George was afraid to look at Scout. He stared at the fire, taking such deep breaths that he made himself dizzy, and saw the flames swimming into each other. He knew that he was going to pass out.
"George? George, put your head between your knees." He heard Scout's voice as if from far away, and felt her cool fingers on the back of his neck, forcing his head down between his legs. "Take deep breaths, George. Can you hear me?" He tried to nod.
Eventually he sat up. He could feel her hand, comforting, rubbing his back, and he dreaded the feeling of loss when she took it away, when she took herself away, from him, from this room, this house, his life.
For how could she not? He'd just confessed to being a murderer. He hadn't even said that it was an accident, though he could have, and she would've believed him, he knew. But he'd told the truth. In that moment he'd hated Tessa, his heart had contained a blackness like he'd never known. She'd knowingly, willingly, paid someone to pull their defenseless, half-formed child out of the protection of her body, to suck him out in pieces or whatever, because she didn't want him.
How could she?
He'd looked at her face, her perfect and perfectly empty face, contorted now with fear and anger, fear of losing George and anger at being caught out, and simply pushed her--
He could remember the look of shock on her face as she reached out to grasp the railing and missed. He could remember the feeling of savage satisfaction.
No, he couldn't lie.
And now, Scout, his beloved, who carried another life, precious, soft, and vulnerable, a tiny girl, nestled inside her body, would take her and leave him, because how could she stay?
George turned blindly toward Scout where she sat on the couch, reaching for her, grasping. He pulled her tightly to his body.
"Please, oh dear god, please don't leave me, please don't take our baby and go," he whispered into her neck, taking a gasping breath of her honeysuckle scented hair.
He felt her arms wrap firmly around his back.
"No, George, no," he heard her reply. "Alis and I aren't leaving you. We love you. We love you."
George let out his breath. "Thank you. Thank you, darling." He pulled back so he could kiss her raspberry ice lips, over and over. "But I don't know how to protect you. How can I protect you?" he asked helplessly.
Scout sighed, a sound she'd make before picking up a heavy load. "I don't know," she admitted. "Though like you said, it's possible that what happened with Jess, and the fact that Alis is a girl are enough, you know?" She looked at George. "We'll just have to keep an eye out."
George bit his lip. "Now that I know you aren't thinking of leaving me, maybe it would be best if we were apart for a while--?" He looked at Scout carefully to see the effect of his words. "Maybe just until Alis is born? To be on the safe side--"
"No," Scout said firmly. "We're a team, George. We face everything together. Whatever is coming, we're stronger together than apart, I believe that with all my heart."
She grabbed his hand. "We'll deal with the fallout of what happened before as a couple, okay?"
George swallowed. "I have to ask. You really don't--care? About what I did?"
"You mean that you killed your wife?" Scout asked bluntly.
George closed his eyes and nodded.
"No, I don't," she said simply.
"How?" he asked. "How can you not care? You're one of the most moral, ethical people I know."
She looked around the room, thinking. "Well, it's like I said before," she finally began. "The Lawsons are a strange mixture. Under most circumstances, I think the laws of man are sacrosanct, and need to be followed. There are a few times, though, when I think higher laws, higher moral imperatives apply. When people are cruel to creatures who can't defend themselves? Those people need to be stopped, and those creatures need to be avenged, that's all." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Animals and children. If you inflict suffering on them, you need to be stopped, and you need to suffer." She looked at George and shrugged, as if it were a simple concept, and he was a little surprised at the cool logic he saw in her eyes.
George suddenly remembered learning about how, during the various wars in the United States, the thing prisoners of the various Indian tribes feared the most was being turned over alive to the women of the villages of their captors. He shivered a little.
"Or rapists. If you rape someone, you need to be stopped. And hopefully, suffer before you are." She blinked calmly, eyes beautiful and cold in the firelight. George's eyes widened even more at her words.
"But all Tessa did was terminate a pregnancy, well before the legal gestational age of twenty-four weeks, which is her right," George pointed out bitterly. "You're a strong supporter of a woman's right to choose, aren't you?"
"Twenty-four weeks?" Scout repeated, horrified. "That's practically where Alis is right now!" She shook her head. "Again, this would be one of those times, in my mind, at least, when a higher moral imperative applies to the laws of man. Yes, she was within her rights under the laws of man to terminate her pregnancy, but also yes, you were within your higher moral imperative to kill the bitch." She shrugged.
"Yes, I'm an ardent supporter of a woman's right to choose." She repeated George's words. "I find it repugnant that women have been held back and forced to bear children and denied access to safe abortions, I do." She placed a soft hand on George's cheek. "However, I also find it reprehensible that that horrible person played with your heart, your mother's heart, like she did, let you grow to love your child, give him a name, then did what she did because she decided he'd be an inconvenience to her lifestyle, that's all." She leaned in and kissed George, and, even given their serious and depressing circumstances, her lovely lips still made the butterflies start fluttering in his stomach.
"So, we've decided that we're just going to stay here, dig in, right?" Scout murmured, stroking George's hair, leaning her forehead on his.
He nodded, eyes closed. He was suddenly exhausted.
"Come on, let's get to bed," Scout said, standing.
First they had to go outside and get Bandit, who was lying down next to where they'd buried Jess. He refused to come, no matter how many times they called him. George finally had to give the command to heel, in a very firm voice, which Bandit reluctantly obeyed, tail drooping. It was awful to watch.
The three of them trooped upstairs, and George turned to Scout when they got in bed, needing to be close to her. She took him into her arms, tucking his head under her chin. He drew his damaged hands in close, between their bodies, and pressed his lips near her collarbone. He could feel little Alis spinning and turning against him in her watery home, warm and safe, and knowing she was there made his heart lurch.
"I love you, Scout, I love you," he whispered into her smooth, smooth skin.
Scout kissed the top of his blond head, rubbing his back, lifting her leg over his, pulling his body closer.
"I love you, too, George," she responded. "Now go to sleep, okay? You, and Alis, and I, the three of us, will sleep together, and be so close and safe, hm?"
He nodded and drifted off, trying only to think of the beauty and joy in his arms, and not the ugliness and horror he'd endured.
***********************
The next few weeks were a time of cautious calm at Farraway Mist. Scout and George kept an eye out for any untoward happenings, but nothing strange happened, and they were optimistic that maybe the taking of Jess signaled an end to the horrible occurrences. Scout worked almost nonstop on the library, trying to get it finished before Alis was born. Alfred and Sunil, who normally didn't have much to do during the winter months, were overjoyed to be called out to the house on a regular basis to help Scout with the heavy lifting of the books, and the three of them spent many happy days in the library, laughing together as they got things organized. More often than not, George would hear their merriment and join them.
"So, you boys have left school, finally, right?" George asked.
They nodded.
"What are your plans, then?" he continued.
"Well, we really wanted to go to medical school," Alfred admitted. "But that's a bit complicated with our family situation, you know?" He looked at Sunil, who nodded. "So we've decided to work another year here at Point Rosen, save our money, then do a course in London or maybe Bristol. Physician's assistant or something?"
Scout looked curiously at the boys.
"You both want to be doctors?" she asked.
They nodded, grinning.
"We've been mates since we were born, practically," Sunil said. "Just the way it is, you know? We've been together in everything we've ever done."
He smiled. "We even had our first kiss at our first dance on the same night," he confessed. "Sisters. Not that we planned it that way or anything," he said.
Scout smiled. "Well, aren't you two just the cutest young men in the world?" she asked rhetorically.
"We're not that much younger than you, Miss Scout," Alfred told her. "We're seventeen, you know. Aren't you twenty-four?"
She nodded. "I know," she said. "I just feel older, you know?"
George looked at his watch.
"Come on, guys, time to go."
George and Scout were picking up a stone birdbath for the garden in Point Rosen today, so they were going to give the boys a ride back to the village.
He helped Scout into the car, kissing her ever growing tummy as he buckled her in while the boys climbed into the back with Bandit and their bikes. Bandit, who had never been one to spend time alone before, had become like a burr since Jess's death, sticking to his people with the tenacity of a limpet.
George dropped off the boys, and they headed out of town to the rockery and nursery where they'd bought the birdbath.
Of course it was Scout, who was in full nesting mode, who noticed the building next to the nursery as they were leaving.
"Oh, George, look," she said, and he sighed when he heard her tone of voice.
"Scout, no," he said uselessly.
"But George," she said again, pointing. "Bandit's been all alone, all these weeks."
"Don't bring Bandit into this, he's fine," George said, shaking his head.
"Please, we can't just drive by," she said, pulling on his sleeve.
"Fuck," he said under his breath, pulling into the parking lot of the RSPCA.
They entered the building, which was of course noisy and smelly. Scout was holding George's hand tightly. Bandit, knowing when obedience was required, stayed put at Scout's heel.
The volunteer, a cheerful young girl with curly blonde hair, was rendered nearly speechless by the appearance of George Wilder in the waiting area of the RSPCA. She'd heard that he lived in an estate up the coast, but she'd never put much stock in that particular rumor, and now here he was, with a pregnant woman.
Holy moly.
"Hello! How may I help you?" she asked with a smile. She looked at Bandit uneasily. She hoped they weren't there to surrender what looked like a young, healthy animal.
Scout saw her look and hastily reassured her. "Oh no, no, we're not here for that! No, we're here to look at the dogs."
"Oh! Oh, okay, follow me, then," the girl, whose name tag said "Laura", called out.
She led them down a row of cages, filled with barking, pitiful dogs, all clamoring for attention. And as George had known would happen, Scout was tearful by the time they got to the end of the row. She turned to George, stricken.
"Jesus, George, what can we do?" she asked.
He shrugged helplessly. "There's nothing we can do, darling, you knew that before we came in, didn't you? These places are miserable." He hugged her, stroking her tummy after. "Now you're all upset, and to what purpose?"
She looked at him, beautiful eyes limpid pools of sorrow, and nodded. She finally turned and began walking back the way they'd come. They walked by a nearly closed door and Scout heard tiny whining sounds. She pushed the door open and saw an absolutely emaciated black dog nursing two puppies on a blanket in the corner of the little room.
"Oh." Scout dropped to her knees to watch them, and, again, George heard all the warning sounds in that one syllable.
"Scout," he said, blowing his cheeks up as he let out a breath.
"We don't really think these three are going to make it," Laura admitted in a low voice. "Someone brought her in last night. Found her in an old barn? Born out of season, no food for who knows how long. She had two other pups, but they were already gone, like." She turned to talk to Scout, sensing she was the one to work on. "We've been giving the mum food and water, but they might all be too far gone, you know?"
"Are they available for adoption?" Scout asked hopefully.
George's heart sank.
"Really?" Laura replied, surprised. "Well, yeah, but would you want them? They're going to require a lot of care and a lot of money, like, you know? And they might not make it anyway?" She looked at George. "You wouldn't mind?"
George sighed and looked at Scout, who held her hand out to him for help rising from her knees. He looked back at Laura and shook his head. "No, we wouldn't mind," he said with a smile.
"Oh, George, thank you, thank you," Scout said, radiating lambent joy that made George feel like he could fly if he wanted to.
He took her in his arms, right there in the smelly RSPCA, in front of Laura, and kissed her. "Already worth it, darling, just for the way you're looking at me right now," he admitted.
Twenty minutes later they were headed home in the twilight, the back of the SUV loaded down with a birdbath, a confused border collie, a very skinny nursing mother dog, and two newborn puppies.