The Course of True Love by Jayel

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The Course of True Love (7/14)
by Jayel

"Julia?"

She was dreaming that Alonzo's chest was talking to her, only for some reason it sounded like Baines . . . .

"Hey, doc, you've got to come quick . . . . "

She opened her eyes, lifting her head slightly to give her fiance's stomach muscles a stern look. I mean, yeah, sure, they were perfect, but she wasn't about to converse with them in the middle of the night, particularly if they were doing impressions . . .

"What? Baines, is that you?" Alonzo's voice mumbled from somewhere above. "What's going on?"

"Yeah," Julia agreed through a yawn, shaking off the fuzzy silliness of sleep. "What's the matter?"

"It's Bess," Baines explained urgently. "She's in a lot of pain--she was screaming; didn't you guys hear it?"

"No," Alonzo said, sitting up and taking Julia with him. "Tell her we're on our way."

Wake up, stupid, she scolded herself, stumbling to her feet and grabbing for her diaglove. But the very idea that something might be wrong with Bess was enough to send her reeling, even if she'd been wide awake. Not the baby, she mumbled to herself as she and Alonzo sprinted through the snow--oh no, it was snowing, too? Please, just not the baby . . .

"I think it's the baby," Bess wept as they came in. "I started having these pains a couple of hours ago, like something was stabbing me in the back."

"It's all right, Bess," Julia said, hoping she sounded more convincing than she was convinced. "Everything's fine--"

"No, it isn't!" Bess cried, one hand still clinging to her husband's coat. "It hurts--" Her eyes suddenly widened, and she let out another blood-curdling screech. We managed to sleep through that? Julia thought incongruously as she eased the blankets down. "And I'm bleeding," Bess confided when the scream had died away. "I can feel it--"

"No, you're not," Julia assured her, looking up from her examination, too relieved to suppress her smile.

"Julia, I said I can feel--"

"What you feel isn't blood," the doctor promised, taking her other hand. "It's water . . . " She glanced around at the rest of the Eden Project, all crammed into the Martin's tent--even Uly and True were there, each holding one of Devon's hands. "Bess, your water broke," she explained. "The pains you've been feeling--they're contractions. You're having the baby."

"Wait--wait a minute," Morgan stammered. "No . . . it's too early, Julia. You said yourself it would be at least another month--"

"Obviously, I was wrong," Julia said, still grinning foolishly as she ran her diaglove over Bess' bared stomach. "What I mean is . . . when I made my initial determination on the date of conception, we were all under a lot of stress . . . "

"EVE," Bess agreed, her tired face suddenly beatific as Julia's words sank in. "Morgan, honey, remember the baby leaves? I must have been the same way--Our baby seemed smaller, less developed, because everything had just . . . stopped, right, Julia?"

"Something like that, yes," Julia agreed. "All life seemed to be in stasis, waiting for the contaminant to run its course. Obviously, you guys were a lot more pregnant than I realized. And in all of my examinations since, I've been studying the raw data in relation to that initial diagnosis--"

"But what about now?" Morgan demanded, for once sounding anything but hysterical. "What about the baby now--is it ready to come out?"

Julia checked her glove readings again. "I . . . well, I think so," she said slowly. "Everything seems perfect--"

"Seems?" Morgan said. "Listen, Doctor, this is our life you're talking about, our baby--How about a little certainty here?"

"Morgan, I'm sorry," Julia said truthfully. "I know how upsetting this must be, believe me, but that's as positive as I can be. The baby seems perfectly developed, if rather small, and obviously it thinks the time has come."

"It'll be okay, honey," Bess promised, reaching up for him.

He bent and kissed her lips just as another contraction hit. Her scream reverberated through his head like a lightning strike. "I suppose that's normal, too?" he asked Julia, glassy-eyed.

"I'm afraid so," she admitted with a smile.

"Come on, everybody," Devon ordered. "Let's give Bess some air, all right?" Magus, Baines and Walman filed out, with Yale and the kids right behind them. "Alonzo, are you coming?" Devon asked pointedly.

The pilot was apparently mesmerized, squatting by the cot, Terrian-style. "What?" he said when he realized everyone except Bess was staring at him. "Oh . . . " He reached out and put a hand over the one Bess had resting on her stomach. "Could I stay?" he asked her.

"Forget it, fly-boy," Morgan snapped. "If you think I'm going to let you sit--stand--be over there while my wife is giving birth, you've got another--"

"Are you sure you want to?" Bess asked.

Alonzo glanced up at Julia and grinned. "Yeah," he said. "I'm positive. I want to see what it's like."

"It isn't pretty," Julia cautioned, setting up the chair she and Bess had already chosen weeks before as the most likely candidate for "birthing stool".

"I can always leave if it gets too intense," Alonzo pointed out. "But I think it's going to be beautiful."

"Excuse me, but didn't I just say no?" Morgan interrupted.

"I think beautiful may be an over-statement," Bess said with a grin, putting a restraining hand on her husband. "But if you really want to stay, be my guest."

***

Gee, I wish I could tell how I felt, Devon laughed bitterly to herself. Standing with her back to the camp, she could hear Magus and Walman deep in conversation at the campfire. She could hear Yale's deep and patient voice explaining something, answering the chirp of Uly's questions--what's happening with Bess, no doubt. She could hear Bess cry out every few minutes, although now that she knew what was wrong, her cries sounded less like panic and more like . . . triumph? Yes, that was it--she remembered so clearly what that was like. Every contraction meant the strength of a new life coming into the world--every ounce of pain was a victory for life. She envied Bess, even her pain--if ever a moment had come when her head had felt clear and focused, if ever she had known exactly what it was that she wanted, that moment came when Uly was born. What must it be like for Julia, watching, helping, knowing her own time would be coming so soon? Was she afraid? Hard to imagine--Julia always seemed so fearless, especially at times like this, times when everyone else was hysterical. Maybe Devon envied her, too.

She turned her face up to the snow and let it fall softly on her skin, melting into the tears she hadn't realized she had shed. Crying . . . why? What did she have to cry about? Yale said this snow would be gentle, that it would probably melt away long before Bess was ready to travel again. So they could continue--New Pacifica would be that much closer, or at least the mountains that seemed to hold it just out of her reach. So why waste the energy to cry?

"I don't know; it sounds pretty gruesome back there," True said, joining her.

"What, you mean Bess?" Devon replied, finding a smile for the child.

"No, Yale," True corrected with an impish grin. "The more times I hear somebody talk about where babies come from, the more I know I don't want any." She took Devon's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do so and joined her in her perusal of the night. "Do you think it's snowing where Dad and Tara are?"

I hope it's falling in big, wet, heavy lumps and landing right square on their heads, Devon thought privately. "Probably," she said aloud. "But I'm sure they're all right."

"Me, too," True agreed. "Dad can handle it--Tara's probably freaking out." She laughed. "She told me she'd never seen actual snow fall before, only VR snow. Dad's probably ready to slug her."

"Oh, I doubt that," Devon said. "Besides, your dad has gotten much better at keeping his temper." She looked down. "You should be wearing a hat."

"I know," she sighed. "I'll go in and get one in a minute."

"You and Uly should go back to bed," Devon admonished, brushing the little girl's hair back from her forehead, the only caress she was reasonably certain the child would accept.

"No way," True said firmly. "Not until after the baby comes. Do they know what it is yet?"

"I don't think so," Devon answered. "Julia does, of course, but I think Morgan and Bess decided to let it be a surprise."

"I couldn't stand the suspense," True confided.

"Me either," Devon agreed with a grin.

"I asked Tara why she and Val never had kids, and she said she didn't want any," True continued as if one remark led naturally into another.

She wants you, kiddo, Devon longed to blurt out. "Some people don't," she said instead. "True, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

True looked up at her. "No," she said. "Do you mind it when I ask you questions?"

"Not usually," Devon replied, smiling. "I've been curious . . . why are you and Tara so close?"

She seemed to consider for a moment. "She let me talk about Gaal," she said at last. "I mean really talk about it . . . I was asking her about Reilly one night when Dad was away the last time, and she was telling me . . . but I guess I shouldn't tell about that. Anyway, it sort of reminded me of Gaal, and I said I knew what she meant."

"True, honey, you know you can talk to any of us about anything," Devon began, kneeling on the snowy ground to meet the child's eyes.

"I know, Devon, and . . . that's great, but . . . You guys always try to make me feel better, you know?" She seemed to be sorting out something far too complicated for her words. "Dad always says I shouldn't worry, that he'll never let anything like that happen to me again, and you and Bess always tell me it wasn't my fault, that I shouldn't feel bad about it. But sometimes I do feel bad, and I can't help it. And Tara . . . she understands that. She has a lot of things in her life that she feels bad about, too--she's not like you, Devon."

"So I gathered," Devon said dryly, unable to help herself.

"No, I don't mean it that way," True insisted. "You've always tried to do the right thing, the nice thing, even if it meant you didn't get your way. Tara's not like that . . . and sometimes, neither am I. I want to be--I'm trying to be." She blushed. "But sometimes . . . Anyway, it was easy to tell her everything, even stuff I had never told Dad, stuff I had had to lie about, because I knew she wouldn't be disappointed in me."

"Oh True . . . "

"And she just listened, Devon--she treats me like a grown-up, because she doesn't know how to treat me like a child. She's not this great mom like you--I can be friends with her without feeling like--" She broke off, staring at the ground.

"Without feeling like someone's taking your real mother's place," Devon finished gently.

"Yeah," True admitted, looking up. "I mean, sometimes when I hear Uly call you Mom, all I can think of is how much I'd like to call you that, too, and then I feel so awful . . . I never want to call Tara anything but Tara. Bess said she had an older sister when she was a kid, so maybe she knows how I feel."

"Maybe," Devon agreed, resisting the urge to draw the child close and hug her so tight she'd never get away

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings sometimes," True continued. "I never mean to, not really--"

"I think I understand," Devon interrupted with a smile. "That doesn't mean it's okay, but--"

"I know," True agreed. "I'll try to do better, I promise."

Devon did hug her then; she couldn't help it. "You're fine," she promised, kissing her hair so lightly she didn't feel it. "Now come on--let's get you a hat."

End of Part 7

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