“I just want to see it. I’ve never seen a bear up close before,” he said.
“There’s a first and a last time for everything,” I snapped and then contrite at the thought of my last words to him being snotty I changed tactics. “Please come back. We need to keep going. I thought you said we were almost there.”
Sebastian didn’t answer me except to wave backwards. As if I was going to get any closer to the bear. Yeah, right. He kept moving forward, his movements slow and steady, as if he was afraid to spook the animal. I didn’t think that was going to be a problem.
I wanted to scrub my hands over my face with frustration, but had to settle for gripping the edges of my shorts. There had to be a way to get him to come back.
“Sebastian, I’ll divorce you if you keep looking for the bear.” Maybe that would work.
“You’re too poor to pay a lawyer.”
I snorted. “So are you.” I thought a moment more, knowing I had the answer.
“I’ll tell your Gran on you.”
He stopped and turned to face me. “You wouldn’t.” The look on his face said it all, and a twitch started in the corner of my lips. I knew I had him. I let out a sigh of relief and put my hands on my hips.
“I would, just you wait and . . .”
A huge black bear burst out of the bush behind Sebastian with a roar and I bit down on a scream, my worst nightmare unfolding before my eyes. Sebastian stumbled back toward me and fell over a rut in the ground. I grabbed a rock and cocked my arm to throw it, when a hand dropped on my shoulder and shoved me to the ground. The smell of cigar smoke curled through the air, slicing through the sweet musk of the broom and the heavier musk of the large predator ready to eat my husband.
“Stay down, girl,” a throaty voice said and I looked over my shoulder to see our sort-of-crazy neighbour Dan above me, a gun levelled at the bear. “You too, boy, stay down.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to Sebastian or the bear.
We both stayed low on the ground and Dan walked toward the bear, his gun never wavering.
“Come on, Bob, you know you aren’t allowed to be eating the locals. Specially these city folk so new here, they’re practically a biohazard with all the toxins and chemicals they’ve been living in.”
“Hey, we eat healthy,” I said, then thought about the situation and shut my mouth. A crazy man with a gun and a bear in the middle of a forest trail that no one knew we were on. Quiet Mara, you’ll live longer.
I watched in disbelief as the bear—Bob, I guess—dropped to all fours and let out a long low snort.
“Yeah,” Dan said. “I feel the same about these imports, but we got to give them a chance before we run them off.”
The bear grunted and pawed at the ground a mere foot away from Sebastian’s bare legs. I whimpered in fear, wishing I had the gun in my hands. Why wasn’t Dan shooting the bear? He wasn’t truly having a conversation with the animal; he had to know that, didn’t he?
“Go on now, Bob. Come around the back of the house later tonight and you can have one of the salmon I thawed out this morning.” Dan lowered the gun. Bob gave one last snuffle and turned away from us, heading back down the trail toward the ocean.
I scrambled to my feet and ran to Sebastian, catching him in a—dare I say it—bear hug.
“I’m okay, babe,” he said into my hair.
“No, you’re not.” I stood up and kicked him in the shin, pleased with the wince it produced. “You idiot! I told you not to go back. That bear could have killed you!”
“Lower your voice, girl, or Bob will come back to see what all the shouting’s about, and to be honest, I’d sooner shoot you than him. He’s better company than most people.”
I turned to face him, our kind-of rescuer, at a loss for words. Did I say thanks for saving us, or thanks for not shooting us, or was I supposed to be mad that he preferred a bear over people? Dan stared at me as he chewed on the stubby cigar clamped between yellowed teeth. His salt and pepper hair was military short and yet still managed to be messy, and his army fatigues were rumpled and stained. I didn’t know what to make of him. Was it an act, or were the other locals right and he was off his rocker?
Sebastian took the lead, exaggerating his limp and rubbing at his shin before holding his hand out to the gruff older man. “Thanks, Dan. Much appreciate the intervention with your friend. We were on our way to your place. You put an ad on the mailbox that you had some old gardening stuff you want to get rid of? I spoke with you this morning about coming by?”
Dan stared at Sebastian for so long I started to get nervous. The man, after all, had a reputation for eating Crazy Flakes for breakfast and he was packing a large gun. Not really a good combination. I cleared my throat.
“Things like old pots, and maybe even some veggie starts,” I said, wanting to break the awkward silence.
Dan took a drag on his cigar and blew out a string of smoke. “Yup, come on then.” He turned his back to us, put his gun over his shoulder and led us down the yellow and green tunnel.
We followed, Sebastian taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed to me.
I smiled and squeezed his hand, mouthing back, “Okay. But I’m still calling your Gran.”
Sebastian winced again, and I nodded. There was always a consequence for being dumb, even if it was just having your Gran rip a strip off you.
As the adrenaline stopped its headlong rush through my body, I became acutely aware of my bare legs and arms—all the parts I’d shoved up against the broom. By the time we reached Dan’s, a fortress of a home that looked as if it had once been an army barrack, every visible inch of me was covered in hives. I stared around me, absently scratching at my arms. Dan’s yard wasn’t fenced, but it didn’t really need to be, not with the way his house was built. What looked like steel plate covered the doors, and the windows had rebarred grills over them. I ran my fingers over the rough textured exterior of the house—it seeme to be a combination of bricks, mortar and cement— my curiosity for a moment overwhelmed my itching. What was the point of all this?
“Make this quick, Bastian. I’m blowing up like a puffer fish,” I whispered to him as I deposited myself on the only chair in the yard. Dan brought me a prickly cactus looking plant and stuck it on the ground beside me.
“Aloe Vera. It’ll help with the sting till you get home,” he said as he broke off a thick green stem and handed the goopy end to me.
Surprised at his kindness, my opinion of him shifting again, I broke off a second piece of the plant and rubbed it onto the worst patch of hives with a sigh. It was cool and soothing. I was going to have to get me an Aloe Vera plant.
It was nice in the shade; this corner of Dan’s garden was already up, the bright green shoots sticking through the ground. I didn’t recognize any of them. I was still pretty new to the whole concept of gardening. I could see what I thought were peas climbing a section of netting, large rubber tires housing a creeping plant of some sort, and several raised beds with strawberries in them. Those, at least, I could pick out easily. It was very strange to see such a mixture of old-school gardening life next to the military feel of his home.
Next to the house, a battered old radio played while Sebastian talked planting, tools, and seeds with the old nutter.
After a few minutes, Dan walked to the radio and turned it up just as a female announcer came on, her voice breathy and completely unsuited to radio.
“Bet she got the job by doing a few jobs of her own, eh?” Dan gave me a lecherous wink and walked back over to where Sebastian was digging through an old pile of pots.
I grimaced and shook my head. That was an awful thought, no matter that it was probably true. I reached down to rub at a particularly large hive with the Aloe Vera on the back of my calf, when what the announcer was saying sunk in.
“This is a miracle drug boys and girls. Not only can you eat whatever you want and not gain weight, but it does all sorts of great things, but I can’t remember all of them.
You can’t buy it over the counter . . . .”
I got up and moved my chair closer to the radio, and a second, male, announcer came on, his voice highly animated and almost as feminine as the woman’s.
“So Phillipa, you’re telling me there’s no downside, no side effects to this—what was the drug called again?” he said.
Phillipa’s irritating voice came back on. “They’re calling it Nevermore, as in, never more gain weight, never more get sick, or disgustingly fat, never more get cellulite, or any sort of weight gain.” She giggled and the high pitch and redundancy of what she was saying made me shiver. It was a wonder the speakers didn’t blow. She took a breath and continued, “It’s amazing, one shot is all it takes, and yes, it is expensive, but that’s it. One shot and you’re good for life. I’ve lost ten pounds and I’ve been eating burgers, cake, and totally noshing on chocolate.”
The male announcer came back on. “Reportedly, this Nevermore truly is a miracle drug, as it also prevents Parkinson’s disease, works in tandem with heart medications to stop arrhythmias, and has a host of other beneficial side effects. One that will be of interest to many is that helps tremendously with fertility, more so than any of the current fertility drugs, with less side effects. As it’s derived from an all-natural source, the body can—”
I turned the radio back down and looked over to Sebastian, still deep in conversation with Dan, who was nodding and even giving the occasional smile. Sebastian was not only tall, but a little on the large side. Okay, a little more than a little on the large side. Not that I had anything to preen about. I easily had an extra twenty-five pounds on my 5’5 frame. Maybe even thirty, but it was still less than I’d been carrying a year ago when we decided to start our family. That was when we began to realize there was a problem, and that we might not be able to have a baby. I lost weight, ate healthy, took my vitamins, but getting pregnant was nearly impossible and the one time I did, I miscarried.
I scratched at my collarbone, feeling a welt swelling rapidly under my finger; I had a sudden urge to get moving. Not only did I need to get a second dose of Benadryl and a shower to wash the broom pollen off, I had to get on the phone to the doctor. What if this Nevermore drug was what the radio said it was? It seemed almost too good to be true: fertility and weight loss, all rolled into a single shot. My heart thrummed with excitement. This was what we’d been waiting for. I could hardly wait to tell Sebastian what I’d heard; I could hardly wait to finally be a mother.
2
As soon as we got home, I ran upstairs to shower, hoping to diffuse the pollen on my skin. We’d bought a rambling two-story farmhouse on three acres that was at least a hundred years old that I was completely in love with, along with all the history it represented. It was heated with a woodstove and even had an old wood-burning cooking stove that was now on the back porch, having made room for my new convection oven. The old woman who owned the farmhouse had been on the property her whole life, ninety-eight years, and had not only been raised in the house, but had raised her own children in the house.
I’d hoped to raise my own children here too.
My hands slowed in the soapy water as my thoughts wound back to the hospital, the nurses and the doctor telling me that I had miscarried. At five weeks, still in my first trimester and within the real danger zone, I’d woken up in the middle of the night to cramping and blood on the sheets. Since then I’d not gone back to my job as a real estate agent, taking a leave of absence to deal with the grief and to give my body time to heal.
Sebastian worked from home as a web designer, something I was intensely grateful for as he was able to help me out of the depression I’d fallen into after the miscarriage, not to mention pay the bills that never stopped coming.
The bathroom door clicked and I poked my head outside the curtain. “Hand me the new shampoo.”
Sebastian held it just out of reach before finally letting me take it, a grin spreading across his face, his gorgeous dimples framing his mouth.
I ducked back in and lathered up, smiling to myself. He might be a little chubby, but my man was good looking, and that smile—even now it made me weak in the knees.
“It’s probably a hoax. You know that, don’t you, babe?” Sebastian’s voice was muffled as I stuck my head back under the running water, the cool shower sluicing off the last of the pollen. It didn’t, however, make the hives go away. I was covered in them from head to toe, the bumps starting to develop even where the plant didn’t touch me, its infection of my skin spreading like some horrid disease.
“You don’t know that and neither do I,” I said, soaping my body up. “You aren’t a doctor last time I checked.”
“These sorts of things come and go. It’s either a hoax or it will turn out to have some horrible side effect. Like, your boobs will shrivel up, leaving me nothing to play with, and then I would die.”
I laughed, turned the water off, and reached for a towel. The shower curtain slid open and Sebastian lifted an eyebrow at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his clothes having mysteriously disappeared. His eyes roved over my naked and still-wet body. Heat curled in my stomach, still now after four years of marriage he could set my skin on fire and my heart racing with a simple look.
“The towel, please.” I held out my hand, trying to look uninterested. He shook his head and stepped into the tub, his bare toes touching the tips of mine. Without a word he started to dry me off, starting with my hair and working his way slowly down my body, his hands massaging as he dried.
I bit back a groan, the moisture from my skin disappearing, the heat intensifying. I closed my eyes and let the sensations wash through me, the scratching of the itch from the hives almost heavenly as he scrubbed the towel over them.
“Stop,” I whispered, not really meaning it. Sebastian chuckled and I peeked out from under my eyelashes. With a single, swift movement he scooped me into his arms and took me to the bedroom and our very small bed.
With more gentleness than one would think from a man his size, he laid me on the bed and pressed his body into mine, our hearts beating in time with one another.
“I love you, Sebastian,” I whispered as he slid into me, completing me, making us one.
“I love you too, my bumpy, hive-ridden woman,” he whispered into my ear.
I slapped him half-heartedly on the shoulder, and the sweet love-making quickly turned into a laughing romp that ended as it often did: in each other’s arms, tears prickling at the back of my eyes as my emotions filled me up and spilled over in physical release.
“You okay, Mara?”
“Yes,” I said, curling deeper into his arms, trying to think of something smart to say and coming up empty-handed, so I settled for the truth. “Sometimes I just love you so much it makes me cry.”
“Hmm. I am quite the hunk. Really, you are very lucky to have snagged me. I was planning on playing the field till I was at least sixty before you came along.” He spread his big hands over his chest and leaned back against the headboard, a self-satisfied smile across his face.
I smiled up at him, laughed, and shook my head. The size of his ego never ceased to amaze me.
Sobering, I sat up, pulling the sheet around me. “I’m going to ask the doctor about that Nevermore shot. I think it’s what we’ve been waiting for. I mean, we could be fit, trim, and then have a baby too. It would be amazing.” I stared at him, willing him to catch my excitement.
It didn’t work. Sebastian frowned, and then shrugged his big shoulders. “I still think it’s some sort of hoax, but you go ask him. See what he has to say, but don’t get your hopes up.”
I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled into his arms. I could be excited enough for the both of us; in fact, I already was. My eye lids drooped when the second dose of antihistamines kicked in. I let them close completely, my heart light with the hopes and dreams of a family, already forgetting Sebastian’s warning.
3
The doctor’s office was full. And I don’t me
an all the seats were taken, I mean there wasn’t even standing room. I ended up halfway down the hall leaning against the cream-coloured wall next to one of the office doors.
“Excuse me, are you Mara Wilson?” a voice behind me asked.
I turned to face a woman who looked vaguely familiar. She was in her late thirties with beautiful blond hair and eyes the colour of the Caribbean ocean. I cocked my head to one side. “Yes, I’m Mara, have we met?”
The woman laughed and patted me on the arm. “Only briefly. I’m Shelly Gartlet, I live on the road above you, and we met at the mailbox when you first moved here.”
I smiled and nodded. “That’s right. I remember now.” Really, how could I forget? The woman had grabbed me in a welcoming hug, spilling all the neighbourhood gossip in less than five minutes, and in a single breath. I’d made a mental note never to confide in her. “Are you here for the Nevermore shot?”
Shelly smiled. “Yes and no. My husband, George, and I got the shot last week, but Jessica here” –she half-tugged a younger looking clone forward– “wasn’t able to get the shot, she was sick with that flu that’s been going around.”
I put my hand out. She was a very pretty young girl, with the same long blond hair as her mom and the same stunning eyes. She looked to be about sixteen years old, but could have been younger; it was so hard to tell nowadays. No doubt the boys went crazy for her at school. “Nice to meet you, Jessica.” She gripped my hand lightly, ducking her head.
Shelly patted her on the arm and gave me a wink. “Jessica, weren’t you telling me about Mara’s husband, and about how good looking he is?”
Jessica flushed from her chin to the roots of her hair, her eyes widening as our gazes connected.
“I didn’t mean . . . it’s not like . . . mom, how could you say that?” she finally spit out.
I laughed, warmed by the thought, knowing that my husband was an attractive man, so much so that even teenagers had crushes on him, despite the extra weight he carried. Tall, dark, and handsome with confidence and a wicked sense of humour, he’d had women swooning over him in every age bracket. “It’s okay, Jessica. I’m sure Sebastian would love to know that he had an admirer.”
Darlings of Decay Page 29
