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“Let me get it,” Branford said again. He pecked at my lips and then dropped down next to the bed to start bringing everything from the floor back to the table. There was my copy of the Holy Scriptures, the comb I had worn in my hair the day before, an empty mug, and the bowl made by my mother. Branford placed them all on the table except for the mug, which he carried over to the morning room so the kitchen servants could retrieve it later.
I sighed and shook my head at myself before I arranged the items on the table.
“Oh no,” I said as I picked up the bowl. There was a small piece of the carved wood missing from the bottom. I managed to get myself off the bed and felt around on the floor until I found the piece that had broken off. I turned the bowl over in my hands and held the small slender piece up to where it had obviously broken off from the rest of the bowl.
As I turned it over to see the bottom, I noticed something strange. There seemed to be a hole in the bottom of the bowl now, not just where the piece would fit back inside, but further into the base of the bowl itself. I tilted it to get a better look and confirmed there was a small opening in the bottom of the bowl itself—just big enough for me to slide two fingers inside. When I further examined the piece that had broken off, I realized it was not broken at all but had simply managed to slide out of place.
Now that I could see how it worked, I easily replaced and removed the piece many times. It was simple enough; with a little pressure in just the right spot, I effortlessly slid the movable piece over. There didn’t appear to be anything inside of this bowl, but it would certainly be a clever place to hide something from prying eyes.
I put the bowl back with the piece returned to its proper spot on the table. As it sat there, one could see no indication it was anything other than the carved bowl it had always been, but now that I knew its secret, I could see the base was much thicker than the sides.
“Did you see this?” Branford said as he walked back from the morning room to the side of the bed. “Sunniva left it last night after you had already fallen asleep.”
Branford dropped a sack on the bed and untied the bindings. Inside there were several articles of clothing for an infant.
“Apparently, these were once worn by me,” Branford said with a crooked smile.
I ran my hand up his arm.
“I do not think that is possible.” I snickered. “You were never so tiny!”
“I am sure you are right,” he replied with a laugh. “I think Sunniva will like seeing our son in this clothing.”
“It may not at all be appropriate for a girl-child,” I said as I glanced at him sideways. Branford still insisted the child would be a boy, but I had my doubts. I reminded him often, just to make sure he would not be too shocked if the first child was not as he foresaw.
“Hmm…” Branford hummed and looked through the tiny shirts and breeches, handing them to me one at a time. They were all so small, and I could not quite fathom how to care for someone so very tiny. In my head, I saw the child with bright green eyes, wearing the little silk nightgown of red Branford placed in my hands.
The material slid through my fingers as I thought about what the child would look like as I held it to my breast, Branford’s ever-watchful eye looking over my shoulder at us. He would kiss the side of my neck and place his hand on the babe’s head…
“Alexandra? Are you still with me?”
I glanced up at Branford’s smiling face a
nd felt my own face redden.
“I am sorry,” I said quietly. “I was lost in my thoughts.”
“What were you thinking about that made you smile so?” Branford asked as he sat beside me and pushed my hair over my shoulder.
“Our child,” I said. I looked down at my stomach and placed my hand on top of the bulge. Branford wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest.
“Seeing you like this,” he said quietly, “is all I really want in life. Just to see you smile—to be this happy. It is all I want for you. Boy or girl…”
His mouth turned up into a blinding smile.
“It matters not. Just seeing you like this…it is everything to me.”
*****
I gasped and cried out as Branford moved slowly against me, his chest pressed closely to my back as he gently took me from behind. I reached back to his hip, holding him against me as we both lay on our sides. He wrapped his hand around my bulging middle, and his lips kissed trails over my shoulder as he took his time bringing about his climax. He held my body tight against his as he moaned out my name against my neck.
With closed eyes, I lay in my husband’s embrace as I listened to his heavy breaths slowly begin to diminish. The child in my belly kicked underneath Branford’s hand, and my husband gently rubbed the spot.
“He is tired of sleeping,” Branford said.
“It is time for us to rise,” I informed my husband.
“I already have.” He laughed at his own jest. “Twice this morning.”
