Brett and Elizabeth Ch. 01

It had bothered him when his dick had grown hard after seeing Elizabeth's bra and panties, and then again when he carried her down the hall to his bed. For a brief moment he'd wanted to climb in next to her and take her in his arms and-

"Jesus Christ, stop it!" Brett cursed aloud, angry at himself for even thinking it. He willed his sister from his brain and tried to think of something else. He fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of babies, fathers, and sisters.

The sound of vomiting woke Brett Saturday morning. Through the fog of interrupted sleep, he jumped to his feet, momentarily forgetting he was on the couch. He slammed his toe on the steamer trunk for his troubles.

"OW!" He grabbed it with one hand and hopped down the hall to the bathroom.

There was his sister, bent over the toilet bowl, heaving her guts out. Except she had nothing to bring up but bile. He realized then she was in the throes of morning sickness.

"You OK?" Brett asked with a frown.

Elizabeth shook her head no as she heaved again.

"Can I do anything? Do you need something?" Brett felt helpless and needless just standing there.

"No. Go," she croaked. With her left hand she tried to hold her hair back and with the right she held the toilet. But she had alot of hair and it was threatening to fall out of her grip into the bowl. Her gut heaved again. She made an awful retching sound. In spite of herself, she started to cry.

"Aw, Sprite, let me help you." Brett went and knelt down next to her. He gathered her hair up in one large hand so she could use both of hers to help steady herself. She bent over the toilet twice more before she was done. Brett pulled her into his arms.

"Gonna make it?" he asked, trying to sound lighthearted.

"Not if this keeps up." She felt completely spent, and she'd only been awake ten minutes.

"Want to go and lay back down for a while?"

"Yes, please."

So Brett helped her to her feet and down the hall to his room where he tucked her back into his bed.

"Thanks." Elizabeth smiled up at him.

"You're welcome." He returned the smile and kissed her unbruised cheek. He turned to leave.

"Stay. Don't go," she pleaded.

"Don't you want to go back to sleep?" It was only six a.m.

"Not yet. Sit with me for a few?"

"Sure, Sprite. Can I get you anything? Some water or crackers or something?" Wasn't that what pregnant women ate?

"Naw, I'm OK. Thanks, though." She moved over to give him room.

Brett sat on the bed next to her and stretched out his legs. He leaned back against the headboard. "Have you told Jim yet?"

"No. I'm not sure how he's going to take it."

"Hopefully like a man," Brett snorted. Though he had his doubts, he didn't voice them to his sister. She didn't need to hear that right then.

Elizabeth moved to rest her head on Brett's thigh. "I was foolish, wasn't I, Brett." It wasn't a question she was asking.

Brett stroked her hair, thinking for a moment. "I wouldn't say foolish, just too trusting. Jim should have known better than to not use anything. He should have been more responsible. Yet, you're not completely blameless either, Sprite. You know what makes a baby, and now you've got to pay the piper." He paused for a moment, then continued, "What do you think he'll say?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I have no idea. Probably won't be too happy, I'd imagine." Elizabeth had her doubts about Jim, just like her brother, though she didn't say so.

Before long, Elizabeth felt herself drifting off. She yawned into Brett's thigh, so he took that as his cue to leave her to sleep. But his sister had other ideas.

"Stay here," she mumbled, now almost asleep.

The bed was much more comfortable than the couch, there was no denying that. And Brett did still feel tired. He shrugged and slid down to lay next to Elizabeth. If having him next to her was what she needed, then that's what he'd give her.

Saturday passed by slowly for Elizabeth. Brett was gone in the afternoon, over to his friend Dave's house to get his truck out of the pole barn. He'd wanted her to go with him, if for no other reason than to give her something else to think about, but she refused. She didn't even want to go see Dave's little sister, Alicia, who was her best friend. Brett said he'd drop her off at Alicia's parents to visit, then pick her up on the way home, but she wasn't interested in that, either. She just didn't feel like seeing anyone.

At six that evening the deep rumble of the Chevy four hundred big block caught her ears. Brett was home with the truck, the Charger safely winterized and stored away in the pole barn. He walked in carrying her suitcase and an overnight bag. He dumped them both on the floor just inside the door.

"You got my stuff?" Elizabeth looked at him with big, wide blue eyes. She stood and made her way over to him.

"Yeah. I stopped by the house on my way home. I couldn't grab it all, just your warm stuff." It wouldn't be long and winter would be full upon them.

"Thank you, so much." She was deeply touched he'd done that, though not surprised. She knew how much he disliked going home. She put her arms around his waist and held tight. "Was he there?"

"No. But I'd have done it anyway." He reached up and stroked her hair.

"Does this mean I can stay a few days?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"Sprite, you can stay here as long as you want, I don't care."

"Really? For real? I swear, Brett, I'll stay out of your way, I promise. When you bring a girl home, I'll leave. I won't get in your way, I swear I won't!" She squeezed him as hard as she could. The air went out of him with a whoosh and a grunt. Elizabeth was surprisingly physically strong.

Elizabeth managed to hold down her dinner, which consisted of a scrambled egg and toast. Brett had fried bacon, but the smell alone nearly caused her to make a run for the bathroom.

Their evening was peaceful and Elizabeth fell asleep early. She'd changed out of her brother's clothes and was now wearing her own. Brett looked down to where she lay, her head resting in his lap, and wondered how long she'd be able to wear them.

Brett carried her down the hall for the second night in a row. His large bed looked so comfortable, he dreaded going back to the couch. But he would have if only Elizabeth hadn't woke up.

"Don't leave me." She reached out a small hand to him. He came back to her side.

"I won't if you don't want me to, Sprite. I'm here."

She moved over and he slipped off his jeans and climbed in next to her. "It's been a long time since we spent this much time in the same bed."

But Elizabeth didn't hear him. She was already fast asleep, curled up into a ball with her head pressed against his shoulder, his arm firmly in her grip.

Sunday morning the vomiting ritual began anew. It was a horrible start to what would turn out to be an equally horrible day.

Jim called Elizabeth at Brett's house late that morning. Their Mother had told him she was staying there; nothing more, nothing less. Brett answered the phone, then handed it to his sister without a word. He retreated to the kitchen to give her some privacy and could hear nothing but the low intermittent murmur of Elizabeth's voice.

After what seemed like an hour of silence, Brett made a cautious return to the living room. Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, still holding the phone in her hand. Tears fell silently dwon her cheeks. Brett's heart slammed so hard he thought it would come right on through his chest wall. It nearly killed him to see how broken she was. He cursed his Father a million times over and placed the blame for it all squarely at his feet.

Brett said nothing, just went and sat down next to his little Sprite. She threw her arms around him and cried. Cried harder than she ever had in her life; and she had a lifetime of tears to shed.

"Aw, Sprite," he whispered. "It's OK." Over and over again, he whispered it to her.

"He- he said doesn't love me. He never did," Elizabeth choked out when she could. "He wanted to know how I knew the baby was his. I've never even been with anyone else! God, how could I be so stupid, Brett?"

"You're not stupid," he insisted. "Just trusting. And that's not a terrible thing." Brett spoke quietly, trying to be as gentle as he could with her. But underneath the calm facade he was completely enraged. The only thing keeping him from hopping in his truck and going to kick the shit out of fucking Jimbo was his crying, sobbing mess of a little sister.

"Now what? Now what the hell do I do, Brett?"

"We'll deal with it, Sprite, OK? You're not alone." He kissed her then, more in an effort to quiet her down than anything. What he didn't count on was the effect it had on him.

It wasn't a deep, loving kiss; more of a slow peck on the lips, really. Yet it may as well have been for all it did to make Brett's penis swell in his pants. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks; he was beginning to want his sister. He attempted to shove the feelings aside and succeeded, for the most part.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "We'll work it out," he repeated. "You need to think about what you want to do and weigh your options, Sprite."

"I don't know what my options are, Brett."

"Well, you can keep it, give it up. Or you can have an abortion." He didn't mince his words.

Elizabeth was quiet for a few minutes. "I don't know if I could do that," she whispered.

"No one said you had to, it's only one option. That leaves keeping it and raising it alone, or giving it up after you have it." Brett paused, "Sweetheart, you don't have to make any decisions right now, OK? You've got some time to think on it."

She had been thinking about it. Alot. Nonstop since she'd found out last Thursday. Yet for all that it had consumed her, she was still unable to think of the thing growing in her as a baby. No, no, it was just a mass, a bunch of cells. A little bean. A nothing. A nothing that was making her violently ill every morning. A nothing that caused her to feel so dragged out by noon that she had to go sleep for hours, then get up and still feel like shit.

When she looked in the mirror, she still saw herself, same as always. She hadn't changed, though she felt like she had. Same long, curly auburn hair that hung well past her shoulder blades. Same bright blue eyes. Her breasts, while tender now, had yet to increase in size; they were still little things, perfectly proportioned to the rest of her. Her waist was still slim, with her hips flaring out, then tapering down her thighs to her small calfs, all the way to her size six feet. No, physically she hadn't changed at all.

Elizabeth woke up at five that evening after sleeping most of the afternoon away. She lay there quietly in Brett's bed, thinking of him. She turned over, onto the other side and buried her face into the sheets. She could smell his scent there, lingering on the bed covers. He smelled so good, so familiar. For a brief second all of her troubles vanished as she remembered the soft, gentle way his lips had touched hers. Elizabeth's stomach quivered just then; she knew it was much to soon to feel the bean moving. A frown marred her pretty face as she wondered about what she'd just felt. She groaned and pushed her face into a pillow.

She heard a car pull into the driveway, heard the car door open and slam shut. Footfalls on the porch, then the sound of someone trying to batter down the front door.

What the hell? Elizabeth thought. She rose up on her knees and parted the blinds with her hands. She let out a startled gasp when she saw who it was.

Their Father had arrived.

To be continued...