Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) (19 page)

While Gus started taking apart my possessed clock radio, I grabbed my purse, a light jacket, and mentally prepared myself to get snapped at for making Paul wait.

Chapter 35

I
forced a smile as I headed down the stairs to join Paul. “Okay, let’s do this. We have a baby to look at.”

I fully expected him to be livid. Instead, he was playing with Apollo and Aramis.

“Are you sure? Nothing else you need to do? Shed you need to paint? Stocks you need to buy or sell?” he asked—in a joking, not pissed-off, way—as he tumbled around on the ground with the Dobes. When I didn’t answer, Paul looked up at me, his blue eyes full of concern. “Everything okay?”

I nodded. “Sorry about the wait. Gus went a few rounds with his attack cats and lost, so he needed my help getting bandaged up. But he’s fine, so we’re good to go.”

“As long as he doesn’t need a ride to the E.R., it’s all good, right?” Paul asked, giving Apollo one last chest rub.

I stood there, not quite sure what to say next. I mean, it’s easy when someone’s consistently a jerk, because you know what to expect. But when they’re unexpectedly nice, it throws you for a loop. I had gotten so used to our interactions being barbed, I didn’t know how to respond to his attempt at levity and sincerity. But boy, was I relieved this car ride wasn’t going to wind up being me, trapped in a small space and lectured non-stop on what an insensitive ass I was.

Then, Paul stood up and actually helped me into my jacket.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s going on with you? Why are you being so nice?” I asked.

“Hey! I’m a nice guy. Nice is my default setting.”

I snorted—not intentionally, it just kind of escaped me before I could stop it.

Paul sighed. “Okay, I deserved that. I’ve been… a little stressed lately.” He stood up and brushed his hands against his jeans. “I’m sorry for being a jerk to you. I’ve been blaming you for everything, and that’s just… really unfair. You were as much a victim as I was—more actually.”

I looked at him, warily. Of course, he should blame me.
I
blamed me. I had made so many stupid mistakes over the last year. At least we both survived my stupidity—unlike my Aunt Tillie.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Men never admit when they’re wrong. Apologies are usually a tactic to get sex.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a typical man.”

That was for sure. Not many men would have been able to go through the hell I had accidentally put Paul through, and still be sane.

“Besides, I have good news.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Which I’ll have to tell you about in the car. We’re running later than I thought.”

*     *     *

The car ride was a little odd. We were both on our best behavior, talking about mundane things, as Paul sped down the country roads. I made sure my seat belt was on and tried to relax, in case he hit anything.

Finally, I asked him about his news, hoping the question would distract his foot from the gas pedal.

“I didn’t want to say anything until it was official, but I landed a teaching position at OMU. Old Main University in Oldfield. I’m the new Creative Writing Professor in their MFA program.”

“That’s great!” I said, truly thrilled for him. “But what about the high school? I thought you loved teaching there?”

“I do. But this is more money, better insurance, a more flexible schedule. And even better… are you ready for it? I was able to get you and the baby on my insurance plan.”

“What?!” This conversation was happening entirely too fast for me. “What do you mean?”

“I wrote you in as my significant other.” He slammed on the brakes as the car in front of us slowed to a stop.

Paul leaned on the horn and the driver flipped him off.

“What the hell is going on up there?”

I rolled down the window and craned my neck. I could see flashing lights up ahead. “Accident,” I said. “They’re blocking the lanes to let the ambulance through.”

Then I turned my thoughts away from it—before my ‘sight’ decided to wade deeper into what was going on. I didn’t want to know if anyone died or what their injuries were.

I focused on what Paul had just said. Insurance would be a good thing—a very good thing. Insurance would mean regular exams and I could deliver the baby in a hospital instead of in a blow-up pool in my backyard. Insurance was like the Holy Grail.

“Why would you do that for me?” I asked. I could feel tears welling up. Damn pregnancy hormones. I cried at everything—even TV commercials.

“If it’s my baby, it wouldn’t be very responsible of me to leave you both out in the cold, fending for yourselves, would it?”

“Even if it has hooves and horns?”

“You’re still planning to raise it, right? I can’t talk you out of it?”

“I am. But it’s okay. You don’t have to be part of the baby’s life, if the thought of its existence upsets you.” Oh, man. Even saying that hurt.

I felt my chest tighten and those tears that had been threatening, finally spilled out. I pulled a tissue out of my purse and tried to staunch the flow before Paul noticed.

Paul put his hand on my leg and gently squeezed. “I’m trying to do the best I can. Why else would I be going out of my way—and courting a fraud lawsuit—to get you health insurance? You’ve had awhile to get used to this. I just found out. Jeez Louise, woman. You don’t give a guy much time to process.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just stuck in defensive mode.” I said, sniffling and wiping away tears. “I’ll stop.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and tried to relax, letting the emotions flow out of my body and ground into the earth.

Paul squeezed my leg again.

I looked at him and smiled.

Cars slowly started moving and Paul returned his hand to the steering wheel. The sudden absence of physical contact made me feel chilly. I wished I was still wearing my jacket instead of tossing it in the back seat.

“It’s a long ride, so I figured we could spend the night there. Maybe we could go to dinner and a movie after the doctor visit.”

I opened my mouth to say that was great, but Paul interrupted. “I’ll spring for separate rooms. You don’t have to worry about me making advances on you.”

Who was worried? I thought to myself. I would have welcomed an advance or two. Oh, who was I kidding? A night of hot sex sounded heavenly. Being pregnant had put me in a state of horny frustration for months—either that, or maybe it was the sudden and prolonged lack of sex, after all those wild escapades with Lisette and Lucien.

*     *     *

As Paul drove faster to make up for lost time, I tried to slow him down by commenting on the speed limit, nearby cop cars and the probability of speed traps. But soon, he’d be pressing down on the gas again.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” I finally asked.

Paul looked at the time display on the dashboard. “It took twenty minutes to get out of your house, then we were stuck in traffic for another ten minutes. I don’t want to drive all the way out there, just to miss your appointment. We have the last appointment before the office closes for the holidays.”

Oh
.
Well, that sounded reasonable, but I was a firm believer in better late than dead.

“Besides, I’m not
that
kind of guy. I’m known for being early. And I don’t want to start being the type of guy who barely makes it anywhere on time.”

He sped up some more.

I closed my eyes and reached out to the Lady with my thoughts.
“Show me what to do to keep us safe.”

Images started spinning in my head. A
fetch
. Of course. In my mind’s eye, I reached into the void, taking a piece of it, and crafted a fetch with it. A giant serpent that I coiled around and around the car, like an astral bumper. I tasked it with keeping our SUV safe and keeping the cars around us at a reasonable distance.

I was so focused on what I was doing, I didn’t notice when we arrived.

Paul, on the other hand, thought I had spent the drive sleeping. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’re here,” he said, as he parked the car.

I smiled to myself.
Sleeping, my patootie.

Chapter 36

I
n the doctor’s office, we had to fill out a bunch of forms and then wait to speak to a genetic counselor. It wasn’t until I asked Paul for the date, that I realized it was Yule.

Since Yule happens on the solstice, it arrives a few days before Christmas. No wonder they were shutting down for the holidays after my appointment. I was surprised Gus hadn’t reminded me, but we had been a little distracted with the cats.

I told Paul that I was going to have to turn down his offer of an overnight stay. Gus and I had standing plans for the Sabbat. I just hoped Forrest wouldn’t be joining us.

Since Yule was the longest night of the year, in addition to whatever ritual Gus cooked up to honor the event, we stayed up all night, tending to the Yule fire until the sun came up. It was an old pagan superstition. A bit of sympathetic magic, giving fire to the night to make sure the sun returned in the morning without any problems, and kicked off the next Wheel of the Year.

Then, after Christmas, we’d chop the branches off the Christmas tree and keep the trunk. That would become next year’s Yule log.

*     *     *

When we finally met with the genetic counselor, we had to go over our complete medical histories, as well as answer a bunch of questions about our parents and grandparents. Not that I knew much about my family, but I filled her in on what I could.

Paul, on the other hand, was a walking encyclopedia of his family’s medical history. He had the counselor practically trilling with delight at the way his mind categorized and stored every pertinent piece of information—until he started asking her if a baby could have three genetic parents and if there was such a thing as spiritual DNA, as opposed to physical DNA, and how would it affect DNA mutations if the third string of DNA was non-human.

I discretely stomped on Paul’s foot and told the counselor (who looked like she was on the verge of calling Security) that Paul was fascinated by theoretical science and he couldn’t keep his mind from spinning off into fun tangents that had absolutely no grounding in reality. But if she indulged his wild flights of ‘what-if’ fancy, we’d be here all night.

As we returned to the waiting room, I punched Paul in the arm and told him to knock it off before they kicked us out.

There was a pitcher of citrus-infused water on a nearby table, so I poured Paul a cup and handed it to him. “You really need to start cutting back on caffeine. You’re about to jump out of your skin.”

“I’m just nervous. Aren’t you nervous? This is where we find out if we’re having a normal baby or a mutant.”

“Paul! This isn’t the X-Men. Of course, we’re having a normal baby.”

“No, you’re right. Of course. I’m just… being silly.” But he didn’t sound like he believed his disclaimer. Instead, he seemed to be getting tenser.

I poured myself a cup of water and sipped it. I was pretty sure the baby would be normal. At least, mostly normal. Maybe on the witchy-side of normal. Just a little extra-special.

But Paul really didn’t need to hear that.

*     *     *

Soon, it was time for the ultrasound.

I sat back on the table. Paul pulled a disc out of his pocket and gave it to the technician. I looked at him, quizzically.

“So they can make us a copy,” he explained.

I felt my face light up. Normally, I only got fuzzy print-outs from ultrasounds. “How cool is that? A 3-D digital image. I can’t wait to show Gus.”

Paul’s face darkened. “Don’t tell me Gus’s DNA is in the mix too.”

“Of course, it’s not.” I said. “We’re just friends.”

This was not the time to tell him that Gus had always been there for me and he was acting more like a father-to-be than Paul. Now that Paul was starting to get invested in the pregnancy, I didn’t want to say anything to jeopardize that.

I was hoping, by the time the baby was born, Paul would realize that he had been all worried for nothing. It would be great for the baby to have two dads in her life as well, instead of just me. Because, really, when it came to babies, I had no idea what I was doing.

“Fine. I’ll email you a photo so Gus can see it.”

Of course. His disc, his copy. I should have realized.

The technician must have seen the look on my face. “I think we have an extra disc here. I can make you both copies of today’s visit,” she said.

She started up the machine and smeared my exposed belly with goo. The doctor walked in, and the procedure started.

“First, we have to take some measurements,” the doctor explained, in his lilting Indian accent, as he moved the ultrasound wand in various patterns, sliding it through the goop on my skin. “We’re checking to see if there are any abnormalities in the baby’s development. We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary that may signify genetic defects or Down’s syndrome. Once we’re done, we’ll show you the baby on the monitor.”

“I’d like to see the entire process. I don’t need to wait until the baby is ready for its close-up.” I could have said,
‘the garbage can is on fire,’
for all the mind the doctor paid me. He was riveted on whatever he was seeing, directing the technician. She clicked computer keys, recording data and freezing images.

“I’d like to see the entire process too. I want to know if there’s anything at all odd about the baby. Even the tiniest little thing.” Paul said, tersely.

I frowned. No matter how nice he was trying to be, deep down, he was still afraid that this baby was going to be some kind of mutant. That we would somehow trap him forever, tied to us by an accident of genetics.

If I could have kicked him in the nuts without disturbing the doctor, I would have.

The doctor nodded and the technician turned the monitor to face us. The baby was curled up, floating in profile.

“Do you want to know the gender?” The doctor asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“Me too,” the doc said, laughing.