Page 211 of New Storm Rising
We won’t. I’ll make sure of that, one way or another.
“Adequate.” I nodded. “Any idea how long the trial will take?”
“About six months, I believe. According to what the prosecutor said—”
An intense discussion on various legal processes and penalty payments followed. Although this discussion was far more fascinating than the previous small talk, my dear wife, for some reason, didn’t seem at all interested in it. Although that might have had something to do with the ice cream and mustard toast she was currently enjoying. She was still slowly nibbling on its last remnants by the time my conversation with the marshal came to an end.
“Ah, I’m glad this is taken care of.” Stretching, the marshal reached for his glass and took a last swig of whiskey. “Now I’ll have to excuse myself. I should go to the telegraph office and send a report to my superiors. Unless there’s anything else…?”
I had just opened my mouth to reply in the negative, when I was interrupted.
“Well, there’s one thing,” my wife piped up, her face suddenly filled with curiosity. “You’ve been gallivanting around as a travelling salesman all this time, right? What exactly would you have done if anyone had actually bought any of those concoctions of yours? Wouldn’t have looked very good on your curriculum vitae if a US marshal had been arrested for poisoning, would it?”
“Ah, that?” The marshal once again performed a superfluous contortion of his facial muscles. This one could be classified as a “grin”, if my previous experience served me correctly. “All of those ‘concoctions’ as you call them, Ma’am, are actually real medicines. All I did was stick new labels on the stuff to make it seem more ridiculous.”
“Huh.” She blinked. “That’s…pretty smart, actually.”
“Thank you very much, Ma’am.” The marshal bowed. “As long as we are on the subject of my providing medicine to the masses, can I interest you in some Fizzlewizz Fantastic Fertility Water? It would be great for your pregnancy.”
I froze, my hand half extended towards a glass of water.
He. Did. Not. Just. Say. That.
The Math of One Plus One Makes Three
(Chapter 40, “Bun in the Oven”, from Mr Ambrose’s Point of View)
Pregnancy.
Pregnancy.
The one word I had been careful not to mention within earshot of my wife. The reality I wanted to allow her to recognise slowly by herself. And this sorry excuse for a man simply blurted it out in front of her! I would have much preferred for her to slowly acclimatise to what was happening to her and come to terms with her new circumstances. Most importantly, I would have preferred for her not to try and strangle me for inadvertently getting her in the family way.
I knew my wife. She was, despite my best attempts to cure her of it, proud and independent. If I told her that her new future would be spent as a stay-at-home mother, well…
Suffice it to say I could think of less painful ways to commit suicide. And now, thanks to the man in front of me, this was my new reality.
Was it very illegal to shoot a US Marshal?
My only hope now was that Lillian hadn’t grasped what he had meant. Maybe she would just laugh it off as a joke. Maybe she hadn’t realised—
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Mrs Ambrose. The expression on her face told me that yes, she definitely had realised. And she was panicking.
Insert superfluous profanity here.
What in Midas’ name was I going to do now? She needed that thing that women supposedly needed sometimes. That thing my sister mentioned. What was called again? Com…comfort. Yes! That was it! Just…where was I going to get some for her? How much did it cost?
In retrospect, at that point in time, my thoughts might not have been entirely rational.
This was exactly what I had been afraid of! That she would be afraid. Terrified of the future. Because of me. Because of what had done to her.
That look in her eyes…
She looked so lost.
But…knowing her, she wouldn’t be for long. Soon, it would dawn on her who exactly had kept her current situation from her for the last few weeks. And I would havea lotof explaining to do.
How lucky you’re so talented at talking, right?
