Chapter Twelve
December 2024
“Right, where do you want to put it?” Caz asked, dragging the seven-foot monster of a tree through the door as Grace wandered in behind, carrying bags full of decorations.
“I was thinking if we push the sofa down, it could go in that corner.” Grace pointed to the spot.
“Okie dokie,” Caz answered, lifting and twisting until she could squeeze the fir through the doorway and drop it gently to the floor.
She didn’t wait, getting herself wedged into the space between the wall and the sofa, using her thighs for leverage, and pushed until it moved as far as it would go.
“I can help,” Grace said.
“No, you can put your feet up. We haven’t spent all this time finding the best donor and paying a fancy clinic to impregnate you, for you to be shifting furniture.” She took Grace’s hand and led her over to the sofa. “Sit, feet up, I’ll get you a nice hot chocolate made. How does that sound?”
“Sound’s perfect. And you’re right. I know we don’t even know yet if it’s worked, but I do need to remember to not…” Her words drifted away. It was difficult not knowing one way or the other and they still had almost a week to go before she could do a test to see if it worked. “It might not have worked anyway.”
“It’s going to work,” Caz said emphatically.
Grace nodded. “If it doesn’t—”
“It will,” Caz repeated, sitting down beside her. “And if it doesn’t, then we’ll try again. Try not to think about it.”
Grace’s laugh had an edge of sarcasm to it. “I potentially have another human growing in me, that’s hard not to think about.”
“I know. It’s all kind of crazy, isn’t it? Just a couple of months have passed and now we might have—” Her hand tentatively reached to touch Grace’s tummy and then stopped, hovering above it, unsure.
Grace took her hand and it pulled it down until Caz’s palm flattened out over her bellybutton. “You can touch.”
“Have you thought about whether you’d want a boy or a girl?”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t mind.”
“Me either. Mind, I mean. I thought about it and came up with positives and negatives to both, so figured whatever it was, it’s going to be fun…and trouble.”
Curling into Caz’s side, Grace chuckled.
“It will have you for a parent—of course it’s going to be trouble.”
“It will know how to change a tyre.”
Grace pinched her playfully. “Hey, you said to call you whenever there was a problem with the car.” Still chuckling, she said, “They will know how to protect those they love, and how to fight their own battles, and what love looks like.”
“Yeah.” Caz sighed. “What are they going to get from you?”
Pinching her again, Grace laughed. “You’re horrible.”
The week passed in a blur. So much needed to be done to get ready for Christmas, which was fast upon them. Work was manic for Caz, with people wanting their cars checked over, or tyres changed in preparation for long drives to see family or go away for the holidays.
Not that she complained; the overtime meant she could buy things for the nursery and get Grace something extra for Christmas. Afterall, wasn’t Grace giving her the biggest gift any human could give another?
It would be their first, and probably their last, opportunity to spend Christmas together, just the two of them, before their family blossomed.
With Ron and Lila heading to Grace’s brother’s family for Christmas in Norfolk, and Caz not having any family to worry about, it was an easy decision to stay home. They hadn’t told anyone about the potential family addition yet, either, so Caz was going all out to make it the best.
Fatigued, she staggered in through the front door, already pulling her jacket off wearily and ready to kick her boots into the cupboard under the stairs.
Exhaustion had hit two hours ago.
“I’m home,” she called out. Finally, pushing the second boot from her foot, she ran her hands through her hair and caught herself in the hall mirror. “Attractive, Caz.” She yawned and tried to wipe the smear of oil that had managed to evade her quick face wash before she’d left the garage. “Grace?”
Checking her watch, it was gone eight. Grace didn’t have any plans this evening that Caz could remember. Wandering into the kitchen, the lights were off and nothing was cooking. She frowned. Caz crossed the room to the calendar on the wall and checked to see if Grace had any appointments she’d forgotten about, but there were none.
“Grace?” she tried again, and walked through the dining room and into the lounge.
No sign.
A surge of panic began to rise, adrenaline coursing and winding its way into her system. She should be home from work by now.
Back in the hallway, she listened for signs telling her anyone was home and heard nothing, just sounds from cars and people passing by outside. She looked outside; Grace’s car was definitely on the drive.
And then she stopped.
She cocked her head to listen better. There had definitely been something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—noise within the house.
It happened again; a small whimper.
Bounding up two stairs at a time, Caz reached the landing in seconds and listened again. Her bedroom door was open, so was the bathroom, but Grace’s door was firmly closed.
She tapped lightly on it. “Grace? Can I come in?”
This time, the whimper became a sob and Caz forgot politeness and opened the door. Peering into the darkness, she could just make out the figure of Grace, curled up on her bed.
“Grace? What’s wrong?”
She edged nearer, until she could slide onto the bed and push herself closer. Just as she reached out, Grace turned and burrowed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.
She didn’t need to be told; she felt it. Her arms slid around Grace easily and she pulled her closer. The pain, the heartbreak—all of it trembling within her embrace.
They’d suffer together.
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay,” she whispered, and kissed her head over and over until even she believed it might be okay.
Christmas morning was cold. The kind of cold where, without central heating, you would stay in bed under the duvet and fester until you were so hungry you had no choice but to get up.
Snow had been falling for over a week now and the entire area was blanketed. On any other day, Caz would have found some joy in waking up to a white Christmas, but what was there to be joyous about?
They’d gone out the night before and met friends at the bar. Keeping everything pushed down and unspoken in an attempt to not upset Grace, Caz had allowed herself to be dragged along. They tried to appear like everything was rosy because they hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy, or the fact that it hadn’t worked.
“What was the point?” Grace had said.
Tons of people were there, all having fun until the snow started up again and everyone left to get home safely. How they’d both put on smiles and happy voices, she didn’t know, but then, they were good at lying to people now, weren’t they?
Maybe even to themselves.
Grace had cried the moment the key was in the door. She’d cried every night. Caz could hear her sobs. Every time, she’d get up, pad barefoot across the landing and knock gently on the door, then she’d climb into bed and wrap Grace in her arms, and they’d stay like that ‘til morning.
It broke her heart.
Each morning, Grace would get up, put her face on, dress silently, and go to work with a packed lunch Caz had made the night before.
She moved through the motions until she could come home and climb back into bed again.
Lunch remained barely touched.
Caz had knocked the extra hours at work on the head, wanting to be at home with Grace. Of course, everyone had had a good giggle at that.
The love birds all alone for Christmas.
It had been the garage joke: How much Caz was doting on Grace. They’ll be married soon, they’d all say. Caz would laugh it all off before she’d pack up and head home for another night of being useless.
Getting home, she’d find Grace already in bed, curled up, sometimes crying, other times just lying there and staring off into space.
That was how she had found Grace Christmas morning, but something shifted in Caz. There was supportive, and then there was permissive.
Allowing this to continue was hurting them both, wasn’t it?
Caz got up, showered and dressed, before heading downstairs to make Grace a breakfast she didn’t expect she would eat but was getting anyway. Life had to move on, otherwise they would stagnate.
A toasted English muffin, halved and shared between two plates, one poached egg on each half, a generous pouring of hollandaise sauce, and a sprinkling of rocket. She placed one plate onto the tray along with cutlery, a glass of orange juice, and a small present, wrapped perfectly.
Balanced on her palm, she knocked gently and didn’t bother to wait for Grace to answer, because there rarely was one.
“Morning, I got you some breakfast,” she said as cheerily as she could manage. Grace didn’t move. “Merry Christmas.”
Caz put the tray down onto the bedside cabinet and walked around the room to the window, drawing the curtains open. “Still snowing,” she said, trying to keep her voice happy and not break down herself.
“Sweetheart?” Caz came around to the side of the bed where Grace was facing and crouched down. “I think it’s time to get up, don’t you?”
Grace mumbled something Caz couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter. Caz made a decision, Grace needed a wake-up call, and a shower. She stood up and left the room, coming back a moment later to find Grace still hiding under the covers.
“Grace, I love you, and I know you’re hurting, but this can’t go on. We’ve still got options.” She waited a second, and when no movement came, she yanked the cover back and slid her arm under Grace, lifting her up before she had any chance to even consider what was happening.
Her eyes wide and angry, hair sticking up, Grace finally spoke. “Put me down.” She looked like a scarecrow.
“I’m not putting you down. I will not allow you to continue this.”
“I just want to be left alone.”
“And I want my best friend to return to the world and spend Christmas with me.” Caz twisted around and carried her out into the hallway, kicking the bathroom door open with her foot. “You need a shower.”
Steam billowed in the small room from where Caz had switched the shower on in preparation.
Grace glared at her. “Put me down.” She punched Caz on the arm. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make a point. But the point was lost amongst the tears. And out of nowhere, she stopped fighting and clung onto Caz, unwilling to let go.
“It’s time to come back to me,” Caz said, stepping into the shower. The water hit and soaked through her shirt and jeans.
The pair of them just stood there, dripping wet.
And finally, the sobbing quieted, the fingers released their grip, and Caz let Grace’s feet land on the floor, unmoving, as Caz, eyes closed, removed Grace’s pyjamas, turned her around, and washed her. She rubbed shampoo into her hair and took care of her in the only way she knew how, passing her a sponge for those more intimate areas.
Finished, Caz switched the water off and reached for a towel, wrapping Grace in it before she stripped out of her own clothes and found a second towel.
“We have too much to live for, and too many dreams to create,” she said, and then it happened: Grace nodded.
“I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
Her eyes wet as she said, “That I couldn’t look after our baby.”
“That’s not what happened. It was too soon,” Caz said gently. “Most likely you weren’t pregnant.”
“Doesn’t matter. I couldn’t—”
“No,” Caz said, placing a finger against her lips. “There’s no blame, there’s no shame. It didn’t work, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with you. You just had a period like every other month, that’s all.”
Grace nodded, her grip tightening on Caz.
“We’re going to get through this, and if you want to try again, we’ll talk about it, but right now…I need you.” Caz wiped the tears away on her own cheeks, but it didn’t stop them flowing.
“Okay.” Grace reached up and cupped Caz’s cheek. “Okay.”