Chapter 117

#Chapter 117 – Panic Evelyn creeps up silently behind Victor and he jumps as she pulls on his sleeve. Silently, she puts her finger to her lips and nods her head back to the kitchen, indicating that he should come with her. He nods and follows.

“What’s going on with those three?” she whispers, curious. “They wanted to have their dinner with him.

It’s weird.”

“What’s weird about that?” He asks, frowning. “They want to have dinner with their grandfather. He’s nice to them.”

She laughs a little, shaking her head and looking in at them again. “Clever man, sucking up to the heirs.”

Victor shrugs, his face going a bit dark. “Perhaps not the heirs, if I don’t pass this next trial.”

“You will,” she says, looking up at him with faith in her eyes. She shakes her head a little. “Yesterday…

something was wrong. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“The boys figured it out before I did,” he says ruefully, glancing over at them.

Evelyn frowns and c***s her head to the side, inquisitive.

“I just heard them asking him for a cup of that tea Rafe made us,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets ruefully. “But they said they wanted a cup of his tea, not my tea. Because they smelled different.”

Evelyn’s eyes go wide, her mouth shaping into a little O as she figures it out. “Oh my god, Victor,” she says, a little breathless with disbelief. “He cheated – you have to have a rematch! –“

She begins to move towards the living room, about to demand just that, but Victor grabs her by the arm.

“No, Evelyn” he says quietly, looking around to make sure no one is overhearing them. “In other tests, sure, cheating would be discouraged. But one of intelligence and tactics? Honestly, it’s something which I think my father would respect – which I frankly respect.”

She frowns up at him, not understanding.

“Think about it,” he says. “Rafe knows I can beat him at chess any day – I’ve been running circles around him intellectually since we were kids. He knows he can’t beat me, so, he changes the field. He brings me a cup of tea that he prepares outside the room to drink before the game – he gives it to me in front of everyone! And I’m dumb enough to drink it!”

He runs a hand through his hair, rueful. “Face it, Evelyn. He outsmarted me. He slipped something in my drink to give himself the advantage, and it worked.”

Evelyn bites her lip and thinks it over, eventually nodding and conceding the point. “Okay,” she says, “I get it.” Then she narrows her eyes, looking around the house. “But I’ll beat him to a pulp for you, if you want me to. Is that allowed as part of the rules?”

Victor laughs a little, charmed at the mental of image of Evelyn beating his brother soundly with her little fists. “Thanks for the offer,” he says. “But I think I’ve already got those two working on my side.”

He nods into the living room, indicating the two boys still talking quietly with their grandfather. Evelyn raises her eyebrows, considering, and then nods. “Yes. You probably do.”

The two parents stand together, considering the already-formidable force that is their twin children.

“They’re only six, Evelyn” Victor says, his voice quiet.

She understands completely what he means. If this is what they’re like as kindergarteners…

“I worry about them,” she says, running her teeth along her lower lip. “They have significant gifts, Victor, but I’m not sure that guarantees them happiness in life. With such gifts come… pressures, responsibilities, differences.”

“I know,” he says, still staring in their direction as he puts a hand on Evelyn’s back. “We’ll just have to do the best we can for them.”

As Victor and Evelyn look into the living room, considering their children’s future, Bridgette totters into the room. She comes over to stand with them and Evelyn nods to her in welcome.

“What are you guys doing?” Bridgette says, confused at the quiet in the kitchen.

“Just talking about the kids,” Evelyn says, putting on a bright smile. No reason Bridgette needs to know all the details of their worries.

“Oh, yeah,” Bridgette says, nodding vaguely and placing a hand on her stomach, which is still flat as a pancake. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Evelyn smiles, a bit ruefully. She’s torn, in this moment. Part of her wants to be a friend to this woman, but the other part knows that Bridgette’s pregnancy is threatening Victor’s position within the pack, as well as her own children’s promised future. After a moment, she takes the high road.

“How are you doing with all of that?” she says, turning towards Bridgette. Sensing that this talk might be better left to the women alone, Victor quietly moves away, sliding his hand down and across Evelyn’s back as he goes. A small shiver runs pleasantly down her spine.

“All of what?” Bridgette says, looking at Evelyn and blinking blandly.

Evelyn laughs a little, liking this girl’s blank innocence more than she probably should. “Your pregnancy, Bridgette. Are you sick at all?”

“Sick?” She laughs a little. “Oh, no. I actually feel totally fine.”

“Really?” Evelyn asks, curious. “No hunger? No cravings or changes in the way that your body feels?”

Bridgette shrugs and frowns. “Isn’t it like, way too early for that? I’m only like two weeks along.”

“Two weeks?” Evelyn says, wrinkling her nose in confusion. “Is that what the doctor told you?”

“The doctor?” Bridgette asks, blinking again at Evelyn. Then she laughs. “Oh, I haven’t been to a doctor. No, I mean it’s been two weeks since I took the pregnancy test!” She flips her hair back, “Hey, do you want to have a glass of wine with me?”

Evelyn hesitates. “Um, sure…” she says, awkwardly. “But are you sure you want to do that?”

Bridgette shrugs. “Isn’t it okay to have one glass of wine when you’re pregnant?”

“When I was pregnant, my doctor told me that it might be a good idea to wait until my third trimester to have a glass of wine. You know. Wait until the baby is fully baked before you indulge a little.” Evelyn adopts a cheery tone as she says this, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Third trimester,” Bridgette says, looking down at her stomach, a little uncertain. “Well, when does that start?”

“Bridgette,” Evelyn says, placing a hand on her arm. “Babe, you really need to go to the doctor.”

At Bridgette’s frightened look, Evelyn hurries to correct herself. “No no!” she says quickly. “Not because you’re sick! Just…you should confirm the pregnancy with the doctor, and have them look you over to make sure that everything is safe. And they’ll give you lots of good information about the pregnancy so that you’ll know exactly what to do and when.”

“Oh,” says Bridgette, looking down at herself, perhaps a little embarrassed. “I didn’t know…how much I didn’t know.”

“I was there too once,” Evelyn says, taking a step forward towards her, trying to be encouraging. “When I was pregnant, I didn’t know anything. But the doctors really helped. I’ll come with you, if you want.”

Bridgette smiles and nods to her. “I think I’d like that. Um, do you still want a glass of wine?”

Evelyn pauses a minute, studying this girl, and then gives her a smile. “You know, on second thought, I’m not really in the mood for wine. Why don’t we do a nice up of cocoa, instead?”

“Oh, good idea!” Bridgette says, giving her a wide smile. “My granny used to make me cocoa on days like this,” she says, a little whistful, looking out the window. “I think I remember her recipe – I’ll get started.”

Bridgette bustles around the kitchen island, pulling out supplies, and Evelyn seats herself on the stool, watching her work.

As Bridgette pours cream into a saucepan and starts breaking a bar of chocolate into pieces, Evelyn reminisces about her own pregnancy. The crazy cravings that hit her in the third month, the horrible sickness of her second trimester. The fact that she, too, felt nothing in her first trimester – couldn’t believe that she was pregnant, really, until she missed her period two weeks after that night –

Suddenly, Evelyn sits stock still in her chair.

She doesn’t move a muscle as she quickly thinks about the date, running through her own mental calendar. She counts back the days – past New Year’s, past the wedding, past Christmas, back to that fateful night when Victor had burst through her back door –

Three weeks. That was three weeks ago.

Evelyn looks slowly down at her body, panic starting to grip her.

If the Hunt was three weeks ago. Then her period was one week late.