After half an hour and a cup of tea, she leaves me in the kitchen and goes about her business.
Now what do I do? I guess I could see what’s on the TV. Hopefully something interesting.
Chapter Nine
Two days slowly pass by and I get no word from Nathan. Not that I want or need word from him. I’m absolutely exhausted. Today I walked two miles out instead of just the one and almost got lost on my way back. Tomorrow I’m going to take a piece of chalk and mark the trees as I go so I don’t get lost. My skills at exploring are definitely below par.
I also need some walking boots and some more clothes. All of my things are still in Nathan’s car, which is irritating. The only thing I brought in is my rucksack. I wonder what made him in such a rush that he couldn’t spend twenty minutes bringing in my things.
Sigh.
It’s late and I’m currently curled up on the couch in a robe which Jeanine brought for me this morning. I’m wearing the matching nightgown beneath, which is satin and feels amazing against my oversensitive skin, especially my belly. It fits perfectly, snug around the breasts but floats over my belly and back like a silky cloud.
Caleb loved satin. He tried to make me buy satin bed sheets but they’re irritating when it’s warm and the quilt never stays in place inside the cover.
My eyes burn. I refuse to cry. But sometimes, even though you tell yourself not to cry, you can’t help it.
I miss him so much and the baby’s kicking. Every time I thought that I could feel a flutter, Caleb would instantly put his hands or his head there if he was nearby. Even though he couldn’t feel it, he liked sharing the experience with me.
He’s never even going to get to hold him, never going to see his first smile.
I can’t stop the tears as they flow down my cheeks. This time I don’t try. I cry so much exhaustion sweeps through me. My eyes drift shut, but I don’t feel like moving so I don’t go to bed. There’s no point.
Something is sliding under my legs. That tickles. “Hmm,” I murmur, my eyes still shut. My arms go around the neck of whoever is lifting me as a strong arm snakes around my back. I press my forehead to his neck and inhale deeply. He smells like fresh linen and a cologne I don’t know the name of. It smells wonderful. Kind of spicy but also sweet. Manly. “I’m heavy,” I mumble but get no response.
From his scent alone I know he’s not Caleb, but part of me can’t help wishing.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers and begins walking.
“Uh-huh,” I say, my lids still shut. This earns me a gentle squeeze.
I wake to the sound of curtains being pulled open. Ugh. “Morning. It’s almost eleven twenty. Somebody must have been tired!”
“Hello, Jeanine.” I say around a yawn and stretch. In shock, my hands go to my bare shoulders. My night dress is still on my body but my gown isn’t. When did I take that off?
I think back… I didn’t take it off. So who did?
“Is Nathan back?” I squeak and Jeanine nods with her usual smile. “Where is he?”
“He’s making breakfast.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t wake me. He told me to be up by eleven every morning.”
She quirks a brow. “Well he gave me specific orders to let you rest, but I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep all day and that baby needs to eat.” She hands me two spoons that feel like they’ve been in the freezer. “Put the curved part on the bags under your eyes. It’ll get rid of the swelling.”
I groan but do as I’m told. “Do I look like hell?”
She smiles sadly. “No, my darling, you look like a woman who’s just lost the father of her child.” I lean into her hand when she strokes my cheek, needing the comfort. “Now come on, up, up. Get dressed, I’ll be back in ten.”
As I walk into the kitchen my nose is assaulted by the scent of mushrooms and butter. My mouth waters.
Dumping the spoons in the sink, I spy Nathan sitting at the dining table in the next room, a book in one hand as he eats with the other. He’s wearing glasses and I feel like sniggering but still haven’t reached the point of that emotion yet. He looks older than his time but he also looks too young to look old. I’m not sure if this makes sense, but it also sort of does.
At least he’s not wearing a suit this time. It’s good to see him looking human in a plain white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. It suits him, although I have to admit that the suit looks better on him. The suit is now the image I associate him with.
Without looking up, he motions to the space beside him and I see my plate of food and frown. “Why don’t I get fried mushrooms?”
He looks over his book at me from the end of the table as I take my seat beside him.
“Oh come on. If I don’t get any fat in my system, I’m going to lose weight.”
“Fried mushrooms aren’t on the list for a healthy pregnancy.”
“If your concerns were real then nobody would have a healthy pregnancy.” I spy his full plate, sausages, bacon, toast, beans, mushrooms, the whole shebang, but no eggs. Then I stare at mine. “Grilled tomato and brown toast with margarine? You’re kidding me.”
“Eat.” He snaps, his eyes skimming through his book.
I do and it tastes bland and awful. “Has this been cooked with sunflower oil?”
“Organic.”
“Ewww. Can’t I just have a piece of bacon?”
He flips the page. “No.”
“Just a bite?”
“No.”
I let out a growl and so does my stomach. “You’re killing me here.”
He looks at me again, his brows raised like a parent does to a child when they’re being naughty. “Eat, Guinevere.”
I have a forkful of my chopped and grilled tomatoes and cringe. He’s looking at his book. He won’t notice if I sneak a mushroom from his plate. They smell too good to resist.
It’s the bacon my heart is set on, though. He has four slices. Four.
That’s just greedy. Nobody needs that much bacon.
Very slowly and carefully I slide my hand along the table, using my other one to eat the food I have so it doesn’t look like I’m doing anything suspicious. He can’t see. The book is in the way of his eyesight.
Almost there… smack.
I gasp and pull my stinging hand back, my mouth open in shock. He looks over the top of his glasses at me, his closed book now on the table.
“Did you just hit my hand with your book?” I ask, my shock still evident as I rub the back of my hand with my other one. It didn’t hurt it just shocked me.
“I said no.”
“You just hit my hand with your book,” I say, my voice lower and more dangerous this time. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Are you an animal?” He scowls, his palms flat on the table. “Because only animals steal food from another’s plate.”
“Are you an animal?” I scowl back, repeating his words. “Because only animals hit pregnant women.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “So dramatic, it was just your hand.”
“It’s still assault.”