Chapter 23 - Lena

Even though the exam room is warm, I'm feeling a bit chilly in my hospital gown. It's also not a nice feeling to be laid out on a table with my lower body almost completely exposed. I'm very glad that Jack is sitting next to me, holding my hand.

It's been a couple of weeks since I told Jack about the baby, and he has barely left my side. This is the first doctor's appointment I've had since then, and now we finally get to hear the heartbeat and see our baby for the first time.

I grip Jack's hand a bit tighter as the cold gel spreads across my belly. The lovely old lady doing the ultrasound speaks to me in a kind voice, explaining what's happening as she goes. She firmly sweeps the wand across my belly, making me shiver.

"Just a second," she mutters, twirling the wand a little. "Little one seems to be hiding from me. It's not always easy in the first few weeks to get a good picture."

A thousand questions clamor to the front of my brain, and Jack squeezes my hand, leaning forward with an anxious look on his face. Before either of us can speak, a deep, even throbbing sound echoes around us. For a moment, I'm so stunned, I can't even move.

"Is that—" Jack doesn't get to finish his question as the lady laughs softly.

"Yes, that's your baby. Nice, healthy heartbeat. Take a look at this."

She presses down with the wand, making me wince, but both Jack and I are looking so intently at the screen that I barely notice the discomfort. A gasp slips out of my mouth as I see the bright outline of our baby, clear as day in the murky dark.

I look over at Jack. He is staring intently at the screen, his eyes shimmering. Even though he looks like a statue, he's also more full of emotion than I've ever seen him. It's all in his crystal-blue eyes and the faint curve of his lips.

"That will do, dear," the lady says. She holsters the wand and hands me a stack of paper towels. "The bathroom is just through there."

She points to a nearby door, and I almost moan with relief. I need to pee so badly, I can barely move. I wipe at my belly with the towels and let go of Jack, swinging my feet towards the floor.

"Do you need some help—" he starts.

"Jack, I love you, but if you get between me and that bathroom, I'm going to tear you apart!"

I hear the old lady chuckling as I stagger towards the bathroom. Jack seems confused, but I'm sure she will fill him in on the gory details of pregnancy ultrasounds.

A few minutes later, I'm dressed and comfortable, sitting in the doctor's exam room with Jack. He's leaning over the table with a worried expression.

"I know she told us in the exam room that the baby is healthy," he says. "But I'd just like you to give us a bit more detail, please."

The doctor smiles kindly at him. "I understand your concern, son. You're going to make an excellent father. Everything looks great. The baby is a good size, and the heartbeat is strong. I'd say, just keep doing what you're doing. Did you read the information I gave you, Lena?"

"Yes, I did," I answer, nodding. "I didn't really have to make any changes to my diet or anything. Well, I should probably be eating less takeout, I guess. But then I'd have to learn how to cook."

The doctor laughs and shakes his head. "As I said, whatever you've been doing, keep it up! We don't want to make any big changes if things are going well. It's good to keep working, if you can. Just stay a bit active if that's what you're used to."

"No problem—"

"Wait!" Jack cuts me off. "What do you mean, keep working? Shouldn't she be on the couch with her feet up?"

The doctor chuckles. "Not yet, unless she is feeling unwell. We certainly don't recommend full bedrest without a good reason."

Jack nods, but I can see he doesn't quite agree. We book our next appointment and head home, where Sam has valiantly tried to make dinner. It ends up being a disaster, so we head out to eat.

"Should we tell Mom tomorrow?" Jack asks. "She'll meal prep for the next ten weeks if we do."

"Yes, I think it's time," I agree. "I can't wait to tell Gina. I should really spend some time with little Natalia so I can practice."

So far we had held off on telling anyone, because we wanted confirmation that the pregnancy was going well. Now that we know, there's no reason to hold back.

After dinner, we head out to the parking lot, and when I reach up to grab the door handle of the truck, both Sam and Jack yell.

"What?" I ask, mystified.

"Don't reach up like that!" Jack cries at the same time Sam yells, "Stop!"

I stand there, looking at the boys, then the truck. "How am I supposed to get in?"

"I'll do it," Jack says, opening the door for me. When I reach up to grab the handle above the door, both boys yell at me again.

"What now?" I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Jack and Sam look at the truck, then at each other.

"A little safety step?" Sam suggests.

Jack nods. "Yeah, I think so. That will work for now, but I'll have to get a new car, something low to the ground. This isn't going to work long-term."

"Tell me you're joking!" I say, laughing. Both of them give me a serious look that tells me they most certainly are not joking.

By using the boys for support, I manage to get into the truck without reaching, stretching, or jumping. I try to explain that only being a few months along doesn't restrict my movement, but they clearly aren't listening.

When we get home, I take myself off to bed with only minimal interference from the mother hens. The next morning, I wake up first and head to the kitchen for a nice herbal tea and a piece of dry toast. The nausea hasn't been too bad, but I certainly don't challenge my stomach in the mornings.

I'm heading towards the table with my tea and toast when Jack walks in and stops dead, staring at me with wide eyes. "Lena!" he almost shrieks.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, help me," I mutter.

"What are you doing?" Jack cries. Sam immediately appears behind him.

"What did she do? Is she okay?"

Jack moves into the room. Delicately, he takes the cup and plate from my hand and puts them on the table.

"There you go," he says, relieved. "Don't go getting up before me and straining yourself to make breakfast. Let me help you with things like that."

"Yeah, I don't like the idea of you carrying boiling water around by yourself," Sam puts in. "What if you started feeling faint?"

I sit down, looking at both of them in disbelief. "I'd hardly call making tea and toast a strenuous exercise," I begin, ready to give them a full rundown of the doctor's instructions. The boys look at each other, nodding.

"You're right," Jack agrees.

"Yes, definitely," Sam says.

Aha! Sanity reigns.

"You need more than toast," Jack goes on, and Sam nods emphatically. "While I'm happy you didn't strain yourself further trying to make a big meal, you should be having some protein with that. I'll start right now."

"No!" I say firmly. "If you start frying up bacon and cracking eggs right now, I will barf all over this table! Both of you need to chill out, right now!"

The boys look at me in alarm, then at each other.

"Stress," Sam mutters.

"We stressed her out," Jack agrees.

"What should we do?" Sam asks.

"You are going to get ready for school, young man!" I snap at him. "And you, Jack, are going to get ready for work. Both of you are going to let me eat my damn toast in peace! Then, I'm going to get ready for work and you can make your own breakfast once I'm out of the kitchen."

Both of them stare at me. They look at each other, then back at me.

"You're going to work?" they both say in almost perfect unison.

"Oh, my good lord," I stand up, grabbing my tea and toast. "I'm going to have my breakfast in peace on the deck. Both of you sort yourselves out in the meantime!"

"Don't go far," Jack says. "I think I should come with you."

"I swear to God, Jack, if you don't give me a few minutes' peace, I will go completely out of my mind."

"Just call me if you need me!" he yells as I walk away.

"I'm calling your mother, that's what I'm going to do! Maybe she can talk some sense into you!"

I go out the front door and give it a good slam. Even though I'm having trouble believing the boys are completely serious with this, it is nice to feel so well looked after. I don't think anyone has cared so much for me, ever.

After I finish my breakfast and get ready for work, we head out and drop Sam at school before going to the warehouse. We know that the instant we tell Jack's family, they will arrive in force, so we decide to tell them at the end of the day. Meanwhile, I start on some office tasks while Jack goes to his office for his usual morning calls.

Near morning teatime, I have a huge box of shredded paper that needs to go to the recycle bin. I barely think about it as I lift the box and head out to the dumpsters at the side of the dock. The stock boys have gone on break, and Betty is still in the office, so no one hears Jack shriek.

"What now?" I jump and spin around, expecting to see the walls crumbling or something. All I see is Jack running towards me with an expression of pure terror on his face.

"What are you doing?" he says, gently tugging the box out of my hands. "Let me help with that."

I glance at the box, then back at his face.

"Jack, it's literally shredded paper."

"It's a big box, though."

I can't help it. I let out a big snort of laughter. I try to hold my giggles in, but they escape and turn into big gasps of pure, joyful laughter.

"What?" Jack asks, confused.

"Jack," I shake my head and lean towards him, brushing the curls from his forehead. "I'm not going to lie, this is irritating as fuck, but at the same time, I can't be mad. It feels so good to be well taken care of. No one has ever bothered before."

Jack smiles. "It's no bother at all, believe me, and don't think it's going to stop when the baby is born. I'm going to treasure you every day of your life."

His words bring tears to my eyes, and I giggle again, thinking that these mood swings will probably become more frequent the further along I get.

"Let me take this to the trash," he says. "Then I'll take you for morning tea."

"Yeah, I'm up for some real food this time. I hope they have that caramel pudding at the diner."

Jack scowls. "We'll talk about that in a second."

I shrug, giggling. "Got to give the baby what it wants."

"Wait one minute," he says sternly, heading off towards the bins with the box. I watch him go, and the sense of being cared for and spoiled suddenly crashes into all the memories of my past.

It hits me so hard that for a second, it's hard to breathe. I know it's common for trauma survivors to get hit by flashbacks when they feel safe and loved, because those times make it abundantly clear just how horrible the situation used to be.

The sight of Jack carrying a very light box all the way out to the dock because he doesn't want me to do it is such a simple, small thing, and it touches me beyond belief. While I watch him dump the shredded paper, I'm hit with memories of all the cleaning and heavy lifting I've done every day of my life for as long as I can remember.

Where are Father and Kelly now?

It's a disturbing thought. Father isn't the type to just give up. If Decker won't take them back, where would he go? I want to believe that he knows this is a situation he can't win, and he just took off into the world to take his evil somewhere far away from me.

But his threats still ring in my mind. Would he come back here and try to hurt me? Try to destroy everything good that has happened to me since I was able to get away from him?

It is of some amusement to me that Father arranged this as a punishment for me—or at least an excuse to use me—and it turned out to be my escape and his defeat.

So why do I feel like it's not over?

I watch Jack walking back towards me, and I want to feel free. I want to forget about my past and embrace the future.

But I can't shake the fear that Father will return for me—or for Sam. He promised me he would hurt my brother if I didn't obey, and the only promises Father ever keeps are those related to pain and revenge.