Page 20 of Nine of Swords
16
Sydney
I am pregnant.
And I’m calm.
Maybe I’m in shock, which wouldn’t begin to cover the extent of my reaction to learning there’s a baby growing in my belly. As I sit in the back seat of Aiden’s SUV on our way to the meeting site, I look out the window, absently taking in the people going about their lives like any other day in this city. The world didn’t end for them, though for me, it might.
I look down into my purse on my lap again. Inside, at the top above my neatly placed wallet and other belongings, three used pregnancy sticks rest there. Every one of them is positive. One has two pink lines. Another shows a big check mark in the test result window. And in the third, two faint pink hearts side by side. Three different brands of test can’t be wrong. That’s what Aiden said after I stepped out of the pharmacy restroom in a daze, the three sticks still in my clenched fist. Now, there they are, a continued confirmation that in the not too distant future, there will be one more Rowan running from a past they had no say in.
I should be rattled and terrified.
Except I’m not.
Not yet.
Blade’s words are still ringing in my ear. That it’s time I leave my safety in his capable hands. That it’s his baby too. That he won’t let any harm come to me or my child.
Our child.
I want to believe I can be that woman. The kind who places her faith in her man and lives worry-free. Like my mother had, before reality showed up at her door and proved otherwise. She couldn’t protect herself. Neither could my father, for that matter. But out of their tragedy, here I am, still topside and breathing, still fighting for another day, hoping for a future they didn’t have the opportunity to witness.
There’s no doubt in my mind that I can protect myself. The big question I have now is, do I have what it takes to watch my back and watch over a delicate, fragile new life? Every time Aiden drives over a bump or avoids one, the three positive pregnancy sticks roll around and come to rest in precarious positions inside my bag. He brakes hard at a stop light and one disappears down in between my wallet and the Velcro case tucked to one side, containing the compact switchblade I take with me everywhere. Will that little knife be enough to keep us both out of harm’s way?
As I try to find an answer that would give me some reassurance, I notice the other two tests, their tips touching the zippered pocket where I keep Mom’s locket. Knowing it’s sitting safely inside that pocket gives me some comfort. I’ve hung onto this delicate little piece of jewelry for more than half my life. It was never left behind, or damaged, or forgotten. My precautions and care for it over the years is the reason it’s still in my possession. Sure, caring for a precious little human is going to take more effort, more time, and more attention. I didn’t ask for this little life to come to being inside of me, but now that it’s here, a piece of Blade, and of me, I want to stand witness to its will to be here. I want to believe that between the two of us, this child can have a better life because both of us are in it.
The buzz of Blade’s phone in my skirt’s side pocket gets my attention. It’s his third text since I ended the call in the pharmacy. I wasn’t ready to reply before.
But now, I want to let him know he was right.
“We’re here,” Aiden says, and comes to a stop beside a construction site. “This is where he wants to meet?”
He points toward a two-story house on the other side of the street. “That’s the place, but it doesn’t look like you’ll need to go inside.”
On a closer look at the front of the building, I realize what he means. Standing at the front door is a short, middle-aged woman. She’s wearing an all-black, shirt suit, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun, and in her hands is a large, white cardboard sign with my name written in capital letters. My real name.
“Stay here,” Aiden says. “I’ll check it out first.”
Stepping out of the driver’s seat, he unholsters his handgun and leaves his palm on the strap as he crosses the road. The index and middle finger of his other hand presses his wireless earpiece. He’s probably checking in with whoever he reports to on the other end. Or maybe he’s talking to Blade. One thing I know for sure is he’s not alone here. He wouldn’t approach such an exposed location without backup. Someone must’ve made it here sometime before and gave him the all clear. The lady waiting at the door lifts a white envelope in one hand when Aiden is close enough. Setting down the cardboard sign, she flips the envelope around and opens the seal in front of him, passing over a few folded sheets of paper. They exchange a few words and Aiden nods, then turns and makes his way back to the SUV.
Somewhat peeved but mostly curious, I roll down my window. “What’s going on?”
“Read this.”
“Are we not meeting anymore? Did something happen?”
“That woman says she was hired by the client to deliver this message to you. It doesn’t sound like he ever intended to show up. She says the note explains everything and that she’s simply a courier. But don’t you worry, we have a surveillance resource that will follow her for the next few days to verify whether or not she has any connection to the client.”
I’m bordering on angry. How dare this man or whoever it is stand me up this way? I need to see the face of the person who decided it was his business to keep me safe. I have a lot of questions. This letter is not what I want. I wanted to have every question answered honestly. Like why he took it upon himself to put a security detail on me. Is he some long lost relative of mine, finally ready to show up in my life and play some kind of role or have a relationship with his only living relative now? And why does he prefer to remain a nameless, faceless benefactor, then had a change of heart?
My heart is racing, my stomach is in knots, and my fingers shake as I unfold the pages and prepare to read the contents.
This is not my idea of closure.
Not even close.
17
