I knew I should not be disappointed, but still. I just could not help but feel at least frustrated. It was Friday, and Damon had not come in for my doctor's appointment. He had now focused on Mariella and their kids downstairs, and I was not eager to find out what they were doing there.
I was back in my shop, and the kids were in daycare. This time it was later. The kids had been left there at 10 am, but I had gotten to work earlier. And it would depend on just how damn busy I would be, whether I could pick them up, or whether someone else would do that. I had no idea if Mariella was working. Probably not, as far as what I had heard Salvatores speaking. Number one wanted to keep her stress level down and not strain her too much.
I was wearing my stylish, large satin shirt and my maternity pants as I was crafting an orchid arrangement for an old couple who were going to celebrate with their family in Canada for the holidays. Since there was still time and our magic would keep the flowers perfect, of course, they had come here.
As Christmas Eve was less than a week away, it did not mean I would keep my shop closed for the start of next week. As it was Thursday, there were two or three days still left to keep the shop open before closing it for Christmas. It would be my 18th week, so I still had time to go, even until 30 weeks or more.
But I was feeling stressed, and this was a very busy time. Girls had to care for babies, as the number one had taken quite a few Salvatores downstairs for Mariella, and again, I was not interested in what they were doing. Adam and Charles were busy fixing our culvert situation, as a decision had been made that we would take care of it ourselves.
So they had contacted different companies for quotes and offers for this kind of work, as well as timetables. Of course, they might be able to do some work of their own, but then again, they had to update their knowledge of regulations and what was needed to get culverts accepted by the city division. So we were busy.
Wulfe had many potions going as well. He was working as well, trying to boost our earnings. Despite the fact that we would get lower taxes, it would take time as those taxes would be calculated when culverts were okay, and then there might be some payments, but not sure yet, money was needed.
After finishing my work and receiving payment, I had no time to rest, as there was always something to do. However, I couldn't stop thinking about my doctor's appointment yesterday. My doctor had informed me that I would need a cerclage in a few weeks due to my incompetent cervix. Despite having one less baby to carry, four had already been enough stress.
Wulfe, Adam, and Charles had accompanied me and, as expected, had numerous questions about what to watch for and what I could do, considering my cervix and other concerns. Thus, the cat was out of the bag. They had gathered many books and information, along with ideas for lab tests to monitor.
To my surprise, Charles calmly explained my entire mental syndrome to my doctor, who was not impressed. She stressed that I should avoid such thoughts and maintain a calm mind, refraining from almost manic self-hatred, as it would negatively impact both me and the babies, as my stress would be felt by them.
Adam discussed my "rage gene," and the doctor promised to investigate the possibility of in-utero gene testing sooner, perhaps in the next one or two weeks, to better identify who might inherit it. Wulfe also offered his own theories about powers and potions, almost making me roll my eyes. Despite their numerous questions, my doctor remained unfazed, always offering solutions or suggestions.
I then grabbed three large sacks of compost and moved them to the pile, as a new delivery had arrived and I had them readily available for customers. Demand was high, as some customers were creating their own Christmas arrangements. I kept the compost at room temperature to prevent freezing.
Just as I finished piling the compost, Harold and Sheila walked in.
Sheila smiled and greeted me, saying, "Hello, dear, we need something special, not right now but soon."
I smiled back and asked, "Sure, what do you need?"
Sheila replied, "Well, my older sister died, and she was a real bitch. Her children have inherited her uppity attitude, and I need a funeral spray for her."
A sly expression crossed her face as she spoke.
Harold, as usual, went right to my coffee and cake station and helped himself.
Sheila then said, "Now, I want it to be big, made out of carnations, blood red, with a cross in the middle. She was very religious, so of course, being a good sister, I honored her faith. The cross should be made with... let me think... oh, she hated violet, so yes, dark violet mums. Do you have those?"
I nodded, as I could always dye some of them. She walked to my cooler to see what was available.
Pointing to one type of carnation, she said, "Those carnations and that mum. It's just enough violet, yes, for the cross. Use minimal green; I want it to be tight and neat, not green and lush."
I dug out a folder with different styles, and she picked one.
I took out my notepad and began jotting down my notes, writing down the carnation type, the style of the cross, and then she said, "And I want the cross to have an outline made out of those brownish-orange ball things."
I nodded, smiling slightly; she was certainly being quite demanding.
She continued, "And it must be huge, as big as you can make it. For the greens, I want the cheapest ones, like ruscus and leather leaf; no hosta or grasses. And oh yes, outline the whole thing with statice and other evergreen flowers; she hated those."
Her voice was smug.
I wrote everything down and asked, "Budget?"
She replied without blinking an eye, "Four hundred to five hundred dollars at least, no limit. This will be such a hoot! I mean, her uppity children can't mutter behind my back this time that I don't make an effort. None at all. And I happen to know she wasn't that rich, and I guess one of her six kids is a little richer, but he's the big boss of the papermill and cheap as fuck, not coming around much. I want my little remembrance to have an effect."
It seemed they had a lot of bad blood between them, and well, that was human life. As for me, I knew that things went sideways sometimes, supernaturals life as well, something I knew all too well. We chatted for a while once she had gotten all of her ideas ready and was feeling smug.
Harold paid for what he had eaten, praised my creations, and, as I had just brought here for coffee a few of my decorated cakes, suggested, "You should really do this as your work too; you're a damn artist."
I said, "Thank you. I'm usually a bit fast and loose, but I've put in my time in bakeries, so I can do fancy stuff too. Damon, however, is the true master; he doesn't really have a fast and loose gear, but for him, everything has to be spot-on.
Sheila smiled and said, "You two complement each other. You, my dear, are such a force of nature that not even fourteen husbands could match you."
I smiled. I've certainly had my moments of being a force of nature. Then, they left to do some last-minute shopping, and just as they walked out, another flood of people walked in. I took a breath, ready to serve them too. By then, it was already 5:30 PM. I had to stay that long because I was busy and exhausted, my head was pounding, and my whole body was tired. Oh, I was so beat.
Finally, I closed up shop for the weekend. I put my flowers into the cooler, my papers into a pile, emptied my cash register, and cleaned out my serving desk. Not that there was much left to clean; everything had gone, and it had been well-received. Sales had been good, sure, but since I hadn't had time to sit or even eat properly or have a cup of coffee, I was really feeling it.
The outside air was frigid, and the wind was howling as I made my way to my car. I had to clear the snow from it, even though it was sheltered, but the wind had blown some onto it, and it took time to get everything off. It was also incredibly cold outside.
Tiredly, I maneuvered my car onto the road and started to drive at a very modest pace. I was careful because the road hadn't been cleared, and this time, I didn't want to end up in the ER, so I took my time getting home.
I kept my exhaustion at bay as much as I could, and now I would need to sit for a while before even thinking about eating or socializing. Lights brushed the snowy scene, with snow falling in sheets, almost sideways, as strong winds pushed it and created piles in the middle of the road, making driving even more difficult.
Normally, my drive home took less than 20 minutes, but I reached our driveway 45 minutes later, only to notice it was covered in snow. Sighing tiredly, I drove through the snow, the car swerving slightly but still moving forward. The yard had been cleared at some point, but since the snow was falling constantly, it didn't stay that way.
The garage door was locked, so I left my car outside, not bothering to put it in, as it was the weekend and there would be time to drive it inside later. I was just thinking about getting back inside, sitting for a while, eating, drinking, and then having a long, hot spa session – a bath, a sauna – and then resting in bed for the rest of the weekend.
My muscles were sore, my head was pounding, and my mouth was parched. One thing at a time, not to mention my bloodlust, which seemed to be more or less on all the time, since the babies were vampires too. I walked tiredly to the door, carrying my bags, and got my keys from my pocket, finally getting inside.
I took off my jacket and boots, sighing myself as I made my way to the elevator and got back to our wing. I was not in the mood to see or witness whatever the Salvatores were doing, so I moved briskly. As I got to our wing, the kitchen was full of men, several Salvatores, as well as Adam and Charles, and from what I heard, it seemed I was once again the talk of the town. Fine.
I walked to my bedroom, leaving my bag on the table and changing into my clothes, a little more comfy ones, putting them now into the laundry chute. As I had worn them for the whole damn day and I had done quite a lot of physical work.
After slipping into a loose T-shirt and maternity skirt, I walked to my lounge and took a bottle of ice-cold sparkling wine as well as one glass from the shelf and sat tiredly in my chair and leaned back.
Oh, I was feeling this alright. Being pregnant meant I did not have the stamina to do as much as normal, as babies had taken over my body, and not even my dragon scales helped. The lounge was dimly lit, and I heard kids' voices coming from somewhere, as well as girls' and others' too.
I was just about to open my wine bottle when a small face peered from the doorway. Darien. I smiled at him.
"Hi, dear. What's up? Mommy will come to eat soon enough. Did you have a day at the nursery?"
His expression was somber, and at first I thought he too was somewhat empathetic and had felt my exhaustion, but there was something more in his expression.
I said to him, "Come on, come to Mommy's lap and tell me what's wrong."
I raised him to my lap as he approached me. After giving me a powerful hug, he began to cry and his shoulders began to shake. I was fucking baffled, but I let go of my pheromones and caressed him while whispering to him. I could feel his tears dampening my shirt and his tiny hands clutching me in desperation.
When he was beginning to settle down, I said, "What is it? Tell Mommy. What is upsetting you?"
"Will you die too?" he asked in a hiccuping voice that was still heavy with tears.
I told him, "No, Mommy is not going to die, never. Mommy is kind of a superhero; nothing can kill Mommy for good."
At first, I thought he had received something from one of Salvatores through telepathy, but he began to speak, so I sighed, caressed him, and reassured him that there was nothing to be afraid of and that I would never die.
I rocked him and began to sing him a Finnish lullaby called "Ihme ja Kumma," which means "wonder" and "weird." My voice was low and calming, and before long, Sadie, Sabrina, Seraphina, and Dash entered as well.
I gathered all of my children on my lap and continued to sing to them. Attempting to soothe them. This was just one more task for me as a mother. Helping my special children, whose abilities had caused them to feel a little overwhelmed, get over their fear of losing me.
The next song was Loiseau, but it was also in Finnish, and even though my lap was very full, the chair was wide enough for them all to curl up around me while they listened to my singing and my pheromones.
At that point, my aches and fatigue didn't really matter. My children and helping them were the only things that mattered. And this genuinely caused my heart to sing uniquely. I was creating memories here, and now that our time in this pocket universe was over, I was incredibly grateful for the memories I could share with Mimosa and Shadow.
My children and being their mother, and helping them were now my top priorities. Easing them, and I had no intention of telling anyone else.