My Teddy Bear Ch. 07

When I get back to the van, walking a little gingerly from the strange feeling in my crotch due to the gel, lube and lingering sensations from having a rigid piece of technology all the way up there, Ted jumps out at the sight of me and picks me up in a huge bear hug. Laughing, I shower him with kisses and show him the pictures. He cries at the sight, and hugs me again, so tight I can hardly breathe. We spend a good ten minutes in the cab poring over the images, each with a hand on my belly, giddy with excitement.

"Take me home, Teddy Bear," I whisper in his ear, kissing and slightly nipping at his earlobe, to show him exactly what I have in mind.

***

I'm getting back from another blood test, about a week after the scan. Teddy's busy today so I had to get there on foot. I didn't run there for fear of distorting my metabolites, so it's taken most of the day. A very pleasant journey out in nature. Now that I'm home though, something doesn't feel right as I approach my room. My door is slightly open - unusual - but also, I can't hear any noise elsewhere in the house and I didn't pass anyone on the way in.

My mum's sitting on the bed, face tear stained. She's holding something in her lap, but I can't tell what it is.

"You're back. Where have you been?"

The question is loaded. She isn't asking what her words appear to. I feel the reckoning that must be coming. She knows, but how? I don't answer her.

"Your sister told me. What she... saw. And heard."

Cold fury. Jaw clenching. Trying to keep control. "What did she see and hear?"

"Don't be cute Claire. You know what I'm talking about. You... and ... Edward. Your brother." She can barely even make herself say it. "*Together*."

Once again, I don't see the point in answering her.

"You don't even try to deny it. I hoped it wasn't true... a mistake. Or Joanie's overactive imagination." She stops abruptly. "But I also had a feeling. Another feeling. And then I found this."

She reveals what's in her hands. The ultrasound.

"Now it all fits together. What did you think would happen Claire? How much longer did you think you could pretend this wasn't happening? I noticed your appetite, your boobs getting so big... weeks ago, and suspected. I don't think anyone else will have seen, yet. But I knew." She looks down at the grainy picture, wiping tears away with the back of one hand. "At first, I was even excited, despite the secrecy. I thought maybe you had a new boyfriend, and this was something to be happy about. A grandchild!" A pause. "But then your sister told me what she saw and... it all falls into place."

"Give me the picture." I demand. I can see now, where she's been through my things to find it. The slight disarray on the dresser; a drawer out of place. "That's mine."

"You need to get rid of it, Claire," she manages to croak, voice unsteady. "You have to."

"It's too late for that," I spit back at her. "Of the small mercies I can at least be thankful that no-one will be able to kill my baby."

She sighs, halting and ragged from her tears. "If your father finds out... when he finds out, I don't know what he'll do. I won't be able to protect you from him." She meets my eyes, piercing and fierce. "You won't be able to hide this for long. A few more weeks at most. All that fucking *running*, Claire... if you were fat at least you'd be able to conceal... *it* a lot longer."

I stand before her, fuming, protective hands across my belly. "*It* is your grandchild, mother. Conceived in love and thankfully, wonderfully healthy. She'll be perfect."

"She?" A sharp look.

I gesture meaninglessly. It's just a feeling, but I couldn't follow her lead and say *It* again.

"*Your* baby." She muses on my words from before. "Claire, what did you think was going to happen? You're a smart girl... how could you let it get to this point? Were you ever going to tell us? What lie would you have created to hide the truth?"

"I don't know," is all I can miserably offer. I've been trying to figure this out for weeks, and nothing credible was coming to mind. The only thing I had, that lame story about being tumbled by a local lad, is clearly not going to cut it now.

She breathes out, halting and laboured. Conflict playing across her features. "I want to be *proud* of my grandchildren. I wanted to tell everyone that my eldest daughter is pregnant. I wanted to dote on you and cherish you and share this new step with you. I wanted... I wanted this to be *normal*." A big sob bursts from inside her. "How can I be proud... of this."

I'm crying, silently, on my knees in front of her, speechless, waiting for the next diatribe. "I'll have to watch what I say and never let anybody know; I'll have to find a way to pretend that my clever daughter, who went to university, is actually just some dumb country slut who somehow got knocked up by a stranger right under our noses at a time when you couldn't even leave the house. I'll have to find some way to prevent your father ever from knowing. All the lies we'll have to spin. Claire did you at *any* point think through *what this would do* to us?"

"If people find out... I don't care what they think. I love him. He wants this. He's desperate to be a father."

She just looks at me, blurry eyes disbelieving. "Are you prepared to go to prison over this? Because that's that will happen if you let people know the truth. Years. *Years* for both of you, not being there for your baby. You can't want that Claire. That's the only outcome if you don't manage to keep this secret."

I hadn't thought of that. I had known, obviously, that it's illegal, but I had thought it would be a don't ask, don't tell kind of thing. Like with the other stuff I haven't fully worked out, I hadn't thought about the danger of the secret getting exposed.

In the absence of having anything to say, I simply stare back at her, defiant through my tears.

After a few moments of silence, she throws up her hands and gets off the bed. With a little noise of disgust, she stalks past me and jerks the hand with the ultrasound in my direction. I grab it and hold it to my chest. I hear her, voice low, calling back from near the door.

"This is an appalling situation Claire. I understand some of what you're feeling about your baby, and you're still my daughter, and I love you. But you've made a huge mess and I don't know how or if we're going to be able to clear it up."

After she's gone, I crawl onto the bed and curl up with my sadness and confusion. I barely move before Teddy's hand on my thigh stirs me and I realise it's dark.

"I'm so sorry Pips. Mum had a go at me when I got home. She was hard with me, but I bet worse with you. You'll have had an awful time. I'm here," he soothes. "I'm here."

Wordlessly, I reach for him. Our lips meet, and desperate for comfort, I start to undress. He hesitates.

"You don't want me?" I choke.

"Of course, I want you baby. I'm just... with mum and Joanie now knowing... they're downstairs..."

"They've been here the whole time," I almost spit the words at him. Then pleading: "I need you. I need you."

We fuck, passionately, sadly. I hold myself as close to him as I possibly can. When he comes, I don't let him leave; holding him inside with all the force I can manage. I'm still sobbing, desperate for the world to change around us, to bless our union and our child.

When I can no longer hold him, he disentangles himself apologetically. Placing his hand on my belly, he soothes and strokes.

"I'm going to figure this out Claire. I promise."

We kiss again before he gets up. My hand won't let him go; it falls back to the bed when he leaves my reach, and I lie motionless again.

Sleep eventually takes me, to an even darker place, of sadness and pain. At some point in the middle of the night I wake, feeling him slide into bed behind me, and I do the only thing I know in the moment: instinctive and animalistic, I reach back for his cock, push my bum back at him, presenting myself, begging him to take me.

I'm far from aroused, but lubricated by his cum from hours before, he slides in easily, and gently folds his arms around me. Comforted by his warmth and love, I fall back asleep before he even finishes, peaceful dreams surrounding me at last.

***

We wake early the next morning. I'm sorely shaken by yesterday, but soothed by his presence in the night. I stir when he gets up, and I'm awake by the time he's back from the bathroom.

"Work?"

"No. Not today. I'm working on something - for us. I had an idea last night and I need to go check some things out to see if it's possible."

"Oh baby, what are you doing?" My heart is fluttering. "Please be careful."

He leans over, jeans partway on, and shushes me. Kisses me longingly. "I promise, no danger. I will take care of us."

I follow him downstairs wearing just knickers and a sleep shirt and sit with him while he eats. It's so early, the rest of the house shouldn't be up for ages. We don't say much, just hold hands and draw strength from each other. The rest of the day is going to be difficult.

He finishes his coffee and washes up his plate, and holds me for a few minutes in a long, strong hug.

"I love you," he simply says. A kiss. And he turns to leave.

I take a mug of tea out into the garden and sit on the lawn absorbing the early sunshine. It's getting really warm now, so even dressed immodestly as I am, there is no chill in the air. Cross-legged on the grass, I direct my thoughts to the tiny life inside me, fortifying it with love from me and from him to protect it from the likely challenges to come.

I'm surprised to hear movement behind me. I turn, and I'm even more surprised to see Joanie standing there.

"Oh. Hello." I turn back, unsure if I can bear to look at her.

"Hi Claire."

"Come to gloat? To twist the knife?"

"What? No, why would I-"

"I know what you did. What you told mum."

"Yes but-"

"How did it feel? Did you get what you needed from telling her? Pleasure at causing pain?"

She's silent. Then, her voice small. "No, Claire, that's not what happened."

"Save it, Joanie. I don't need your excuses. We don't need to be friends. You've made that clear enough the past few years." I get up, toss the dregs from my mug into a nearby flowerbed, and storm past her, still standing where she'd first appeared.

"I'm sorry," I think I hear her weakly say, just as I disappear from earshot. But I'm not in a state to be receptive to it and brush it off as I mount the stairs.

I'd expected the day to be hard, but after this spat with my sister I realise I don't have the strength. I need to get out of here before more confrontations occur. Quickly gathering my things for a run, including some extra snacks and water, I rush out the door and set off on a longer route, planning to stop and sit for some hours somewhere along the way, just to get away from my family.