by Ashley Hall
The young woman sitting behind the front desk nods. “Evening, Isabella.”
“Now,” huffs Isabella, “I keep telling you, just call me Izzy!”
“That's so impolite,” says the woman. Her name is Denny. Denny is short and plump, with a love for vintage clothing and her rainbow dyed hair shaved to the scalp on one half of her head, pulled into a braid on the other. She's a young thing that only just started working in the building.
It's her first job. If Denny plays her cards right, then Isabella has plans on asking her to baby sit William in the near future. At the moment, Bethy gets stuck with that job most of the time.
While Bethy is a very good friend, she's also not the best at watching small children. Plus, this would be far more convenient and no doubt a boon to the teenager’s burgeoning responsibilities and sense of pride.
“It's only impolite if I say it is,” says Isabella. “Now, try again.”
Denny rolls her eyes but humors the princess. “Alright, fine. Evening, Izzy.”
“That's better.”
“You seem to be working later every day.”
“Just for now.”
“Think things will change by the holidays?”
“I know they will,” says Isabella, smugly. “I'm the boss, after all!”
Denny laughs, even though it wasn't much of a joke. She tugs at her braid. “The little one was down here earlier. He's just growing like a weed!”
“Yes he is,” says Isabella, agreeably. “Yes, he most certainly is.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
William, of course, is already in bed by the time that Isabella gets there. She slips into his room, shakes him awake, and says, “Still up for that bedtime story?”
“Momma!” William wraps his chubby arms around Isabella's waist. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to him. “I thought you'd forgotten!”
“I would never forget,” swears Isabella.
The story goes like this:
Rodney Redbeard has sailed the seven seas and back again. He's a pirate the likes of which no one has ever known before, with a dream that is nigh impossible.
That dream? To find the eight sea of the world—the Chocolate Sea.
And today, he is certain that he's gotten that much closer.
“Land ho,” shouts Sylvie from her spot on the prow. The spyglass has left a dark ring around one of her eyes. “Captain, we've found it! Candy Island, sir! It's real!”
“Of course it's real,” bellows Rodney, pointing towards the distant shape of the island. “I've been telling you that for years, Sylvie! Set our course, lass. We're going to Candy Island!”
Candy Island is exactly like one would think. The shore is made from crushed sugar, white as could be, and the shells are brightly colored rock candy chunks. Wafer cone palm trees with gummy spearmint leaves dot the edge of the shore, where the sugar sand turns into crushed chocolate cookies and a licorice forest.
The Chocolate Lady sets anchor just off the shore. Rodney Redbeard leads his crew of lasses and lads to the shore. He's the first pirate on land, already pulling out an aged yellow map.
“Alright, crew. Spread out,” shouts Rodney. “We're looking for the gumdrop cliff!”
Like ants, the Redbeard Pirates spread out over the shores of Candy Island. They look high, and they look low. A young deckhand named Alex finds the gumdrop cliff; it's brightly colored ledges stand out against the dark line of the ocean. Waves crash against them, washing sugar crystals out into the depths.
Rodney Redbeard leads the climb up the side of the cliffs. The gumdrops are sticky and loose. Twice, he nearly falls into the churning waters below.
When he makes it to the top of the cliff, Rodney is met with the sight of the next landmark. The great marshmallow willow sits at the center of the gumdrop field. Great, sticky white gobs of mallow drip onto the ground. The drooping limbs hang over the syrup river.
“Hurry,” shouts Sylvie. “Over the graham cracker bridge!”
No sooner than the last pirate crosses the bridge, the whole thing collapses!
They follow the map all over the island. They use strips of taffy to swing over the pools of molasses quicksand. Monkeys throw red hots at the Redbeard Pirates as they traverse the peppermint jungle, where everything is red and white.
Finally, at long last, Rodney leads his crew into a series of caves. Starbursts dot the ceiling, giving off faint glows. It's by these rainbow lights that Rodney is able to make out the carvings in the wall.
“We found it,” he says. “The map to the Chocolate Sea. Lads and lasses, we've finally found it!”
Sylvie says, “Alright, captain. When do we leave?”
“Right away,” bellows Rodney Redbeard. “An entire sea of chocolate awaits, my boys!”
The crew of the Chocolate Lady sets sail before dusk sets. Rodney Redbeard leaves Candy Island behind him in search of another, even more great sweet landmark.
He has sailed the seven seas! And soon, Rodney Redbeard will have sailed all eight of them.
By the time that Isabella has finished her tale, William is fast asleep again. Isabella smiles. Softly, she says, “You are such a handsome boy.”
He looks like his father, save his soft golden curls.
Speaking of his father, Gabe clears his throat. He's leaning up against the doorway of the bedroom. “Hey, sweet cheeks. I thought you were going to try and be home sooner today?”
“I was,” says Isabella. “I am. It's only a little after midnight. I got home way earlier than yesterday.”
“Not earlier enough for my tastes,” says Gabe, but the twist to his lips makes it clear that he's just playing around. Truly, there's no one in the world more supportive of Isabella than Gabe is.
Slowly, so as not to make the mattress move too much and wake William back up, Isabella stands up. She smooths down the front of her black pencil skirt and joins Gabe in the hall. They push the door shut but just a little bit.
Gabe wraps his arms around Isabella's waist and kisses her, hard and fast and passionate. When he's done, he says, “I missed you.”
Isabella laughs. “I missed you too. I also missed dinner. Is there anything left?”
Gabe gives her a crooked smile. “Pizza?”
“Pizza?” She slaps Gabe on the chest. “I said no more junk food! He needs a healthier diet, Gabe!”
“Let him live a little!”
“He has plenty of time for living. And don't test my patience, boy, because we both know you're the only one that wanted to live a little. Like you didn't have pizza for lunch earlier, too!”
Gabe shrugs. He tries to look innocent, but it mostly fails. “Alright,” he admits. “I'm not good at being healthy. Still, you can't blame me for trying. I just wanted a filling meal!”
“You wanted to be lazy.”
“Says the woman that works so much she misses dinner.”
There's no way to counter that. Isabella huffs instead. Then she leans up and presses a kiss to Gabe's lips. “I'm going to go get a shower. Heat something up for me.”
“Aye,” laughs Gabe. “Anything for my princess.”
The shower doesn't take long. While the apartment has its perks, the shower isn't one of them. There's barely any water pressure at all, and the hot water lasts twenty minutes, tops. It's just long enough to get in, get washed up, and get back out.
On a splurge, Isabella uses cold water to shave her legs, and then gets out to towel off. The mirrors aren't even fogged up!
Mirrors....again, for what seems to be the first time in years, Isabella finds herself thinking about the note that had been pinned to her mirror, back in the suite.
Isabella will admit, that is the birth of her greatest fear. She gets dressed in her pajamas and tries to convince herself that she will never be the sort of parent that her mother had been. It simply isn't going to be possible.
Once she's satisfied with how she looks and feels, even though she is, admittedly, still a little bit unner
ved, Isabella heads out into the kitchen.
It's her favorite part of the apartment. Next to drawing and designing clothing, Isabella has found that she quite loves cooking. Now, that doesn't mean she's very good at it. In fact, the princess will be the first to admit that she's a horrible cook. Many of her experimental dinners have ended up in the trash.
She even gave herself food poisoning, once!
Still, Isabella finds it calming. The kitchen is decked out in shades of blue and green. There are marble counters and a black fridge. And, of course, there's Gabe, sitting at the kitchen table.
He's laid out a spread of leftovers: take out dishes from the last few nights, pizza, and a bottle of wine that has not yet been opened.
“What's all this for?” Isabella asks, sitting down next to her husband.
Gabe laughs. “I thought you might have forgotten.”
Isabella demands, “Forgotten what?”
Gabe leans over and kisses Isabella on the cheek. Then he says, “It’s our anniversary.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
“It most certainly is not!” Isabella is out of her seat before she knows it, pointing a finger at Gabe. “I know what day we got married, mister, and today is not it!”
It's the middle of summer. Isabella has only just started working on the fall line. They got married in the spring—sleeveless dresses, tanks, and rain slickers that need to be made more fashionable, not jeans and three--quarter length sleeved shirts.
Gabe stands up, too, waving his hands to try and calm down his errant wife. “No, no! That's not the anniversary that I'm talking about. I mean the day that we met.”
“The day we met?”
“Yes! When you first walked into that bar.” Gabe takes Isabella by the hand. “Like I said, it's okay that you didn't remember. It's nothing official. That’s why I just dug out the wine and not anything else.”
Suddenly, Isabella feels heady. She drops down into her seat, and Gabe drops down into his. The room blurs but just for a moment.
The day they met. Isabella knows, now, why she has not been able to quit thinking about her mother. Even now, she can remember that fight. Bits and pieces of their argument flood her mind.
“Now is the perfect time! With the flight delayed, we have no place to be. Isabella, you need to listen to me. This is important. It's not just your future, Isabella. It's about the future of Davaria as a whole! This isn't something to play with, it's not just a game!”
“You need me to understand? Listen to yourself, mother! I'm not going to marry Hendric!”
“He's a good man!”
“I wouldn't know! I've never met him before!”
“You shall not speak to me like that. Is that understood? Whatever thought you have in your mind, get rid of it. I married your father for the good of our people, and you're going to do the same. It isn't fun, Isabella, but it's our duty.”
“You need to get your head on straight, Isabella. When we return home, you will accept Hendric's proposal.”
That, of course, had fallen through. Hendric had become Calbert. That, too, had been a plan that she didn't make. Isabella presses a hand to her temple, feeling slightly woozy.
Gabe, worried, asks, “Are you okay?”
Isabella nods. Then she demands, “Do you think I'm a good mother?”
For a moment, her husband looks awestruck by the question. But then it must click into place with him because he nods. “I think you're an amazing mother. Just as good as my own!”
Isabella nods. “And do you remember what happened that night?”
“How could I forget?”
“Do you remember,” insists Isabella, suddenly feeling desperate for confirmation. Suddenly, her current life seems far too much like a dream.
“I remember,” promises Gabe.
Isabella does, too. With startling clarity, she remembers their first time together.
“Okay,” says Isabella, taking in a deep breath. “Then I want to ask you something.”
Gabe takes hold of both of Isabella's hands. In his most serious voice, he says, “You can ask me anything. Tell me what's wrong, Izzy. You know I'll listen, and you know I'll do everything that I can to help you.”
“I know,” says Isabella. “Do you remember the notes my mother left me?”
Gabe's expression grows grim. He nods. “I remember them. They were loads of shit. We went over that, right?”
“They were,” says Isabella. “But I've thought about them a lot today. And I want to ask you something because of them.”
“You're a wonderful mother,” insists Gabe. “You're nothing like her, if that's what you were going to ask me—”
“It's not, but I appreciate the sentiment. I have a more important question to ask you.” Isabella pauses. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her beating heart and organize her thoughts.
“Ask me anything.”
“Don't freak out. If you aren't interested, tell me.”
“I will.”
Isabella, nervous, insists, “Promise me!”
“I promise you,” swears Gabe. “But you have to ask me now, Izzy. I'm starting to get worried! It's not about going back to Davaria, is it? Because I'd go with you, but I don't think it's a good idea.”
It's Isabella's turn to be startled now. “Why would it be about going back to Davaria?”
“Because you said you were thinking about your parents,” says Gabe. “Fuck, I don't even know what we're talking about!”
“I want to have another kid,” blurts Isabella. The silence that follows that statement is almost deafening. Isabella turns away from Gabe, pops open the wine, and pours herself a glass. She takes a large swig of the bitter liquid before saying, “I want to have another kid. That little girl I used to talk about having. Gabe, I want to try and have a daughter!”
Gabe sputters. “But your work—”
“Can be passed on to someone else when I take maternity leave,” says Isabella, sounding far more comfortable with this conversation than she really is. “If you're interested, that is.”
Again, there's a moment of silence. Gabe pours himself a glass of wine, too. Then he turns to Isabella and holds his glass out.
She clinks her glass against Gabe's glass without thinking. “What are you toasting?”
“A baby girl,” says Gabe. “To the baby girl that we're hopefully going to have! But I've got to ask, Izzy. What if we just have another son?”
“Then we'll love him,” answers Isabella. She gives her husband a coy smile. “And we'll try again. Are you really opposed to fucking around without a condom?”
Isabella can never remember to take the pill, so they use condoms as their preferred method of protection.
Gabe laughs. The sound is low and deep. He downs his entire flute of wine in one go. “Fuck no. So, time table—”
“Don't be a jerk,” snorts Isabella. “Once William starts preschool, that’s when I want to try for it. As soon as he’s out of the house a bit more.”
“Good choice,” says Gabe. “Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?”
“I’m already looking forward to having more little feet running around the house,” says Gabe. His eyes sparkle with mischief. “And I’m excited to get some alone time with you. It’s been far too long on that front.”
“Agreed,” says Isabella. She takes another sip from her wine, and then sits it down on the table. “But you know, I did just read William a bedtime story.”
Gabe's lips twist up in amusement.
Isabella smiles back at him. “He's not going to be awake any time soon. If we're quiet...”
She trails off, but there's no real need to finish that sentence. Gabe is laughing when he stands up, offering a hand to his wife. “To the bedroom, then?”
Isabella takes his hand and then tugs on his arm. “Or,” she says, her own eyes glinting, “we could just give it a shot right here. Who knows? Maybe the kitchen will be lucky.”
THE END
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