Charge to My Line

by Lani Lynn Vale

  And we all knew he was already waiting for his revenge. He’d told me in not so many words. Mainly by pointing at me, then drawing the pointed finger across his neck in the proverbial sign of ‘I’m gonna slit your throat,’ the day of the trial.

  He’d done it in front of the entire courtroom, yet I’d been the only one to see it.

  How fucking convenient.

  I knew he was going to be coming for me. For Tru.

  In fact, I knew he was going to be coming for me, Trance, Loki, Daniella, and Tru. Most likely Iliana, too.

  He may wait a couple of months to work up the resources. He may wait a couple years to make it happen. Hell, he might even do it the day he got out.

  Which was the crux of my problem.

  The waiting.

  We couldn’t live like that.

  Especially not with Tru pregnant.

  You’re going to be a daddy. Those words, from two months past, still had the power to bring me to my knees.

  No better words had ever come out of her mouth.

  I hadn’t realized that I’d wanted kids.

  Sure, I enjoyed them. But I had no problem sending them home at the end of the day.

  “We’re not going to let anything happen to them,” Sebastian said slowly.

  My eyes lifted from their sightless stare to the VP, and one of my best friends.

  “You don’t know that. You can’t be with us 24/7; neither can I, for that matter. I know, in my gut, that we need to do something now. Something that will fix this before he gets out. I just have this feeling of impending doom. I can’t even enjoy the news of Tru telling me she’s pregnant fully. I don’t have just her life at stake, but our child’s’.”

  I hadn’t meant to tell them. Not yet. Or at least not the ones that hadn’t already known.

  Silence ensued at my comment, and I didn’t break it.

  Surprisingly, it was Tru’s mother who did.

  She came up to my side and wrapped her arms around me.

  I held her back for all that I was worth.

  Frank watched his wife with love and affection, his heart on his sleeve.

  I knew he loved his wife. Just as much as I loved my own.

  I knew that because I saw the same look in the mirror as I shaved every morning, watching my wife as she got ready for her workday.

  I wore that same look. One of a lovesick fool, who wouldn’t change it for the world.

  “Grayson,” Daniella said softly into my chest.

  I hadn’t realized just how tightly I was clutching her, but I needed it. I needed the support. I needed to know someone got me. Had the same state of mind that I currently had myself.

  “I’ll start on it tomorrow, Grayson. It’ll be fixed,” Silas promised.

  I didn’t believe him.

  ***

  Marriage- Month seven

  “I have no cell phone reception!” Tru yelled loudly from the other side of the house, walking quickly through the room where Trance and I were moving the large entertainment center, and then out the door. “There’s none out here, either! We can’t move in here!”

  Trance’s grin showed he knew exactly what I was having to deal with.

  Having gone through it twice now, with his own wife.

  Yet, I hadn’t fully grasped what exactly trying to live with a hormonal pregnant woman entailed until Tru had become pregnant.

  Now she was a little over twenty weeks, and I chanted to myself over and over again that we were half way through.

  My wife was officially carrying the spawn of Satan. My wife being Satan.

  I could never do anything right when she was in one of her moods. All I had to be doing was popping my knuckles, or putting the toilet paper on the rack ‘the wrong way’ and she was going bat-shit crazy.

  Then she would snuggle up to me moments later with a happy smile on her face.

  Those were the times I lived for. The times where I could feel our little girl moving in between our bodies.

  “Okay, I found signal. Turns out I was using my old phone. Whoops,” Tru tittered, as she walked back through the living room and back into the bedroom where she was unpacking boxes.

  Trance chuckled quietly, yet Loki, Sebastian, and Cleo had no such understanding.

  Their wives weren’t crazy like mine was.

  I loved the shit out of her, but I couldn’t wait until pre-pregnant Tru was back.

  “This’s the last box, Torren,” Loki rumbled as he sat the box on the kitchen counter.

  I grunted in answer as Trance and I moved the massive entertainment center to its pre-approved spot directly across from the kitchen island.

  “Thanks, man,” I said once we finally put it down.

  “You helped us enough by fixing Viddy’s car last month. Only fair,” Trance acknowledged.

  I nodded. “Let me go check on my wife and see where she wants the crib to go, then we can go from there.

  Six long hours later found Tru and I snuggled in bed together, watching the first movie in our new home.

  “Thanks for helping with dinner. I was exhausted,” Tru yawned.

  I turned my head and kissed the side of her face, smelling the fruity scent of her shampoo that always managed to smell like home.

  “I know you were tired. Don’t expect it every night, though. I still like the look of you barefoot and pregnant in our kitchen,” I teased.

  She snorted and turned, lifting her thigh up until it rested just above my knees.

  “A few more weeks, and it’ll be three people for our movie nights,” Tru said, kissing my chest just above the nipple

  I snuggled her in closer. “I’m still scared shitless.”

  She nodded. “You and me both, big boy.”

  ***

  Marriage- Month eleven

  “Torren! Your woman’s here!” Sebastian yelled from the opposite side of the station.

  I stopped my count and yelled, “Medic!” before I continued counting the narcotics. Every shift we had to account for each and every drug on board, and document it into the system.

  Today was my day. And it fucking sucked.

  I hated counting pills. It was tedious, and sucked donkey balls.

  “Hey, baby,” Tru said softly, bringing my eyes up from the pills to her face.

  I smiled at her.

  She was wearing a black fitted shirt that stretched over her rounded belly. The words ‘Future Firefighter’ were written in bold red ink across her upper abdomen.

  “Hey baby,” I said, patting the cot in front of me. “Come take a seat.”

  She held out her hand and I held on, ready to move any second if she started to tip over. Something she’d done twice now coming down the stairs of our house.

  She reminded me of one of those weeble-wobble dolls that I saw Sebastian’s little girl playing with other day. They swayed from side to side as they walked, but never fell down. Although, Tru would most definitely fall down.

  That’s exactly what I thought of when I saw Tru lately…not that I’d ever tell her that. Not if I desired my balls attached.

  She finally made it in the back of the medic and took a seat on the cot in front of me.

  “I don’t feel good today. My head’s pounding and my feet are swollen. My hands are shaky. And I missed you,” she said, looking down at her feet.

  Or would’ve been looking down at her feet if the large belly she was sporting weren’t so…large.

  My hand went to her belly, and as usual, I started to feel where the baby was at. It was my favorite thing to do, guess the body part.

  Today, by my best guess, our child was head down, with her feet up by her momma’s rib cage.

  She was lower today, though. Much lower.

  “Feel like you can breathe better?” I asked in surprise.

  She frowned and leaned down to look at her belly causing a piece of hair that was held by a clip at the top of her head to fall and curl around her face. “Yes, now that you mention it. Why?”
<
br />   I shook my head. “It just feels like she dropped some from last night. I wasn’t able to feel your ribs last night.”

  She shrugged. “According to my books, that can happen anywhere from six weeks up until delivery. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  She sounded so annoyed by that fact that I had to suppress the urge to laugh.

  Poor Tru had had a rough time of it.

  Around her twenty eighth week, she was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. From that point on, she had to check her blood sugar five times a day, and watch what she ate very strictly.

  It’d been torture to see her not eat what she wanted to eat. Poor girl.

  But she’d kicked gestational diabetes’ ass, and controlled it with diet alone.

  “What was your last blood sugar check?” I asked as I started rifling through her purse for the kit to check it.

  Tru didn’t like checking it. The sight of blood squigged her out, which was funny since she was married to a paramedic who dealt with blood on a daily basis. I’d nearly died in laughter the first time she realized that the red on my socks had come from a person’s blood soaking through my pants.

  That’d been a fun call. Not.

  “I checked it when I got up this morning, but I haven’t been able to eat. My stomach’s been bothering me on and off since last night,” she explained, holding out her hand for me to check her sugars.

  With a small flinch when the needle poked her finger, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut as I followed the process that I’d done thousands of times before.

  “It’s low, baby. Forty six. Let’s go get some juice in you,” I said as I locked the meds back up for a later time.

  She groaned as I helped her up, holding onto my hand as I led her out of the ambulance and into the kitchen.

  That’s where I found the majority of the crew eating and shooting the shit as they ate game day chili. They all turned to watch us enter, and damn near every one of them got a concerned look on their face when they caught sight of Tru’s gray pallor.

  “What’s wrong?” Kettle asked from his hovering position over the pot of chili.

  “I don’t feel well,” Tru said as I led her to the couch where Sebastian sat on one side, and Corbin sat on the other.

  Tru leaned over and placed her head on Sebastian’s shoulder, melting into his side like she did with so many of The Dixie Wardens.

  Smiling, I walked to the kitchen and took a gallon of orange juice out of the fridge.

  Pouring her a glass, I walked over to Tru and handed her the drink.

  She took it reluctantly, almost as if I was handing her a glass of acid rather than juice.

  “Drink it,” I demanded.

  She stuck her tongue out at me but, nonetheless, drank her juice in one long gulp.

  “Good girl,” Sebastian said, which elicited a pinch in the side from Tru.

  He chuckled then went back to watching the ball game on TV. “Mariners win by four,” Tru bet as I was leaving.

  “Rangers win by one,” Corbin countered.

  “You’re on,” Tru said.

  Laughing, I walked over to the pot that Kettle was stirring and asked, “You gonna sit there and stir it all day, or are you gonna let her have some?”

  He flipped me off, but dished out a bowl of chili anyway, handing it over, knowing I wanted it for Tru.

  He probably wouldn’t have given it over if it’d been for anybody else.

  “Here, baby,” I said as I walked around the couch.

  She took the bowl, and blew on it before smiling gratefully at me. “Is this the deer one?”

  Kettle confirmed with an affirmative.

  “I’ve heard all the hype, but never actually had it. It’s pretty delicious,” Tru said earnestly.

  “Thanks,” Kettle said.

  She devoured the bowl and fell back into her spot, leaning against Sebastian. Except this time she curled her legs up and tucked them underneath Corbin’s leg; then promptly fell asleep.

  He didn’t move, eyes still focused on the game, and I just shook my head at the sight.

  It was funny how one woman had the power to disarm these men.

  Then again, all of The Dixie Warden women did.

  “You’re baby’s kicking me,” Sebastian said, gesturing with his head towards where Tru’s belly was pressed up against his arm.

  I didn’t refrain from laughing then.

  Our girl was going to be a kick boxer if her activity in her mother’s womb had anything to say about it.

  At night, when I was there, Tru would use my leg as support and curl herself around my body.

  The baby tumbled and kicked the entire night, and that’s the way I liked it.

  Nothing was more reassuring then falling asleep with my wife’s breath on my cheek, and my daughter’s kick at my side.

  Chapter 23

  Don’t get angry, figure it out. If all else fails, use your fists.

  -Life Lesson

  Tru

  Marriage- Month twelve

  Parking the car and stepping out with all the strength I had left, I moaned loudly, stretching my arms up high over my head.

  Today had been one long, goddamned day.

  One more week. One more week.

  I was thirty nine weeks and three days. My doctor said he’d induce in exactly a week, today, at the doctor’s office, if I didn’t go into labor naturally.

  After my appointment, I’d gone back to work even more exhausted, and then proceeded to see six patients because someone had called in sick.

  I’d had about twice the patients I normally had, all because my boss had caught the stomach flu, which I hoped, with all my being, I didn’t catch.

  Walking stiffly down to the mailbox, I grabbed nearly a week’s worth of mail and turned, surveying the house and newly built garage.

  The shop was finally finished, after three long months of constant work. With the new garage, he wouldn’t have to leave to get his work done.

  I was all for that. That meant more time for us, and less time wondering if he was too hot or too cold, seeing as his previous shop didn’t have a heater nor an A/C unit.

  A doggie nose started parting the curtains, and I smiled as I walked up the gravel driveway and up the front porch steps.

  The house was pier and beam, beautifully built, and everything I’d ever dreamed of having from the time I was old enough to remember.

  Walking in the front door, I immediately started stripping out of my pants.

  Petunia’s cold nose touched my bared thigh, and I gave her ear a scratch and held onto her for balance.

  “You’re such a good girl,” I cooed at her.

  Once the pants were off, I sighed in bliss.

  My pants had gotten even tighter in the last week, and I feared that it was nearly official.

  I no longer fit into my pants.

  My scrub top was next, leaving me in only panties and a white camisole that barely covered my belly.

  “Grayson?” I called.

  “Kitchen,” he answered back.

  I picked up the stack of mail that was on arm of the couch, and started sifting through it as I rounded the corner to the kitchen. “Hey,” I said, finding a Victoria’s Secret catalog that looked interesting. “Did you know that Victoria’s Secret sells maternity?”

  As I asked the question, I looked up to see my kitchen full of men.

  “Shit,” I said, standing there, in the middle of the kitchen. In my panties and camisole that bared my hugely pregnant belly.

  Grayson had his head in his hands. “Seriously, Tru? What’s your affliction with pants?”

  I barely stifled the desire to try to yank my shirt down, even though it’d be a useless endeavor.

  “We had a freakin’ deal! You tell me when you have friends over, and I won’t take my pants off at the door!” I yelled, waving my arms wildly.

  Silas, Ross and Dixie grinned widely at me while Trance, Loki, Cleo, Kettle, and Sebastian at least had t
he decency to look down, up, or away.

  “I sent you a text,” he growled low in his throat.

  I waved my hand in the air. “You did not.”

  But I didn’t wait for his contradiction, I turned around and stomped off, disbelieving that I’d done it again.

  Seriously, why on earth did they have to park where I couldn’t see them? This was my house, after all. I shouldn’t have to wear pants if I didn’t want to!

  I stomped straight to Grayson’s closet and picked up the pair of sweatpants that Grayson had discarded for his jeans this morning. They were the only pair left that actually fit, but at least they were comfortable.

  I didn’t bother with a shirt. None of them fit anyway. I was kidding myself if I thought I’d make it to the end of the pregnancy without buying any new clothes.

  My scrubs were already on the verge of ripping a seam.

  Slipping my feet into the pants one by one, I was walking into the bathroom and on the verge of making use of it when something shifting in my peripheral vision caught my eye.

  Bobby’s body filled my vision as he stepped out from behind the closet door, a grin splitting his face wide.

  I tried to run, but he moved fast. Too fast.

  He had me against his body in moments, hand over my mouth to prevent the scream that threatened to escape my mouth.

  “It only took me fifteen months, bitch, but I managed it. Did you know?” He asked, wrapping his hand around my throat, squeezing lightly.

  I wanted to puke.

  My eyes closed, and my hand involuntarily went to my stomach. “Know what?”

  He smiled, and I could see the slimy smile reflected in the mirror that hung above the bathroom sink.

  “Colby was my brother,” he said, tracing his finger down along the pulsing vein of my carotid. “But, what I’m guessing you didn’t know, is that he was actually my twin.”

  A lone tear slid down my cheek, and he raised his finger to catch it, then slowly raised it to his mouth, curling his tongue around the finger sensually.

  “No-o, I d-didn’t know t-that,” I stuttered.

  He grinned, baring his teeth at me. “Yeah, not many people do. It was like losing a piece of me when I realized he was dead. I felt it right here,” he indicated his heart with a slam of his fist against his chest. “I knew before I even got the call that he was gone. And I’ve spent the last fifteen months just thinking of all the ways I could torture the so-called brother that killed my twin. And I only came up with one answer. Through you.”