Page 4 of Barbells, Broomsticks & A Baby

I descend the stairs as quickly as my condition allows, dispelling the rain cloud with an irritated flick of my wrist. Brunelda Greenwarth, in all her intimidating glory, is in our living room. Tall, rail-thin, and with silver-streaked black hair pulled into a severe bun. Her traditional witch’s robe is immaculately pressed, and her posture is as rigid as a broomstick.

“Mother. What an...unexpected visit.”

Her critical gaze sweeps over me, taking in my swollen form, damp hair, and the puddle of rainwater at my feet. “Grizelda, I see your magical control is as lacking as ever.”

I grit my teeth. “Good morning to you too. What brings you here?”

“Can’t a mother visit her daughter before she gives birth? Especially when said daughter failed to inform her mother of the pregnancy until the fifth month?”

Guilt pricks at me, but I stand my ground. “It was a complicated situation.”

“So I gathered from your letters.” Her gaze shifts to Atlas, who is hovering awkwardly near the kitchen doorway. “Atlas. Still wearing those ridiculous flowered moss patches, I see.”

He doesn’t even blink or point out they’re part of him. “Good to see you again, Ms. Greenwarth. It’s been a while since the wedding.”

“Five years.” She frowns at him. “You clearly haven’t convinced my daughter to take proper prenatal potions. She looks positively exhausted.”

“I’ve been taking excellent care of myself,” I say, “And Atlas has been wonderful.”

“Hmm. I’ve brought my special pregnancy support kit. Your aunt Imogene swore by it when she was carrying triplets.”

As she retrieves a large velvet pouch from her carpet bag, Atlas catches my eye and gives me a supportive wink. Despite the tension radiating from my mother, his calm presence helps steady my nerves. “Thank you, Mother. That’s thoughtful.”

“It’s practical. I assume you have the guest room prepared?”

“Prepared?” I echo. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I sent an astral projection last week informing you of my visit.”

I rack my brain, trying to remember. “Mother, did you perhaps project to my shop instead of my home? I haven’t been working much these last few weeks.”

She purses her lips. “I may have confused the locations. Regardless, I’m here now, and clearly, you need my help. Look at you. Your magical aura is chaotic, your home is...” She glances around with barely concealed disdain, “Charmingly rustic, and you’re past your due date with no signs of labor.”

As if on cue, another false contraction grips me. I wince and place a hand on my lower back.

“Are you having contractions?” she asks.

“Just Braxton Hicks. They’ve been happening for weeks.”

Atlas returns with a tray of tea and biscuits. “The guest room is ready. I keep it prepared for any visiting family.”

I shoot him a surprised look. When did he have time to get the guest room ready? We definitely don’t keep it in a state or readiness.

He winks at me and whispers from the side of his mouth, “Super speed. Useful for more than just lifting heavy things.”

Despite my growing anxiety about my mother’s visit, I smile at him. Always prepared and thoughtful.

“So, Ms. Greenwarth, how long will you be staying with us?”

“Until the baby arrives and Grizelda is settled. No more than a month, I should think.”

I nearly choke on my tea. “A month?”

“Unless you plan to remain pregnant indefinitely. Which, given your stubbornness, wouldn’t surprise me entirely.”

Atlas seems completely unaffected by my mother’s bombshell. “The baby will come when they’re ready. As Lao Tzu said, ‘Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.’”

My mother stares at him, clearly taken aback by the philosophical reference. “You still quote those dusty philosophers, I see. At your wedding reception, you compared marriage to Plato’s cave allegory. Most inappropriate.”

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