#mary rucking up the rug
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#i love this photo bc it makes no sense#two chalices an axe and a candelabra#one toppled chair#mary rucking up the rug#sam doing jostens#dean and john hamming it up#the rifle family co
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The Lonesome Road: Sweet Nothings
Synopsis:
MrsRachealGold: Would LOVE to see future snippets of Belle having the baby and Gold worrying over losing her or refusing to leave her side....& of Belle and the baby....!
Not beta-ed.
Rowan paced the length of the living room, lapping it several times, his hands behind his back. At this rate, he would wear a hole in the rug but that was of little matter. He cringed at every scream and cry, cursing himself for being so selfish. If he had just kept his hands off of Belle, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. If they had had a marriage of convenience and lived chastely, he wouldn’t have gotten her with child and she wouldn’t be in such agony.
But no, he was weak and wanted her in every way possible.
Of course, he wanted the baby; he always wanted to be a father. But there was a chance that their wee one wouldn’t survive. There was always a chance.
Oh God, I’m going to lose them! He whimpered and dropped to his knees, making the Sign of the Cross. It had been years since he crossed the threshold of a Catholic Church. He attended Belle’s church, for her sake mostly, and to be a good example for their future children. For him, faith had always been a private matter. He believed in God, Jesus, the Bible, and all that, but somehow life got in the way of religion.
���Please! Mea culpa!” Rowan squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tears. “Hail Mary, full of grace!” He shook his head. The last time he prayed, he had been a child. He could no longer remember how to speak to God. “Please, I can’t lose Belle or the baby. I need them. If I lose them, I’ll surely turn to dust. Please, I’ll never ask for anything again.”
He mopped his face dry and could no longer stand the separation. I have to see Belle.
Rowan got to his feet and mounted the stairs two at a time. He hesitated outside the door, his courage faltering. Men were not welcome in the room when a child was being delivered. Midwives saw to such matters.
“Go on, get out!” Granny shooed him out of his bedroom as soon as she arrived. The older woman huffed, “Men are so underfoot during a delivery.” She, her granddaughter and Mrs. Nolan tended to Belle, leaving him at his wit’s end.
Rowan turned the door knob and pushed his way through.
“What are you doing here?” Granny shouted across the room.
Rowan ignored her and felt on the verge of crumbling when he saw his wife panting for breath.
Belle’s cheeks were red, her hair was plastered to her skin and neck, and her nightgown was rucked up around her waist. The blue of her eyes seemed glazed over. She let out a deep howl, one that frightened him.
Oh, she’s dying! Rowan flung himself at the side of the bed and buried his face against her slick neck.
“Belle, please, don’t leave me!” He sobbed, forgetting that he was betraying his own emotions in front of three other women. His tears mingled in her sweat.
“Mr. Gold, get out!” Granny ordered.
“Granny, stop! He’s fine!” Belle’s trembling arms encircled him; she stroked his upper back. “Rowan, darling, I’m fine. I’m not dying.”
Rowan raised his head up and saw her bemused expression. Only then did he realize that he was being ridiculous. He delivered dozens of livestock animals; pain accompanied birth. It was the natural way of life. But that his wife was suffering, and that their child could be at risk, he couldn’t handle it.
He pressed a kiss to her feverish forehead, mumbling, “I’m sorry…I love you.”
Belle gave a wobbly smile. “I love you too. It’ll be all right, I promise.”
Rowan sniffed, brushed his lips against hers, and was promptly shooed back out of the room.
Instead of heading back downstairs, he crouched down beside the door in the hallway and decided that he would wait there until the baby arrived.
#
“Mr. Gold?”
Rowan stirred and lifted his head, drowsily blinking the sleepiness away. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were folded cross the tops of them. He must have fallen asleep like that.
Miss Lucas nudged his shoulder once more. “Mr. Gold? Would you like to see your wife and child?”
He nodded, rose, and stumbled into the bedroom.
A lump rose in his throat when he beheld his wife and child.
Belle had the baby at her breast, nursing it, crooning sweet nothings in its ear.
Rowan made an odd squeaking sound at the back of his throat and covered his mouth.
Belle glanced at him and beckoned him over. “Come here, come meet your son.”
Rowan climbed into bed beside her and was shaking all over as she placed the baby in his arms.
The baby squawked, its face scrunched up.
“We agreed on Gideon.” Belle reminded him.
His wife snuggled against his shoulder. She was weary, sweaty and her body limp, but to him she never looked more beautiful. He kissed the crown of her head and chuckled when she began to snore.
“Gideon.” Rowan repeated and pressed his lips against to his son’s petite.
I’ve fallen in love for the second time in my life. He cupped the baby’s head and stroked his thumb against Gideon’s cheek.
Rowan gulped and nodded to the ceiling. “Thank you.” He whispered, hoping that wherever God was that He knew how grateful he was.
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