Across the Multiverse

"You can't sew for s**t. Think you can handle peeling apples?" I open my mouth to tell Mrs. Humphrey that I've held a needle and thread all of maybe three times in my life, but only in my wildest imagination am I actually that bold. The dress I have been pretending to mend for the last forty-five minutes is pulled out of my hands, and I am ushered, quite forcefully might I add, into the kitchen. "I've been told I make a pretty mean apple pie if that's what's on the menu." "Too bad we're making crisp." I don't know who hurt Melinda Humphrey, but I'm willing to bet they're lying somewhere in an unmarked grave with their throat slit. In the same amount of time it takes me to thread a needle, I manage to peel, core, and chop every last honey crisp in the vicinity. My new greatest weakness is the fact that I'm heavy-handed when it comes to the cinnamon sugar coating. "Go easy, that's for Emma," Humphrey warns. I stifle a snort. Too bad it isn't the sugar that's making Emma fat. *** I cart a piping hot bowl of apple crisp up to Emma's room myself. Yes, I am fishing for compliments. They're hard to come by these days. Emma yelps when she sees me, and pulls her pink silk robe over the slight curve of her stomach. I always forget to knock when it comes to Emma. My mistress looks like she's prepared to lecture me, but then her eyes land on my peace offering, and she instead pleads, "Can I get a scoop of ice cream with this? Pretty please with pickles on top?" "Of course. I'll be right back." As I turn to leave she stops me, "Actually, can you do an outfit check for me first? Please tell me it isn't getting too obvious." I give Emma the once over she has requested, and then reassure her, "Not yet. But I am going to suggest you start incorporating some baggier clothing into your wardrobe. That way your style choices will seem natural when they really start becoming necessary." "So my mom really has no idea? And you haven't heard any whisperings in the servants' hall?" "Your situation has not infiltrated the rumor mill downstairs." "As for your mother," I continue, "She has started putting special restrictions on your meals, though I believe the underlying cause of this necessity is lost to her." Emma scrunches up her freckle-dusted nose, "She's freaking out because Sebastian is due at the end of the week. My mom really believes that it's my extra pudge that's going to come between us." "If only it were that simple," I agree. "Hey, while we're hovering on the topic of poor choices, can you do me one tiny little favor?" I blow out a long breath, and watch as my auburn bangs fly up from my forehead, "Depends on the favor." "Can you sneak Jack up here? If anyone else is around, tell him that one of the lights blew out in my bedroom." I hate to be such an enabler, so I make sure to at least beg the question: "Are you sure that's a good idea?" "Not at all. But I just need one little peak before Sebastian gets here." *** I know full well that going to Jack is the wrong move. This is about to turn into one of those 'if you give a mouse a cookie' scenarios. Nevertheless, I seek Jack out in his workshop. I find him with his sandy head cranked over his toolkit. I stand in the doorway until he registers my presence with an anticipatory widening of his blue eyes. All it takes is a silent nod to have him following me out into the light of day. I wish I could claim that we didn't have this routine down pat. Jack and I walk wordlessly through the Price Estate, barely making eye contact until we reach Emma's chambers. I turn to leave the moment I have delivered the goods, but Emma stops me in my tracks. "I need you to stay please. I don't have the mental capacity to make up an excuse for why Jack is alone in my room if someone catches us. Mom brain." I make sure Emma can see how anxious and exasperated this request makes me, before sinking down into the plush white loveseat at the foot of her giant bed. I suppose I might as well put my feet up while I have the chance. Emma and Jack stand in awkward silence for a couple of moments. Emma is rubbing her pale arms, meanwhile Jack is staring a hole through the glossy wooden floor. I clear my throat to urge the production along. Emma shoots me an annoyed side-eye, but proceeds, "Sebastian is coming at the end of the week." Jack's "I know," is just barely audible. "He just finished his MBA program. My mother thinks he's coming to propose." "And what are you going to say if he does?" "What choice do I have?" "You always have a choice." "Not if I want to be able to provide a good life for our baby. We need this." Jack looks like he has been punched square in the gut; "What 'we' will there even be if you marry Sebastian?" "I don't love him." "I know." "I love you." Silence descends for several gut-wrenching moments before Jack finally whispers, "I know." "Sebastian isn't a very smart man." Jack lets out a harsh laugh, "So what are we going to do, just spend the rest of our lives sneaking around?" "That's the best I can do for us. I'm still very early on. Sebastian's first-born is simply going to arrive a tad prematurely." Anger alights in Jack's stormy eyes, "I don't think I can just stand around and watch another man raise my child." Emma groans, "What else would you have me do?" "Run away with me." Jack reaches out for Emma's hand. I jump up out of my seat, "I can't be a part of this. I'm still on probation." Emma pulls her hand back to her own side, "Don't worry Alice, I'm not going anywhere. Jack and I can't provide for this baby alone, even if we wanted to." "Plus, my parents have gone through a tremendous amount of effort to arrange this advantageous marriage. I'm pretty sure there's more to it than they're letting on. At the end of the day, there's no getting out of this match." I watch in sorrow as every last ounce of color drains from Jack's body. As I escort him back to his work station, a new kind of silence settles in between us. Complete and utter dispair. Misery loves company.