Fortitude (Heart of Stone) (20 page)

“So embarrassing,” I rectified but chuckled with him.

“And for the record, green would now look good on you.”

I shook my head and put a hand on my blonde fluff, “Nope,
‘fraid not.”

He scowled at me when he sensed my embarrassment over my
hair. “Hey,” he whispered when I gulped. “I like it. It’s soft and perfect.”
His gaze was sad on me, his heart aching with mine as he felt my hatred at my
looks. “And it’s growing really quickly, before you know it, it will be down to
your chin.”

“But what if…”

He placed a finger over my lips, ceasing my worry. “We’ll
deal with the what ifs after your results tomorrow.”

I nodded as the anxiety bubbled in my stomach. “It’s
okay, Ava. Have faith.”

“Mmm,” I murmured, wishing I had as much confidence as my
husband.

“Are you hungry yet?” I asked as I flicked through the TV
channels, bored out of my tiny mind.

Ava quirked a brow at me and scowled, “Mason, go to work.
I’m fine.”

“Uh-uh,” I muttered as I found a channel showing an old
Top
Gear
and settled back against the headboard, pulling up a pillow to support
the back of my head.

I frowned when I felt Ava looking at me. “What?” I asked
as she stared at me.

“Top Gear?”

“What’s wrong with Top Gear?” I gawped at her in shock.

“I’m ill, Mason.”

“Eh? You said you were fine.”

She huffed at me, “Well, I’m too ill to watch Top Gear.”

I rolled my eyes and switched off the TV and turned to
her. “Well, what would you like to do, my dear?”

She narrowed her eyes on me, “Are you being derisive?”

“Nope.”

She scrutinised me sceptically then sighed, “I dunno.
Talk to me.”

“Talk?” I tapped my fingers on my knee as my gaze roamed
the room looking for something to talk about. “What do you want to talk about,
Ava?”

“I dunno,” she barked.

I jerked at her tone and stared at her, “Well you wanted
to talk.”

“Yes, I know but… but I don’t know what about. Think of
something yourself.”

Okay, was she for real? She wanted to talk but it was up
to me to find a subject. “Umm….”

We both chewed on our lips, sighed, pouted, tipped our
heads and clicked our tongues as we tried to think of something to talk about.
“Oooh I know,” she cried out excitedly. “What’s been the best day of your
life?”

“Oooh well, you know that week when my horse came in
second and I won….” I paused as she stared at me. “No?”

She shook her head slowly, causing me to nod as slowly in
reply. “Umm, ooh, ooh it was when you made that rhubarb strudel and Greg got
ill.” I started laughing loudly, picturing how green he had gone as his hands
gripped at his stomach. “Christ, that was funny shit, I’ve never seen anyone…”
I rolled my lips and smiled at her, “The twins?”

She grinned at me, slapping my arm when she realised I
was messing with her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “The day the twins were born.”

She’d been under for so long it was getting difficult
to breathe. I glanced at my watch again, three hours, three damn hours. The
coffee in the place had started to curdle in my stomach, the acid eating at it furiously
and burning up whatever I had left in there.

I squeezed my eyes closed when the vision of all the
blood flowed into my mind again. Bloody hell, I had never seen so much. And her
scream!

I traipsed the corridors again, for what seemed like
the fiftieth time, trying to draw my attention away from just waiting. I
studied each replica painting that adorned the scuffed walls, I pressed the
footplate on each bin I passed just staring as the lid popped up and down. I
even mended a broken drinking fountain when I found it didn’t work.

I was slowly going crazy.

My feet came to a stop outside a small door. My eyes
narrowed on the ‘chapel’ sign. I hadn’t been to church since my mother dragged
me to midnight mass one year on Christmas Eve.

I placed my palm on the door, hesitating and checking
to see if anyone was around but gave in and pushed, the scent of lemon polish
and wood hitting me as soon as I stepped in.

Each pine pew led the way towards a long table
decorated with candles and a small cross to which a figure of Jesus was
attached. My eyes roamed the empty room as my feet led me through the centre of
the rows. There was one single window, a colourful image of a saint I didn’t
recognise spreading rainbows across the small room, each painted ray being
soaked up by the wooden seats. Colourful red drapes hung from the walls as
various crosses of different shapes and sizes littered the walls.

I stopped when I realised I had reached the table,
Jesus now staring at me. I frowned at the garland of thorns wrapped around his
head. “That must hurt, huh?” He didn’t answer me, but I guessed I’d have passed
out with that offering. “Hi,” I smiled, feeling myself blush at him. “How are
you?”

I know! I know! But what were you supposed to say to
Jesus? It’s quite a difficult task actually.

I nodded when he didn’t answer and let my eyes rove
the room again. “Quite a nice place you have here, quite… homely.”

I strolled over to the front bench and settled myself
down, crossing one leg over my knee and brushing off a piece of fluff that had
attached to the crappy material of my trousers. I’d never buy that brand again,
cheap shit.

“So,” I sighed and smiled back at Jesus. “I suppose
you know who I am… do you know who I am?” I rolled my eyes and tutted, “Of
course you do. You know everyone.”

I placed my palms on the seat either side of me and
rocked forward and backwards slightly. “My… girlfriend - sorry were not
married… YET! Yet.” I nodded to him, my eyes looking at the ceiling hoping I
wouldn’t suddenly be smited for ‘fornicating’ before marriage. “Well she’s…
they’re operating on her. She’s… well, she’s not doing so well.” I smiled at
him and shrugged. “She’s having my babies.” I nodded excitedly, it was good to
share my delight instead of sat holding in my despair. “Twins, we’re having
twins.”

The smile slipped from my face and I looked at him for
a while. “I umm, I’d be kind of… umm, well I wondered if you could… you know…
make sure they’re okay and all that… if that’s okay, if you don’t mind, and
umm… well I…”

I blew out a breath to settle myself. “Women, eh?
Always causing trouble, bloody… oh shit, sorry, I shouldn’t swear... Ava’s
always causing trouble.” I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly but smiled. “But she’s…
she’s kind of really lovely. I think you’d like her. She’s fun and pretty, yeah
really pretty. She makes me laugh, she makes me feel good about myself too… and
with me, well that takes a lot... As you’d know.”

I stood up when the wood started to ache my backside
and strolled around the room, nosing at all the different candles that were
piled high in each corner. “What is it with you and candles?” I asked him as I
picked one up and lit it from another, placing it back on the little plate as I
thought of Ava. “I mean, I never quite understood why all the candle stuff. I’m
sure you wouldn’t want anyone setting your cross on fire, that shit wouldn’t be
good for you.”

I spun round towards him and held up my hand, “No
offence like, I… oh Christ… umm, that wasn’t taking your name in vain by the
way, just a slip, I’m sorry…” I sighed and slumped back onto the bench. “I’m
sorry I’m not really doing a good job of this am I? What I’m trying to say is,
well if you could… you know, help get Ava through this. She will be the most
amazing mum cos’ she’s the most amazing person I know. She’s caring and funny,
thoughtful and beautiful and she’s… she puts up with my shit, and believe me,
there’s lots of it.” I snorted, “Of course you know. Well,” I stood up and
nodded to him, “I better get back. You never know, this time there might be
some news.”

I pushed open the door then turned back to him, “Wish
me luck, I’m about to become a dad to two babies, me and Ava never do things by
half.” I rolled my eyes and left, smiling at the possibility of a new friend.
And let’s face it, with Jesus on your side, you can’t go far wrong.

***

I stared at them. Both of them. Two amazing little
bundles. One pink. One blue. I was scared to even look at them through the
plastic bubble thing they were both laid in, each of them attached to numerous
bloody pipes and wires.

My daughter had the most vivid mop of orange curls
ever, causing my breath to still in my lungs. She was already as beautiful as
her mother, heart-stoppingly so. And the blue one, well what could I say but
the lucky little bugger had got all my genes, he was utterly the most handsome
little thing in the world.

But they were both so tiny, so fragile and little. I
was terrified of them.

“They’re both doing well,” a nurse said as she smiled
widely at me. “Both are good and strong. They’ll be home before you know it.”

I nodded to her, “I hope so.”

She fiddled with some buttons and scribbled something
down on the clipboard before she lifted her face to me again. “Life’s scary
right now, huh?”

I pulled in a breath and nodded, “Yes. Very.”

She nodded and patted my shoulder, “Give it another
eighteen years, love. It gets even bloody scarier.”

I quirked an eyebrow at her. Daft woman. How could
life get any scarier than what it was then, with two premature babies using
tubes to breathe?

Fuck me! How right she had been!

“I’m bored.”

Mason nodded but then turned to look at me. My eyes
widened on him when a wicked smile rose on his lips. “We could always find
something to do, baby.”

He rolled over towards me, propping himself up on an
elbow as a hand slid across the front of my throat and then round the back of
my neck so he could cup the nape and pull me towards him. I sighed dreamily
when his lips brushed across mine delicately, his warm breath teasing but comforting.
“I missed you,” he whispered as his kisses travelled across my jaw and then
started dampening a trail down my neck.

“Mmm, and you,” I breathed, my body lighting up instantly
as he slid his hand around to hold the side of my head.

He was gentle as he slid the strap of my nightdress over
my bad shoulder. His mouth followed it, his tongue sneaking out to taste me as
his lips grazed my skin. “You’ve always had beautiful soft skin, Ava.”

His caresses were now whispering over the dressing
covering my wound as he made his way towards my chest. “Mason…” I murmured as
panic started to coil my stomach.

“Sshhh,” he whispered, blowing heat across the goose
bumps that had risen on my skin, nerves filling me with fear as each hair on my
body raised in preparation to approaching horror.

I started to wiggle underneath him as my body started to
tremble. “Mason, please.”

“Ava, shush…”

“No.” I slid away from him, pulling up the strap to
swiftly cover myself.

He stared at me and sighed, “Baby…”

I shook my head and slipped my legs out of bed, grimacing
at the pain that shot through my shoulder when I moved too quickly. “I’m
hungry. Are you hungry,” I rambled as I stood and slipped my slipper boots onto
my feet. “Sandwich?” I asked as I spun round to him.

His eyes slid over me, from my boots and up until he met
my eyes, and then back down again. The corner of his lips twitched in humour
before he chuckled. “Fuck, baby. You are so damn sexy.”

I frowned and looked down. I giggled at the state of me.
I was in my comfiest but sexiest negligee, the black and white lace was delicate
and chic, the split up to my thigh very daring but modest and the straps elegant
ribbons of dainty black silk. And then came the thick bright blue fur boots and
the great big whacking bandage covering my shoulder.

He slid off the bed and cocked his head at me. “Do you
even realise how beautiful you are?”

I knew where he was heading. I just shrugged and smiled
faintly, “Yeah. Now, do you want chicken or beef?”

“Ava…” he grumbled as I walked off, holding my arm in
place with a hand on my elbow as I made my way towards the kitchen.

I flicked the kettle on and started rummaging through the
fridge, pulling out lots of different foods. “We have salad, or just pickles.
Or there’s cheese if you don’t want meat.”

“Ava…”

“There’s scones if you don’t want a sandwich. Or maybe
something sweet…”

“God damn it, Ava.” He cried, “Look at me.”

I bit into my lip as I furrowed even further into the
back of the fridge, extracting jams and chutneys that were well out of date.
“This fridge needs a damn good clean…”

“AVA!” he roared. The jar I was holding slipped from my
hand and smashed at my feet, masses of plum chutney covering my feet and spreading
in a circle on the floor around me. “Bloody hell,” he cursed as he rushed and
crouched in front of me, picking up the bulk of broken glass.

He snatched at the roll of kitchen paper and started to
mop up the spilled contents as I stared at him. He scooped and piled, wiped and
cleaned, picked and shifted as I just stared at him silently, my body in
lockdown as my mind refused to let him in, rejected what he wanted of me.

I stepped over him and slowly walked across the room to
the door. “Don’t – you – fucking – dare!”

I closed my eyes and swallowed back the lump of fear
growing in my throat. “Don’t do this, Mason.”

“I will do this!” he growled out, his anger simmering
just below the surface. “And so will you.”