Page 40 of Pregnant After One Forbidden Night

CHAPTER TEN

JENNAWASAWOKENin the morning not by unfiltered daylight streaming in through the massive windows of the room Sebastian had given her, as she had expected, but instead by the powerful urge to use the restroom.

Stumbling in that direction she observed that this was because sometime while she had been sleeping, light-blocking screens had descended to cover the windows.

Whether it had been Sebastian’s doing or merely something automatic, she didn’t know. After he’d stormed off in a fit like that, she wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Even after stepping into the bathroom that still shook her. Groggy, irritated and filled with memories of her openness beating against Sebastian’s closed-off mindset she might be, but she really loved this bathroom.

Washing her hands, the reflection of the tub in the mirror was a siren call, luring her to come and stay awhile, to submerge herself in water and let its wholesome warmth fill her system, working its way into the kinks and knots of her muscles, creating space for relaxation in the way nothing else could.

She had always loved baths, was a true believer in the power of a soak to provide both soothing and profound relief to most of one’s physical and emotional woes. But, as if God was truly testing her, even that simple pleasure was denied to her.

Her doctor had advised against long soaks in hot water—it was apparently not good for the developing being in her womb. She was welcome to take lukewarm baths, they’d said, just nothing that might cook the baby.

Motherhood, it seemed, demanded sacrifices long before you had the reward of an actual child.

Of course, it did. And like everything else in her life, she had foolishly rushed headlong into it.

The bath was just another reminder that she’d been impulsive and thoughtless to the point that her body and life were forever and irrevocably changed.

Her stomach rolled and a wave of slick nausea overtook her. Steadying herself on the counter she drew in a deep breath. Standing alone like this, ruminating and mulling and brooding, wasn’t good for her. She needed some food in her stomach, and she needed—she searched herself, scanning for any clue inside—action.

Everything had happened so fast and disastrously that she hadn’t had time to be present to her body’s newfound awareness and tenderness—she had become sensitive to even her own thoughts, it seemed.

But if pregnancy was making her more sensitive, it was at least also making it easier to see her needs.

She had always been a woman to find solace in physical activity. She couldn’t get Sebastian to see what he was so obviously and stubbornly blind to, and she couldn’t take a hot bath, but she could work out. She remembered the way to his home gym.

Returning to the bedroom, she made a beeline for her bag. In her hasty sweep of her closet at home, she had lost out on bringing along workout gear. But that barrier was easily surpassed by selecting one of the many dresses she’d swept up.

This one was lilac colored and wide cut. It was made from a high-stretch material that flowed with her every move, no motion restricted. It was perfect for a woman who liked to move fast and feel pretty, just like her, because it had been made specifically for her. It was another of her mother’s creations.

But her mother didn’t make pants.

Because of that, even though Jenna had no problem with pants and had worn them happily for training and while on duty, in truth, she always felt slightly more comfortable in a dress.

But the most wonderful thing about the dresses Jenna’s mother made for her was that they’d been made so that she could fight in them. They were always wide and open and made of fabrics that flowed with her movements, rather than getting caught up in her legs.

Her mother knew her and loved her, even if she didn’t always understand her.

Jenna would need to carve out and guard a space like that for her baby in the world, with the same fierceness her mother had carved hers.

She hoped she picked up the skillset soon, because after once again letting Sebastian run roughshod over her the night before, she knew she was currently nowhere near doing so.

She wasn’t ready to be a mother, to step into the role that her mother had modeled so well—and, despite Sebastian’s assurances that they could be a parenting team, she wasn’t ready to be a single mother on top of it all.

She didn’t know any unwed mothers.

Motherhood was a sacrament to the Priory. One that distinctly followed marriage.

A mother was entrusted with guarding, protecting and nurturing the most precious charge on the planet: another soul.

The fact that she’d been sent home in disgrace the last time she’d been entrusted with the charge of another soul did not bode well for her potential.

Jenna’s own mother ran their household and managed the farm books—cooking, cleaning, rearing and administering with grace—while also enjoying multiple painstaking handcrafts, including quilting, knitting, dressmaking, taxidermy and leather tanning.

Everything Jenna’s mother did, she did for the express purpose of nurturing her family. Her mother was the center of their family, their source of light and joy, effortless in her work.

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