Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine

Havermouth, Five Years Before

The OBGYN doctor’s surgery was inside of a residential house that had been converted in an effort to appear welcoming and homey for its patients. Aislen, however, felt anything but welcome or at home. She sat uncomfortably in the waiting room, hiding behind a magazine.

It was Aislen’s third visit, and she had decided that the feeling that she was in the wrong place was going to persist throughout her pregnancy. The adoption agency had been recommended to her through the coven, and the OBGYN was connected to the agency. She knew that it wasn’t the surgery’s fault that she felt like she did - they were, in fact, very nice to her – it was her own relationship to her pregnancy that was to blame, and her obsession with what the other patients waiting to be seen made of the black clad and very obviously alone teenager amongst them.

She could use her telepathy to find out – she was beginning to develop some control, both in choosing to hear, and, more often, not to, the thoughts around her - but she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want her suspicions confirmed.

On this appointment, she shared the waiting room with two other patients.

A very pregnant woman with her husband debated baby names on the other side of the room, her long fingernails scraping through her ombre styled hair as she drawled out the options listed on her phone. Everything that the couple wore was designer, and they were model-perfect looking and knew it. A magazine’s idea of the perfect pregnant couple, Aislen thought sourly, watching them preen over the top of the magazine.

The other patient was a mother with a pre-schooler, a toddler, and the beginning of a belly who sat near the toy box, her face pale and her eyes shadowed. She wore jeans that were a little too long and had frayed at the heels, and a shapeless green cardigan that carried a streak of something crusty from her shoulder to her breast. She never looked Aislen’s way, and instead watched her children play with an expression of confusion, as if not entirely sure whose children they were.

“Aislen? Come on in.” The doctor was male, something that Aislen had chosen on purpose after Dr. James. He was in his mid-forties and had a penchant for running marathons, from the awards and photos of him crossing finishing lines in his office. He looked like a runner, Aislen thought as she followed him out of the waiting room; not a scrap of extra fat on him.

He waited until she entered the surgery and hopped onto the bed. “Let’s have a look at how we’re going then, hmm?” He smiled as he squeezed lube onto the handheld ultrasound.

Aislen laid back and wriggled her top up and skirt down to expose her belly, the round more noticeable when she laid down, but small enough that she hadn’t had to admit to the school that she was pregnant. She hoped to hide it for as long as possible.

The lube was cold on her skin as he pressed down, searching for the baby, the monitor gradually picking up more white static.

“There we are, and aren’t we looking a lot more like a baby now? There’s the head,” he pressed on her belly whilst using his other hand to point at the screen. “Two arms, two legs.” He pressed the keyboard, taking photos and measurements. “Looking good, Aislen. Not much longer now. Would you like to know the gender?”

“Oh,” Aislen was stumped by the question. She thought as little as possible about the pregnancy as she could. “I guess.”

“She’s a little girl and measuring perfectly for four months and six days along. We’ll adjust your expected delivery date to that information, as you were a little vague as to when the conception might have occurred or when you had your last period,” he wiped off the handheld and pushed the ultrasound machine back as he handed her a wad of tissue to wipe off her stomach. “Your blood test results have come in, and everything is looking great. How are you feeling? Has the morning sickness eased?”

“Yes,” she sat up and slipped off the bed, throwing the lubed-up tissues into the bin. The smell of the lube reminded her of the Triquetra, causing a tight squeezing pain around her heart as she recalled the dream that she’d had the night before.

In her dream, she’d gone back to Havermouth, to the river house, and they’d greeted her as if she’d never left, and then proceeded to fuck her stupid in the bedroom. As they laid together in a sweaty tangle of limbs afterwards, her belly began to swell until Rhett sat up and looked down at her with a mixture of alarm and disgust. “What the fuck is that?” He’d demanded.

“That’s good,” the doctor made a note. “And how are you, Aislen?”

“Fine,” she hated this part of the appointment. He had accessed her medical records and knew that she had been under observation for a night in Havermouth and insisted on monthly appointments as a result so he could monitor her. She told him on the second appointment about Penny James, and that Dr. James had overreached in sending her in for observation – but it hadn’t made any difference.

“Sleeping alright?”

“Yes.” No. She was dreaming of the Triquetra constantly.

“How about your moods?”

“Fine.”

“And school? You’re staying up to date with your schoolwork? Not too stressed?”

“Yes and no. School is fine.” School was absolutely fine. She enjoyed her classes, and the teachers were positive over her artwork, always encouraging her to try new things. She was beginning an extracurricular on comic book art, the different styles and forms, and how to frame an image to tell the story.

“Have you begun interviewing families for adoption?” He asked her.

She licked her lips and swallowed. “Yes,” her voice was so small on the answer.

“Have you reconsidered the adoption and decided to keep the baby yourself?” He did not miss the hesitancy of her answer.

“No,” she said with certainty. “No, I cannot keep this baby. But, picking a family for her… Finding the right people to love her… It’s really hard, and time is just… flying by. I don’t know how I can make a decision with so little time…”

“It is very difficult,” he said with sympathy. “The agency screens the applicants before they’re passed to you, and you can be assured that the couple or family that you meet have the financial resources, stable jobs, a house, and have passed all the psychological exams to ensure that they meet the very highest criteria.”

“I know.” She also knew from the agency that she was the ideal birth mother that these couples sought – young, but over eighteen, attractive, in good health with no record of substance abuse, and a scholarship recipient. “I know. And those things are important. It’s just… they don’t necessarily mean that she will be happy and loved, does it, just because they have nice cars and a nice house?”

He tilted his head and looked at her. “You have Stella Courtenay listed as your emergency contact. I know Stella, and I know that Stella…” He smiled, his eyes warm. “Well, she has a generous heart and open arms for those that need them. You have not told me about your parents, Aislen. Have you any family that you would like to add to your contacts?”

Aislen shook her head slowly. “No.” Her parents had not called, nor come to Rideten since her father had dropped her off, nor had she called them, telling herself that she was angry at them, and trying to ignore the grain of hurt within that anger.

The OBGYN sighed slightly as he left the field blank. “Okay. How are you doing with your prenatal vitamins?”

“Taking them.”

“Is there anything that you’d like to know about, Aislen?” He changed tactics. “Your body will begin to undergo many changes in the near future. Have you looked at the websites and pregnancy groups that I gave you last time?”

“I have Stella and the women’s circle,” she said defensively. “And my roommates.”

“It is good that you have those resources,” he agreed, “but it is also good for you to connect with other women undergoing the same changes that you are, share experiences…”

“Are there other eighteen years old unsure who the father is of their baby who is planning on giving it up for adoption in those groups?” She asked him tartly. “No, there isn’t. I’m fine. Things are fine. I don’t need them.” She wasn’t talking about the pregnancy groups, and the doctor knew, his expression sympathetic.

“Maybe… Rather than pregnancy groups, you would consider speaking with a group of people who have similar experiences to you. There are nightly sessions of various groups here,” he handed her a card. “On a wide variety of experiences. Have a look online and perhaps you will find one that fits you.”

“Alright,” she agreed grudgingly.

“Thank you. Well, next month then, unless something arises in between. You have the surgery’s number and my out-of hours. Call if you need assistance.”

Aislen stopped by the grocery store on her way back to the house. Stella had given her a box of herbs and vegetables from the garden of her house, and she lived mainly on salad as a result, but she was beginning to crave something more, so she bought some chicken, pasta, and sauce, deciding that the recipe looked like something she would be able to manage.

She paid and picked up her bag, looking up at the windows to the front of the store just in time to see Cameron walk by. Her heart stopped, and the pain within her almost caused her to drop her groceries onto the ground.

Had he come to Rideten looking for her? She swallowed and hurried out onto the street. But, if she hadn’t been mistaken, and if it had been him, she could not see him anymore. “Hallucinating,” she told herself as she put the groceries into her car. “Seeing the Triquetra when they’re not there.”

She covered her face with her hands and wept.