked, one of Reid's arms around her waist and the other lightly gripping her arm. Rowan moved slowly, conscious of her need to keep a normal blood pressure (as normal as it could be in her condition). With the use of her magical ablutions, any swelling of limbs was absent, which certainly made it easier to get around. The last thing she needed was shoes that didn't fit and bit her feet, or slowed circulation to the extremities.
"There are so many good names," Rowan said as she sat down at the kitchen table. She couldn't count how many times she'd flipped through the book of baby names, circling the ones she and Reid thought had potential.
"I don't want him to have a name that gets his butt kicked in school," Reid said. He was making her some tomato soup. "Well," he paused with a smirk, "he's going to be a 'Son of Ipswich' and when's the last time a Son got messed with?"
"You guys got into fights," she replied.
"But we always came out on top," Reid said. "Our son will be popular." He said it like it was fact.
"No one would know the name 'Garwin' if he didn't go to Spenser."
His head whipped around. "Not go to Spenser?"
"Reid, he doesn't have to follow in your footsteps."
"They're all going to Spenser. Tyler's, Caleb's… Our sons are going there."
Rowan pursed her lips, amused. "He might want to go to public school."
Reid muttered something. "Let's think of a name first."
Rowan chuckled. "All right."
While the tomato soup readied, a strong gust of wind had Rowan getting up from her chair to stand by the open sliding door. The air tickled the tips of her bare feet and slightly ruffled her hair. The sky was becoming overcast at the same time she felt a distant pang in her hip.
"It's going to rain soon," Rowan announced absently as her fingertips drummed on her tummy.
Erwin passed by her to outside, the doggy door flapping one way then the other. He trotted across the vast yard, passed the greenhouse and into the woods, but not so far that she couldn't make him out.
"Those raccoons aren't out there, are they?" Reid asked.
"Boris and Bernie, Reid," Rowan reminded him.
He snorted. "Beggars, you mean."
She chuckled. "No, they're not out there." Boris and Bernie were two (raccoons, as Reid said) 'guests' that often frequented their backyard.
Reid stood beside her now. Damn raccoons. They liked everyone else but him.
"Because you look at them like they're thieves," Rowan said, smiling. "It probably gets a little insulting."
"Uh-huh," Reid answered. He walked back to the kitchen and put the finishing touches on the tomato soup. He dipped his index finger in to taste. Good. Just right.
"Thank you," she said, sitting down at the table again.
Reid leaned down and kissed her on the curve of her neck. It sent shivers down her spine; even more so when she pulled him down further to meet her lips. The kiss went on…and on.
"Don't tempt me," Reid said, pulling away painfully. This was definitely the longest they'd gone without sex while living under the same roof. There was very pleasurable fondling at times, but…
"I know, I know," she commiserated. Rowan looked at him. "I'm sorry, Reid."
His eyes widened momentarily in surprise. He realized that she felt personally responsible for the lack of sex right now. "Hey," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, "if not having sex is what we have to do to keep you healthy, then that's what we're doing." He brushed a kiss on her forehead. "It's not your fault."
Rowan's smile flickered like a weak light bulb you knew was about to go out. Erwin's bark broke her out of her stupor as he swept back in the house.
"Are you eating?" she asked her husband.
He nodded.
"Did you wrap your gift for Caleb?" she said. Her brother's twenty-ninth birthday was in two days, September ninth.
"You can't wrap a hug, Rowan," he said.
Rowan laughed and rolled her eyes. "Boys."
xx
Despite the bit of overcast Maria Simms was in a great mood. Her walk was bouncy as she made her way to the library Ginger worked at (she had parked down the street). It was Thursday so she knew that Jeffrey person wasn't having lunch with her. Since that day Chase had so ungraciously (men!) escorted Ginger from Pogue and Hope's apartment, Maria had managed to pull the story from Ginger, out of curiosity and caring. She was glad that it was easier to talk to Ginger now because her husband and the rest of the Sons had bridged the gap with Chase. Stubborn men, she thought.
In her opinion (a biased one) the best part of the Athenaeum was its art gallery, but that was not to say she did not appreciate the building's overall magnificence. Maria rounded the block that led to the very front of the building. A breeze ruffled her silky dark brown hair.
She wore storm blue skinny maternity jeans, black high-heel pumps, and white V-neck tee that conformed nicely to her body, revealing her four and half month baby bump. No, not even pregnancy could keep Maria from being fashionable. And thanks to Rowan's oils and creams, she did not have to worry about puffy ankles to deter her from wearing her favorite shoes.
To her luck, just as she got to her destination, Ginger was coming out of the library.
"Ginger!" Maria called out, waving.
Ginger turned in her direction, smiled. "Hey!"
"Are you on your lunch break?"
"Yeah."
Maria gave her a hug. "I was nearby doing some retail therapy, realized it was around lunch time and thought I'd try to catch you."
"You caught me," Ginger replied.
xx
Just coming around the opposite corner of Maria was Jeffrey. He wanted to surprise Ginger with an impromptu lunch invitation. There was no reason why they had to keep it to Mondays and Wednesdays, right? Yet, to his immense displeasure, he saw another woman already laughing with Ginger. What was her name? Marissa…Melissa… Maria! That was it.
He was about to make himself invisible but Maria's eyes caught his person before he could.
xx
"Is that your friend?" Maria asked.
Ginger turned her head. "Oh, it is." She waved.
Jeffrey, who was both parts angry and embarrassed, approached. "Hello, Ginger."
"Maria this is Jeffrey. Jeffrey, Maria," she introduced.
"Nice to meet you," Maria said. She held out her hand.
After a momentary pause Jeffrey took it. Maria held his clammy hand for a mere second because that was precisely how long Jeffrey had held hers. His grip was slack and dismissive. She did not show her consternation.
"We were just going to lunch," Ginger said to Jeffrey.
"Oh." He stood awkwardly. Well, why the hell should I leave? he thought, indignation surging forth. He was Ginger's friend, too. A good friend. And if this airhead (for he saw Maria for what she was) could encroach upon Ginger's invaluable time, then so could he.
"Would you…like to join us?" Ginger asked, unable to politely rebuff him.
"That would be great," he replied, only addressing her. "Why don't we go to our usual place?"
Maria's brow rose to her friend inquisitively, indicating that she did not mind. They went to Ginger and Jeffrey's 'usual place,' and ate outside. Sensing that Ginger was somewhat uncomfortable with this scenario, Maria took hold of the conversation seamlessly, a talent of hers.
"So, Jeffrey, do you work around here?" she questioned.
Jeffrey felt like the orbs of Medusa were upon him. So much so that he avoided Maria's bright brown eyes that held nothing but curiosity (though he could not see this). He cleared his throat. "Um, no. I work from home."
"Ooh. Doing what?"
There was a hesitation, and Ginger spoke, "He answers questions online and on phone to those who are having problems with their computers."
He stared at her gratefully. To hear that mellifluous voice of hers. He could bask in it all day if it weren't for…
"You must be extremely tech savvy to do that," Maria was saying. "I could not, for the life of me, do something like that." She chuckled along with Ginger who said the same for herself.
"You could do anything you put your mind to Ginger," Jeffrey was quick to say with such extreme sincerity and affection it made Ginger blush.
It was obvious to Maria that Jeffrey was head over heels for Ginger; however, she did not think that Ginger herself saw it. And there was something…cloying about this Jeffrey person. He hadn't once looked her in the eyes even when speaking to her, and only spoke after she had asked him a question directly.
Either he was shy or pompously rude, Maria figured.
Ginger's cell phone rang. "Excuse me."
And that was when Maria saw it (in the space of a nanosecond). Ginger's face lit up hearing her husband's voice on the other line, and Jeffrey's eyes went stone cold. Maria Simms literally felt her flesh creep and a chill numb her spine. Though his facial muscles remained amiable, the eyes were…
Terrifying, Maria thought.
As quickly as it had come, it was gone. But the menace Jeffrey had exuded still lingered around her. Ginger, caught up in answering Chase's question, noticed none of this.
"Okay, love you too. Bye bye." Ginger hung up. "Sorry about that."
"No problem," Maria replied.
"Can't you tell him that you're busy and call him back next time?" Jeffrey asked.
Maria and Ginger stilled. Ginger opened her mouth to speak, "I…"
Maria once again came to the rescue. She laughed. "Oh, pfft. If Ty calls me and I don't answer he worries. Even though it's unnecessary. Of course, unless he knows beforehand that I'm busy with something."
Ginger nodded, grateful for Maria's understanding. "Same with Chase. He never calls me during work hours."
"Well, speaking of work," Jeffrey interrupted. He stood up. "I have to get back to mine." He smiled tightly at Ginger. "I'll talk to you later." He walked away without a word to Maria.
They watched his back, astounded, until he was out of sight.
"I'm so sorry, Maria," Ginger apologized. "He's usually more polite than that."
Maria waved it off. "Sweetie, isn't it so obvious that he's besotted with you?"
"Chase says that, too. We can be friends-"
She grinned. "I know two people of the opposite sex can be friends, but that doesn't mean someone in that friendship can't be attracted to the other person. And Jeffrey is so attracted to you. He never took his eyes off of you."
Ginger kneaded her napkin thoughtfully. "You… Really?"
She nodded sagely. "I know."
Chase's wife grimaced. "I didn't know… I'm so stupid."
"No!" Maria exclaimed, putting her hand over Ginger's. "Some people hide it well. But there are also people, like me, that you can't hide it from."
This made Ginger feel better. "Chase is the only man I really know so with others…" To her relief, Maria was nodding in understanding. Ginger loved talking to Rowan, but she had to admit that it was nice having various personalities, like Maria's, to bounce things off of as well.
"Oh my God!" Maria said, looking at her thin silver watch. "You're going to be late getting back to work."
Ginger, checking her own watch, agreed. "I completely lost track of time." They paid and quickly returned to the place where they had met up forty-five minutes ago.
"I think we need a girls' night, by the way," Maria said. "Something casual. Maybe it'll cheer Row up, too."
"That would be great. She is sort of down," Ginger agreed.
They hugged goodbye, Ginger went back into the building, and Maria returned to her car. Now that she was alone, the memory of Jeffrey's malevolent stare came back to her. She shivered unconsciously.
xx
"That nutty, huh?" Rowan replied. Maria had called her an hour ago to tell her about her day, eventually getting to the lunch with Ginger and Jeffrey. "Was it supernatural-nutty, or Ted Bundy-nutty?"
"Hmm…I'm more leaning to Ted Bundy-nutty."
She paused thoughtfully. "I thought his aura seemed a bit fractured when I met him at the picnic." Rowan rubbed her forehead. A headache was coming on.
They talked for a bit more before hanging up. Rowan got up from the couch and sat behind her apothecary desk, the headache still niggling. She moved the mouse on the pad and her computer came out of sleeper mode. It wasn't like her to have high tech things in her sanctum sanctorum, but a few years ago she bit and put her computer in here. It was a quick, easy way of keeping inventory of her supplies, although she did keep a written record too. But she wasn't perusing the computer to check her records.
Instead, she checked her e-mail. Junk. Junk. Junk. Delete. Delete. Delete. Then she saw a familiar e-mail address, Abel's. They had kept steadfast communication with one another over the years. She had even gone to Alaska during the Iditarod dog sled races and stayed for the duration. Nowadays Abel worked alongside his half-brother Asher in bringing together the werewolf community and trying to alleviate human/werewolf tensions.
Twenty minutes later she went down to Reid's den. "Reid, Asher's running for mayor."
xx
Their conversation earlier about their son being popular was replaying itself in Reid's mind. Every parent wanted the best for their kid, right? But what if it didn't turn out the way they hoped? What if the baby had medical, behavioral or developmental disabilities long into his life? Preeclampsia might mean premature birth; a premature birth might lead to disorders for their son. Reid believed he would love his son no matter what, but he couldn't lie and say he wouldn't be disappointed if he was unable to do a whole range of things a father wanted to show his son.
Swimming. Sports. Teaching him how to drive. Things that probably would be slow going if the baby was…
Don't think about that Reid, he chastised himself. Their baby would fine. Rowan would be fine. Whatever powers that be wouldn't take Rowan away from him, would they? Not after they'd made it this far.
He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. From the bar stool he could see outside. Still overcast, but decent enough weather for a swim, it would relax him, clear his mind. Reid simply stripped down to his boxers, left his den, and was soon cutting through the water seamlessly.
xx
There was no answer. Rowan saw that Reid was not in the den. The doors were open though. She stood a little ways away from the pool and watched her husband do laps. Erwin was standing beside her, tail wagging, wanting to go in the water, too.
"Not today, Erwin. I think dad just wants some exercise," she said, petting him behind the ears.
She decided to tell Reid about Asher later. With the three animals (Reid so focused he didn't notice Rowan's appearance) she went back into the house the way she had come. Yes, no need to disturb Reid with her frail presence now. Out of sight, out of mind, right? At least a little, hopefully. Rowan was instantly pushing away such thoughts. She needed to keep a positive energy for the baby.
"Pactum serva," she whispered. Keep the faith.
xx
Nobody was home when Ginger returned from work. She was sort of glad for that as many thoughts were rumbling around in her mind and she knew the confliction showed on her face as clear as day. She was never able to hide what was going on inside of her, especially from Chase and Dottie. Ginger went up the stairs and eschewed her work clothes and neck scarf for a pair of jeans and sweater.
When she was in the comfort of her home she rarely wore a scarf around her neck. Her many patterned scarves served the purpose of concealing the long horizontal scar on the left side of her neck. Chase did not mind the scar. Often when he bent to kiss her his hand stole to the side of her face and one finger gently caressed the mark lovingly.
Chase. Chase. What would she do without him? A thought too painful to ponder deeper.
She made herself a cup of tea and then sat on the cushioned chair on the back porch. She held the mug in one hand, the other rested on her rounded stomach. Ginger couldn't wait to hold her baby in her arms. Feel his tiny hand curl around her finger. To look into his eyes. She hoped the baby would have the blues of his father's.
Ginger sighed at the same time a breeze passed, like the world was breathing with her. It made her smile. She took a sip of her tea, her mind going back to earlier in the day, lunch with Jeffrey and Maria. What had gotten into Jeffrey, she wondered, not for the first time. Usually he was so sweet and thoughtful, soft spoken; yet, he had been so rude to Maria, dismissive, cool. And the parting! So abrupt.
Perhaps being in the company of two happily pregnant women was distressing to him? Did it remind him of his late beloved Josephine? The agony of losing the person you loved most in the world, an agony Ginger couldn't begin to assimilate. Was it selfish of her to enjoy Jeffrey's company if her being pregnant brought bittersweet memories to him? He never gave any indication that it did.
And was he truly attracted to her? Romantically? She had been telling the truth to Maria when she'd said that Chase was the only man she really knew. She had to admit that she was a bit obtuse when it came to perceiving what was going on in another man's mind, at least in a romantic sense. It simply never occurred to Ginger that another male could hold amorous feelings towards her.
But never mind that. If what Maria said was true (and Ginger was apt to believe her because she was so much more knowledgeable about it) then was continuing her friendship with Jeffrey a healthy thing? Ginger did not want to send mixed signals. It was rather complicated now. Just yesterday she knew where she stood with Jeffrey, now things were hazy.
She bit her bottom lip, worried. Perhaps seeking Maria's advice on how to proceed would be beneficial. The idea made Ginger feel better and she resolved to do just that.
"Gin?" Chase called.
So lost in her speculations she had not heard Chase's car pull up.
"Back here!"
A moment later Chase was on the porch with her. He smiled, kissed her. "How long have you been back here?" The clouds were rolling in and he didn't want her to catch a chill. (Never mind the sweater she wore, Chase worried unnecessarily.)
"Not too long," she replied. "Where were you?"
"I went to get another flash drive for my computer," he said. That was two hours ago, then he'd gotten sidetracked after his initial purpose for going out. He'd spotted a baby store nearby and stupidly found himself going in and looking around. Chase managed to beat a hasty retreat once the sales ladies began pestering him, however.
"Did you get a lot done?" she asked.
"It's definitely coming along now."
She grinned, happy for him. "I'm glad. I can't wait to read it." Chase always let her read the 'finished' product before he sent it off to his editor.
They went back inside.
"Oh, yeah," Chase spoke. "Dottie called. Her friend is having some relapse so we're on our own tonight."
Ginger frowned. "Oh, no. I hope Trudy's okay."
"She's in her nineties, Gin," he said, not unkindly. He took the empty mug from her hand to make her another cup.
"I know."
Chase gave her a soft smile. "How was work?"
"Good. Maria was nearby and came to see me for lunch." As an executive decision, she decided not to mention Jeffrey's surprise appearance, not wanting to ruffle Chase's smooth feathers.
"Oh, yeah? She talk your ear off?"
Ginger chuckled. "She suggested a girl's night some time."
"Girl's night," he repeated with amusement.
"Maybe we'll go to a club," Ginger prodded.
The corners of his lips turned down just a pinch. "Hmm."
"A Chippendale club."
He snorted. "Sure."
"Why not? We saw the showgirls in Vegas."
He laughed. "Because you absolutely had to see them."
"I wish I could dance like them." And idle lament she'd made before.
Chase kissed her on the lips. "You're sexier than all of them put together. You know that, right?"
Ginger blushed. "You have to say that because you're my husband. And I'm a mini-blimp right now."
He smirked, put his hands on her tummy. "Not a blimp. Just pregnant with our son." He kissed her again, then said in her ear, "And sexy, Ginger. You're always that."
"Are you getting fresh, Chase Collins?" she teased.
"That I am, Ginger Collins," he replied. And he took her to their bedroom to do some more freshening up.
xx
"You do realize you have a teeny tiny penis growing inside you?" Pinkie conjectured as he filed his nails in Maria's bedroom. He sat cross legged on the bed as his friend rifled through her vast closet.
Maria laughed. "Yes, well," – her voice was slightly muffled – "comes with the territory." She emerged from the closet with two maternity dresses. She held up a deep pink strapless dress that fell mid-knee with an elegant silk ribbon under the bust. In the other hand she had a grape-colored halter dress that also fell to the knee.
Pinkie contemplated the options deeply. "The deep pink, definitely."
Maria smiled. "Great!"
"Now, what is this occasion for again?"
"Some sort of office party with Ty's colleagues."
"Ah, fellow doctors. Will the devil woman be there?"
Serena. Maria hated that name. "I suppose so." And she was determined to look better than the woman who had tried to steal her husband from her. She had only seen her once, and from a distance. Pageboy haircut, the color of her lank tresses dirty blonde. Tall, no curves to her body (perhaps with the exception of her fairly large bosom), thin lips and slightly upturned nose.
"Don't worry sweetie," Pinkie assured her. "You're, like, a thousand times more beautiful than her." And he didn't need to know what Serena looked like to believe his statement.
She smiled. "Thank you, Pinkie."
He pointed to his cheek with a pleased smile. She bent down and gave him a peck at the indicated site. She pivoted on a bare foot to return the dresses to their original place.
"Oh! Did I tell you about Ginger's friend Jeffrey?" An irrelevant question as she had not. With incredulous zest of the previous event, she told Pinkie what had occurred; his face mirroring Maria's mounting perplexity of Jeffrey's behavior.
"Now, do you mean magic-nutty or, like, garden variety-nutty?" he questioned.
"Garden variety-nutty," she replied promptly. "So scary, Pinkie. His eyes." She shuddered. "God, I think only Stephen King could come up with the words to describe it."
He pursed his lips in concentration, trying to imagine what his dear friend had seen. If it was as horrifying as she said, he wasn't sure he wanted a clear picture. "And all because Chase called her?" He shook his head with a moue of prim rebuke.
"I know! I mean, it was not a huge deal. So he called her during her lunch hour to say hello and tell her he loves her. It is not as if he pesters her while she's working. And it's not just anyone who called, but her husband. Besides, she couldn't have been on the phone for more than three minutes, five tops!"
And as easy as a flowing stream, she segued into another topic. "We have to start planning Rowan's baby shower. And then Ginger's."
"Ooh!" Pinkie exclaimed. Although his forte was weddings, sometimes he did get requests for other events. Already plans were bubbling in his mind. "Well, for Rowan we know people to invite, her likes and dislikes. But Ginger…"
"We'll have to call Dottie," Maria said, manicured finger resting on her chin in a ponderous manner.
"Not Chase?"
Maria 'hmmphed.' "This isn't men's men business," she said.
"That is true," Pinkie agreed philosophically. "A shame." He tsked.
xx
Thunder boomed.
Jeffrey sat in the dark corner of the living room rocking back and forth hugging himself. Unbeknownst to him he had been sitting in the same place for the last four hours. After lunch with Ginger things were kind of a blur.
Now, it was the crack of the lightning, the ensuing drums of thunder that snapped him out of it, had him coming back to reality. His muscles were sore, his jaw hurt from clenching it so tight (he hoped he hadn't chipped any teeth), and he'd gouged his fingernails into each of his arms breaking the skin.
He got up slowly, body aching. He made it to the bathroom without mishap, even in the darkness. Jeffrey flipped on the light, his sight having to adjust to the sudden change of spectrum.
His eyes were shot with vicious lines of red. Jeffrey looked at his hands, realizing that he had ripped out some of his hair, short strands sticking to the palms of his sticky, sweaty palms. Lightly, his fingertips touched the sides of his head. It burned. His arms weren't the only place he'd assaulted with his fingernails.
What the heck happened? he asked himself.
Jeffrey looked in the mirror more closely. It was smudged and spattered with old water stains, his image was marred. He needed to clean up. What would Ginger think of this mess? Once they lived together she would keep things neat for him. No longer would she have to tend to that…mongrel.
Oh, it was coming back now. That Neanderthal called Ginger during lunch. They had been having a perfectly delicious time together, laughing gaily, (Jeffrey completely forgot that Maria had been there), looking into each other's eyes. Then…Then…
His hands clasped either edge of the sink tightly. His mouth emitted a low groan devoid of humanity, anguish, hatred.
Oh, God, Ginger, don't betray me. Not like the others. Don't be like the others.
Their lying eyes, saying things their hearts did not feel. Tricking him into believing that they were giving him a glimpse of their souls…their rotten souls. Only he'd found that out too late. But not Ginger. Not his beloved Ginger.
She was different.
Jeffrey's body relaxed. "Ginger. Ginger," he whispered, making love to her name. "Soon."
xx
Thunder tore through the skies, so sudden and violent that Erwin woofed low at the intrusion upon his senses as he and Tippy followed their human to find the wayward ferret.
Reid was upstairs taking a shower. She tracked Bruce Lee, followed the invisible trail to Reid's den. Probably in the ball pocket of the pool table again.
She smiled. "Bruce Lee. You're losing your touch." Rowan picked him out of the pocket and held him to her chest. "Silly goose. Come on."
When she reached the top of the den's stairs a lance of pain shot through her forehead, the earlier day's headache rearing its ugly head. She leaned against the wall, breaking into a cold sweat. Her hold loosened on the ferret so he could jump to safety as opposed to Rowan dropping him.
Something rose in her throat and she hurried to the bathroom just down the hall, barely making it in time for the dregs of tea to fall into the toilet. On her knees, she vomited it up, then continued to dry heave.
It caused an ache in her abdomen, her temples pulsed, and her heart thudded wildly.
Erwin whined. The other two animals looked on intently.
"Shh," she soothed, eyes closed, sitting against the bathroom wall.
Rowan reached for the towel hanging on the rack above her head. She pulled it down (it felt like it weighed a ton), wiped her face. Unable to move she scrunched it up and made a pillow for her pounding head. She didn't think she had any energy to do more. Besides, each time she opened her eyes or moved too much stars danced, obstructing her vision.
She lay on her side, head on the towel, the cool tile seeping through her linen dress. Rowan winced when a jab under the right side of her ribs hit her.
Erwin whined again, his wet nose prodding her face, trying to get his human to rouse.
It's okay, she said. Or tried to say. Maybe she just thought she did.
I did fast forward a bit, otherwise it'd have gotten pretty redundant.
Do you think the story is lagging, or is the pace okay?
Anywho, thanks to those who continue to read. :) I noticed some more people are tagging these stories, what do you think?