2 Unhitched (7 page)

Ever since my fairy godmother Armando redecorated our palace in Fairytale Regency (and since opened his latest emporium, Armando Home, to great success), it’s been the talk of the kingdom. It was time to say good-bye to Snow White’s so-yesterday flowery décor and to create an environment that showed off some of Gallant’s masterpieces that now hang on our walls.

Like the one facing me of me holding Calla in my arms. I gaze at it, and a stabbing pain shoots through my heart. Gallant painted it when he was madly in love with me. The memory of beholding this painting for the first time, thinking that Gallant was dead and that I’d never see him again, fills my head. My heartache was deeper than a bottomless pit. I glance over to the man I soon after married. The beautiful man who swept me off my feet and filled my life with light. Playing a game of thumb wars with his brother, he’s totally oblivious to me. Of course. My Prince is in love with someone else. “Forever in my heart” no longer has meaning to him. I fight back the tears that are forming in my eyes.

A blood-curdling scream hurls me back to the moment. Cinderella’s mouth is agape. Her eyes, round as blue marbles, gaze down at the table.

Holy crap! Henry, The Frog Prince, has jumped onto her dinner plate. But it’s not Henry that’s freaked her out.

“My water just broke,” she shrieks.

Great! She’s late for everything. Who would have ever thought that giving birth would be the one thing for which she’d be early?

She breaks into panicked sobs. “The nursery isn’t ready!”

Charming staggers over to her and takes her into his arms. He hiccups.

“You must stay calm, my love,” he manages. Beads of sweat are clustering on his forehead, and his skin is turning a ghastly green. He’s either going to pass out or throw up.

Gallant leaps up. “Quick, send for Dr. Grimm!” he shouts, slurring every word.

Doesn’t the drunken bastard know that our help has left or retired for the evening? My mind races; thank god, I’m still thinking straight. Our coach is parked by the stables almost a mile away, and it’ll take too long gear it up. It makes sense to use Cinderella’s which is parked right outside our front door. Charming’s in no condition to drive… and neither is Gallant. There’s only one person who can—
Moi!

The wind whistles as Cinderella’s pumpkin-shaped coach races through the moonlit countryside. Having only once before driven a vehicle like this, I should be worrying about losing my life. Instead, all I can think about is losing My Prince. Gallant’s confession totally consumes me. How could he cheat on me? How could he betray me like that? My shock and sadness once again morph into rage and hatred. I don’t know whom to hate more. My deceitful, infidel husband? The Sleeping Slut? Or myself? For trusting the man I married. And being so stupid.

My stomach lurches as the coach flies across potholes. With lightning-fast reflexes, I duck a dangling tree branch. A close one.
Focus, Jane.
Focus.
Stop thinking about that lowlife whore! Cinderella’s life is at stake and so is her baby’s!

I slap the reins to make the two horses pick up their speed. My pulse gallops. The wind kicks up, sending a shiver through my body. My cloak flaps loudly as my hair whips across my face, making it difficult to see ahead of me. Thank goodness, I know the way to Dr. Grimm’s house, having been there for fertility treatments so many times over the last six months. I won’t be needing those anymore.

At last, I arrive at Grimm’s storybook cottage. There’s not another one like it in all of Lalaland. Constructed of stone and stucco, it is an eye-catching feast of diamond-paned windows, stained glass, chimney pots, turrets, and a whimsical wavy slate roof. I park the coach outside the wrought iron gate and jump out. I unlatch the gate and pass through the fragrant garden. Cute little baby animal statuaries, illuminated by the moonlight, line the pathway.

Bypassing the hanging doorbell, I knock loudly on the thick wooden door. Almost immediately, a little white-bearded man appears. He’s clad in a long white nightshirt and matching nightcap and holding a candle. It’s Dr. Grimm.

“Jane, what can I do for you at this wee hour? You should be home making a baby with your dear husband.”

His comment makes my stomach churn. I take a deep breath.

“It’s Cinderella! She’s having her baby!”

“Wonderful! Another fairy tale is about to be born!” chuckles the good doctor.

This is no laughing matter. But there is no time to chastise him. Nor to address his comment about making love with Gallant. That’s never going to happen again!

Dr. Grimm dashes back inside and quickly reappears with his medicine bag in hand. Yes, another fairy tale is about to be born, and I’m driving the delivery coach.

An earth-shattering scream emanating from inside the castle awaits us. Followed by another and another, each one more piercing than the one before. I recognize them. They’re the screams of a woman in labor. I know. I’ve been there.

Dr. Grimm races inside, carrying his medicine bag, with me right behind him. My stomach tightens. I am not looking forward to this. Not at all!

Cinderella is now lying on the dining room floor, shrieking. Charming, drenched with sweat and as white as a ghost, is holding her hand, trying to comfort her. Gallant, by his brother’s side, faces me, his expression, a combination of fear and relief. I avoid his gaze and rush over to Cinderella, crouching down beside her. A sick thought permeates my brain. HA! Miss Perfect Princess doesn’t look so perfect. In fact, she looks frightful. Her hair is as disheveled as a wind-blown haystack, and her contorted face is bathed in sweat and tears.

Dr. Grimm remains as calm as a cucumber.

“Put me out of my misery!” moans Cinderella. “I want to die!”

“Don’t say that!” I dab the sweat on her forehead with the skirt of my gown. “You’re having a baby! You have everything to live for!”

The memory of my tragic miscarriage flickers in my head. Shuddering inwardly, I try hard to suppress it.

Another contraction. Cinderella winces. “Jane, I’m scared,” she whimpers.

Despite my loathing of her and all that’s happened to me this day, I feel her pain, her fear. Please let her get through this! And the baby too!

“Cinderella, my dear, focus on something calming and breathe,” says Grimm, his voice soothing.

Cinderella stares at him with her wretched eyes as if he’s said something in a foreign language. She shrieks again and squeezes my hand. So tightly that I, too, want to scream out in pain.

What can she look at? Clearly, not her husband Charming who still looks like he’s about to pass out. Or Gallant who’s not in much better shape. When this is all over, I’m going to confront him. There’s no way I’m going to pretend that I don’t know what’s going on. Another sharp cry from Cinderella brings me back into the moment. The contractions are coming faster and faster, each one more agonizing than the one before. Dr. Grimm is right; she needs something calming. In the corner of my eye, I see the tranquil painting of Calla in my arms. Yes, that’s it!

“Cinderella, look up at the painting!” I urge. “Look how beautiful it is and how much I love Calla!” Sadness ransacks my heart once again when I think about how much Gallant’s love for me inspired this masterpiece once upon a time.

Dazed, Cinderella rolls her eyes up at the painting. A faint smile crosses her face. “Jane, I think the baby is coming!” she whispers.

“Push!” says Dr. Grimm, getting giddy with happiness. His command brings back painful memories I want to forget but can’t.

Between short, rapid breaths, Cinderella grunts, obviously giving a push.

Grimm tells her to push again. Then miraculously, in his hand, he’s holding a tiny head. No bigger than a grapefruit, it is covered with a thick layer of gooey blood. Charming instantly passes out, falling to floor with a loud thud. Looking rather queasy himself, Gallant rushes to his brother’s side. I hate the sight of blood and try hard not to faint myself.

“One more push, my dear,” says Grimm with a bright smile.

GRUNT! And then a loud wail. Unmistakably, the wail of an infant new to this world. The wail I never got a chance to hear. Grinning broadly, Grimm cups the tiny, blood-soaked infant in his hands as melancholy falls over me.

“Congratulations! It’s a girl,” exclaims a proud Grimm.

“A girl?” repeats Cinderella weakly. She gazes at the baby and bursts into tears.

Tears of joy, I think.

Wrong.

“She’s an ugly duckling!” she wails.

To be dead honest, the baby
is
ugly as sin. Her crimson face is all scrunched up; her smooched nose spreads cheek to cheek, and under all the blood, her scrawny little body is covered with a layer of duckling-like yellow fuzz.

“No, she’s not,” I force myself to say. “She’s as beautiful as a swan.”

“Swan!” echoes Charming who has regained consciousness and is beaming. “What a perfect name for her. Princess Swan!”

Cinderella gazes at her husband wearily with an expression that says “whatever.”

Personally, I’m glad Charming has chosen a name. If it were up to I-can’t-make-up-my-mind Cinderella, the poor child would never have one. Actually, Swan isn’t a bad name for the child; she’s got the longest, skinniest neck I’ve ever seen. It makes her head look oversized and totally disproportionate to her tiny body.

“Jane, I need a warm damp cloth,” says Dr. Grimm, without taking his eyes off the tiny life form in his hands.

I hurry to the kitchen and return with a soft hand towel that I’ve moistened with water and warmed in the hearth.

Grimm takes it from me and gently washes off the blood that’s begun to cake on the newborn’s fuzzy skin. The pink, wrinkly, squirmy infant that slowly emerges mesmerizes me.

The doctor smiles, clearly proud of his handiwork. “Now, we need something to wrap her in.”

My eyes dart around the room, landing on Cinderella’s pale blue cashmere shawl that’s folded over the back of her chair. Perfect.

Taking it from me, Grimm swaddles Swan in the soft wrap.

She continues to wail. Her scrunched up face turns redder. It resembles a big soggy overripe tomato that may burst if you touch it.

“She’s hungry,” smiles Dr. Grimm. “Jane, place the baby on Cinderella’s breast.”

He wants
me
to do this? He’s got to be joking. It’s been so long since I’ve held a newborn. And this one is so tiny. Hesitantly, I take the baby from him, carefully supporting her fragile, silky head. My entire body prickles as a fusion of unexpected emotions surges inside me. Joy. Envy. Fear. Sadness. I catch Gallant’s eyes on me, never leaving me for a second. I ignore him as I nervously place the baby on Cinderella’s right breast.

Cinderella makes a face of disgust. “Turn around,” she snaps at Charming and Gallant.

Cinderella reluctantly slides down the shoulder of her gown. The baby sucks voraciously. Cinderella’s expression morphs from disgust to horror. And then she yelps.

“Ow! She bit me!” Maybe they should have named her Princess Piranha.

Gallant smiles at me dreamily. “Jane, you looked so natural holding the baby.”

Is he kidding? I was freaking out. Afraid that I would drop it. Afraid that it would die in my arms. Like my infant son.

But Gallant’s right. It
did
feel so good. Almost magical. Sadly, a baby is something we’re never going to share. How cruel of the betrayer to taunt me with motherhood!

Dr. Grimm grabs his bag and bids us goodnight. Gallant offers for Cinderella, Charming, and Swan to spend the night. Tomorrow, Calla will wake up to her new baby cousin.

I inhale deeply. I’m just glad this nightmarish night is over. Just as I think that it can’t get worse, Gallant grabs me and pulls me to the floor.

“Jane, let’s make a baby.” My heart does a flip-flop. The wine has made him lustful. He wants to make love to me! Right here on the floor. My brain battles the tingly sensation rising inside me. I can’t let him do this to me! I can’t!

Throwing himself onto me, Gallant pulls up my gown. He yanks off my pantaloons and spreads my legs. I feel his hard warmth inside me. His lips consume mine, and despite myself, I find myself meeting his every thrust. Moaning with pleasure. Building to that climactic release. Oh God. Why can’t I resist?