My mother smiled. “Well it has only taken 25 years.” She replied dryly.
“And you are supposed to wear gloves.” She waved her bright pink flowered ones.
I turned my attention back down at the soil and sighed. “I like the feel of it between my fingertips, it’s…soothing.”
My mother’s smile turned sad, I could tell her thoughts were turning to worry. And grief.
“Gwennie. Sweetheart, you know you need to talk, you can’t keep this bottled up. You haven’t even cried since the funeral.” Her voice was wobbly.
She was right. I hadn’t shed a tear since they had put my brother in the ground. Hadn’t spoken a word of him if I could avoid it, I couldn’t. I couldn’t open that dam, because I was afraid if I did I could never plug it back up. I couldn’t let myself let go of the carefully put together pieces of my soul. I would shatter.
I stood up abruptly, dusting my hands off on my already dirty dress.
“Mum I don’t need to talk okay? Just let me be. Please stop pressuring me when I don’t have anything to say.”
She stood too, eyes glistening. “Gwen…” she looked as if she was going to push it.
“Okay my two best green thumbs, time to go, I’ve got us booked in for three.” Amy stood on the porch, her heels not permitting her from venturing onto the grass.
I would have laughed if I had had the ability, my Mahattanite best friend may have settled into life in the country alright but she was yet to adopt the gumboots that were second nature around here.
“What are you smirking at Martha Stewart? I know for a fact you are in desperate need of a manicure.” She shot at me.
Amy was trying as hard as she could to hide her grief. But it leaked out every now and then. I would watch her face grow dark and tears well in her eyes when something she said or did reminded her of…him. I was trying to ignore my own suffering as best I could so I focused on hers, she lost him too. The man she loved. We were both as broken as each other, trying to hide our wounds as best we could. The breeze rustled my dress and my thoughts ventured downward to the round bulge of my stomach.
“I’m coming, just give the pregnant woman some slack, I’ll be waddling soon.” I made my way through our garden, Mum at my side.
“Soon?” Amy raised a brow. “I think I detect a slight waddle now.”
I gasped, grabbing my mother’s hand, turning to her in horror.
“Did you hear that Mum? She said I waddled. I’m not waddling. Am I?” I asked desperately.
My mother smiled through the pain that was in her eyes and touched my stomach lightly. “Well I wasn’t going to say anything…” She joked, sneaking a glance at my so called best friend.
“Oh you two are pieces of work, making fun of the pregnant lady. You do get how delicate my hormones are right now? And that I am holding gardening scissors?” I glared at them both, shaking my weapon threateningly.
My mother rolled her eyes lovingly. “Shears, my doll they are called shears.”
“Whatever.” I tossed the shears on our outdoor table just as my father emerged from the direction of the shed.
“What are my girls bickering about now?” He asked, looking at the three of us, pretending to glower.
I rushed up to him clutching his arms dramatically. “Daddy please tell these evil women that I do not waddle. I’m barely pregnant!” I exclaimed falsely. Dad hauled me into his arms and put his chin on my head.
“You my beautiful girl do not waddle.” He reassured me, I sighed into his embrace. “You galumph, and it’s adorable.” His voice was amused.
I extracted myself from his arms and glared. “You are all bullies. My own family! I know if Ian was here he would…” I stopped abruptly, hands over my mouth as the dark shadow of my words settled over us all. The smiles and jokes were gone, replaced by sadness and grief, I struggled under the weight of it. I hadn’t said his name since…No.
“Mouse.” Dad said softly, his voice raw.
I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. “Excuse me everyone, I’m covered in garden scum, I must change before we head to the spa. I would frighten the public like this.” My voice was saturated with forced cheerfulness and I ignored the worried faces of my loved ones. Without waiting for a response I quickly dashed back into the house. When I reached my room I slammed the door behind me, collapsing against it, closing my eyes. I mustn’t let myself think, about it, I mustn’t remember.
I went to my closet, eyes avoiding every picture I knew would destroy me. I had memorized where they were, I knew where I couldn’t look. I could have taken them down. But that would mean touching them, god forbid I got a glance at the photo inside the frame. It was worse in the rest of the house. My mother decorated in memories.
I distracted myself with what I was going to wear. And that was a good distraction; my growing belly had had a huge effect on my fashion choices. I had pretty much had to overall my entire wardrobe, not that that was a chore. Plus I would’ve had to do it anyway considering most of my stuff was in the States. Tut tut Gwen. I mustn’t let my mind wander that way either. My stomach had gone from flat to baby bumpin almost overnight. The doctor was right. At least I had bypassed the awkward ‘is she fat or pregnant’ stage. I was definitely pregnant. At four months, I had kept my small frame, which made my baby bump all the more prominent. I was all belly, and boobs. I was more than a little pleased my lady lumps had grown a bit bigger. I chose a mocha coloured maxi dress that was tight and gently hugged my belly. I slung a braided belt just underneath the swell of my stomach and wrapped a scarf around me neck. I put on some boots and a denim jacket to ward off the chill, it was autumn at home now, the weather was slowly warming up, but the air still had a bite. I inspected myself in the mirror. My hair had grown a bit longer, and thanks to the same hormones I mostly cursed, it made it full and shiny. That was the only thing I had of the so called pregnancy glow. Due to constant morning sickness, which had barely let up, my face looked sallow. The makeup which usually covered the dark circles under my eyes was absent so my lack of sleep was obvious, the worst thing was my eyes. They were empty. I tried as hard as I could to plaster a fake smile, to seem like I was healing, hell sometimes happy. But I couldn’t hide the dead that was staring back at me, the life that was gone from my eyes. It took all of my effort just to get out of bed every morning, to act like every breath I took wasn’t agony.
I could try and tell myself it was all from losing…him. But I would be lying. The person that held some of my light, the person that maybe had a shot of putting it back in my eyes, he was on the other side of the world. I hadn’t spoken to him since that day outside the hospital. Not for his lack of trying, he called daily. Multiple times, never mind the time difference, I wondered if he ever slept. I didn’t answer the phone anymore. I was a coward and let Amy or my parents do it, I couldn’t hear his voice. I knew he was upset. Upset was maybe too light of a word. I had heard him screaming through the phone at Amy one day, demanding to speak to me.
“You calm down right now biker boy, or I am disconnecting this number and making sure no one will speak to your cheating ass. The only reason we don’t all hang up on you is because Lacey has us all convinced you have a right to know about your kid. But you keep talking to me like that I face Lacey’s wrath and never let you speak to anyone here again. Comprende?”
I had let that conversation bounce off me, not letting it sink in. Like I did with most things that threatened my mental shield. The only reason why he wasn’t here right now was because of something to do with his record and New Zealand’s policy with people with convictions. Someone kept delaying the legal proceedings, which he needed to go through to get in the country, which I was grateful for. Or told myself I was grateful for. I couldn’t admit to myself that I was yearning for him, craving him like a drug. He must’ve felt the same because after a phone call with him, my Dad had hung up and said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if that boy sprouted wings and flew himself down here.” I pre
tended not to hear the grudging respect that crept into his tone.
So here I was, the Queen of Denial, my hold on the title was shaky, but I refused to let it go. I heard a soft knock on my door before it opened slightly.
“Can I come in Mouse?” Dad asked.
“Yeah Dad.” I replied, sighing and walking out of my closet.
He stood in the middle of my room, staring at one of the pictures I was forbidden to look at. The look in his eyes couldn’t be described as merely sad. More like anguished, ruined, destroyed. It quickly flickered away and his strong dad mask settled back in, he looked me up and down smiling.
“Didn’t think you’d ever get prettier darling, but with my grandbaby inside you, you are magnificent.”
My eyes prickled. “Thanks Daddy.”
“Now I know you won’t talk to me about before…” he started and I interrupted.
“Please Dad.” I begged, not wanting someone else trying to force me to talk, Dad had let me be so far.
“No I won’t say anything, you’ll talk when you are ready sweet girl. But sit with me a sec.” He sat himself down on my sleigh bed, patting the flowered duvet beside him. I paused for a moment before I sat down next to him.
“You know how happy I am to become a grandpa.” He started carefully and I tensed.
“Don’t get defensive yet Gwen. I can’t wait to meet that little baby. I know that him or her is going to have so much love surrounding it, it’s going to be a lucky kid.” He paused and I waited for it. “But that kid also needs its father. Nothing can replace a fathers love, I’m telling you that from experience.” His eyes twinkled,
“I know there are some problems with you and this Cade fella. I ain’t going to try and give an opinion on your private relationship that’s between the two of you. Problem is, there not just two of you anymore.” He gazed pointedly at my stomach before continuing. “Now when that boy isn’t yelling down the phone, I get the impression he cares a great deal about you and that baby. Hell I think you are what tethers him to this earth. I say this cause I know how that feels. Cause I feel that bout your mother, you,” his voice cracked, “and your brother. I can’t say I’m too happy about the fact that the reason he’s not here is due to problems with the law. I can’t judge the man based purely off that though. I know little about the man, but what I do know is he loves my baby girl, and is desperate to see you, hear your voice. I also know that your brother approved of him, the last time I spoke to him I was not feelin the love towards your new man, I was so worried I thought about hopping on a plane. Your brother stopped me, I trusted his judgment.” He cleared his throat, “So maybe consider picking up the phone, cause I know you might need to talk to him just about as much as he talks to you.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but I knew my argument was weak, so I closed it again.
“I support you in anything you do honey. I’ve said my piece. I want more than anything is my baby girl happy. Which I know you ain’t now.” He finished softly.
“I don’t know if I can ever be happy again Daddy.” I declared my biggest fear brokenly.
Dad stroked my face then put his hand on my belly. “Oh my little mouse, I know you can. You just gotta let yourself.” He kissed my head then left me sitting there his words hanging in the air.
I lay in bed later that night, full as I could be with food my Mum cooked. Full with the love for the company I shared my table with tonight, full with my child. But somehow I still had a gaping whole, right there in my soul. I was afraid it might never be mended, I might always be broken, empty. Only half enjoying company I was, only half tasting the food that I ate, feeling guilty for every time I smiled. There wasn’t a guarantee that Cade could repair my hole, fill me back up, but I knew he would die trying. I looked at my phone display, the name staring back at me. Two months was a long time to think, the more I thought about that awful day the more things didn’t add up. When I had walked into Cade’s room, he hadn’t seem panicked, glancing at the bathroom door like any half intelligent man would. He had been happy, ecstatic when he learned of the baby, I remembered the unhidden joy on his face. It was not the face of a man who knew he had a whore in the bathroom, no matter the words that had been said the night before I knew he wouldn’t cheat. Maybe I was kidding myself, the scene had been damning, maybe I was grasping at emotional straws. But maybe I was right. Maybe Dad was right. I already loved my baby with as much of my broken heart as I could. Who was I to deny it the love of its father?
I took a deep breath and put my thumb to the name on the screen.
“Well Gwen I have to say I’m glad you have your appetite back.” My mother informed me with a smile.
I let out an unladylike snort as I shoveled my second plate of eggs into my mouth. She was right, suddenly I was eating like a pubescent boy. I had made my father drive half an hour to the closest dairy last night to get me a banana milkshake. And pickles.
It was two days after our little chat. I had called Cade. Only to have it go straight to voicemail, I chickened out on leaving a message deciding on picking up the phone the next time he rang. But after being stuck on the phone multiple times with every single person in my family and all of my mother’s nosy friends I hadn’t heard from him, I was worried. But I was too scared to call him again. So I ate.
“I am too my sunshine.” Dad chipped in putting his arms around my mother and kissing her head.
“But I will say, I don’t know if the chickens will lay quickly enough to keep her in eggs, we may need to buy some more.” He grinned at me, I swallowed my mouthful poking my tongue out at him.
“Well you may as well buy a milkshake machine too Daddy.” I said sweetly, giving him a wink.
Amy sauntered in the room looking a million bucks like usual. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail, she wore white jeans and a camel coloured cashmere sweater. Not exactly country appropriate but at least the heels on her boots were thick. She had lost some serious weight, I couldn’t help worry. Her curves were disappearing and her cheekbones sallow, I wasn’t one to talk but I hoped my eating habits might inspire hers. My hope flared when she scooped some eggs onto her plate followed by a healthy dose of bacon.
“Morning family.” Amy declared, smiling at my parents, then bending down to pat my stomach, “Morning Supe.” She smirked as I rolled my eyes at the nickname for my Bun. She barely had two bites when her phone rang, she glanced down at it before standing, “Excuse me, gotta take this it’s Rosie, about the store.” She quickly walked out of the room before answering.
Guilt blossomed in my stomach. I felt terrible for leaving the girls in the lurch with my store, I hadn’t really talked to anyone, I was too afraid Cade would hijack the call. So Amy had taken care of what needed to be taken care of. Not that there was much. Rosie was a star, dealing with everything from the orders to the payroll. I owed her big time. Not to mention that I had dragged Amy halfway across the world and not mentioned a return date. She could have gone home with Ry and Alex who flew over for the funeral and stayed for a week after. I could tell she reluctant to leave, to face the reality of getting on with life, I did know I had to figure it out and soon. I didn’t have long before I wouldn’t be able to make the 12 hour flight until after the baby was born. And even after I didn’t want to be that mother with the screaming baby on the plane.
A small part of me wanted to stay here, at my home in the country, my quiet retreat where I felt safe and comfortable. But it was also where memories of my brother lurked around every corner, and Cade did not. I contemplated this all over my plate of eggs before I sighed and cleaned up. I took my jacket and boots from beside the door, turning to my parents.
“I’m going for a walk, I need some fresh air.”
“Okay well take Gunner with you. That fat dog needs some exercise.”
I looked at my father. “As if he would let me go anywhere without him.” My point was proved when an excited but overweight Lab bounded through the door I had just opened. “See you in a
bit.”
I strolled around my childhood home, admiring it as I moved further away. It was big, but not obscene. Two storied, with a porch wrapping around the entire back and steps leading down into a huge garden. Huge pillars held up the balcony, which jutted off the upstairs living room, the backdrop of the Southern mountain ranges. I left it behind and let my feet take me to my place, our place. Gunner was puffing beside me but happily smiling up at me. Ian used to argue that dogs couldn’t smile but I disagreed, we had a perpetually happy Lab. I marveled and the amber and orange hues that decorated the trees and the leaves that crunched under my feet. I loved my home in autumn, It felt like a new beginning. I made it up the gentle slope, not liking to admit my panting sounded dangerously close to Gunner’s. I patted my stomach.
“This is your fault Bun, I used to be in great shape. I swear if you make my ankles swell I’m giving you a baby mullet.”
I reached the top ambling over to a swing hanging from a huge old oak tree, its leaves shimmering gold. I closed my eyes as sitting down in the swing moving back and forward, casting my eyes upon the rolling hills of home. This was our place. Mine and Ian’s. He built this swing for me when I was eight for me to play on and then became a place for me to escape in my teenage years. Cry away heartbreak, run from my parents after yet another grounding, or to dream about starting my life in New York. Ian would promise me nothing bad could happen up here. A single solitary tear escaped my eye. I sat in silence for a long while.
“You lied Ian. Bad things can happen here. They did happen. You’re gone. You left me. I’m so angry with you. How could you leave us? How can I handle all of this without my big brother? You are never going to meet my baby. Never going to make any of your own, I’m never going to see you again. It hurts so much, I feel like I’m going to be like this forever. Am I ever going to be happy again?” I pleaded against the wind, the breeze carrying my words. I laid my head against the swing wishing for the millionth time that I could travel back in time.