"Labor of Love" Part 2
AN: This is shaping up to be longer than I thought! Tavish decided to crash the party be in the drabble too, mainly to keep Aamnia company and be the first one on Liz's side of the family to see the baby. No baby yet, though! That story snippet at the end isn't mine. I actually got it from the preface of the 1960 musical, "Peter Pan", with Mary Martin. Liz isn't telling the story of "Peter Pan", though. It just sounded like a good story beginning, which I won't be continuing, and a good place to end the chapter. Here's part 2!
Sometime during supper, Elizabeth's brother, Tavish, arrived with the news that the weather conditions were so poor that he was lucky to have found them. After Aamnia had been sternly admonished by her father that it was not polite to point out her uncle's 'snotsicles'--Peridan had to raise his voice to speak over Tavish's guffaws and the coughing fit Elizabeth used to cover her own laugh--Tavish was led over to the fire.
Girbius did not have to fight to keep a straight face, and Peridan did not miss the look that the faun gave him as Tavish was given a bowl of hot winter stew.
When Tavish's teeth had finally stopped chattering, he joined the others at the dinner table and explained why he had come. "The snow really started to accumulate an hour ago, and it's given no sign of letting up. I was coming to see if you were all right, but I got turned around and nearly got lost in the woods. A dryad pointed me in the right direction after telling me off for being foolish, and...well, here I am."
As Tavish mentioned that he had come to check on them, his eyes lingered on his sister for a brief moment. 'I knew she was nearing her time, but I didn't know she was this far along...'
"You really shouldn't have done it, brother..." Elizabeth admonished as she ladled more stew into her brother's bowl, and Tavish tucked in with gusto. He didn't even seem to notice that the stew contained no meat, or perhaps he was too polite to mention it. Either way, the stew was delicious, and Tavish was very hungry!
"Why not?" he asked with his mouth full.
Choosing her words carefully, seeing that Aamnia wasn't missing a word, Liz explained, "You wouldn't be helping anyone if you got lost in a blizzard. Least of all, yourself."
"I made it, didn't I? And I have to ask, what's this herb I'm tasting?"
Tavish was deliberately changing the subject, and for once Peridan was grateful. He had an awful, hollow feeling in his chest as it appeared that Girbius's warning had proven to be sound. He still hadn't quite recognized that feeling for what it was. "Thyme. And a little bit of marjoram," he said distractedly.
"Da's a great cook," Aamnia boasted, helping herself to a dinner roll.
"That he is, Lass," Tavish agreed, privately wondering why the older man should look so pale beneath his naturally dark complexion.
The corners of Peridan's mouth quirked a little at the compliment, and he inclined his head in a gracious nod of acceptance. "Thank you. Have as much as you like. I made too much."
Elizabeth tilted her head as she studied her husband's expression, and she opened her mouth to ask a question, but shut it again with a look of puzzlement. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."
Peridan stood when she did, but he didn't follow her into the kitchen, though this was clearly his desire. Mindful of his daughter and his guests, he kept his expression carefully neutral. "Would you like some more, Girbius?"
"No, thank you," Girbius wiped his mouth with his napkin and placing the square of cloth, still neatly folded, beside his plate. "It was delicious, though."
Their great dane, Malachi, who had been napping by the fire, perked his ears before lifting his head and giving a great yawn. He got to his feet, stretched, and followed Elizabeth into the kitchen.
***
Elizabeth was standing by the kitchen table, one hand gripping the edge of it, and the other braced against the small of her back as she took several slow, deep breaths. Her back had been bothering her on and off for several weeks, and today had been the worst, but up until now she had thought nothing of it.
Just now, though, she was experiencing what she thought was a muscle cramp in her lower back. It wasn't especially painful, but it seemed to come out of nowhere, and it wasn't getting any better.
After nearly a minute, though, the kink in her back seemed to relax, and she straightened with a relieved sigh. Then she jumped as a cold, wet nose slipped itself under her hand and tossed it up in a request for petting.
"Oh! Malachi, you scared me!" she laughed, scratching him behind the ears.
The dog bumped his nose against her pregnant belly, his eyes soft, and leaned into her hand. It was almost amusing how protective he'd gotten even before her condition had been apparent; just the day before, he had been resting his chin on Liz's belly and getting in the way as she tried to crochet--her excuse for not moving him was not wanting to disturb him--and he had actually grumbled at Peridan when the man had sternly told him to go lie down. And he did...right by Elizabeth's feet, which became his new pillow for the next hour or so.
Right now, the dog's look of concern mirrored her own private worry. And it was a worry she quickly dismissed, because she had always heard that labor pains were in the belly, not the back. Of course, back pains didn't usually come in thirty minute intervals.
No, surely this wasn't it. This couldn't be it. Not now.
***
Peridan wouldn't let his wife help clear the table. Or, rather, he told her to sit and relax while he did it. It really stood out to him as being strange when she didn't argue with him, so much so that he didn't demur when Tavish and Girbius offered to help. When Aamnia excitedly demanded a story from Liz, Peridan murmured to his daughter, "Not right now. I don't think she feels well."
"I don't feel unwell," Liz smiled, "Actually, a story does sound like a good idea. Especially on a night like this. The wind can howl its fiercest, the snow can batter the windowpanes, but we're all toasty in here. Aye?"
"Aye!" Aamnia giggled, sitting cross-legged on the hearth rug as her step-mother settled herself into an armchair, Peridan's soft laughter following him out of the room.
Elizabeth's eyes strayed to the mantle clock for a moment, and her brows furrowed as if in concentration. Another twinge in her back, but this time there was something new. She could almost envision a point near her spine expanding horizontally in both directions, wrapping around her middle and converging at the top in a cramp that felt vaguely similar to those that accompanied her monthly time. Twenty-eight minutes from the last one. Perhaps this is it. Well, there's plenty of time...We're not going anywhere tonight, whether we will or nae, so there's no cause to be panickin'...and I've got just the story.
"Some say that as we grow up we become different people at different ages. But I don't believe this. I think we remain the same throughout; merely passing in these years from one room to another, but always in the same house. If we unlock the rooms of the far past, we can look in and see ourselves beginning to become 'you'...and 'me'."
