Casey smiled softly. “You know I’m here for you, don’t you? Every step of the way.”
“I know,” Emma said. She laid her hand stop her friend’s. “Thank you.”
After Casey left, Emma stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and touched her belly. It was amazing, frightening, exciting, disorienting. All of these feelings moved through her. There is a life in there, she thought, but she couldn’t believe it. In there, in her belly, there was a life.
*****
Summer turned to autumn, and autumn began to whisper of winter, and the bump grew for seven months. Her parents said they would send money over to help her, and of course they would visit at some point. Emma doubted that they would truly visit, but the money would be welcome. Even as the bump grew, and the baby kicked, she could hardly believe that there was a life inside of her. Even with the ultrasound pictures – even when she learned that the baby was a boy – she had to convince herself.
And then one morning in October, she woke to the rumbling of a motorbike engine outside of her apartment building. It was not the thunder-like stampede that the fleet of engines had been, almost a year ago now, but the solitary rumble of a single motorbike. The hope she felt – the fluttering of her heartbeat, and the involuntary smile that came to her lips – was absurd. Millions of people had motorbikes. Hearing one was no huge thing. And yet she found herself at her window all the same, looking down.
She had dreamt of this moment hundreds of times, but she had never truly believed it would come. When she looked down, the nameless rider was looking up at her. He was just as she remembered him. His beard was a bit longer, rugged, and his eyes – even from here, in the electric light of the streetlamps, Emma could see – were tired and worn. But his body was strong, and his jawline was set. He waved at her, and Emma felt herself wave back.
A feeling of unreality came over her when she walked down the stairs. She opened the door to the apartment building, and the handle felt ice-cold in her sweaty grip. The door creaked opened, and it sounded as loud as a siren blaring in her ears. The nameless rider was waiting just outside. He looked down at the bump. “So it’s true,” he said.
“It is,” she replied. They locked eyes for a moment. Maybe it was Emma’s hopeful imagination, but she thought she felt something pass between them, some conversation she couldn’t hear the words of, even as she knew how important it was. “Do you want to come up?”
“Yes,” he said, and without waiting for her to say anything more, he walked through the door and up the stairs.
Emma closed the door and followed him up to her apartment. They sat in the living room, him on a chair next to the coffee table, her on the couch. The couch ate her as it never had before the pregnancy. The bump was lively this morning; it kicked its little legs. Perhaps he could sense his father’s presence. The nameless rider sat with his forearms on his knees, looking calmly across the table at her. Emma searched for words, but nothing came. She waited, and eventually he spoke.
“I suppose we should know each other’s names,” he said.
“Yes,” Emma said, smiling wanly. “I suppose we should.”
“I’m Eli Stone.”
“Emma Harvey.”
The silence stretched. The town was waking up. Cars grumbled in the early morning darkness, and the old bus creaked down the street as men climbed aboard to make their early shifts at the mill. Emma clasped her hands together and laid them on the bump. Her heart was a sick beating in her neck, her pulse shaking. Nervous as hell, like I’ve never met this man before. She thought back to the barn, and for the millionth time tried to convince herself that she had really done that.
A thought occurred to her, and she was glad to have something to say. “How did you know?” she asked.
“A friend of mine – a fellow Dog – came through here a few days ago. He’d seen us leaving the town together that day. He told me that you were carrying.”
Yes, Emma remembered. She had been at the supermarket, and had snapped her head around when the motorbike drove slowly down the street. It was a luck of traffic lights that she saw the man, and was able to see that he was a Dog of Exile. But he wasn’t her Dog of Exile. She had thought, madly, about running out there and asking him to give the nameless rider – Eli, now – a message. But before the thought had materialized into anything concrete, the motorbike had pulled away. She remembered the helmet turning, regarding her. But she hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.
“And why are you here?” Emma said. There was spite in her voice. It was foolish. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t known she was pregnant. But still it was there. The nights she had spent alone in her bed, awake with the aches of pregnancy, came to her. She had wished for somebody at her side. And he hadn’t been here.
“Because you are pregnant with my child,” he said, as though it was a foolish question. “I have never had a child before. I can’t stand by and let you do it on your own.”
The words struck Emma. She gasped. She hadn’t expected that. “I didn’t think you’d care,” she said.
“I didn’t know,” Eli said. “I had no clue.”
“No, you just came into town, fucked me, and left.”
“Yes,” he said, staring at her with that intense, serious gaze. “And you fucking loved it. Don’t tell me you regret a second of it.”
“I don’t,” she agreed quietly. How many times had she touched herself whilst thinking of that day? How many orgasms had that day given her, even after it was done? “And now what? You think we’re going to be a happy family? This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had. We don’t even know each other. Up until five minutes ago I didn’t even know your name. You know what? Thanks for coming down, but I don’t need you. I’ve come this far by myself. I don’t need you know.” She struggled to her feet and was about to make for the door.
Eli rose slowly to his feet, and then nodded to the couch. “Sit down,” he said, in that same calm voice. “I would be no kind of man if I left the mother of my unborn child. Sit. Down.” He didn’t raise his voice. Emma didn’t feel in danger. But it was immovable all the same. She couldn’t do anything, she sensed. He was in charge. And what was more, she welcomed that. Someone to take charge, she thought, as she slumped back down onto the cushions.
“First, we’ll need to get a house,” Eli said. “I’ve been working in construction for the past year, a contract through the Dogs. I was saving for a new bike. But that can wait.” He reached into his pocket and brought out an envelope. Then he placed it on the table and slid it to her.
Emma picked it up tentatively, not sure whether to take it. But she looked inside. Flicking through the notes, she saw there was about thirty grand in there. “I can’t take this,” she whispered.
“You can. You will.”
“But—”
“Is that enough to put a deposit on a house?”
“Around here? Well, yeah.”
“Okay, good.” He walked to the door, and then looked back at her. “Get yourself into a house. The contract lasts another month. I’ll be back then, to move in. I’ll have to find work out here.”
Emma opened her mouth.
“Don’t argue,” Eli said. “Just do it.”
He closed the door. A minute later, his motorbike started and growled its way out of Axleton.
*****
The house was a three-bedroom on the outskirts of Axleton. It was not the nicest house anybody had ever lived in, sure, but to Emma it seemed like a mansion. It was two streets over from her childhood home, with a big lawn and a picket fence. It was, Emma felt, the American dream made real. The bump grew even larger, the father away for a month, and Emma settled into the routine of taking the bus into town when she went to work at the super market.
She returned late one evening, a light shower of rain falling, the cold beads soothing on her skin, when she saw him. He stood outside of the house, hands by his sides, like a man ready for a fight. It was
strange, maybe, that just by standing there like that, in that stance, he made her feel at ease. She felt as though he would fight away anything that tried to hurt her or the baby. It was a primal feeling, coming deep within her from a bygone age where women stood behind their men as the men readied their spears for a big cat, or another man, or any other danger which the primeval woman might need protection from.
“You’re back,” she said.
“This is a nice place,” Eli said, in his calm voice. “I have more money for you.”
He didn’t wait for her to reply. He thrust an envelope into her hand. It weighed less than the last one, but the last one had had months of savings in it. Then he walked up the steps to the front door. He looked back at her, watching as she followed him. When she opened the door, he walked in and began looking around. He knocked walls and moved drawers to check behind them. He fiddled with the sockets and went into the boiler closet and began twisting the dials.
“I’ll have to give this place a proper once-over tomorrow,” he said. “I saw a hardware store in town. I’ll go over in the morning and get everything I need.”
“Wait,” Emma said, feeling as though everything was rushing ahead at one-hundred miles per hour. She remembered as a girl when she’d stuck her head out of the window on the highway, and the wind had whipped at her hair. She’d felt like her head could snap off at any moment. That was how she felt now. Whiplash at the suddenness of it all. “Are you staying here?”
“Yes.”
“But you haven’t asked me.”
He smiled at her. “I don’t need to. You want me to stay. I’m the father of your child. A man doesn’t abandon his child. Ever, for any reason. You kept the baby; I’m staying.”
“But what about your club?” Emma said.
“They have bases all over the US. There’s one fifty miles east of here, a bar just outside the city. They’re arranging work for me. I’ll be bringing in more money soon. When the baby’s born, you can stay at home and take care of it.”
“What if I don’t want to?”Emma said.
“That’s irrelevant,” he said matter-of-factly. “Whether or not I want to move up here is irrelevant. Whether or not I want to live here is irrelevant. We are not relevant. All that is relevant, right now, is the child inside of you. We have a job, now. I’ve known men that have gotten children on women and left them. I fucking despise them.” A flicker of emotion came into his voice. It was not a full-blown fire, but it was more than she had heard in it before. “What sort of man does that? No, if I am having a child, I will be there for that child.”
He took off his jacket and draped it across the couch. His muscular arms bulged, the tattoos seeming to pulse. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, and then yawned. “I need sleep,” he said simply, and then waited at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you coming?” he asked after a moment.
Emma couldn’t help but smile. He waved at the stairs, and she felt compelled to move forward. He held her elbow, helping her up the stairs. Stairs had become another one of the things that had been simple pre-pregnancy, but were now annoyingly difficult. She brushed her teeth, and then changed into pajamas. She lay in bed, waiting for Eli, who she still thought of as the nameless rider sometimes.
The shower stopped its hissing, and then Eli walked into the bedroom, a towel around his waist. Muscles bulged all over him. His chest was huge, and tight, and belly was a well-defined rock of ab muscles. His arms were well-honed, and when he turned she saw that “Dogs of Exile” was tattooed across his back. After he dried, he pulled on some briefs and climbed into bed beside her.
Emma hardly dared to move, lest she do something to shatter this dream. None of it seemed real. And yet it was. She had to make herself accept that. It was real. She was pregnant. The man beside her was the father, and he had returned to take care of them. She felt safe, wrapped up in a blanket.
She waited for his breath to come, slowly, sleepily, and then laid her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, and ushered her to sleep.
*****
“Some women would think of this as a nightmare,” Casey said.
They were sitting in Emma’s living room, as they had done hundreds of times in the old apartment. But now the living room was hers. She took a quiet pride in having the place tidy, neat, nice to look at. It was a small thing, maybe, but it brought her comfort. She wanted her boy to like his house, to enjoy being in it. She smiled at her friend, and nodded. “I know,” she admitted. “Yeah, I know that. Stifling, I guess, is the word. Some women would think he is stifling. But, do you know what? I really don’t. And I feel like we’re getting closer.”
“The baby will be here within a week,” Casey smiled. As if I need reminding of that!“So that’s good.”
They talked about trivial things for the rest of the visit. They talked about old high school friends, and enemies, and teachers they had disliked, and the time they had gotten really drunk before a test.
After Casey left, Emma found herself thinking on her words. Some women would find it stifling, she knew. A nightmare, Casey had said. So why didn’t she? She didn’t think it was necessity. She didn’t think she would have let any man take control like this. But there was something about Eli that made her want to give him control. It was like the day they’d conceived their child . . . he had looked at her, touched her, and she had wanted to give him everything. She had questioned that motive many times since that day, and yet it was still strong inside of her. There was a commander in his deep green eyes. He was the kind of man which people spoke about. He knows what he’s doing, they’d say, not because of anything he did, necessarily, but because of his aura, his presence.
The Dogs of Exile had arranged for him to work construction forty miles south. He woke before sunrise and returned after sunset, but he never complained. And the sex . . . he wasn’t one of those men who was put off by pregnancy. The first day he had started his new job, Emma had not known what to expect when he returned. They had eaten dinner quietly, and then he had taken her hand and led her upstairs. On her back, looking up at him, she had orgasmed at least ten times, her pussy tight, squirting all over his huge, rock-hard rock.
Before now, the hormones that pregnancy brought had been left to her own hands. She much preferred the length of him inside of her, the tensing of his muscles, his dirty words whispered in her ear.
He had rolled over when they were done, and Emma had crawled into his arms. He embraced her, and it felt natural. In many ways, they were strangers to one another, as so many men and women had been who’d made a child throughout history. In many ways, they were ill-suited to each other. But there was an invincible bond forming between them, and it was forming in moments like this. Quiet moments, when all she could hear was his heartbeat and then his soft snores, when his hands played with her hair, and she kissed his skin, without him even knowing it, when his and hers mixed into the sheets.
When she woke, he sat at the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on. “Go back to sleep,” he said, and there was a note of tenderness in his voice, beneath the hardness. “I’ll be back later.”
There were simple words, but they meant a lot to Emma. And, she felt, they meant a lot to him, too. She closed her eyes. He walked to the door, his footsteps creaking the floorboards, and then his footsteps stopped. They turned, and approached the bed. He leaned over her – she could feel the heat of him – and laid a kiss upon her forehead. He touched her hands with his, and then left for work.
His Harley chugged down the street, into the winter darkness, and Emma knew (and she smiled into the pillow) that she would hear that Harley later tonight.
*****
They named him Charley, not for any particular reason, but because they both liked the name. Spring came and Charley cried, screamed, cooed, did all of the things babies do which parents know about beforehand but are still surprised by. Emma was bone-tired when she walked down the stairs, Charley finally asleep. Her eyes ached from waking the
night before and feeding him, even though Eli had taken two of the “shifts” (as he jokingly called them). How good Eli was with Charley had surprised her at first. When he picked up the boy, held him above his head, his face lit into a smile that was almost boyish. He kissed his son on the head, and cradled him. He was, Emma had learnt, an amazing father.
Eli had coasted down the street since Charley was born, so that the engine from his Harley did not wake his son. But Emma still knew when he was due home, because he was home at the same time every day. She collapsed onto the couch and waited for her husband to open the door. Like clockwork, the door opened, and his boots sounded his entrance.
He walked into the living room and smiled down at her. He was still the hard, implacable man he had been before, and the hard man he would be for their entire life, but there were moments of softness, and this was one of them.
“What?” Emma said sleepily. “What’re you smiling at?”
Wordlessly, he reached into his pocket and brought up a small case. Emma sat up, her tiredness forgotten. He fell to one knee, his eyes still on hers, and then opened the case. “I’ve never been great with words,” he said. He shrugged, and held her gaze. “So, will you marry me, Emma?”
She reached out and touched his face, moving her hand across his beard. Her chest filled with a fierce warmth, and her heart felt light. Her child was sleeping down here, and her fiancé was kneeling before her. She didn’t think she had ever felt so happy.
“Of course I will,” she said.
Stay away from the Babysitter.
Alexa pulled the covers till they reached little Mike’s neck and she patted his fuzzy golden head adoringly. He was finally asleep. She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a chocolate bar, which she unwrapped and ate by Mike’s crib. Whatever anybody might have to say about babysitting, she absolutely loved her job. There was nothing more that Alexa liked doing, than spending her time around kids.
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