Chapter 14

Autumn came, bringing fresh, chilly winds scented with fallen leaves and moist earth. September bore no Indian Summer for us this year, and what with the sweltering days of June, July, and August it was difficult to say if we were relieved for the coolness of fall, or disappointed we had no prolonged summer.

It felt strange not to be going to school. On September third I awoke early, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light of our room wondering why I had woken. It took a moment to realize it, but suddenly I knew it was because my body had expected school today, in some unusual residual way, even after all the weeks of summer.

But we had graduated, and had other things to reckon with at the moment. College was on hold, and in most ways I was glad for the respite, and would have it no other way. Still ... it felt strange.

Mel rolled over to face me subconsciously, murmuring and grumbling to herself in her sleep. When she flinched and snorted loudly out of nowhere it took all I had not to laugh out loud, and my pensive mood lifted and left me. This was much more important than any school to me. Mel, our child ... our life together. I bent to kiss her head tenderly, and my hand drifted to her tummy in instinct, as it often did these days. She was almost finished her seventh month; the baby was due mid-November.

As my lips touched her temple, I felt something move in Mel’s belly, and I took my hand away quickly, surprised and startled by the movement. Ours had been a quiet child so far, and seldom had moved inside her. In truth, this was the first time I had felt it kick. Mel had, a few times, but usually at work, when she was reading something particularly thrilling in the stories, and I was not with her.

Cautiously, my hand returned to her bare, swollen midriff. The baby moved again, kicking, I thought, and I just gazed at her tummy in awe. Our child was squirming within her.

Mel awoke slowly, yawning and rubbing grit out of her eyes.

‘Why’m I awake?’ She slurred sleepily, obviously displeased at being woken.

‘Did I wake you?’ I murmured quickly, apologetic.

‘No... ‘ She yawned hugely, and said while she did it, ‘something else. I feel I should be ... doing something, today. Now. But ... what?’

‘School?’ I suggested, since I had suffered from the same thing.

‘Yes!’ Mel exclaimed. ‘That’s it exactly.’ Then she smiled a mellow smile, a pleased look. ‘But we haven’t school. We can sleep more if we want.’

‘Yes, my love. Do you want?’

‘I want,’ she said, grinning, her eyelids fluttering even as she said it, as if they were very heavy.

I thought Mel was asleep when suddenly she said, in a murmuring tone of voice, ‘What was that funny look on your face when I woke up? Did you realize something?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I did feel our child move in you.’

Mel smiled briefly, lovingly, and it didn’t mean less for being short. She was half asleep, after all. ‘Hm,’ she sighed. ‘That’s you in there ... you, inside me.’ She was quoting a film we’d watched a few weeks before, with Molly Ringwald in.

‘Yes,’ I murmured, and kissed her ever so gently. Melody settled into me as best she could with her tummy in between us, and easily fell back asleep. It did not take me too very long to join her.

We had been moving, very gradually, into our new house for about a month--ever since we’d got it. It was a slow process since both of us worked and Mel could only pack so much, not at a liberty to work so hard or lift things too heavy, or to bend over so much--it was sometimes hard for her to get up when she did. As a result, I did the majority of the packing. I didn’t mind, though. Mel kept me company, sitting close to me and helping when she could, and reading aloud to me when she couldn’t. We went through many days and books like that.

Today, after we slept as we wanted, was one of those days. It was the Saturday after I’d felt our child in her stomach, and we were both done our work for the week, happy for the days off and the quiet time together.

September had brought us a light, insistent rain today, and it had been drizzling softly for hours now, before we’d even gotten up this morning.

Mel was lying on our bed facing me, idly smoothing her hands over her tummy. I was packing a few boxes at the other end of the room, some heavier things. Fleetwood Mac was playing quietly on the stereo.

‘Burton?’ She said suddenly.

‘Mm? What is it, love?’ I was focussed on the box, taping it and labelling carefully. My mum had warned us many times about the ‘dangers’ of leaving moving boxes unlabelled.

‘Do you want to be there?’

‘There?’

‘Yes, when I’m giving birth, do you want to be with me?’

I looked up at her, forgetting the boxes for the time being.

‘My love, I couldn’t not be there. I have to be there with you. I couldn’t stand being stuck outside a closed door listening to you moan and scream and being able to do nothing, even if only to comfort you.’

Mel wrinkled her nose, but she smiled.

‘I don’t think I’ll scream,’ she said. ‘They ham that up in the movies a lot, I think. Maybe I’ll groan, yes, but I don’t think I’ll scream.’

I smiled again. ‘Of course you won’t, you’re my fighter.’

Mel grinned back. ‘Thank you--for wanting to be there. I wasn’t sure you would.’

We’d never talked on the subject before. It had never come up, and didn’t seem necessary. I’d always just assumed I Would be there for her, when the time came.

‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Where are you going to give birth?’

‘Home,’ she said. ‘In OUR home.’

I knew already Mel didn’t want to have our baby in a hospital; she wanted a home birth, but which home, I hadn’t known.

We smiled at each other, content and at ease with the decision. Mel opened her arms for me and I abandoned our packing and came to her.

I pressed kisses into her hair and to her mouth. Her fingers ran gently through my own hair and pulled my face back down to hers softly.

‘Let’s not pack for a while,’ she suggested, breaking away for a moment.

I was in no mood to disagree, and thought that a little afternoon delight was a perfect suggestion and completely in order. We shed our clothes in no hurry, kissing and touching in between, the pittering sound of the rain coming in our wide-open windows along with the scent of rain in the earth.

I made love to her breasts, kissing and stroking them gently, teasing Mel’s nipples easily into stiff peaks. I buried my face in her breasts, into their softness, and she laughed gently at my adoration.

We were nearly naked now--the only things separating us were our underclothes. Through Mel’s panties I tortured her sweetly, stroking her through the soft cotton as I kissed her mouth. Moisture soaked through the material, and she gasped and wiggled against my fingers, my palm, the butt of my hand, begging me to take the panties off and bury myself deep within her.

I took mercy on her and obeyed her first pleas, to remove the panties, but instead of my cock I loved her with my mouth, tasting the spicy sweetness between her legs and stroking her smooth, slippery flesh with my tongue. Her taste had changed since she’d gotten pregnant, more intense somehow, and I breathed it in like perfume.

Every cry, I revelled in, every movement and moan. Her head thrashed on the pillows, her hips arched up. She reached ecstasy several times, yet still she pleaded with me that I might be inside her. Finally, I sat up and removed my boxers. Mel turned away from me eagerly. She was too big now for us to make love with me on top of her, and today she had been tired, and did not have the energy to ride me.

So I came up behind Mel as the big spoon, pressing kisses to her neck, flush against her back, and guided myself to her sweet, sweet pussy.

It had been about three days since we had last made love. These days it was more difficult to do so, despite our want and need to, and some days Mel was just too tired or sore, or, rarely, it hurt her to have me deep within her.

I sank into her with a moan I could not keep back, feeling snug and safe within her, warm and hugged tight, and she was so, so wet.

Mel moaned too, burying her face in the pillow. It was the middle of the day, of course, and people were about.

‘I needed you, so badly,’ she whispered raggedly.

I nuzzled her neck, and murmured, ‘I needed you too.’

One arm around her, I began to move, slowly but surely.

‘Does it hurt you at all today?’

Mel shook her head. ‘No, love. It just feels good.’ She reached down for her top leg and held it up to help me. It did make it easier to reach deeper in her, and my breathing quickened. It would be so easy to let go already, it felt so lovely ... but I stopped myself. It would be even better if I waited.

My hand delved between her thighs as I pressed in her, hard now, with more urgency. With her leg out of the way, there was very easy access. I rubbed her between the lips, and her clit, rewarded with extra gasps and her hips pushing back at me needfully. Mel had told me once that when I rubbed her there while I was inside her that she needed me all the more desperately, deeper, faster, harder, more.

All of those things I gave her, my face in her shoulder. She was gasping and moaning in turns, short of breath, and twisted her neck to kiss me on the mouth.

These days, it was easy for me to tell when she was going to cum, and I knew she was now. Her pussy rippled and squeezed all along my cock spastically, greatly encouraging me to spill my seed deep inside her, and oh, how I wanted to. How I needed to.

My hand rubbed her more rapidly, and I plunged into her deeper. Mel cried out and I felt her lose herself, flushed and starry-eyed, as I pressed into her a few more times as I came, too, and she milked all the sperm from me.

We lay tangled up together, collecting our breath, and I stayed lodged inside her, stroking her auburn curls softly.

‘I love you, Burton,’ she murmured, close to sleep now. I kissed her forehead and reached to the nightstand for some tissues. As her breathing deepened and she slept, I eased myself from her reluctantly and cleaned her up before slipping from the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, and dressing.

There were still boxes to be packed, and she needed her sleep.

We opened the door and stepped into my mum and dad’s house, greeted by the welcome rush of warm air from the furnace. The air outside was lovely and fresh in its chilliness, but nonetheless, it was cold.

‘What’s the smell?’ I called out joyfully to Mum, who was in the kitchen. I stepped out of my boots and bent to help Mel with hers. She, in turn, unwound the scarf from my neck and hung up my jacket as I unlaced the boots and pulled them gently from her feet.

‘Cider,’ Mum called happily, ‘and cocoa. Care for a warm drink?’

‘Sure,’ Mel agreed readily, and I couldn’t have been more in tune with her. It was nice to wrap the hands around a pleasantly hot mug of something which would warm you from the inside out. The rain had stopped, and Mel had woken, and now we were on the move.

As we stepped into the kitchen, I gazed at the huge pots on every burner of the stove with curiosity. I saw Mel looking too, and gave voice to our thoughts.

‘What are you doing, Mum? What’s with all the pots?’

‘Jam,’ she said, stirring the hot milk on the burner, for cocoa. ‘And applesauce.’

Mel brightened. She greatly loved the harvest of the autumn season, and all the preserving that went with it.

‘Can I help, Eunice?’ Mel asked, pulling out a kitchen chair and sitting down slowly with an audible groan.

Mum and I both noticed it. ‘Only if you’re able, sweet,’ Mum said, cleverly. ‘Don’t want you to tax yourself.’

‘I could peel apples right here,’ Mel suggested, in her usual determined, innovative manner.

‘Sure,’ Mum agreed, ‘but only after your drink. What’ll you have?’

Mel glanced wistfully at the warming milk, wishing for cocoa. ‘Cider, please,’ she said instead, sighing a little. The doctors had warned her against caffeine, and while Mel didn’t drink coffee often--its acidity did a number on her stomach--chocolate was an incredibly more difficult temptation to avoid.

‘Cocoa won’t hurt just this once,’ Mum assured her, understanding immediately. ‘I’ll even put less cocoa powder in, just for you.’

Mel grinned sunnily. ‘Great! Thanks.’

I decided on cider for myself, and even Mum came and sat with us at the table as we sipped and laughed.

‘Early winter coming this year,’ Mum sighed. ‘Fall is always such a short season. We’re expecting snow by the end of October.’

‘Farmer’s Almanac?’ I guessed, smiling slyly.

She nodded. ‘They’re never very wrong.’ Mum turned to Mel and patted her hand. ‘You’ll have a snow baby, dear.’

Mel grinned at the thought, sipping her warm cocoa and effectively giving herself a brown moustache. I kissed it away and she beamed at me.

‘We’re leaf-burning next Sunday,’ Mum told us. ‘We’ll roast sausages over the fires, and toast, and have hot tea all day. Would you two want to come?’

‘We’re here next Sunday,’ I reminded her, ‘and even if we weren’t, we’ll only be next door.’

Mel and I shared a look, and I said, ‘We’d be happy to help out. The leaf burning is always fun.’

‘We’re hoping to be moved into the new place by the beginning of October,’ Mel told her.

‘I’ll help you get kitchen supplies, then,’ Mum said, setting down her cup and getting the bowl of apples from the counter. She handed Mel a paring knife and took one up herself.

‘Can we have Thanksgiving at our house?’ Mel asked me, and when I nodded, she turned back to Mum. ‘Would you come?’

‘Of course we would. Everyone would come,’ Mum said without missing a beat.

The walk back to the D’Mitri house was short, but pleasant. It was very dark by the time we came back, even though it was only eight o’clock. Mel and I had stayed for the entire jam-and-applesauce-making process, and returned home with several jars of the stuff.

Red was sitting at the kitchen table with his shirtsleeves undone and rolled up casually, his usual tie nowhere to be seen. His school began in few days, later the public ones, so he was still home for a bit.

Across the table, shuffling and dealing the next hand in crib, was Rowena. She’d been a frequent visitor lately, and we’d seen a change come over her as well, recently. Laughing more often, more relaxed, not so serious--just as Red had done. Evidently, they were good for each other. Many times Mel and I had been in our room and heard the next-door occupants engaging in some intimate activity which aggravated the shared wall. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for the constant good moods they both seemed to be in.