All Freaking Day Long Sickness
Belle
AS HER MOTHER DROVE BELLE’S car, Belle watched The Point get closer and closer.
She felt like throwing up.
This was not unusual. For the past six weeks she’d been throwing up a lot.
Morning sickness was a misnomer. All Freaking Day Long Sickness was more like it.
She hoped she got through this—whatever it was—with James without vomiting on some priceless rug.
That would be beyond humiliating. Not that he could humiliate her any more than he already had, both privately and very, very publicly.
Still, she hoped it didn’t happen.
It had been three days but Belle was still angry with her mom and Gram.
She could not believe they’d gone to see James.
In all their crazy schemes, that was the craziest.
She had no idea what they were thinking (then again, she never did).
Six weeks ago, after finding out she was pregnant and allowing herself a week of temporary insanity (intensified by the lessening, but still present, media scrutiny), Belle had decided to keep the baby.
She was thirty-five and she was never, but never, going to get in another relationship, even under torture.
She’d die before she let another man muck up her life.
So she decided this would be her only chance. Unless she was artificially inseminated. Or she adopted, which would be difficult as she was single and although currently wildly famous (not for all good reasons), she wasn’t wildly rich and successful, like a pop star or an actress who could mosey down to Africa with her army of attorneys and have her pick of children on whom she could lavish her attention.
She’d gone home to tell her family and, like an idiot, in a misguided attempt at acquiring moral (and other) support, she’d brought them back.
She should have never done that.
She knew better.
Therefore for the first time in her life (or, since she’d become involved with Miles, then James), she had no idea what she was thinking.
With her behavior of the last three plus months, she seriously needed to get her head examined.
Like today, letting her mom (her Gram was staunchly against it) talk her into going to speak with James.
She knew she should just hire a solicitor and plan, fight, hope and do anything else she had to do to bring about the best for her child.
But no.
There she was in her car, her mother driving, and The Point was looming huge and daunting in front of them.
She just hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt.
She’d decided to wear jeans because she didn’t want to make it look as if she cared overly much about her appearance when seeing James again. Then she’d decided to wear slightly faded but not excessively faded jeans because she didn’t want James to think she was being in his face with her casual attire.
She’d paired this with a white camisole over which she wore a very feminine blouse she’d designed herself. White. Nearly see-through. Delicate pin-tucks at the front. Girlie gathered cap sleeves with a tiny ruffle at the edges. Buttons open enough to show some cleavage but not enough cleavage to make her look like the hussy she felt she was the last time she’d visited The Point.
She’d put on a pair of silver ballet-toe flats. Carried a big, poochy, black, expensive designer handbag that she’d purchased in a wild flight of fancy at duty-free shopping on her way home to tell her family she was pregnant (this, she excused as still being in the throes of temporary insanity). And, last, she’d donned a black belt with enormous, square, silver rivets in it.
She’d worn silver hoops in her ears, a dozen silver bangles at her wrist and put her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head because James told her he liked her hair down. That she knew was being in his face but she didn’t think it was obvious so she cut herself some slack.
She looked like an innocent rock ’n’ roll virgin.
Albeit a pregnant one.
She sat as her mother parked the car at the base of the sweeping, wide, stone stairwell that led to the arched, fifteen-foot tall, studded, wooden double doors.
Belle felt a wave of nausea and swallowed it down.
Her grandmother, sitting in the back seat, leaned forward and rested her hand on Belle’s shoulder. “You okay, Bellerina?”
No, she was definitely not okay.
But she didn’t admit that.
“Let’s just get this done,” Belle muttered instead, threw open her door and stepped out.
No sooner had she done this than one of the double doors swung open and Joy, wearing an elegant, blue dress the likes of which one would don to meet The Queen, came flying out.
She was wearing the brooch Belle had given her.
“Belle!” she cried, rushing down the steps, throwing her arms wide, and Belle braced just as Joy reached her and gave her a warm, friendly hug. “Oh darling, I’m so pleased to hear your and Jack’s news. So, so, so, so, so, so, so pleased,” she chanted, her arms still tight around Belle, and Joy was swinging her side to side with abandoned delight.
Joy moved a bit away but held Belle by the forearms so she could look into Belle’s eyes with a friendly smile.
As if the last time Belle saw her, Belle wasn’t dashing out of her house in humiliation after loudly fighting with both her sons because she’d been dating one and slept with the other.
As if, for a month after that, Belle’s sordid relationship with her sons hadn’t been written about in detail (not all of them correct, but they were correct enough) in every newspaper on three continents (maybe seven, Belle had no friends in South America, Asia, Africa or Antarctica so who knew).
Joy gave Belle’s arms a squeeze and repeated on a whisper, “So pleased.” Her head jerked around and she shrieked, “My God! You are not Belle’s mother!” And she rushed to Rachel and embraced her too.
“Is James Bennett adopted?” Gram asked, sotto voce, in Belle’s ear and Belle choked back a wave of hysterical laughter.
This was not hard to do. While swallowing her laughter, she saw movement at the door and her mirth and hysteria died.
She looked up and there stood James, arms crossed on his chest, legs set wide. He was wearing jeans and an untucked, tailored, black shirt. He was looking even more beautiful than she remembered him and she thought she’d remembered every single detail of him in glaring clarity but, apparently, she had not.
His gaze was on her and she felt the trill go up her spine as her belly did a flip that had nothing to do with nausea.
Quickly she turned away and watched Joy introduce herself to Gram with another welcoming hug.
Joy disengaged from Gram and linked arms with Belle, leading her up the steps.
“I’ve ordered high tea and we’ve made sure we have plenty for dinner if you all decide to stay, which I think would be lovely,” Joy wittered on as she firmly guided Belle up the steps even though Belle tried very hard to drag her feet.
They nearly made it to the top and Belle didn’t look up but she saw James’s thighs, hips then stomach and none of them moved out of the way of the door.
She ignored this by turning to Joy and saying, “I’m sorry you went to all that trouble, Joy, but I’m not very hungry.”
The forceful, no-nonsense words uttered in James’s unmistakable, deep voice brought Belle to a stop.
“You’ll eat.”
Her gaze skittered to his still unfairly beautiful eyes and she saw he was staring at her.
“I’m not hungry,” Belle repeated.
“You’re eating for two so you’ll eat,” James returned, and Belle felt the heat sting her cheeks at his nearly instant reference to their unborn child.
She also felt like running back down the steps to her car or avoiding it altogether, jumping into the sea and swimming to France.
At the same time she felt like kicking him in the shin.
No, “Hello.” No, “How are you?” No, “I’m so sorry I broke your heart and devastated your life, all in one night, how will you ever forgive me?”
Just, “You’ll eat.”
Belle didn’t know what to say so she looked away and said nothing at all.
Luckily Joy knew exactly what to do in intensely uncomfortable situations and she guided Belle into the house and to the sitting room, a room Belle especially liked, decorated in warm greens and bright yellows. She chatted the whole time making them all at ease (or as at ease as they could be under the circumstances) and then rushed out to order the refreshments.
Belle, Mom and Gram all had taken seats.
James stood leaning against the mantel of the fireplace, arms still crossed on his chest.
Belle wished he would sit. He was tall and he seemed even taller (for obvious reasons) when she was seated.
She, however, didn’t tell him this.
In fact, except for a quick glance, she didn’t look at him at all.
“What a, erm, lovely room,” Mom commented nervously.
James didn’t reply.
They waited.
James still didn’t reply.
“Can we get on with this?” Gram asked impatiently.
James spoke but Belle still didn’t look at him. “We’ll wait until Mum returns.”
“Whyever would we do that?” Gram snapped.
“Do you expect the have the right to speak about the future of your unborn great-grandchild during these discussions?” James asked.
“Of course I do,” Gram returned, unusually not quick enough to catch his meaning.
“Then we’ll wait until Mum returns,” James stated firmly and Gram clamped her mouth shut and glared at Belle.
She did this as if it was all Belle’s fault when it wasn’t Belle who’d shot off to London and forced herself into James Bennett’s office and announced he’d gotten someone pregnant.
Belle returned her grandmother’s glare.
Gram’s eyes grew narrow, something which, when Belle was a child, would frighten the dickens out of her. Something which, when Belle was a pregnant thirty-five-year-old woman sorting through the mess Gram had made for her (well, kind of), Belle didn’t react to at all.
Gram let out an annoyed sigh and looked away just as Joy re-entered the room.
“Tea, cakes, sandwiches, everything, coming right up,” Joy announced and at the very thought of food, Belle felt bile slide up her throat.
She put her hand to her chest and swallowed. She felt her mother’s eyes move to her in question and Belle spared her a glance and gave her a short shake of the head.
When she looked away from Rachel, her eyes slid past James then came jerking back when she saw his gaze was narrowed on her hand at her chest.
She dropped it and looked away.
“All right,” Joy clapped happily as she sat down, “let’s talk baby. Belle, darling, are you taking vitamins?”
She was, however most of them ended up in the toilet.
She didn’t tell Joy this. She just smiled and said, “Yes. Everything, so far, is healthy and happy.”
“Except those headaches you get,” Mom put in.
“And the morning sickness,” Gram added.
“Oh dear, are you getting headaches and nausea?” Joy asked with concern.
“It’s not that bad,” Belle assured her on a total lie.
She was going to hell with a number of black marks on her soul, she just knew it. And most of them could be attributed to her behavior around the Bennett family.
“Who’s your doctor?” James asked suddenly and Belle’s eyes went to his shoulder.
“Dr. Flanagan. She’s an obstetrician in Penzance.”
“I’ll want to check her credentials,” James declared and Belle felt extreme irritation but she bit it back.
“Of course,” she murmured and heard her grandmother emit an angry noise, but Belle gave Lila a look and Lila bit her tongue.
“Where are you planning the delivery?” James asked and Belle looked back at his shoulder.
“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she told his shoulder.
“Belle,” he called even though he obviously had her attention.
She kept staring at his shoulder. “What?”
“Look at me,” he demanded, no warmth or amusement in his tone as he called her on not meeting his eyes and her body jolted unpleasantly as her gaze jerked to his and, once he held her eyes, he declared, “You’ll have our child in theater.”
“Dr. Flanagan is going to refer me to a midwife,” Belle told him, with effort keeping her eyes locked on his.
“You’ll deliver with qualified doctors present,” he replied.
“But—” Belle started.
“This isn’t up for discussion,” James stated and Belle heard her mother make a small, surprised squeak as her grandmother made a not-so-small, annoyed grunt.
Joy, however, said quietly, “Jack—”
But James ignored his mother, his eyes holding Belle’s, he decreed, “You’ll move into The Point within the month.”
Belle’s heart stopped beating at the same time her mouth dropped open.
“Now, see here—” Gram began, coming out of her seat but James’s eyes cut to her.
“Sit down, Lila,” he ordered and Gram sputtered in nonverbal outrage but James ignored her too and his gaze came back to Belle. “If you want your mother and grandmother here, that’s fine. But you’re moving in at your earliest convenience but within the month.”
Belle felt the nausea roiling in her belly and she wasn’t certain it had to do with All Freaking Day Long Sickness.
“I can’t move in here,” she whispered.
“You can and you will,” James stated.
“I can’t,” Belle breathed.
“If it’s a financial difficulty then I’ll arrange for you to be moved,” James told her.
“It’s not a financial difficulty!” Belle cried, beginning to panic.
“Good, then you’ll tell Mum when we can expect you,” James returned.
Belle stared at him a moment before asking, “Are you mad?”
“No, not in the slightest. You’re carrying my child. That means something to me. I’ve missed three months of its development. I don’t intend to miss any more.” He stopped speaking. His eyes changed to something she’d never seen on him before. Something frightening and not very nice. Something that made her even more nervous than normal and more than a little bit scared before he spoke, saying words that explained his look. “And you won’t keep it from me.”
“It’s a child in a womb,” Mom spoke up.
“It’s my child in a womb,” James retorted.
“You can’t see anything or feel anything or—” Mom kept at it.
“It’ll grow. It’ll kick. It’ll move. There are theories that a developing child hears voices, music, even understands and connects with the beings around it as it grows. Belle doesn’t get to keep that to herself. She’ll share it . . . with me,” James stated implacably.
“I can’t live with you,” Belle spoke on a horrified whisper.
“You can,” James returned.
“James, you know I can’t,” Belle said softly but she’d made a mistake.
She’d called him James.
If the look on his face just moments before was frightening and not very nice, this one was downright terrifying and filled with borderline loathing.
“I’m not giving you a choice,” he said low, his voice full of the dangerous menace apparent in his eyes.
“And what will you do if she refuses?” Gram asked.
“I’ll fight Belle for full custody once the baby is born,” James answered coldly and this announcement was met with all around shocked gasps.
Except Joy, who exclaimed. “Jack!”
And Belle, who could no longer fight back the nausea.
It was coming, no amount of swallowing was going to stop it and if she didn’t find a bathroom and soon, it would be all over the dainty coffee table.
So she shot up from the couch and ran from the room, heading from memory to the bathroom Yasmin took her to when she was at the party.
She barely made it. Falling to her knees on a sliding skid and putting her face in the toilet, she gave up the small lunch of tuna salad sandwich her mother made her eat.
Tuna, she realized too late, was no fun re-experiencing.
When she was done, she rested her hot forehead against the toilet seat, wrapping her arms around the back of her head.
Belle really hated vomiting.
She’d avoided doing it for years and was glad she’d never have another child because, after this, she was hoping she’d avoid it for many years to come.
Her eyes opened and she looked at her belly. “You’re already causing trouble you know,” she told her belly softly. “I’m kind of not enjoying this throwing up business. So, if you could tone it down, I’d appreciate it.” Her still (almost) flat stomach didn’t reply so she went on, “Or, at least wait until I’ve had a hot fudge sundae and wouldn’t mind a second taste.”
At her final word, she felt a hot hand on her back.
She’d know the feel of that hand anywhere, anytime. If she had to walk blindfolded through a million hands, she could source it and if she lived to be a hundred years old, she’d remember it.
Her head shot up and to the side and she saw James crouched close beside her.
He wasn’t looking at her, though his hand was still on her back. He was reaching out and flushing the toilet.
Okay, so, she’d been pretty humiliated by this man but this was the icing on the cake.
His eyes came to her and she wished she wasn’t so slow. She should have got up and walked out. Just like that gloriously awful night when she’d woken and he’d still been asleep, she should have left then too.
Instead, she was in close quarters with James after having just vomited, feeling like an idiot and she could see his lushly lashed eyes close up.
Something she never wanted to do again in her life.
Something she relived in her dreams every night.
“Does this happen often?” he asked quietly using a voice she was far more familiar with.
“About twenty times a day,” Belle tried to reply matter-of-factly but, she had to admit, it took effort not to lean toward him. His internal magnet, in this mood, was full force.
“Have you told Dr. Flanagan?” he went on and she nodded but didn’t speak. “And?” James prompted.
“I’m drinking stuff she gave me. It’s okay, James. You don’t have to worry. The baby is getting nourished.”
Something she couldn’t read flashed in his eyes but before she could decipher it, he continued, “And you?”
“Me what?” Belle asked, confused.
“Are you getting nourished?”
On that, she broke from his magnetic beam and stood.
She could, surprisingly, cope with him being a jerk (just barely) but his fake concern was something she couldn’t bear.
He stood with her and she walked around him to the basin saying, “I’m fine.”
She leaned into the basin and rinsed her mouth, hoping he’d leave, something he did not do.
When she was done, she grabbed a towel and wiped her mouth. Then she pulled the now ever present roll of mints from her back pocket and put two in her mouth before returning the pack to her pocket.
With that she moved toward the door.
James brought her up short with a hand on her arm.
She looked at his hand then at him. “We should join the others.”
He ignored her remark, didn’t remove his hand (which felt, by the way, like it was burning her skin) and said, “You’re too thin.”
“I’m told that happens,” she informed him.
“It’s my understanding women gain weight while pregnant,” he replied.
“Not in the first trimester.”
“You’re completing the first trimester,” he reminded her.
“This will pass,” she assured him.
“I’d like to attend an appointment with you and your obstetrician.”
“I’ll arrange that,” she agreed but she’d agree to anything to get away from him.
She tried to pull her arm from his grasp to get out of the close confines of the bathroom as soon as humanly possible but he didn’t let go.
“Next week,” he demanded and her eyes flew to his.
“Dr. Flanagan is very busy,” Belle told him.
“I’m sure I can convince her to find an appointment for us in her diary,” James returned.
With the way he said it, who he was and the mountains of money he had, Belle was sure too.
“Fine,” she gritted between her teeth and looked away.
“Belle,” he called and her eyes snapped back to him. “I want you moving to The Point.”
“You’ve made that clear,” Belle assured him.
“I want your verbal agreement, right now.”
She shook her head and pulled at her arm but he still didn’t let go so she gave up.
“Belle, we’re agreeing this now,” he demanded.
She looked at his ear. “Give me some time to think about it.”
“No.”
Her eyes moved back to his and she asked on a whisper, “Why?”
“You know why.”
“No,” she said with complete honesty. “I don’t.”
He regarded her a moment as if to assess her truthfulness then he moved closer even though he was already close.
Belle backed away but she had nowhere to retreat and came up against the door.
When she did, he put his hand not already on her to the door by her waist and got even closer.
“You want to know why?” he asked quietly and she nodded, at his proximity unable to speak. Feeling the heat from his body, feeling overwhelmed by his large frame in a way she’d not felt when she was with him before, and he continued, “All right, I’ll tell you why.”
The way he said that made her think she didn’t actually want to know why.
She didn’t get a chance to stop him.
“Because, three months ago, you walked away from me without looking back. Now you’re carrying my child and therefore, out of necessity as we’re sharing parentage of that child, I’m not giving you the opportunity to do it again. Because you found out you were pregnant and you didn’t intend to tell me. Because you’re obviously having a difficult pregnancy and I intend to make certain it goes as smoothly as possible and ends successfully.”
There was a lot there, most of it Belle had no intention of addressing.
So she addressed the only thing she could.
“I’m not having a difficult pregnancy. I’m told what I’m experiencing is entirely natural,” she told him.
“I’d like to be assured of that by a qualified doctor,” he replied.
“My mother went through the same thing with me,” Belle pushed.
“That may be but I still want an expert opinion.”
Belle looked away, not willing to fight it. Especially when he was that close and muttered again, “Fine.”
“You’ll move in?” he asked and her eyes darted back to his.
“That’s not what I meant,” she answered.
“That’s what we’re talking about.”
She swallowed then took in a deep breath, looked at his nose and admitted, “I don’t want to live here. I don’t feel safe here. I feel safe at home. I want to stay there. I promise to keep you informed and involved however you like that to be.”
“If you don’t feel safe here then I’ll move in with you at your home.”
At these words, Belle’s body locked and her gaze jerked from his nose to his eyes.
“You can’t move in with me,” she breathed.
“Why not?” he inquired.
“Because I own a two-bedroom cottage. With Mom and Gram there, I have a full house. Mom’s already sleeping on the couch. There’s nowhere for you to sleep.”
“I’ll sleep with you.”
Belle felt her lips part and her eyes went wide as shock reverberated through her system.
“You are mad,” she said on a barely there whisper.
“I’ll do what I have to do to be close to this child,” he replied on a not-at-all barely there decree.
“I’ll move to The Point,” she blurted, then thought better of it immediately and was about to take it back but he saw his advantage and he was a heck of a lot quicker.
He pushed in closer, so close her head had to tilt back but she was against the door. She felt the wood against her head and had to shift toward him to give it room to move so she could look up at him. She felt his chest brushing her breasts and even his hips brushing her belly.
Her mind blanked of everything but his nearness which suffused her senses.
“So, we’re agreed, you’re moving in,” he declared, his voice low and rumbly.
She blinked, trying to catch a thought and stall for time so she murmured, “James—”
“We’re agreed,” he pressed ruthlessly, dipping his head further so his face was an inch away and all she could see were his beautiful eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You won’t renege?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Make that a promise, Belle,” he ordered and she blinked again.
“What?”
“Promise me, right here, you’ll move in and you won’t renege.”
Belatedly she realized her heart was hammering in her chest and she was finding it difficult to breathe.
Something about this cleared her mind and she was able to focus.
Therefore, with some effort, she plucked up the courage to negotiate.
“I’ll promise you I’ll move in if you promise never to fight for custody. We’ll determine arrangements that will be best for the baby, just you and I, without dragging him or her through that kind of mess.”
“Agreed,” he said instantly.
At this she relaxed, which was a mistake because it pressed her body closer to the heat and hardness of his.
She tensed again and looked at his ear. “Move back.”
She felt him hesitate before he did as he was asked.
The moment he did, Belle turned to the door and put her hand on the knob but she stopped and was forced to look at him again when he spoke.
“I need to ask something more.”
Belle didn’t speak. She just kept looking at him.
He continued, “Mum is excited about this. She wants to be involved and she—”
Belle cut him off. “I’m happy for Joy to be as involved as she wants. She’s a lovely woman and she’s the baby’s grandma.”
The air in the room changed. It turned unpleasant and Belle saw his face had again grown hard.
“You seem to have forgotten that when you decided to keep this from me,” he told her, his voice as hard as his face.
Something inside her, a bit of her grandmother coming out for once, made her lift her chin, look him in the eye and defend herself.
Mainly because, she thought, she had every bloody right to do what she did.
“You’re absolutely correct,” she agreed. “I did. I completely forgot about Joy and the fact that she’s a lovely woman. My only thought was to stay well away from you and your brother.”
She watched his jaw tense. It frightened her a little bit but she sallied forth anyway because this was her child she was talking about, and when you had a child, you had no choice but to develop a backbone.
“And James, as the years pass, if I get even a suspicion our child is learning to behave in the ways demonstrated during my encounters with you and Miles then we have a problem.”
She didn’t give him the chance to retort. She turned the knob and got the heck out of there, nearly running back to the sitting room.
James didn’t follow.
In fact, he didn’t join them for tea.
In fact, she didn’t see him again until Joy was walking them out to the car, chattering happily with Mom and Gram (there was, Belle was both pleased and weirded out to note, serious bonding going on between her family and James’s).
They were all giving hugs good-bye when, out of nowhere, James appeared at her side.
He handed her his business card.
“I’ll expect a call about the doctor’s appointment next week,” he stated.
Belle took the card, looked at his ear and nodded.
“If you have trouble with the appointment, you tell me and I’ll arrange it,” he continued.
Belle’s eyes didn’t leave his ear when she continued nodding.
“I’ll expect news about your planned arrival at The Point next week as well,” he went on.
Belle licked her lips and nodded again.
She saw his head jerk toward Mom and Gram, and without another word, he strode away.
The Cavendish-Abbot family were silent in the car for several very long minutes as they drove from Chy An Als Point.
Finally, Gram (as usual) broke the silence by grandly declaring, “I do not like that man.”
This was not a surprise.
The surprise was Mom’s verbally stated opinion. An opinion that made Belle’s head twist toward her mother, her mouth open, her mind thinking that maybe Mom had finally jumped straight into the deep end.
“I do. I like him a lot.”
“What?” Gram shouted.
“You do?” Belle breathed.
“He may be a jerk in a lot of ways—” Mom began.
“May be?” Gram demanded.
“Yes, he may be,” Mom returned. “We don’t know him all that well and these are emotional times.”
“Um, were you not present when I explained what happened with James and his brother?” Belle asked incredulously.
“And were you temporarily blind when your daughter poured out her story through fits of tears?” Gram snapped.
“And do you not hear the reporters’ rude questions shouted at me practically every day?” Belle didn’t let up.
“I hear them, Bellerina. Still, I can’t help but like him,” Mom replied softly.
“She thinks he’s sexy,” Gram said on an annoyed sigh. “Her brain always gets addled around sexy men.”
This, unfortunately, was true.
“Well, he is sexy,” Mom admitted.
This, unfortunately, was true too.
“But that’s not it,” Mom continued.
“What is it, then?” Gram demanded to know.
“I don’t know. I have a theory,” Mom replied and Belle rolled her eyes and turned away.
Her mother had a lot of theories and they were usually daft at best, preposterous at worst and they were mostly at worst.
“Would you like to share your theory?” Gram asked, sounding like she’d rather not hear it but curiosity was getting the better of her.
For her part, Belle didn’t want to know.
She didn’t want to think of James at all.
Pretty soon, she’d be living in his house and therefore likely having to think about him all the time.
Then she’d have their baby and she’d have to see him far more than she wanted to.
For the rest of her life.
Therefore, she would have preferred a brief respite from James Bennett.
And she always preferred a respite from her mother’s theories.
“I don’t want to share it, not yet. It isn’t fully formed,” Mom said and Belle sighed in relief.
Finally, something went her way.
“I still can’t help but like him,” Mom muttered stubbornly.
Well, not entirely her way.
“Can we stop talking about this?” Belle asked.
“Of course, Bellerina,” Gram stated inflexibly, her meaning clear to everyone in the car, most especially Mom.
Mom drove and they were all silent.
Then Mom’s hand came out and squeezed Belle’s knee.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Bellerina. I feel it in my bones,” she whispered.
Hearing these words from her mother on many occasions in her life, Belle knew that Rachel Abbot felt a lot in her bones. Her bones were very busy sensing intuitive communications other mere mortals could not interpret.
However, unlike much of what Rachel Abbot did and said, when her bones spoke, they were rarely wrong.
Belle didn’t know what to make of that.
But since it was her Mom’s bones speaking, for the first time in a long time, Belle felt a very tiny, nearly imperceptible but still there, smidgeon of hope.