Chapter Twenty-Four

A Month Later

I blink back tears as I run my fingers over the neat writing in the plant book that my father had made many years ago. He had made it to help me learn about the plants and flowers in the woods; which ones were safe to eat, where they could be found, what season they grew.

I had completely forgotten about the old book. I was cleaning around the house, bored out of my mind as my mother has insisted I stop hunting and going to school until after the baby is born, when I came across it at the bottom of a box holding other important items.

The sight of it had made my heart ache for my father. It made me think of how much he has missed and how much more he will not be able to see; Peeta and I marrying, my baby arriving, Prim growing up, finally getting married and having children of her own.

I wish he were here to see me, to reassure me that everything will be okay. I wonder how he would've reacted to my accidental pregnancy. I imagine, like most fathers, he would have been angry. But I think he would have warmed up to the idea and I think he would've liked Peeta.

I haven't missed my father as much as I miss him now. I would do anything to see him just one more time; to tell him I love him, that I miss him, and that his grandchild will grow up being told how amazing his or her grandfather was.

Peeta finds me on our bed, clutching the book against my chest, as I cry for my father and past memories. He doesn't say anything when he finds me, just comes over and wraps his arms around me and holds me until my tears dry up. He presses kisses to my cheek and kneads my aching back like he would with dough.

"What's that you're holding?" he asks me once I have finally calmed down.

"My father's old plant book," I reply quietly.

"He'd be proud of you," Peeta says, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"You think?" I ask.

"I know," he whispers, leaning in so our noses touch. I smile, grateful that he always has the right words that make me feel better.

"He would've loved you," I admit.

"I'm glad."

I kiss him once, before leaning back against the headboard, tucking my knees up against my bump, and open the plant book. I flip through the pages, my eyes skimming the writing. I focus on the drawings my father had made to allow me to know exactly what each plant looks like. His drawings are so good, and so detailed.

My father seemed to be good at everything.

"There are blank pages," Peeta points out as he looks through the book with me.

"I know. My father only got to work on it in his spare time and there wasn't much of that. I have nothing to do for the next couple of weeks. I think I'm going to add to it," I reply.

"That's a great idea. If you want, I could help with the drawings," Peeta suggests.

"I'd like that. You're a much better artist than I am," I admit.

"That's not true," Peeta says and I just roll my eyes.

"How was school? I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I was able to go. It's so boring just staying in this house all day," I complain.

"It was the usual boring day. You would've moaned if you had went. You can go out for walks and go to the Hob or into Town. You could even go into the bakery and visit my family or ask to help out. Your mother just said that now is the time that you rest your feet and be careful."

"Visit your family? What are the chances of your mother not being there to give me a headache?" I ask.

"She's not always there. Sometimes she stays in the office to work on counting money and ordering ingredients from the Capitol. And if she is there, you could always leave or just ignore her. I told you you never have to see her again, and I meant it," Peeta says.

"I just... don't understand how someone can be so bitter," I reply.

"Hopefully, one day she will wake up with a massive smile on her face and it will never disappear," Peeta says.

"I hope that day comes soon."

I walk into the bakery the next day, immediately noticing Mr Mellark standing behind the counter, speaking to a customer. "Katniss!" he says with a big grin on his face. "What a surprise!" Peeta's father looks to the woman he is serving. "This is Katniss, Peeta's wife, isn't she a beauty?"

I blush at the complement as I walk nearer to the counter. "I don't feel like a beauty," I complain. "This little one has been wriggling all day. It's starting to feel really uncomfortable."

"Maybe he or she is hungry," Mr Mellark says, and pulls a cheese bun off one of the many shelves and hands it to me.

"Thank you," I say in relief, shoveling the food into my mouth. "I'm willing to try anything to get this one to stop moving. Is Peeta's mother here?"

"She is in the kitchens. She rarely comes out here though," Mr. Mellark replies. He hands the female customer her change and she thanks him before leaving, saying a quick 'goodbye'.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"Oh, that was Delly Cartwright's mother. She doesn't get out of the house often anymore, after... Well, you know. I was surprised to see her," Mr. Mellark explains.

"Oh," is all I say.

"So, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting?" Peeta's father asks.

I sigh. "Yes. But I have nothing to do and I want to make myself useful. Peeta is in school, my mother is at Victor's Village to pay Hazelle a visit and I think I may go crazy if I am left alone any longer. Peeta told me to come here and ask to help out, just to make time go quicker and to stop me from feeling so bored."

"Of course you can help out. There is lots to do here. Come on over and I'll teach you how to use the cash register."

"Thank you," I say, before I walk around so I am behind the counter.

Peeta's father teaches me how to use the register and I get the hang of it pretty quickly, feeling surprised at how simple it is to use. He watches me as I serve a few customers until he is sure I will be able to handle it on my own.

"I am going to go and help in the kitchen. Is that okay?" Mr Mellark asks.

I nod my head. "I will call if I have any problems."

"You do that," he says, before he goes out back to help his wife.

The bakery is quiet for a while, with no one coming in for a good ten minutes, but it is still better than staying at home and reorganising the kitchen for the fifth time this week.

I pace back and forth behind the counter, rubbing my hand across my swollen tummy. Lately, I have been feeling this weird sensation in my stomach, like a tightening sensation, and I don't know if I should be worried. It isn't exactly painful, but at times it can be uncomfortable and the more I have them, the more intense they become.

The bell above the bakery door rings and I turn to greet the customer, forcing a smile onto my face. "Welcome to Mellark's Bakery. How may I help you?"

The customer is male and around my mother's age. He has greasy, blond hair that falls over his eyes, and in his hand he holds a bottle of liquor.

It's Haymitch Abernathy.

"I didn't know you worked here, sweetheart," he says as he stumbles towards the counter.

I scowl at him. "I don't. I'm just helping out."

"Shouldn't you be resting? You look like you're going to explode any second," Haymitch ever so kindly points out.

"Well, you know how to make a girl blush," I retort.

The victor guffaws. "I am charming. You, however, have as much charm as a dead slug. Can you imagine you were the one I had to mentor? It would be a complete failure."

"You're full of compliments today, old man."

"I like you. Lots of... spunk!" Haymitch replies, a smirk on his lips.

"I wish I could say I like you too, but I don't. Now, do you want something or are you here just to annoy me?" I snap.

"While I wish it was the latter reason, I am indeed here for a loaf of bread," Haymitch says.

"What kind?" I question.

"Fruit and nut, kid... it's kinda weird calling you kid when you're having one yourself."

"That's none of your business," I say.

"I didn't say it was. I bet Gale wasn't happy about that," he says, tipping his head towards my stomach.

"It's none of his business, either."

"Okay. I get it. It's no one's business. Now, get my bread so I can get out of here," Haymitch snaps.

I don't reply. I turn around and eye the shelves for a loaf of fruit and nut bread. I spot the loaves on one of the top shelves that I can reach if I rise onto my tiptoes. I lean forward onto the front of my feet and stretch my arm towards a loaf just as an intense, sharp pain strikes inside my stomach. I yelp, extracting my arm back and pressing my hand to my stomach as I squeeze my eyes closed and take deep breath's.

"Whoa," Haymitch says. "Are you okay, sweetheart? You're not going to be giving birth on me now, are ya?" I would reply if I could, but the pain is so intense that I cannot form a word. I groan through the pain and it slowly fades until it disappears altogether. "Maybe you should get your mother to check you out."

"I'm fine," I snap. "It has happened before... just never that painful." I reach for the bread and grab a loaf quickly before turning and dropping it onto the counter. I find a bag and slide the loaf inside and then hand it over to Haymitch. He hands me a few coins and starts towards the door. "Wait! Your change!"

"Keep it," he replies as he walks out the door.

I let out a loud sigh and re-open the cash register, about to drop the money inside, just as the door to the bakery kitchen swings open. I look over my shoulder to see Mrs Mellark standing in the doorway. Her eyes meet mine before they fall to the coins in my hand, then the open cash register.

"What do you think you are doing?" she snaps, her eyes growing big as she comes closer to me.

"What do y-" I start, dread filling me from head to toe.

She cuts me off. "How dare you steal money from me!" she yells and snatches the coins from my hand.

"What?" I exclaim.

"I just caught you red-handed!" Mrs Mellark shrieks, pointing her index finger at me.

"I was putting change in the register," I try to explain, but she refuses to listen to me.

"I'll have none of your pathetic excuses. No customer was in here to give you any change. You were sneaking money out of the register. You thief! You are a dirty, money-stealing, Seam slut that tricked my son into getting you knocked up so you could marry into this family!"

I knew she was an evil bitch but I never thought she could say something this hurtful. I'm speechless - unable to form a single word. Mr Mellark rushes into the room, asking frantically what is going on.

"Ask her!" Mrs Mellark hisses. "Ask the Seam slut!"

Mr Mellark looks at me in confusion and I open my mouth to say something - anything - but all that spills out is another yelp as the pain in my stomach returns. I grip the counter and try to take deep breath's, but I have started to panic and my breath's are coming out frantically.

"Katniss? What's the matter?" Peeta's father asks.

"Oh, she's faking it. She's trying to distract you from what she has done. She stole our money! I caught her with my own eyes!"

"Shut up for one second, woman!" Mr Mellark shouts at his wife ,and I would have laughed at the look on her face if I didn't feel like this. "Katniss! Are you okay? Is the baby coming?"

"I-I don't know," I manage to say.

"We need to get your mother!" he says. "She can help!"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Mrs Mellark yells, taking me by the elbow and leading me into the bakery kitchen. She pulls a chair towards me and orders me to sit. I do as she says, in too much pain to object. "Have your waters broke?"

"No," I say, forcing my breath's to become more calm and even. The pain slowly subsides.

"Any discharge? Nausea? Cramps?" she questions.

"No for all three," I say.

"It may be Braxton Hicks contractions. You can get them pretty early into your pregnancy but they can increase in frequency and strength towards the end. I had them on all three of my children and towards the end on all of them I thought I was in labor. I wasn't. They don't normally hurt," Mrs Mellark explains.

"I'm going to get your mother," Mr Mellark says, heading towards the door. "I'll be quick."

"I bet it's nothing," Peeta's mother says as her husband closes the door behind himself.

Silence falls over the room, and Mrs Mellark occupies her time by grabbing a brush and sweeping the floor. I look at her, really look at her and think that she would actually be quite pretty if she didn't always look so bitter and mean.

"I really wasn't stealing that money. That is the honest truth. Ask Haymitch Abernathy. He walked out seconds before you walked in. I know you think I'm a 'dirty, money-stealing, Seam slut that tricked your son into getting me knocked up so I could marry into your family' but that really isn't me at all. I wish you would give me a chance, instead of just assuming all those things about me."

"Peeta could do so much better than you," Mrs Mellark replies, her eyes looking straight into mine.

"I know. Believe me, I agree. He is perfect. I wasn't going to tell him about the baby, but he caught me buying a test and he... he knew. He told me he wanted to be involved. I didn't intend on marrying him and forcing him into looking after me and the baby. I was ready to bring this baby up alone. But, you see, your son is so good, so much better than you are, that he insisted he help me. He deserves anything he wants. And if what he wants is me and our baby, then that is what he'll have."

Mrs. Mellark opens her mouth to reply but I don't allow her to speak.

I continue, "I don't care about your money. If I cared so much I would have begged to live in a merchant home when I first married your son. But I didn't ask for that. I don't want your money. I didn't even want your son or this baby. I thought it was a mistake - just a big mistake that was going to ruin my life. But I feel completely different now. Peeta and I wouldn't be together if it wasn't for the baby. Peeta, who I love so much, wouldn't be my husband if Gale and Delly hadn't been reaped all those months ago. Our lives could've been different. But what is the point in thinking about what could've happened. It's not going to happen! You may hate me. I don't care if you do. But you are not getting rid of me, so you might as well get used to me."

We stare at each other for what seems like forever. The silence goes on and on and I start to feel uncomfortable.

In the end, she doesn't say anything else, just looks away and continues sweeping the bakery floor. I take the gesture as a good sign.