Ok.  So I know, I know.  Now that I have a CF blog I should no longer post here. BUT.  But I wrote this vignette a while ago and I'd like to post it today, on Valentine's.  It is, of course, out of order, but not too far off from where I left you with Maggie & Grey if anyon'es all caught up (Danielle?  Maybe?).  But whatevs.  I just wanna, so I'm gunna.  I reserve that right, right? Right.

So Happy Valentine's!

***************

Velvet was happy Grey and Maggie had decided to join them at the main house for the annual Valentine’s Day breakfast.  She would have understood had they decided to keep to themselves in the guest house.  She smiled as she reached for the blackberry preserve.

It was a peculiar holiday to make into a family holiday, she supposed, but it had everything to do with Grey so it seemed fitting that he’d decided to come and had brought his beautiful bride.

Velvet spread a thin layer of preserve across her already buttered toast and sighed contentedly, thinking of her first Valentine’s Day with Jonah.  She’d been a new mother, a divorcee, and pretty newly engaged to boot.  They were still living in the townhouse with the yellow door in the old factory district, still living with Nolan. 

She’d overheard a conversation between the brothers late the night before, while Jonah was up feeding Grey; and Nolan, just getting home from work at the bar, was unwinding and keeping his brother company. It was a comfortable routine.  Velvet lay in bed and listened to their conversation in the common area.  ‘I can take care of a baby for a night, Jones, really, it isn’t a big deal.’ Nolan was insisting.  ‘This is your first Valentine’s’ he’d lectured, trying to convince Jonah to take her out for a proper date.

Grey’d wailed then, for a few moments, and the conversation waited until he’d settled in once again and was suckling on his bottle contentedly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy at all.”  Commented Nolan adoringly.

“He’s a night owl.”  Jonah agreed indulgently.

Velvet loved what softies those two men were for babies.  Maybe because their parents had had their younger brother so late in life.  They were both great with Grey.  She was always grateful for the way Nolan not only adjusted to living with a young couple who were raising a new baby, but actually seemed to enjoy it.  Uncle Nolan was very much a part of their little family. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a bartender like his Uncle.”  He posited and she heard Jonah chuckle low.

“Thanks, Nole, really, but I think I want to do a family style Valentine’s.”  He said after a few moments of what sounded like Nolan playing some version of peek-a-boo with the baby.

“You sure?”  Nolan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah.”  Jonah’d replied, yawning.  “Breakfast in bed, maybe an indoor picnic, cuddling on the couch and just, whatever she needs.”  He said.  “Besides, you don’t want to miss the bank you’ll make tending bar on Valentine’s.”

Velvet heard Nolan grunt.  “Tell the truth I was kinda looking forward to avoiding all those sad, lonely, desperate girls.”  She heard the water in the kitchen sink and knew he was rinsing his plate and silverware from the microwaved leftovers they’d saved him from their dinner.

“Have breakfast with us, then, in the morning.” Offered Jonah, and Velvet could hear the honest enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh, I dunno—“

“Yeah, please? Get up and have breakfast with us as a family.  I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Jones, C’mon, spend it with your family.”  Nolan said gently.

“You’re part of my family.” Jonah insisted.  “Huh, Grey? Don’t you think Uncle Nolan should be present at the first annual Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast?” Said Jonah, cooing at the months-old baby he was feeding.

Nolan laughed.  “Don’t use the kid as leverage, you asshole.”

“Hey, delicate ears over here.” Jonah said, chuckling.  “Grey thinks you should be there.  And I agree.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nolan said very quietly: “And your fiancée?”

Velvet flushed in the way one does when eavesdropping and the talk turns to oneself.  She tried to make herself even more still than she already was and strained to hear the much-lowered voices.

“She loves you Nolan.” Jonah was saying.  “No, she does—she thinks you’re great and she loves how you are with Grey, Nole, she’d want you there.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day—“

“Yeah, and the last one she had was with that son of a bitch—“

“Hey, impressionable ears!”  Nolan interrupted, teasing.

“ --And I don’t ever want this holiday to remind her of him in the least.  I’m not doing the usual stuff with her on this day.  Not ever.”

“I dunno if you have any control over how she feels or doesn’t feel about the man, my friend.”

“Knock it off.”

“Jonah, just—“

“Just what?  How many times are you going to say it Nolan?  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Nolan said with a heavy sigh.  “People can’t just be expected to fall out of love with no strings attached, no confused feelings—“

In the dark of the bedroom she shared with Jonah, Velvet’s mouth fell open at Nolan’s veiled accusation.  And then she washed over cold because of how frighteningly close to the mark he’d come.

 “Nolan, she likes you, why can’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s great!”  Nolan insisted defensively.  “This isn’t about that, this is about you and how I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I love her.” Jonah responded simply.  “She’s going to be my wife.”  He added as Nolan stayed quiet.  “We have a son.”

“He’s pretty great.” Nolan acknowledged, and Velvet could hear the smile in his voice.

Velvet heard the decisive pop of the bottle leaving Grey’s mouth and a contented gurgling.

“All done?” Jonah asked the boy incredulously.  “Think I should give him more?”

After a few moments she heard the refrigerator open.

“Bad luck, Brother.” Nolan said.  “You’ll have to bring him to the source, because you’re out of pumped stuff.”

“Dammit.”  Jonah said in a sing-song sort of voice, clearly entertaining the baby.  “Check the freezer?” She heard a raspberry sound that made the baby chuckle and burble appreciatively.

The Fridge door closed as the freezer door pulled open.

“Yeah.  It’ll take a while to thaw though, even doing the warm water.”  She heard Nolan yawn as he pulled a heavy glass mixing bowl across the surface of the counter and turn on the faucet again.

“Go ahead to bed Nole, I got it.”

“It’s not a problem—“ Another yawn.

Jonah groaned a little as she heard him getting up off the couch with the baby. “Goodnight.” He said, more firmly. “You need a good night’s sleep if you’re gunna get up and have family breakfast with us.”

“Jonesie—“

“Say g’night to Uncle Nole, Grey!”

Nolan had finally grunted his agreement and Velvet had drifted off to sleep sometime later, Jonah still up singing silly little made-up lullabies and playing the simple little games you play with babies, and when she awoke next it was to the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon and something cinnamon-y baking in the oven.  And to the sounds of animated, if quiet, conversation and the happy chipper sounds of the baby playing with the electronic light-up toys in his play seat. 

Now, 24 years later, she still got a little misty at the memory of walking out into the open-concept kitchen\living\dining area of the old brick townhouse and experiencing the first-ever Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast.

“—more, Velvet?” 

Velvet blinked and then flushed slightly.  Whoops.  She’d been caught day-dreaming.  “I’m sorry?”

Jonah stood beside her chair with the glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.  “I asked if you’d like any more.”  He told her gently.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Wife.” He added quietly, in a way that made her think maybe he knew exactly where she’d wandered off to just then. 

She grinned up at him and then looked around the table at her family.  They were all there—Viola, looking bleary eyed and grumpy as a teenager should, the twins, both in their glasses because it was way too early to think about putting in contacts, Even Avalon had decided to come and she’d somehow convinced Ben of the endeavor, and the handsome young man was enduring it gracefully, she thought.  And, of course, Grey with Maggie. 

Velvet had asked Nolan, when he’d married Zahra, if he would keep coming over to their place—She and Jonah had moved out of the townhouse when they’d married, but he’d made the early morning trip over to their new place annually—for the traditional breakfast.  He’d smiled, said he would miss them very much, but that it was time to start his own family traditions. 

She wondered what that Delaney bunch did on this day.  She’d never thought to inquire.  And Caleb sometimes joined them, but this Valentine’s was especially prickly and he couldn’t be convinced to crawl out of bed this time around to celebrate ‘that idiot cupid’. 

But she had her family, and that made her warm and contented.

“No, thank you, Sweetheart.”  She said in response to the juice query, and he moved around the table to offer to Avalon and Ben.

She listened to Maggie discussing the wedding with Ava, and to the twins teasing their father about the silver at his temples, and to Grey trying to pull his youngest sister out of her moody teenager-y gloom with humor, and she turned to Ben, who was sipping his coffee and casting his glance about, looking for a conversation to join.

She leaned over to him and confided: “I wasn’t a Delaney at my first Delaney Family Valentine’s breakfast either, you know.”

He lowered the coffee mug from his lips and smiled.  “No?”

She shook her head and giggled.  “Grey wasn’t either, I guess, come to think of it.”  She added thoughtfully, realizing that while Jonah’s intent was clear from before Grey’d been born, she hadn’t actually processed the papers until he was around six months old.

“I wasn’t what?”  Grey asked sharply, always able to hear his name when spoken in a crowd.

“A Delaney, at the first Valentine’s day.”  She answered, throwing a contrite look at Jonah who was leaning in to ask Viola about more orange juice, the very idea of which seemed to make the girl faintly ill. 

“Ah.”  Said Grey in response and met eyes with Maggie.   Velvet followed his gaze and saw Maggie nod marginally and nibble her lower lip.  “Funny you should bring that up.”  Grey said, rising from his seat and going to stand behind Maggie’s chair.

The table quieted down and everybody was watching Grey curiously.  Velvet felt a hand on her own shoulder and looked up to see Jonah smiling a little, captivated by Grey.

“Because, this time next year there will be another Delaney with us.”

Velvet looked at Ben for a moment before remembering that Ben wouldn’t become a Delaney, Avalon would be becoming a Sinclair.  She looked back at Grey, who seemed to be locked in a challenging gaze with Jonah, and then at Maggie who didn’t seem able to meet anyone’s eyes.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and she looked up, puzzled.  Then the hand was gone and Jonah was crossing around the breakfast table to where Grey stood, and extending the hand for a shake.  “Congratulations, Son!”  He said warmly “That’s wonderful news!”  Velvet watched him pull Grey into a hearty embrace and then kiss the boy’s cheek before pulling Maggie from her seat, hugging her and bending to kiss her cheek as well.  “Congratulations.”  He said again.

“Thank you.”  Maggie said shyly, still hardly able to keep her eyes off the table. 

“When are you Due?”  Velvet heard Avalon ask sharply.

Maggie looked at Grey, who smiled easily at his sister.  “Summer.”  He replied vaguely, but in a tone that did not invite follow-up.

“Due?”  Velvet heard herself ask. And she felt all eyes upon her, even Maggie’s. 

Jonah chuckled into the tense stillness of the kitchen.  “She’s in shock.”  He said pleasantly. “Can you blame her?  She’s still far too young to be a grandmother.”  He said, crossing back and kissing her atop her head, before whispering in her ear “Love, Our son is going to be a father.”

Her eyebrows lifted in the middle and her mouth opened in an ‘o’.  “Grey?”

Grey met her eyes and his lips quirked into something like a smile, his expression almost bittersweet.  “Surprised?”

“Maggie?”

Maggie blushed and smiled weakly at her mother-in-law and gave a little nod of affirmation.

Velvet knew, for certain, in that moment, that he’d married her because she’d gotten pregnant; and the image of Vaughan Grey’s arrogant, selfish face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind and she quite suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

“Velvet?”  Jonah’s voice was all concern and Grey’s joined in, “Mum?  Are you alright?”

Soon others at the table were asking, Jonah had Ava put the kettle on for more tea and Velvet felt ridiculous.  It was as if someone had pushed a button and opened floodgates.  She felt foolish and embarrassed and perfectly awful for ruining the big announcement.

“I’m so happy!”  She managed to force out through chattering teeth and sobs, earning nervous laughter from a few parties around the table.  Jonah knelt beside her chair and gathered her against him and she sobbed into his neck.  “I’m so happy.”  She repeated as he patted her back soothingly.

Dimly she was aware that Ben Sinclair had helped ease the awkwardness by getting out of his seat and going over to the opposite side of the table to congratulate the couple, which cued all her daughters to follow suit.

By the time all the family had congratulated them Velvet had managed to get herself mostly under control.  She sat up a little straighter, took her head from her husband’s shoulder and hastily swiped the wetness from her cheeks.  Sniffling and forcing herself to take reasonable breaths she smiled a watery smile at Jonah.  Her rock.  Her everything.  “I’m so sorry.”  She whispered and he smiled.

“Don’t you dare.”  He warned her playfully.  “Now go hug your son and daughter, Grandma.” 

Her eyes widened and she half giggled-half sobbed.  He helped her to her feet and when she was steady she practically flew at Maggie, wrapping the girl in a startlingly fierce embrace.  “This is absolutely wonderful.”  She told the girl passionately, holding her close, wanting to tell her so much more than was appropriate to do so in the kitchen, with all the family gathered around.  “Thank you.”  She said, pulling back enough to look deep into the girl’s dark eyes.  She wondered if the girl was frightened, or regretted her condition.  “Oh Maggie!”  She exhaled.  “I love you so much.”  And she squeezed her again, feeling the bonds of a kindred spirit, even if the poor girl was flummoxed by the overpowering surge of affection.  “And this baby will be everything to you, trust me.”  She said in an almost whisper.

“Gracias.”  Maggie said, reflexively slipping into Spanish with the heightened emotion.  “Thank you.”  She corrected shakily.

Between Jonah’s efforts and Ben’s too, the kitchen was soon bubbling with animated conversations.  Velvet heard the twins arguing playfully about whether it would be a boy or a girl, Viola wondered when, exactly it would be due, and Avalon made some comment about bridesmaid’s dresses. 

Still clinging to Maggie, Velvet felt a hand on her back and knew it wasn’t her husband.  Almost regretfully she released Maggie at last and, with a last reassuring smile that she tried to fill with all the subtext she couldn’t speak just now, Velvet spun to face her son.

He was so tall and handsome and grown up.  He looked like his father, only his eyes, her eyes, were kinder, she was sure of it.  She took his handsome face in her hands and searched those pale green eyes, trying to discover the truth that was eluding her.  “You’ve got to be good to her Grey.”  She told him at last, and she watched his bemused smile dissolve and his face grow serious.

“I know.”  He replied in a low voice.

“Grey—“

“I understand, Mum.”  He said curtly, his brows heavy over his eyes.

She swallowed and felt a trembling in her knees.  She hoped he did understand.  She hoped he would prove to be more Jonah’s son than Vaughan’s.  She pulled him into an embrace too, though this one was more guarded, wary. 

When she broke the hug she hitched a super-bright smile in place and declared with her signature verve: “We’ll have to have a baby shower!”

The 'Woman's Doctor'

How you doing Danielle?  What one are you on?  I will try to give you a break, but I am having an urge to post fiction again today!   Maybe because I am sick and want to feel creative instead?

 Because it was liberating to post a future-teaser yesterday, I thought i'd follow up with one i wrote some time ago but have been looking forward to finally sharing.  Why the fuck not, right?  It is may blogdy, and I'll do what I want! lolz.

This one is somewhat different, because it is from a peripheral character's perspective.  I love it because I love the idea of how rumors and gossip and point of view come into play in a place like CF.  It is sometimes nice to take a step back and see what other people around the Delaneys are thinking\seeing\guessing\supposing.

This is Sam Bennett, the gynecologist and Delaney family friend. I only have two written for him but I thoroughly enjoyed writing both!  And re-reading too.  Plus I love the opening line, heeheehee.

So even if you haven't been following CF closely I encourage you to give this a read.  And let me know what you think!

Enjoy!  And thank you for all your hearty well-wishes!  Another sick day today (unpaid).  But what can you do?

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“The Delaney girl is knocked up” growled Doc Bennett around a bacon-wrapped scallop. 

Sam sipped his beverage and sized up the bride, who was warmly making the rounds about the pavilion, greeting her guests and making requisite small talk while they admired her gown and her hair and whatever else they were supposed to gush about.  She looked perfectly slim, her balance seemed normal. She betrayed none of the early indicators of pregnancy. His old man was losing it.  “You sure?”  he asked politely, knowing Avalon had just been in his office not more than five weeks ago and she certainly hadn’t been pregnant then.

“Not the bride you idiot.”  His father grumbled and lifted his whiskey to his lips, his eyes fixed on someone in the opposite direction.

Sam clenched his jaw and indulged the old man’s fantasy.  Being the son of the ‘village doctor’ could grow tiresome quickly.  He was always sizing folks up, offering comments and diagnoses out of the corner of his mouth.  ‘Teaching you’ is what his father had always asserted when Sam complained, as a boy, that he didn’t like knowing about his neighbors medical problems, but Doc Bennett had scoffed.  “You expect to follow in my footsteps you’d better learn to train your eye boy.”

Nobody called Doc Bennett anything besides “Doc”, as if he were the only doctor, and as if a doctor was the sum total of the man.  Even his sons called him Doc.  His wife called him Doc.  Now his grandchildren called him Doc.

Sam blinked and scanned the area of the party that Old Doc was fixated on.  “Velvet can’t have more children” he said grimly.  She was an exquisitely beautiful woman, the mother of the bride.  And still young enough for his father to entertain the notion.  But Sam had performed the tubiligation himself after her youngest had been born, after all the complications that had nearly put her in that Marble Calder Mausoleum up in Cedar Falls Cemetery.

“Christ boy, you call yourself a woman’s doctor?”  Doc laughed derisively.  Sam smiled wanly.  His father embraced the country doctor persona to the degree that he eschewed proper medical terms such as ‘gynecologist’ and he seemed to loathe the abbreviations even more.  Sam had never once heard his father refer to him as an OB.  “You can’t see that that little girl is more than a third of the way gone then you maybe oughtta hang up your speculum.”

Sam pressed his lips together and looked harder.  Velvet wasn’t pregnant.  Nolan’s wife, also a ‘Delaney’ was over there too, but she didn’t appear to be expecting either.  And He assumed the Doc wasn’t referring to the now blatantly pregnant Mrs. Grey Delaney, everyone was already buzzing about that, that was old news.  What the Christ?  When he was just about to admit to his father that he had no idea what he was talking about, just as he was about to turn and accept whatever ridicule the man had ready to pour on him, he watched his old friend Jonah pull a chair out for his youngest, and when she’d sat, push the chair in beneath her.

“Shit.”  Said Sam, amazed and astonished.

“See it now?”  His father goaded, boastful.

“Christ.”  Commented Sam.  “I don’t know how I’ve missed it.”

“You never look close enough at the teenagers.”  His father said.  “A made-up thing, teenagers.  Fiction.”

Sam took another drink and studied Viola from across the pavilion.  “So you’ve said.”  He murmured.  The subject of society’s pet fiction, ‘the teenager’, was a favorite topic of The Doc’s.

“It’s a fool who thinks a fifteen year old hasn’t got the urges of a thirty year old.  Hell, it’s a biological imperative.”  The Doc managed to obtain two more bacon-wrapped appetizers from a passing waitress.  “Fifteen year old girls get knocked up quicker and better than their mothers, boy, I’ll tell you that.”

Sam hated to admit it but the Doc was right.  Viola Delaney was pregnant.  He wondered how the hell that had happened.  Well, he knew how it had happened, he was a ‘ladies doctor’ afterall, but wondered if she’d been airheaded and irresponsible or if she’d deliberately gone off the pills.  That’s why he encouraged the shot for girls that age…

“And another thing—“  His father added, licking his fingers thoroughly, “Their bodies bounce back better too.”  Sam had heard this lecture a hundred times.  Now that he’d talked about how their young bodies were meant to carry babies he’d move on to the issue of statutory rape.  About how there was nothing criminal about a man having a physical response to a teenage girl, in fact, according to The Doc, a man wasn’t healthy unless he did look. 

“You think they know?”  Sam asked his father, not taking his eyes off the family as they settled in for cake.  He didn’t feel like having the same old discussion for the umpteenth time.

“The girl knows.”  The Doc said.  “And.”  Sam waited while the man sized up the picturesque pillars of the community.  “Her pretty mother hasn’t a clue, but I’d bet my license that her Daddy knows.”

Sam looked sharply at Jonah.  He looked pale and drawn, but very handsome and composed in his wedding finery.  It didn’t ring true to Sam that Jonah knew but Velvet didn’t.  Jonah was a romantic sap, and he was the kind of husband that told his wife everything.  Now if the Doc had argued that Velvet knew and Jonah did not, well, Sam would have precedent to believe that.  But the other way around? “I doubt that very much.”  Sam said, finally turning away from the family with the dark secrets and looking at The Doc.

The man shrugged and tossed several long toothpics onto a large empty tray as it passed by.  “He knows something.  That strain he’s under ain’t normal.”

“His oldest daughter just got married Doc.”  Said Sam in a patronizing tone.  “And he paid for the whole damn thing.  Look around you.  I’d say that’s an inordinate strain, wouldn’t you?”

The Doc nodded vaguely and glanced around at the lavish wedding reception going on all around them.  “Like I said, I’d bet my license that there’s something else.”  He lifted his eyebrows and downed the rest of his whiskey drink.  “So she hasn’t been in to see you.”

Sam felt his jaw tick.  Doctor-patient confidentiality never seemed to apply to Sam where the Doc was concerned.  They shared most of their female patients anyhow.  The Doc was the Delaney family’s primary.  “No.”  Sam replied tersely.  “You?”

The Doc shook his head.  “Why d’you suppose she didn’t get rid of it?”

Sam looked back toward the Delaneys and wondered again if that young woman had been careless or deliberate.  He remembered the way she’d interrupted their poker night some months back.  How could he forget?  Christ, he’d jerked-off to thoughts of that night frequently since, and he’d closed his eyes and thought of her in order to finish with his own wife more than once.

“For whatever reason,” Sam said quietly,  “She wants it.”

The Doc examined his empty whiskey glass with a half smile, half frown.  “Biological imperative son.  There ain’t no such thing as a teenager.  They’re kids and then they’re women and there ain’t nothing in between.”

Sam watched his father head toward the open bar and he knew he disagreed.  Maybe biologically the girl was ready to carry a baby, able to screw around and conceive and deliver, but he came from a different generation than his father.  And he understood that there was a subtle but important psychological difference between teenagers and adult women.  And he knew Viola might want to play at being a grown-up, that she had sexual desires and needs and urges, but that she was still a little girl playing pretend.

He finished his drink.  And he wondered what lucky son of a bitch had put his cock in her pretty little pussy.

Prelude to a Showdown, or: Baby Shower (teaser)

Not even LolCats are immune to the dreaded bug!!

Staying home from work with the ole bug.  Will try desperately to make it to aftercare though, as I teach a drama enrichment on monday afternoons.  I'm a drama teacher, don't ya know?

SO............

Even though I have a whole FOLDER of unpublished vignettes, I wanted to publish this one that I wrote tonight, because it is the first complete little vignette I have written in some time.  It is also a 'flash forward' into things that will come to pass, which makes a nice change from all the flashbacks we've been having.  I wanted to give you a little teaser, a taste, of the way the story is unfolding.  It will not all make sense, but I hope it will whet your apetite and keep you reading! 

Enjoy!  And stay hydrated, all you sufferers of this awful bug :\ 

********************

Velvet slipped her fingers up the crisp, perfectly ironed cotton-silk blend of her husband’s collared shirt and felt the muscles bunched and knotted beneath it.  He flinched at her touch—just a fraction, just a bit, but he flinched, and she sighed.  He’d been doing that lately, the nervous flinching at her touch, and she was well and truly over fretting about it.  For weeks, for months, she’d tried to get to the bottom of this strange new reaction to something he’d always melted into, something that had always before elicited a contented exhale of relief and enjoyment.  But whenever she’d ask, the same brush offs would inevitably follow;  the ‘Nothing, Love’s, and the ‘Must have been daydreaming’s and the ‘Sorry, Sweetheart’s  piled up, day after day, before he’d quickly recover from the initial automatic reaction and he’d be her Jonah for a while.  Her Jonah, but not her Jonah too.  And there was nothing she could do to persuade him to confide in her whatever the hell was slowly, but very surely, driving an invisible wedge between them.

So this morning, when he did it, she couldn’t muster the energy to comment, to call attention to it, to put up a fuss.  She simply sighed and pushed her small hands up the broad expanse of his back and found his shoulders, which were not easy for her to reach when he stood, like he was now, at his full height.  “Hello Angel.”  He murmured, forcing a gentleness that did not agree with his tensed frame.  Velvet swallowed as she began to knead the taut muscles on either side of his neck.  Jonah Delaney was ready for a fight.  He expected an altercation.  He was bracing himself for one, standing there in his tailored shirt and his best dress khakis, cleanly shaven and showered and smelling, like he always did, of clean laundry and fresh soap and bergamot.

“I love you.”  She prefaced, sticking her toe in the water to take his temperature.

“I love you.”  He replied effortlessly, his shoulders like stone under her newly manicured fingers.  He said it so easily, so readily.  It was an habitual thing.  And at the moment Velvet couldn’t help wondering how many times he’d said it like that, so pleasant but so devoid of real feeling—wondered how many times she’d smiled and purred and ignored that hollow note resonating within the words he recited by rote.  “That feels wonderful, thank you.”  He added, just as automatically.

Velvet made an indistinct sort of noise in her throat and tried to work her fingers into his stony clusters of muscles with little effect.  The guests would start arriving any time now.  Caleb had come early to help her set up, and was around there somewhere giving orders and seeing to last minute details.  Usually Grace helped out with that sort of thing, but, well, in light of present circumstances…

Velvet couldn’t help the little sigh that huffed out of her, thinking about all the terrible ways her family was being ripped apart.  And all of the awfulness mounting up on a day that was meant to celebrate family, celebrate new life, celebrate the bonds of blood and marriage.  She half wished she could cancel the shower, have a rain date; But what good would it be postponing the inevitable?  It would only add fuel to the fire, as it were.  The gossips were already buzzing so loud around town that Velvet imagined Cedar Falls had turned into one massive hive of supposition and rumor and salivating scandal mongers.  The amount of behind-the-hand conversations that had sprung up in her wake as she made her way through the market this week had put her on edge, but that was nothing compared with the open stares and pitying glances she received while out on the Centre street as she picked up the last of the things she needed for the shower.

It was miserable.  And humiliating.  And desperately awkward.  She felt as though she were emblazoned with some scarlet letter on her breast; yoked with the neck-breaking albatross of ‘dysfunctional family’—she felt the pitiable weight of it all pulling her spirits down into some grim abyss.  She felt herself frowning more than she’d ever done before.  And worrying.  And praying. 

To whom?  She didn’t really have a clear grasp on that, but that was a whole separate issue, and not one she really had time for, especially not on the day of Maggie and Grey’s Baby Shower.

All this when she should be the happiest little wife and mother in the county.  The wedding had gone so beautifully!  Her first grandchild was very nearly here!  Her twin girls had graduated high school with top grades and limitless prospects for the future!  Her husband was up for the top promotion!  Life for the Delaneys should have been as charmed and charming as a storybook.

She let her hands slip down his back and fall away as dead weight.  She hadn’t made any headway at all and her hands were beginning to cramp.  He turned his head to the side just a fraction.  “All done?”  He asked politely, as though she were a co-worker who’d just handed in some minor report.

“Mhm.”  She intoned succinctly, not trusting her voice to mask her real feelings.

“My thanks.”

They stood there, together, for a long few moments in silence, looking out over the splendidly appointed back lawn.  The party tents, the bouncy castle, the buffet tables, the ice sculpture.  The sculpted rose bushes she’d had brought in, the large round tables with their fine linen, and the stylishly upscale folding chairs.  The neatly mown grass, the freshly re-pebbled walks.  The pool, blue and rippling and glinting diamonds in the late spring sun.

“Beautiful work, as usual, Mrs. Delaney.”  Jonah said quietly, and with his easy grace turned just enough to slip his arm around her and pull her to him gently.

“Thank you.”  She hadn’t intended to answer in that tight-throated whisper.

He glanced down at her and she avoided his eyes.  After a moment she could feel him looking back out once more, and she could breathe a little easier. 

“Do you think she’ll come?”  She asked, following one of the cater-waiters with her eyes absently, her mind fixed on the many ways this celebration could turn into an epic disaster.

Jonah gave a short, uncharitable laugh.  “Which?”  He asked, an undercurrent of bitterness and hurt flashing white-hot through the simple retort.

Velvet leaned her head against him and sighed yet again.  It was a fair and a loaded question.  “Any of them.”  She responded dully.  “All of them.”  She added.

Jonah was quiet.  Velvet watched the landscaper adjusting some lovely urns of riotous hot-house blooms in the area surrounding the swimming pool.  She felt a shiver chase through her husband, from top to bottom, and she shivered a little in response, despite the pleasantly warm morning, her teeth chattering together a few times before she could compose herself.

“I believe Avalon will attend, if only out of duty.”  He said in a detached and professorial voice.  “I think Grace may attend because of our desperate entreaties.”  He said, maintaining his emotionless tone.  “And I expect Viola will be here—“  He cut himself off, seemingly in mid thought.  Velvet tilted her head up to watch the small, silent debate her was having with himself.  After a few moments he shrugged and continued his original prediction.  “I expect Viola will be here, quite against her will, because He will wish to drag her to this event and parade her around on his arm.”  Jonah said almost casually, sending another icy shiver slipping down Velvet’s spine. “To hurt me.”  He said quietly, but calmly.  “To humiliate us.”  Jonah finished matter-of-factly.

Velvet’s hand reached up of its own volition and cupped his beautiful face very gently.  Behind his glasses Jonah’s exceptional violet eyes seemed to shimmer and burn as he stared fixedly out, over the nearly-party of their lawn.  Velvet thought if she followed his gaze she would find him staring at that old swing-set he’d put together when the kids were small.

She searched his face but, as usual these days, it was unreadable.  Even.  Controlled.  He was getting very, very good at compartmentalizing, at quarantining his more visceral reactions, his more human feelings;  He was fast becoming adept at presenting a mild, uninterested persona.  And only if you got close, like Velvet did, could you see the strain around his eyes, the pulling at the corners of his mouth, spot the enormous effort it was taking to keep up appearances, feel the miserable tension twisting every fibre and sinew of his long, graceful form.

“What are you planning?”  She ventured cautiously.

A muscle ticked in her husband’s jaw, but when he spoke it was in the same calm, neutered voice as before.  “At my son and daughter-in-law’s baby shower?”  He asked rhetorically, “I plan on being the perfect host.”

Velvet felt something panicky and ominous jittering around behind her ribs.  She imagined a pin ball with her ex-husband’s face on it, battering around inside her torso—slamming into her ribs, crashing off her spine, zooming circles around her heart and bouncing again and again through her lungs, robbing her of air in odd little bursts.

“What do you think he’s planning?”  She asked as levelly as she could manage, some of it coming out like a croak.

Jonah snorted very softly, like a horse ready to take its head from its rider.  “He’ll want to get me to throw a punch,”  Jonah said plainly, “Or worse.”

Velvet closed her eyes and held them closed, collecting her wits and catching her breath.  “Jonah, you can’t—“

“I’m aware.”  He cut her off curtly.

She tried to swallow but found the task undoable at the present moment.

She watched the tent people triple-checking the rigging, and the tie-backs on the flaps, and whatever the hell else a tent-erector had to check thrice.  The hum and whirr of the motor on the bouncy house cushioned the steady lap and splash of the gentle waves in the pool and Velvet thought she’d quite like a frozen cocktail and a license to put her feet up and forget the whole affair.

“I love you.”  She told him again, the words falling out on yet another, quite resigned--and quite disillusioned--sigh.