15. Chapter Fifteen
Iwas pruning the tea leaves in my garden, the small knife in my hand just sharp enough to take the leaves from the stem without damaging the plant itself. That way, they could offer us the leaves that I would dry. Chamomile, lavender, peppermint, black tea, bergamot, and others. I would prune and dry them, making a custom tea for each of those I loved.
It was a never ending process. Grow, dry, then make into tea, and feed with love to the family I was gaining.
I laid the leaves out to dry in the sun - nature was always best for such things - before going to the small satchel I had put together for the young woman who I was starting to think of as my own daughter. Still, no matter how I felt, I wanted to wait for her to acknowledge me as her mother. After all, I was the invader that had come into her home and partnered with her father without her permission or her desire… surely, in this, I could wait for her to pick me.
I placed the little pruning knife in my pocket, as I took the kettle from the nearby sink, and poured water into a cup I had prepared just for her - peppermint today, to calm her stomach.
Rose took the cup of tea from me, then settled into the chair in the library. Before they left, Jericho lit the fire for us, and Alastair settled Rose before he reluctantly left with the siblings.
She had been less than enthused that her father and husband insisted she stayed home, but the doctor had put her on modified bed rest. She was allowed to wander the home, and leave the house to go shopping, but the extracurriculars that Jericho, Yuliya and Alastair were up to were a hard no.
And for obvious reasons. A pregnant woman shouldn”t be in the thick of a manhunt for a murderer even if she could handle herself. It wasn”t feasible, and the only person who didn”t understand that was Rose herself.
Even with the little time I”d spent with her, I knew her need to be accepted by Jericho coupled with the desire to feel strong and capable enough made her hate feeling like she wasn”t needed.
She didn”t need to doubt herself though. She was one of the strongest women I”d ever had the pleasure to meet. Alongside Yuliya. Jericho made sure of that, and I wondered when he would realize I”d never be that woman. I”d never use my fists, or have enough muscle to care for myself. He would always have to keep me safe, and away from harm.
Would he one day soon wake and realize that his wife, a wife he never chose for himself, couldn”t be left alone with fear of her being taken, or killed?
Alastair Green kept me locked away because he didn”t want anyone to steal his precious plaything. Jericho kept me locked away because he couldn’t trust me to fight back.
Rose rubbed her belly, her fingers clasping over the growing bump as I forced myself to return back to my witchy business, as my husband so eloquently put it.
”I”m sorry you”re stuck here, Rose,” I said. ”I know you want to be in the action.”
The disgruntled look on her face dissipated as she eyed me with curiosity. ”I do. I hate being left out. I know it”s for the best, but I don”t want to be treated like I”m fragile. I”m not.”
I shook my head, agreeing with her. Rose was far from fragile. ”You”re creating two humans, you are far from weak. So many people want to take away how beautiful it is for a mother to create life and mask it behind feminism. They claim being a mother is harder than being a father. And it is, but not for the reasons everyone says.”
I reached out and took Rose’s hand, running my fingers over the soft backs of them.
“Did you know that your baby’s cells can be found in your blood even decades after they’re born?” I asked her, smiling down at her growing belly. If I stared hard enough, sometimes, I fancied I could see the little ones swimming around inside her. “A baby’s cry will alert you in a way that a man will never know. A way that only a mother will know. And the more you give of your body to the baby, the more strength you lend your child.”
”Huh,” Rose said. ”I guess I never looked at it that way.”
”When those babies are born, you”ll go back to training. You”ll be better, stronger for it. No man can ever go through the intense changes women do. And you”ll be fiercer because of the love you have for your children, which will drive that dire need you have to keep them safe.”
She nodded, then let out a soft yawn.
”I”m getting tired myself,” I said, wiping my hands on the fabric of the table cloth. The crackling fire brought warmth to my chilled bones, but I stood and extended a hand to Rose. ”We could both use a nap. Our men will be home when we wake, and maybe we can take a walk in the gardens.”
Rose peered through the window, chuckling. ”It”s snowing Aoibheann. I”m not walking anywhere outside in this freezing weather.”
She played with the cup in her hand, not quite ready to let it go.
“What’s on your mind, child?” I asked, wondering if all was alright with the babes.
She pursed her lips and looked away. “I don’t know what to say… I just…”
She let out a long sigh, before turning to look at me.
“Would you mind being the one in the delivery room?” Her brows knit together, as she frowned. “Alastair will be there, but he’ll be a wreck. I just know it. And I don’t want Dad anywhere near me when I launch something out of my vagina…”
I let out a little laugh. She was so crude, it was endearing.
“If you’re in there with me, then I could probably keep him out of the labor and delivery room, and… and I think…” Her voice faded out as her eyes bored a hole into the cup. “You’re a lot more soothing than my dad, and you don’t treat my husband poorly. I think you’d be the best choice to have in the delivery room.”
I placed a hand on her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. She was much warmer than normal nowadays, because of the work her body did to bring her children into the world.
“What of Yuliya?” I asked, not because I didn’t want to accept right away. But I wanted her to make the right choice for such a monumental event in her young life.
“She hates kids,” Rose laughed. “At least she pretends she does. I know when the kids come out, she’ll take care of them. But in the delivery room? She might threaten the medical staff, and they’ll be terrified. I don’t need that.”
She shook her head, her long black hair coming out of the cascading braid that fell over her shoulder.
“No, I’d like it to be you… if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I don’t mind!” I took her hands in mine, pulling the cup from them so that I could put it on the end table. “I would be honored. I simply want to do what’s best for you, and… you haven’t known me long.”
“I know, but… considering the options…” My heart didn’t drop even as she basically told me I was the only choice. I was just pleased to be asked. “I think you’re going to be the person in charge of the kids, in case something happens to me.”
“Nothing will happen to you,” I promised her.
“Evie…” Rose shook her head. “It’s been a very, very hard pregnancy. I’m… I’m worried that…”
“Nothing will happen to you.” I swiped my fingertips over her forehead, trying to wipe away the dark clouds forming in her mind. “Your darkness is because you’re tired. Let’s get rested up.”
I helped her to her feet and didn’t miss the slight wobble in her steps.
I imagine pregnancy was hard with one child. Doubly so with two growing inside her. Two spirits… and I’d be in the room when they took their first breath.
My heart was so full, I could barely breathe. I linked our arms together as I escorted her to the hall.
Rose held my hand, and I felt the great protectiveness of a mother, clutching her young one as they crossed the street.
There was a sense of danger that came. It prickled at the backs of my arms, my spine coming straight.
“What’s wrong?” Rose said, her hand tightening on mine.
I looked to the front door, where another flower delivery came. The man in the gray overall’s face was covered by a large pot full of blue and purple passionflower, the spiked petals looking odd, like they were shivering in a warning.
Jericho, Alastair and Yuliya were gone. They were hunting for Brock. Hunting for the last of my tormentors. I was alone. Jericho had some distant guards at the gate, but no one in the house for the sake of our privacy. I stopped us in our tracks, clutching Rose to pull her behind me, placing myself bodily between her and this man.
Things slowed to a crawl as the delivery man dropped the potted plant, letting it crash into the ground. A memory flashed through my head. Rose, going pale, dropping her glass. The glass shattering on the ground was the same as the porcelain of the pot as it split beneath the weight of the dirt it contained, crashing beneath our feet.
Shards struck into my bare ankles, as a knife came out of the man’s pocket. Not a knife… no… gardening shears.
The guards at the gate would have frisked him.
I stared into the menacing eyes of the cruel and angry man. I knew them well. I had seen them stare at my face as he rutted like a fiend on top of my paralyzed body as I took him inside me again and again. Over and over, as my mind faded into blackness, and peeled away. As my husband gave me to him again and again as a reward for his cruelty against his enemies.
This wretched man had found me.
“Keep your eyes off of her!” I said, my palm out towards him in a stopping gesture.
“Eve, get behind me,” Rose tried to push me behind her, but I held my ground. No! Not this time! Not with two babes in her belly. I needed to stand between this vile man and the innocent life in this young girl’s body. I would not let him do to her what he had done to me. No. He’d do worse. He’d kill the child, and I couldn’t allow that.
One of those babies was named after my husband. My love. And he adored that child without even seeing him. I would carve out my own heart to protect the little ones, so they had a chance to bounce on their grandfather’s knee. They needed a chance to be happy, in the love that only my husband, and his family could possibly provide.
“Eve!”
“No, daughter,” I said, enunciating the word as a command. Just like Jericho would. “You protect the babies, and get out of here. He’s not here for you. He’s here for me.”
The shears glinted in Tanner Brock’s hand. He tilted it left and right, as if it was a heat-seeking missile, twisting in the wind to find its target. Me, or Rose.
The target was me.
It had to be.
Because I was a mother, in my own way. And a grandmother. Even if only in the most technical way. Even if only by a blood vow. But that was the oath, wasn’t it? The handfasting meant that his family was mine. That Jericho’s burdens would be mine. And so, too, were his precious kin. If he would stand bodily between them and danger, then surely, I could too.
“Tanner,” I tried to affect a sweet, seductive voice, and he almost jolted in his skin, surprised by my change of tone. “Look at me. Let her go.”
His eyes fixed on me, and I tilted my head. I started to hum a sweet, slow song. When his eyes tilted back to Rose, I changed my voice.
“Blood on his lips…” I sang quietly. The song. The curse. The one that had frightened them so much that they saw it in their worst nightmares. The melody I had comforted myself with all those years with my late husband, as they did unspeakable things to me. As they took away my youth, my dignity… and for a while, my very soul. A soul I got back when Jericho handed it to me, wrapped in a plaid ribbon that bound our bleeding palms together.
Rose’s steps diminished. They were slow, light, and meant not to stir his attention from me. But he was entranced, like a mouse in the gaze of a snake.
I relished being the predator for once. Even for just a moment. Even if it was the last thing I did.
“Hate comes from shame…” I was strengthened by all the joy I had felt over the last few, short weeks. As a fiancee. Then, as a bride. Then the all too brief time I spent as a beloved wife to a man who worshiped my body as every woman desired.
I decided that those moments were enough for a life. I got to see a rare flower bloom. With it, I bloomed too. Even if for just a sweet, perfect moment.
“I’ll wear red to your funeral,” I spat out.
Tanner’s rage colored his cheeks red. He groaned, then growled. Then his teeth bared as he ran towards me, the shears in his hand swinging up. I ducked low, shutting my eyes. I pulled the gardening knife from my pocket, piercing up, opening my eyes just long enough to stab at the fifth intercostal space. Just like Jericho had taught me, during that dinner that had sealed our fate.
I felt it. The softness of flesh giving way onto the metal, and then the weight of him. He was so, so heavy. He fell onto me, but the knife was limp. His hands fell with him, and wetness, sticky and metallic in taste covered my face. Warm, and soupy.
His weight brought me down to my knees. Was I dead? I didn’t feel pain. But maybe that was because this was the end. The end should be painless, if you’ve already endured more scars on the soul than any one mortal should.
I didn’t believe my end would be so serene, but I felt light. I felt… whole.