Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Magic, Fairy Tales and Happy Ever After

Chapter 7

That unmistakable voice was so low, soothing and undeniably sexy, even on the other end of a phone line. "I miss you, honey."

"When will you be home?"

"It's hard to say at the moment. This job's a bit of a complex one."

Silence on the line. She waited.

"Maybe a week?" he hazarded.

"Okay, I'll see you then, love you."

"Love you too."

Debbie tucked her phone in her bag and, with a small sigh, made her way over to the sidewalk table where her two best friends were sitting. They looked up smiling as she sank down into an empty seat.

"And how is Mr. Wonderful?" asked Kathie.

Debbie rolled her eyes at the use of the superlative.

"Harry's just fine ... but he won't be back for another week." She picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, gagged in revulsion and nearly dropped the cup in her rush to set it down on the table. She pushed it away in disgust. "Ugh, the coffee here just doesn't taste as good as it used to."

Her friends exchanged a look of confusion and concern. Anne leant forward peering intently at her. "You don't look too good, Debs ..."

"I don't feel too good either," Debbie groaned. "I have no energy, I just want to sleep and I feel like shit in the mornings."

Her friends exchanged another quick look, before turning their combined scrutiny back in her direction. "When you say, 'feel like shit', what exactly do you mean?" said Kathy. Debbie looked at her, slightly puzzled. What was she getting at?

"Well ... it sort of feels like I want to throw up, but never quite able to." It was the first time she had tried to define the general sense of nausea and fatigue that had plagued her for the last two weeks. Putting it in words stirred up a strange feeling of uneasiness somewhere deep inside.

"Perhaps you're pregnant," suggested Anne, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Particularly given that your sex life is certainly very active these days," added Kathie, nodding her agreement.

Debbie stared at them for a moment in disbelief, then threw her head back and let out a loud guffaw of laughter, nearly causing the passing waitress to drop her pile of dishes.

"Not likely! It's a bit too soon for that."

"But ... accidents can happen"

"I am very careful."

"Even the pill's not foolproof."

"It is if you take it on time ... follow the instructions." She could feel her face start to flush and knew that she simply did not want the conversation to continue in the direction it was going. It was only adding to the growing feeling of something gone wrong. "No, I'm probably just overdoing it with the study ... Really," she added, in response to their disbelieving looks, "and I don't sleep that well when Harry's away."

Her friends seemed to accept the explanation, probably in the interests of peace. But as they parted company a short time later she knew she had not totally convinced them. How could she when she hadn't even convinced herself?

***

After much internal debate, mostly about what a waste of time it would be, here she finally was, one week later, standing in her shiny white bathroom, staring with an undistinguishable mingling of horror and fascination at the slender plastic stick in her hand.

It couldn't be right, it simply couldn't. She had always been so careful. That was one thing she had always been careful about.

Falling in love was one thing, and lord knows in the past she had made a few mistakes. But a girl still needed to control her own future, get a good education, find a secure job, and live a little, travel overseas - and then, only then, in about ten years or so, it would be time to think about children.

Not now, not now!

Her legs collapsed and she slid down the door onto the floor still clutching tightly to that little plastic stick. Gradually, the pounding of blood in her ears subsided and she became once more aware of the sounds in the world beyond the bathroom - a world unchanged and untouched by her inner turmoil.

The gentle whoosh of the evening breeze through the trees outside her window, the whir of the cicadas heralding summer, the distant hum of the city traffic, and then, suddenly, a sharp excited woof from downstairs, as Kelly responded to the very faint sound of footsteps on the path, and then the sound of the front door opening.

Oh, god! Harry, he had said he would try and be home today. In all the worry, she had quite forgotten.

She stood up, grabbed the brush from the vanity and dragged it through her hair quickly, trying to avoid starting at the pale face looking out of the mirror. With one last deep breath, she headed out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

He was crouched down at the foot of the stairs his arms full of happy wriggling dog, but as soon as she came into line of sight, he stood up and turned towards her; his uplifted face breaking into a blindingly beautiful smile.

"Guess what, I made it. I'm home on time for a change."

Her face slowly lifted into a shaky smile in response as she descended towards him. Harry's smile faltered. "What's wrong, darling. What's the matter?"

She shook her head and collapsed into a warm comforting embrace.

How was she going to tell him? What would he say?

Still in his arms, she felt herself being gently guided over onto the sofa. Then Harry slowly drew away and observed her from arms length. As she looked up a lock of hair fell haphazardly into her face. Without even breaking his contemplative stare, Harry leant forward and tenderly pushed it back behind her ear. Then he took her hands in his, fixing the concerned gaze of those intense green eyes on her face.

"Now, don't try and tell me nothing's wrong. What's the matter?"

There was only one way she could see to do this. Quickly and without pausing to think, she blurted out, "I'm pregnant!"

There was no change of expression on the face in front of her, just a slight tightening of the hold on her fingers. "Are you sure?" he said slowly, never dropping his eyes. She nodded.

Suddenly it was like a sunrise, as a smile of absolutely incandescent brilliance lit up his face. "That's wonderful news!"

"No, it is not!" Debbie yanked her hands free and jumped to her feet, her face flushing hot and undoubtedly looking bright red. "It is not wonderful!" She started to pace up and down. "What about my future? I was just about finished my studies. How can I get a job if I'm pregnant? What am I going to do?"

A strong hand grabbed her arm mid pace, the force swinging her around. Harry's eyes were shining, unnaturally bright. "I have plenty enough money to support both you and our baby. Where's the problem?"

How could she make him understand her need for personal independence? Unwise love affairs notwithstanding, Debbie had always wanted to be in control of her own life, charting her own course, never needing to totally rely on anyone, just in case they weren't there. Her mother had drummed the mantra of independence into her from an early age and she'd be dammed if she would abandon one of her key beliefs, not even now.

"I can't do this. I can't! Not now. Not yet." She shook her head and looked up at him, silently pleading with him to understand.

He stiffened, and a hard note crept into his voice. "You're not seriously thinking about killing our child ... are you?"

She dropped her head into her hands, unable to continue to look at him. "I ... yes ... no ... I don't know what to think at the moment. I thought I had been so careful."

"Accidents happen." He was so calm. How could he be so calm?

"Not to me they don't. Not to me." It was too much. She turned on her heel and sprinted up the stairs, slammed the bedroom door shut, threw herself across the bed and cried. She lay there sobbing noisily, not even trying to sort out her thoughts, lost in a whirlpool of emotion, her world spiraling out of control.

But not for long.

Quietly the door opened. She felt the side of the bed give under his weight, then a hand gently stroking her back. "Don't cry ... don't cry, baby. It's going to be alright, you'll see. It's a blessing in disguise. You never really wanted to work in laboratories anyway; this way you can concentrate on your art, which is what you really want to do. You're going to be a wonderful mother, you'll see. I know you will. This is the way things are meant to be, you'll see. It's all for the best. I knew it would be the best way. I love you, and I will always be there for you, trust me."

Soft voice, whispering a babble of reassurances, low and almost hypnotic, coupled with the gently soothing rhythm of the large warm hand on her back. Slowly, she felt her inner tension ease. It did not go away. How could it? But it receded to the background, washed away in a flood of love and warmth and reassurance. Slowly the sobs subsided.

Eventually she turned her head. There was an anxious expression on Harry's face that belied the calm comfort. "Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

She managed a lopsided smile of gratitude. "Yes, thanks."

Debbie decided not to wait in the bedroom, but to join Harry downstairs. As she got to the foot of the stairs she could hear the oddest sound. She couldn't believe it. Harry was singing. Harry did not sing, not even along with the radio. Now she knew why. It was totally tuneless. Tuneless, but very happy. How could he be so happy about this?

Couldn't he see that it was too soon? They had only known each other a year. They were both still so young. She knew he was keen to start a family, but surely he could see the risks.

They sat on the sofa to drink their tea. Harry was English and maybe that had something to do with it, but he always made a darn good cup of tea. This one was particularly good. With a strange aftertaste that Debbie couldn't pick, but it was nice.

The adrenaline rush was now truly gone and she could suddenly feel all the tiredness that had been held at bay return emphatically to her body. Harry had his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled in closer.

"Debbie?" that low sexy voice in her ear.

"Mmm?"

"You're not going to have an abortion." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," she agreed, as she surrendered to sleep.

***

She woke in the early hours of the morning, in bed, to the strangest thought. Why did he say "I knew it would be the best way?" She fell asleep again.