Mal scoffed. “Think? I’m not training you to think, Heth. I’m training you to react! And you better be ready to react at a moment’s notice.”
Chapter 21 ~ “Something like this shouldn’t happen for quite a while
considering . . .”
Several moons later, by the middle of Planting Season, 320, Mahrree had had more than enough.
Enough of the over-sized tunics and skirts that only emphasized how enormous she was.
Enough of the cringes of sympathy she received as she waddled like a stuffed duck through the market place.
Enough of inane questions such as, “Haven’t you had that baby yet?” as if it was her fault, and making her feel badly would somehow change the situation.
Even enough of her husband smiling as sweetly as he could and reminding her how beautiful she looked as he gingerly patted her swollen belly.
He was supposed to do that, Mahrree knew. She found it on Joriana Shin’s list to her son.
“Number two: remind her how beautiful she looks carrying your child.”
Mahrree loved the wording of that, almost as much as she loved number seven:
“Accept the blame for everything, and don’t aggravate her. Remember that this is, after all, your fault.”
And Mahrree reminded him of that fact, frequently. Maybe if he had been a bit smaller in frame, she wouldn’t have been double her size for the past ten weeks. Now, in the middle of Planting Season, while everything else in the world was bursting in new color and life, Mahrree was just bursting.
Oh it had been sweet and exciting a season and a half ago, once she finally got over feeling ill each morning and saw the small bulge beginning in her belly. They had to only tell her mother, and Hycymum squealed so loud the entire village knew within five minutes. Joriana Shin had even come to Edge in the dreary middle of Raining Season to bring baby blankets, clothing, changing cloths, and a new list for her son which he kept secured in his wardrobe for referral.
That was where Mahrree found it one day while rearranging his clothing in a fit of needing to organize things which, interestingly, she saw as number ten on the list:
“She will feel the need to reorganize everything. Help her. Remember, all of this is your fault.”
Mahrree loved her mother-in-law.
All in all the waiting had been fine, and even the forest had been quiet, allowing her to have her husband home every night. But for the past two weeks Mahrree had been “growing irrationally testy”—number one on her mother-in-law’s list. Everything was ready. The addition next to the study was completed and outfitted with the cradle she’d used as a baby, and the wardrobe was stocked with blankets, gowns, and stacks of changing cloths which Mahrree was delighted to see Perrin eyeing suspiciously one evening. She was sure he heard him mumble, “Isn’t there a better design for these? Maybe something to bury in the ground instead of washing afterwards?”
Everything was in place, except the massive creature that rolled slowly like a land tremor in Mahrree’s belly. There was nothing else she could do each day, especially since she had quit teaching, but grumble as she straightened up the house, did the laundry, and washed the dishes. Loudly.
“I’m going to break rule number eleven,” Perrin said, peeking his head around the door at a safe distance. He came home for his midday meal every day for the past few weeks, just to check on her.
“And what is rule number eleven?” she asked crossly as she leaned across the washing basin, straining to reach a plate. “No matter how tempting, don’t use my belly as a shelf?!”
He stepped into the kitchen and slid the plate over to her.
“No, that’s number nine. And I have resisted the temptation.” He gently took her by the shoulders and turned her, the massive belly bumping into his sheathed sword. “Sorry,” he murmured as he tried to hide his amusement. “My mother said I should never tell you that it will end, because at this point you simply won’t believe me, and may want to hurt me.”
“She’s right,” Mahrree agreed, “because—”
“I know, I know—this is all my fault. But I love you for enduring it.”
Mahrree was about to reemphasize his point, but only got as far as opening her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Perrin asked, looking down. “Did your belly actually get nicked?”
She shook her head.
He squinted at her. “See a mouse?”
She let out a low moan and gripped his arms.
His eyebrows shot upwards. “Pain?”
She nodded.
“That kind of pain?!”
“Yes!” She gripped his arms tighter.
“It’s about time!” He sighed in relief.