An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|Maureen makes plans for a special dinner|
Maureen pulled the cotton dress tight across her belly, willing the mirror to show more of a bump than was there. Six months along, and she still didn't need maternity clothes. At least then she'd look the part, since everyone around here was going to treat her like some frickn' invalid anyway.
She skewed up her face, stuck out her chin, and lowered her voice. "No, sweetheart, we're not going to the Cape this weekend. You need to get some rest. All this nonsense with Kevin...it's not good for you." She puffed out her cheeks, and threw back her shoulders, swaggering in front of the mirror. "Why? Because I said so. I know what's best for you." She looked like a constipated rooster, and that proposed image of her husband made her giggle.
From the moment she'd met him, she'd found his "take charge" personae appealing. Appealing? No..."hot" was a better word for it. Sexy as sin. And it still was, to a certain extent. But since their return home from that wretched honeymoon, he seemed... well...paranoid, for lack of a better word. Locking doors behind him, texting her on the hour, and insisting on a detailed itinerary of each and every day. Granted, he had always been more "intense" then other men she had dated. That was part of the package, and she was quite aware of how their relationship was going to work when she married him, agreeing fully to what that meant. But as of late, it felt like he had taken this "loving care" thing to a whole new level, one that left her feeling anxious for a reason she couldn't quite place.
She sighed, feeling a tiny bit guilty for making fun of him. She loved him. Absolutely. And he did love her. She was sure of it, even though he didn't push the words directly out of his mouth. Truth be told, she wasn't sure he had ever said them to her. At least not in the traditional sense. He had told her that she was the center of his world. That she was his entirely. He pampered and coddled her in million little ways. His actions spoke volumes, and most women would have been over the moon at the attention. Still, it would have been nice to have hear the actual words.
From the open window, she could hear the bells from Holy Family ringing, signaling the 5 PM hour. Ted was going to be late, calling her just a few minutes before that he was tied up at the station. She thought about inviting Kevin over for supper, and then remembered it was Wednesday, and that he usually met with the youth group. It might be nice to have a quiet dinner, just the two of them. Something special...romantic even. She considered the pork chops in the fridge, and shook her head. Pork chops wouldn't do. Too week day-ish. A romantic dinner called for something special...out of the ordinary. She considered the options in the freezer, or what might be purchased downstairs in the deli. Nothing there that screamed "hot night with one's husband".
The idea clicked in her brain as if a button had been pushed. If they couldn't get away to the Cape, then she would bring the Cape to them. A lobster boil would be just the thing. They could set out a blanket on the tiny crop of grass out back, pour him some wine, and have a lovely, relaxing dinner before heading back upstairs. They had been talking about just such a night since they returned. And why shouldn't it be today?
Then came the logistics. The only store that sold live lobsters was in the center of town. She considered calling Ted, and asking him to stop on the way home. But that meant giving him the heads up, and ruining the surprise. Plus, it might lend him the opportunity to put the kibosh on her plans, deciding for whatever reason her ideas didn't fit his. No. She'd have to handle the whole thing herself. The bus downtown could be got two blocks away, but the round trip, plus the time in the store, would probably get her back home after Ted. That absolutely wouldn't do. She thought about who she might call for a lift, but couldn't think of a single soul.
Unwilling to be deterred, she considered a last resort. Ted's Mustang was parked in the shed out back, he, of course, using the patrol car when he was on duty. Despite his insistence that she couldn't drive stick, she had proven him wrong on a few discreet occasions, taking the car for short jaunts to the mall and back. He had never been the wiser. And he wouldn't be today either.
|Maeve watches from the tree outside the window|
She was decidedly ripe with pending motherhood, all curves and soft skin, her face with a glow that went mostly unnoticed by mortals. The power and energy in this passage of creation was beyond anything that the Sidhe possessed, and she looked at the girl in both admiration and envy. She could feel the life force of the babe tucked away in it's mother's womb, and smiled. Yes, this was a special mortal. Maeve would need to keep a fey eye on the goings on in this time and place.
|A plan in action|
From the mail truck along the curb, the woman watched the foot traffic out of the deli, and the flat above, with another eye on the gas company truck parked directly behind her. She was a great believer in the strategy of hiding in plain sight. The stupid bastard never even contemplated that she would have the nerve to stall up in his own home. His arrogance was overwhelming, and it made her sick to the core to think she was willing to give her soul over to such a royal piece of shit.
When she first received the email, she had been besides herself with grief and longing, filled with the pain of being rejected by someone who knew her better than she knew herself. She had been willing to share him, as distasteful as that might have been. Men like himself couldn't be expected to follow the traditional societal rules. But he had dismissed her as casually as an old newspaper. Read all her pages, and then dumped her in the trash.
And despite all her efforts at showing him how very serious she was, he refused to even consider her pleas about needing him in her life. In fact, her devotion had led to him threatening her with imprisonment, even bodily harm, if she did not cease with her ministrations. The words banged around her head, hitting with a force that was almost physical pain. "I don't want any part of you. Ever."
Now, the pain had had turned to cold, burning fury. How dare he think she wasn't good enough. Who in the hell did he think he was? Cassie flipped down the visor, and checked her appearance in the mirror. The face that stared back at her was foreign; dark complected, older and wrinkled. He thought he was so damn smart. That she wouldn't see through his attempts to locate her, to keep her away. The knowledge that he would always underestimate her filling her gut with a renewed sense of action.
His team in the utility vehicle would by now have run the plates on the mail truck, and found them to be in perfect order, as would the identification badge hanging around her neck. This is what she excelled at. A Master at his own game. Grabbing the mail bag off the seat, she rummaged through it, checking for the tools under the stack of papers, envelopes and magazines. To the outside world, she'd look like the regular mail person, about her rounds on a Wednesday afternoon. Beckett's team would have no reason for alarm, as there was nothing out of the ordinary to cause concern. She had checked over the route a million times, and knew it by heart.
Sliding out of the truck, she wandered casually across the street, keeping watch from the corner of her eye for activity from his team. All was quiet, everything going perfectly to plan. She started at the usual spot at the the end of the block, going from house to house, shoving random mail into each of the slots, vengeance screaming in her head.
Copyright 2014 Victoria T. Rocus
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