––––––––
Three and a half weeks later, Margaret dragged herself from her bed. She felt like she was tired all the time lately. And weepy, Margaret thought. Oh-so-weepy. Nothing had panned out as she had expected. No word from her cousin and no word from Sean. She'd only glimpsed him once and had ducked behind the corner of a building so that he didn't see her.
She was barely eating and Margaret knew that Fiona was desperately worried about her. She expected an intervention from her some day soon.
Pulling on a long sleeve shirt over her t-shirt and pajama pants, Margaret wandered into the kitchen and stopped short. Fiona sat at the table, a pot of tea with two cups in front of her and a paper bag on the table.
"Sit," Fiona ordered.
Groaning, Margaret sat. There was no use arguing with that tone. Or with the fact that this was a long time coming. Margaret assumed this was going to be her intervention. Buck up and move on, my child, Margaret mimicked her mom in her head.
"I'm worried about you," Fiona said softly.
Margaret shrugged, even though her mother's soft words brought an unexpected sheen of tears to her eyes.
"It's fine," Margaret said grumpily and poured herself a cup of tea.
"It's hard for me to sit here and watch you starve yourself. It isn't good for you. Or..."Fiona cut herself off. Margaret tilted her head and looked at her mother for the first time in weeks. Really looked at her. Fiona wasn't just worried, Margaret thought. She was scared.
"Or...what?" Margaret asked. Knowing Fiona's ability to sense illness, Margaret's heart seized up.
"Am I sick? Like really sick? Not just heartsick?" Margaret demanded, slapping her cup on the table.
Fiona blew out a breath and Margaret watched as Fiona raised her eyes to the ceiling and said a small prayer. Scared now, she waited for her mother to speak.
"Ah, so this is a delicate matter. When was the last time you had your menses?" Fiona asked softly.
"My menses...you mean my period? I just..." Margaret trailed off as the realization hit her. She'd had her period about a week or so before that night with Sean. And they hadn’t used protection. She counted back the days and literally felt the blood drain from her face as she realized that she was late. Her mouth gaped open as she met Fiona's eyes.
Fiona smiled gently at her, "It only takes once, honey."
"No, no, no," Margaret pushed back from the table as panic raced through her. Sweat beaded across her back and she punched her fist into her other hand repeatedly.
Fiona just watched her for a moment before sighing and opening the bag. She pushed a white and black box across the table at Margaret as Margaret looked at her in horror.
"What is that?"
"It's a home pregnancy test. They are said to be fairly accurate," Fiona said.
"No. No, this can not be happening," Margaret said, backing away from the box.
"Why don't you just see first before you jump to any conclusions?" Fiona asked.
Margaret turned and glared at her. "But you know, don't you? You can see it?" Margaret couldn't bring herself to call it a baby. A baby! Her head swam at the thought.
Fiona nodded. "Aye, I can. But you'll never believe me unless you see for yourself. So, go on, test," Fiona gestured to the box.
Margaret stared at it, her future in Boston dwindling away from her at a disastrous speed.
"Fine," Margaret said and grabbed the box, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Her hand shook as she moved into the bathroom and put the box on the counter. Opening the box, she read the instructions, the paper shaking in front of her face. On an oath, she sat to perform the test.
Minutes ticked by as she waited. Pacing the room, Margaret felt panic swell up in her, threatening to close off her airway. The door cracked open and she whirled to see Fiona standing there.
"I haven't checked yet," Margaret said angrily.
Fiona nodded and gestured for her to do so.
Her back ramrod straight, Margaret marched to the bathroom and looked at the test.
Positive.
Her heart dropped to her stomach and she slipped into a ball on the floor. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she pressed her face to her pajama pants and let the tears flood her. She jerked slightly as her mother's arms came around her.
"Shh, it'll be okay. This is probably just the hormones. We'll take care of it. You'll be fine."
"Having a baby out of wedlock is not exactly accepted in this country, you know," Margaret gasped against her legs. God, if she thought would be shunned for her gift, she could only imagine for her pregnancy.
Pregnancy. She was pregnant.
"You'll have to tell him, of course," Fiona said matter-of-factly. Margaret whirled on her in horror.
"I will do no such thing! He left me," Margaret said.
"Aye, and now you've a babe to think of. He'll know one way or the other," Fiona said and stood. She held her hands down to her daughter and Margaret allowed her to pull her up.
"Let me get you some medicine for your stomach. I don't want you to upset the babe with your histrionics," Fiona said and left the room.
Margaret paced the room. Her baby. A baby. How had this even happened? She shook her head with a soft laugh. She knew how it had happened. In the best and the worst moment of her life.
Placing a hand on her belly, she wondered if she could feel her baby. Could she know that a baby was there? Letting down her guards, she reached inward.
And gasped, as a little glow of love and light reached out to her from within.
Her baby.
A profound sense of joy filled her. Unable to move, unable to speak, Margaret gaped down at her stomach.
Her baby. Nobody else's.
The wheels turning, Margaret straightened her shoulders and went to take Fiona's medicine.
A thought occurred to her as her hand reached for the door.
Conceived in the cove.
All daughters of Grace would be touched with a gift. Something.
Horror filled her at the thought of her daughter growing up subjected to the same abnormal lifestyle as she had. Margaret rushed into the main room of the cottage.
"Can you tell if it is a girl?" Margaret all but shouted at Fiona.
Fiona's hands stilled on the cup of medicine that she was mixing in a bowl. Turning she met Margaret's eyes.
"Why?"
"Why? Why! Because, then she'd be different. A freak!" Margaret shrieked at her mother and Fiona's face fell.
"We are not freaks. We are special," Fiona said.
"I have a right to my own opinion," Margaret said stonily.
"Aye, that you do. Yes, it's a girl," Fiona said stonily and slammed the cup of medicine in front of her daughter. Turning, she walked out of the cottage and Margaret gaped after her.
A girl.
"Oh no, oh, I'm sorry," Margaret whispered to the small ball of light in her stomach. "I'll protect you. I'll take you away from all of this."
Margaret drank her medicine and began to plan.